#see this is why i say the rest of the series could simply not exist for me

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

I just watched this video by Pop Culture Detective about how the heroes we see in Marvel (and a lot of media let’s be real) are all about defending the status quo without trying to proactively change society into a better, fairer place. And the message behind this is often that the status quo is better than whatever alternatives that await, so despite all the problems with it, it must be defended. The video also notes that often, the only ones who seem interested in changing the status quo are the villains or antagonists. 

I’m not going to go over the entire thing, but suffice to say that it did end up reminding me why Dany is so close to my heart and such a unique character not just in fantasy, but honestly in fiction, period. She is a protagonist in and one of the central heroes of the story, but she is proactive, and she does aim to change the status quo, to tear down the injustices that the world she lives in is rife with. She does not look at the problem of slavery in front of her and go, “well, this is bad but if I try to fix it, worse things will happen so I’ll just stick to this.” She actually goes about trying to rectify the issue because she has experienced what slavery is, and she knows down to her bones how horrible and wrong it is. And she does run into complicated dilemmas, she does face the problems that come with tearing down a current oppressive power structure to create something better, because a process like that will never go smoothly when that oppression is the backbone of its society. The economy and way of life in Slaver’s Bay is built on slavery; removing it means removing the fundamental base that holds up everything else. And because it’s so ingrained, getting rid of slavery can’t be accomplished by just beating up a few people at the top who are the sole cause of every bit of injustice. It gets messy, it gets convoluted, it requires treading new grounds, and we see Dany having to deal with those consequences: the issue of carving out a place for the freedmen, the issue of preventing the slavers from taking back power, the issue of establishing a new economy. And yet, despite all of those struggles, slavery is something that simply shouldn’t exist, and Dany knows that. She is not wrong for striving to eradicate it completely from Slaver’s Bay, and it will never be a bad thing that she does so. And I just adore her and her arc for portraying that.

[nightingale-prompts]

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

[punkshort]

In Another Life | Part III

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)

Chapter Summary: It's your last day together with Marcus and you're going to make it count.

Chapter Warnings: language, SO much angst, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, food consumption, time travel?

WC: 6.3K

A/N: thank you @txtattoostark for beta'ing ❤️

Series Masterlist

Time stood still when you looked at your phone the following morning, you were certain of it.

The mighty General shall be out of your hair b4 you know it.

The words left a pit in your stomach, making you feel sick. How didn't you think this through? What happened between you was fast, sure, but not one time the night before did you pause to think how hurt you were going to be when Marcus left.

It wasn't like he was going to a different state or country. He would be gone for good. Never again would you know the feel of his lips or hear the deep rumble of his voice.

"Good morning," Marcus said from behind you, slipping his arms around your waist while you cooked eggs for breakfast. You flipped your phone over and turned around in his arms, pressing a firm kiss to his lips that lingered to the point where the eggs burned a little, but it was worth it.

You hadn't checked your phone until he went to the bathroom to wash up and you had breakfast underway, but you had already decided not to tell him. If you didn't speak it into existence, then maybe it wasn't real.

"Good morning," you said shyly, giving him one last quick peck on the lips before scooping eggs and sausage onto plates for you both.

"Was your superior quite angry with you?" he asked while he attempted to help you with the toast but ended up burning his fingertips.

You shook your head and picked up both plates to take to your small kitchen table.

"Nah, I never call in sick," you told him with a smile. "Besides the park, what did you want to see today?"

He settled next to you at the table, one hand dropping casually to rest on your leg while he picked up his fork with the other. "To me it does not matter, so long as it is with you."

You grinned and felt your cheeks warm. "You know, you said you didn't have much experience with romance in your life but you could have fooled me. Every word you say is romantic."

He chuckled and dropped his gaze to his plate, feeling a bit shy. "Does simply wishing to spend time with a lover make one a romantic?"

You shrugged and nodded. "Kind of. At least, in my experience."

Marcus hummed and leaned over to press a kiss against your temple. "We must change that, my lady."

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, turning to lock your lips with his. His grip on your thigh tightened when he heard the little noise escape from the back of your throat and you squirmed in your seat. "Well, you've changed a lot, already," you said breathlessly when you finally pulled away. He grinned and leaned forward to chase your lips, making you giggle and toss your arms around his neck.

Before you even had a chance to register the noise, the front door unlocked and swung open.

"Morning! Why are you still - oh, gross," Danny said when he turned from closing the door and saw the two of you intertwined.

Marcus withdrew his arms from around you and stood solemnly with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Daniel, I apologize," he said, his voice deep. "Courtesy demands I request permission from a lady's father, or in this case, closest living male relative, before pursuing her. I hope you can forgive me for my transgression." Marcus bowed his head and you quickly stood up, waving your hands in between them.

"No, no, no, you do not need my little brother's permission, Marcus," you told him. Danny folded his arms together and stifled a laugh.

"I don't know, Sis, I think he's onto something. Maybe if more guys went through me, you wouldn't be left on read so much."

"Shut up, Danny!" you seethed, fists clenched at your sides.

Marcus just looked back and forth between you, trying to keep up.

"I'm just kidding! Marcus, it's totally fine," Danny said, clapping him on the shoulder before slipping into the kitchen for your leftovers. "If you really want to spend your last day in the twentieth century with my sister, don't let me stop you. I mean, personally, I would have picked the girl who works at the Java Hut, or maybe the one at the comic book store..."

Both of you tuned him out when Marcus absorbed what he said.

"My... last day?" he questioned. You swallowed and nodded.

"He texted me last night but I didn't see it til you were in the shower," you said quietly, gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you."

"Oh," he said softly, eyebrows pinching together in thought. And just like that, the fun, playful mood between the two of you vanished only to be replaced with despair.

"We can still do exactly what we said we would do," you assured him while Danny kept talking to himself in the kitchen, adding to the long list of people he would rather spend his last day with other than you.

"Of course," Marcus replied, but you could see the distant look in his eye. It was probably the same one you had when you first read Danny's text.

"Let's just... enjoy what time we have left."

He nodded and inhaled sharply, avoiding your eye while he processed everything he had just learned, both of you too nervous to say what you really wanted to say.

"Why aren't you working?" Danny asked, emerging from the kitchen with a piece of buttered toast.

"I called in sick."

He nodded, not even questioning it before heading to his room. "I'm gonna get some shut eye and head back over to Lizard's later. Gotta run a few diagnostic tests before we send you home, General."

His words were like taking a bullet. Appetite suddenly gone, you sunk down into your chair and tried not to let your emotions show but he must have sensed it because Marcus was sitting down next to you with one arm around your shoulders and the other on your thigh.

"We still have today, cor mea."

You sniffled and leaned into his shoulder, hiding your face against his neck. "You said that yesterday, too. What does it mean?"

You felt his lips on the top of your head before he answered.

"It means, my heart."

Tears stung your eyes so you quickly closed them, doing your very best to remember everything about that moment. The way he smelled, all fresh from his shower, the roughness of his hand against your skin, the sound of his heart beating soundly in his broad chest.

Don't go, you wanted to beg. Please stay with me. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Was it ridiculous to want a man you just met to leave everything behind and stay with you? In a world he knew nothing about? Even if you did ask and by some miracle he agreed, would you be able to make him happy? Would this world make him happy?

No, you couldn't ask that of him. He had a whole life waiting for him in Ancient Rome.

You took a deep breath and reluctantly extracted yourself from his arms.

"Okay," you said, quickly swiping at your eye. "Let's go check out the park and once we're done, we'll see what else you want to do."

He nodded, helping you clean up from breakfast while pretending not to notice how red your eyes looked, but by the time you were both ready to leave your apartment, you had collected yourself. You refused to spend your last day together wallowing in misery.

You were going to make sure it was perfect.

"This place is magnificent," Marcus said breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the rich greenery surrounding you while dodging tourists laughing and posing for pictures. Nearby, bicyclists and joggers zipped by and dogs barked, pulling at their leashes to get at one another while their owners struggled to rein them in but as far as the two of you were concerned, you were the only ones there.

"C'mon, this way," you said, looping your arm with his and leading him off a different path. The smile was permanently stretched across his face the entire time, especially when you had to come to an unexpected stop so a carriage led by a massive Clydesdale could pass by on the trail.

"That horse looks double the size of the horses back home," he remarked in awe when you resumed walking.

"There's all sorts of different breeds," you explained, "we'll probably see a few more before we leave."

You could hear water trickling and you grinned when you looked up at him. "Almost there."

When you finally emerged from your shaded trail to view the massive fountain, Marcus couldn't believe his eyes. He skid to a stop and just stared in wonder at the shallow water surrounded by people eating lunch, families taking pictures, couples sitting close together and children running and playing. Slowly, his gaze drifted around the wide open space, taking in every feature, every flower, every stunning piece of architecture until you finally tugged on his elbow.

"It's called the Bethesda Fountain," you said, pointing to the statue in the middle. "It's an angel, see?"

He nodded, eyes wide with wonder. "She is... beautiful," he whispered, looking like he was in complete awe of the stone statue of the angel draped in long robes with widespread wings behind her, looking over the entire park.

"I think she's holding her arm out as a symbol to bless the waters," you told him, pulling him closer so you could read some of the signage.

"This place is wonderful," he told you, twisting around so he didn't miss a thing. "I cannot believe a place like this exists in such a busy and thriving metropolis."

"Yeah, it is really amazing, isn't it?" you replied. You had lived in New York for so long that you realized you had grown numb to some of its wonder, but seeing it through Marcus's eyes felt like you were seeing it for the first time again.

"You are fortunate to live here," he said, finally looking down at you. "I have never seen a place so grand and spectacular in all my life."

You grinned and stretched up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Looks a lot better with you here," you said with a wink, and you swore you saw his face flush a bit.

The pair of you found an empty bench and sat down for a while. You leaned your head on his shoulder and he hooked an arm around you as you quietly watched the city pass you by.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he murmured as he nuzzled the top of your head. You titled your face up to give him a smile.

"I think this is the most fun I've ever had in this city."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling and his one cheek creating a dimple that you found too irresistible not to kiss, so you did.

"Would you like to just spend the day here or do you want to see something else?"

He looked around the park again with a deep sigh and you could feel his body relax against you. "I am content to do anything, so long as it is with you."

You thought about it for a moment before pulling out your phone and tapping away.

"There's a museum not too far from there that has an exhibition on Ancient Rome," you said. His interest was piqued and he squinted down at your phone. "Would you be interested in that? You could teach me something," you told him with a poke to his ribs. He chuckled and shrugged.

"I fear you are too brilliant for me to teach you anything, but I am intrigued."

You giggled and stood up, hauling him to his feet as you began to lead him back the way you came.

"We can grab something quick to eat along the way."

Marcus was very quiet the first ten minutes inside the museum. He silently read the informative plaques on the walls next to replicas of gladiator helmets and broken spears with his hands clasped behind his back and his expression unreadable. He studied maps and watched a video of a historian talking about the rise of the Roman Empire playing on a loop, and all the while you followed him from room to room, reading what he read and trying to see things through his eyes.

He had a proud smile on his face when you came to a room about the technological advancements of the Roman Empire and how it impacted present day. He had just finished reading about the ways Rome impacted the design of modern day roads and bridges when he saw the next display and his smile faltered.

"What is it?" you asked him softly. His eyes flickered back and forth between a photograph of the Colosseum and an NFL stadium with a little blurb underneath comparing the two.

"You still have..." he drifted off and pointed to the stadium. "Your people still fight to the death?"

Your eyes widened and you shook your head furiously, immediately picking up on the tension in his voice.

"Oh, no. No, Marcus. They don't fight, it's a sport. Nobody dies. The stadiums are just built to look like the Colosseum."

He nodded in understanding but you saw the look on his face. Something troubled him and it made your chest ache. You glanced around the room, noticing it was mostly empty, then stepped forward so you stood between him and the display. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your chin on his chest, drawing his attention down to you and off the photos.

"What is it?"

He gave you a sad smile and his arms circled your waist.

"There is something I have not told you."

Once again, your eyes flickered around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear before looking back up at him expectantly.

"Daniel and Victor found me because I was fleeing Rome," he said solemnly, and already you could see the shame in his face.

"Why were you fleeing?"

He pressed his lips together tightly before sighing. "I displeased the emperor. I refused to carry out his orders. Orders that would kill thousands of young men simply to make a statement. I could not do it, my love." His hands grew tighter around your middle and you swore you saw tears begin to form but he blinked them away. "As punishment, I was sentenced to become a gladiator. To fight for my life and their entertainment in the arena. So... I fled. I was a coward and I fled."

"You weren't a coward," you whispered, bringing a hand up to stroke his bearded cheek. "You would have died, Marcus. That's not cowardly."

"It was cowardly to not die an honorable death," he argued, but you shook your head.

"It's barbaric and wasteful," you told him. You felt him lean into your touch for comfort. "I'm glad you ran away. If you didn't, I never would have met you."

He couldn't resist. Marcus leaned down and captured your mouth with his, committing the feel of your lips to memory before he had to return home and face his destiny.

"C'mon," you said, stepping away from him and taking his hand in yours with a little smile. "Let's keep looking around."

He didn't let go of your hand after that. You walked together through the rest of the room, reading to yourselves about the architecture of Ancient Rome and how the buildings influenced the White House and the Lincoln Memorial when he stopped dead in his tracks and gawked at the very last photo.

"Is this..." he trailed off, reading the caption before looking at you in shock. "The arena still stands? This image looks to be present day." He pointed to the people standing around the outside of the Colosseum, specifically their clothes and how they looked similar to yours, and you nodded.

"Yeah, it's still there," you told him, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he continued to stare at the picture. "I'm sure it looks different and some of it collapsed with time but it's been maintained and well cared for. It's one of the seven wonders of the world."

He looked at you curiously and you smiled. "It's kind of a big deal," you explained simply.

His fingertips dragged over the glass like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"May we see it before I leave?"

Your face fell and sadness swelled deep in your chest. "No, Marcus, I'm sorry. It's too far away."

He nodded, catching the regret in your eye before dropping the subject and moving on. He would see it soon enough, anyway.

It seemed both of you were determined to keep the rest of your museum visit as light as possible. When you reached the area about art, he told you a story of an artist who created a beautiful portrait of him and presented it to him after winning a huge battle for Rome. With a smile, he told you how pompous he felt when he had it hung in his living space at home but he felt bad not honoring the artist's hard work.

When he excused himself to use the restroom, you sat on a bench and did something you refrained from doing since the moment you met.

You Googled his name.

The cell service was spotty and it took an extra minute, but sure enough his name pulled up some results. You picked the first one, quickly scanning down his multiple military accomplishments until you reached the end. You held your breath as you read the small paragraph, fearful of what you would find out but it was a question that had been plaguing your mind for the past two days and you needed to know.

General Marcus Acacius presumably died in 215 A.D. It was believed he met his demise in battle, however his body was never recovered.

Glancing up to make sure Marcus was still in the bathroom, you shot off a quick text to Danny.

You: What year did you set that time machine when you picked up Marcus?

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you watched your text slowly go from delivered to read, then three little dots appeared.

Danny: 215 A.D.

You closed your eyes and sniffled before tucking your phone into your pocket.

How could you go through with this now that you knew you were sending him back to certain death?

You did your damndest to not let it bother you, but it was hard. Every time you looked at him you wondered what fate had in store when he returned and the pit in your stomach just got heavier and heavier.

You arrived home to a note from Danny reminding you he had to run diagnostic tests on the machine and he wouldn't be home until late, so you both decided to stay in for dinner on your last night together. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill but you could make a decent pasta. Marcus lingered and tried to help but it was evident he was used to others cooking for him, and that was okay. You didn't mind.

When you each sat down to eat, his left hand falling easily to your leg again as he picked up his fork, you had to bite your tongue from screaming stay, please stay. By the way he was glancing in your direction throughout the meal, you had a feeling he wanted to say something, too, but either didn't know how or was too afraid to pop the bubble you had found yourselves in.

After you ate, Marcus made a move to wash the dishes but you quickly stopped him. The time you had left now was too precious to waste on things like that. You didn't say that, of course, but instead you wrapped his arm around you so you could burrow into his chest. Neither of you said a word. You didn't need to. You could both feel each minute ticking away, bringing you closer and closer to morning. You closed your watery eyes and pressed your ear against his chest, listening to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart, wishing you could somehow bottle it so you could listen to it when he was long gone and you were all alone.

You wished you knew what to say to make it easier, but you couldn't think of a single thing. You tried to put into words how he made you feel without sounding like a complete psychopath, but you came up empty. So you continued to stand quietly in your kitchen, holding one another close, breathing each other in and trying to savor every single second you had together.

He whispered your name so you forced your eyes open and looked up. His eyes were also shiny with unshed tears and that was all it took for your face to crumple and tears to flow freely down your cheeks. He quickly cupped the back of your head and feverishly pressed his lips against yours as his own tears began to fall. How would you be able to get up and make breakfast in that kitchen without thinking of him? How would you be able to ever wash your sheets for fear of losing his scent? Christ, how on earth would you be able to write that month's article without being institutionalized?

"Marcus," you sobbed before locking your lips together again. It was the desperation in your voice that made him bend his knees, grab the backs of your thighs and wrap your legs around his middle so he could walk you both to your bedroom without breaking the kiss.

With all the care in the world, he delicately removed your clothes until your naked bodies were tangled together in bed, hands roaming over each other's skin as if you were trying to draw a map.

"Do not cry, my sweet girl," he whispered while hooking one of your legs over his forearm. He tipped his head down for just a moment so he could line himself up with your center before focusing back on you. His thumb wiped the tears from your cheek and he gave you a sad smile. "It would be a waste to spend what time we have left crying."

You nodded and took a few deep breaths before wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss right as he sunk himself inside you. He groaned into your mouth and his grip around your leg tightened until his hips became flush with yours.

"Please, allow me to see you, cor mea," he murmured, and you hadn't even realized your eyes squeezed shut. You opened them and stared up at him looking at you like you were his only salvation. The words crawled up your throat and slid down to the tip of your tongue, begging to be said, but you swallowed them back down.

It was too fast. It was all too fast and you didn't have the luxury of time to figure it out. But what you did have was him, in that very moment, and you refused to waste it.

You bucked your hips up slightly, giving him the green light to move, so he did. He went slow. He took his time dragging the heavy length of him in and out while his mouth never left your skin. If he wasn't kissing your lips then he was kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulders - anywhere he could reach, he left his mark. It was the type of mark that burned your skin and settled deep below the surface, flowing through your veins and directly into your soul. The kind of mark that made you want to say something your brain thought was incredibly foolish but your heart was screaming otherwise.

To distract yourself from your thoughts, you wrapped your arms and legs around him and tilted to your side. He understood what you wanted and rolled the both of you over so you were on top, gasping for air. The new position had him reaching a spot that made you see stars and you needed to take a moment to collect yourself before you began to move.

"Oh, fuck," you whimpered, tilting your head back towards the ceiling and shifting your hips ever so slightly. Marcus grinned up at you, his big hands sliding up your thighs to settle on your hips.

"You are so beautiful like this," he told you softly. You dropped your chin back down to look at him, your entire being vibrating with adoration. "You fit around me so perfectly, my love. Do you feel that?" he asked when his cock pulsed inside of you. Your jaw dropped and you nodded. "That is what you do to me. You make me harder than I ever thought imaginable, yet your beautiful body takes me so well."

The praise made your chest warm. You began to roll your hips slowly, savoring every inch of him inside you with your hands braced on his broad shoulders for support when Marcus groaned and leaned forward to catch your breast in his mouth. The feel of his prickly beard against your skin combined with the way he flicked his tongue over your nipple made your back arch and your face pinch with pleasure.

Without warning, Marcus sat up and wrapped one arm around your waist while the other braced himself on the mattress so he could rock his hips in rhythm with yours. Your mouths hovered over each other as you began to move a little faster, your gasps and pants mingling together in the otherwise quiet room.

You could feel the familiar crest building deep inside you and you tried to fight it. Marcus, ever attentive, quickly figured it out and frowned.

"Let go, my sweet," he ordered, but you shook your head.

"I don't want it to end," you whimpered, forehead falling to rest on his shoulder. His arm squeezed around you tighter and his jaw clenched, desperately trying to hold off until you found your release first.

"I plan on taking you as many times as you will allow tonight," he said, lips brushing against your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. "Please, let go," he urged, grinding his hips up against you. "My only wish is to take care of you."

Your heart rattled in its cage at his words, your body growing weak and melting into his hold, giving into his request far too easily. With a raspy moan that resembled his name, you reached your climax, body shuddering in his lap while he whispered words of encouragement in your ear.

When he felt you relax, he groaned and started to move faster, your slick coating his length more and more with each deep thrust. You tilted your face from your spot on his shoulder to find his lips, your tongue plunging languidly into his mouth while he continued to fuck up into you. You had never felt so at peace than in that moment with Marcus. His presence was everywhere; his arms were wrapped tightly around your middle, pressing your sweaty chests together so close, you could feel his heart beating in time with yours. His spend, thick and sticky, was leaking out of you and down his shaft after he came. He was so warm and strong and powerful that it had your head spinning and your heart aching for more. And that is exactly what he gave you.

Marcus spent the rest of the night worshipping you. He cleaned you in the shower only to make a mess of you half an hour later. He massaged your hips and legs when they grew too shaky and weak. He held you close, lovingly stroking your hair when you needed a break. And when you finally couldn't keep your eyes open any longer, he wrapped you up in his arms and let you fall asleep on his chest, perfectly calm and content for the last time.

But it wasn't enough.

"Are you alright?"

You kept your eyes squeezed shut and you shook your head. Marcus sighed from his place next to your bed and bent down to tilt your chin up, unearthing your face from your pillow.

"Please look at me," he pleaded. You couldn't deny him anything, but especially so given you only had a few hours left, so you opened your eyes and gazed at him mournfully. He gave you a small smile and lovingly stroked your cheek.

"I will never forget this for as long as I live. You have given me something I never felt worthy of," he said softly. Tears instantly stung your eyes and your lip began to quiver.

"Don't," you whispered thickly. His eyes flashed with something you couldn't identify and he eagerly leaned forward.

"What?" he whispered. "Do not what?"

Don't go, don't go, don't go.

You were going to say it. You were going to be selfish and beg him not to go, to stay with you because now that you've had him, you can't imagine a life without him. And you fucking swore by the way he was looking at you that he might actually stay.

With your heart pounding nervously in your chest, you reached out for his hand and opened your mouth just to be interrupted by a sharp knock on your bedroom door.

"You guys in there?" Danny called through the wood. "We're all ready to go here. Lizard's waiting in a tow away zone out front, we gotta jet."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to get up, not catching the disappointed look on Marcus's face. You probably looked like shit, your hair was a mess and you hardly got enough sleep, but you didn't care. You tugged on a sweatshirt and pulled the hood over your head before taking Marcus's hand and opening the door. Danny was waiting, leaning against the wall looking at his phone, when you emerged.

"Fun night?" he asked with a wink. You shoved his shoulder and pulled Marcus down the hallway towards your front door, only pausing to grab his weapons and the clothes he arrived in.

"Did you call into work again?" Danny asked just to cut the unbearable silence that filled Lizard's fifteen year old shitty sedan. You nodded and continued to solemnly stare out the window. Marcus took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze but you were finding it difficult to look at him because if you did, you were certain you would burst into tears.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeated to yourself when you pulled up to the familiar split level, faded green home Lizard grew up in. You took Marcus's hand as you walked behind Danny and Lizard, each heavy step bringing you closer and closer to heartbreak.

"We'll distract his mom, you sneak Marcus down to the basement," Danny told you. You nodded and stared down at the ground, your unusual silence giving your brother pause before he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and turned back around.

"Hey, Mrs. Delio! We're back!" Danny called extra loudly into the house. You quietly snuck in after them while they hurried to the kitchen to stop her from stepping out and seeing you before you could sneak downstairs.

"Are we in a dungeon?" Marcus asked when you turned on the light and he saw the concrete walls and floors with only one small window in the corner of the room. You were about to explain it to him when you spotted the time machine in all it's glory, sitting proudly next to the washer and dryer, and you froze. Marcus felt you stiffen next to him and he turned around only to sadly drop his gaze when he noticed what caught your attention. He twisted your body towards him and took you by both shoulders before taking a deep breath and looking you dead in the eye.

"My love-" he began softly, but then Danny and Lizard came rushing down the stairs. You sniffled and looked away so they wouldn't see how emotional you were, but Marcus pinched your chin and forced your eyes back to him.

"We're all set! She's heading out in a few to play bridge, she won't even notice we're gone til we're back," Lizard said as he began to power up the time machine, completely oblivious. You swallowed thickly, eyes still glued to Marcus and heart thumping so fast that you could hear the blood rushing in your ears.

"You ready, big guy?" Lizard asked excitedly as he opened the door and peeked inside the tiny vessel. Danny cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Give 'em a minute," he said quietly, and for the first time all week you felt thankful for your little brother. Lizard turned around, his eyes bouncing back and forth between you two until it dawned on him. He nodded before taking a few steps away to pretend to look at something on his computer with Danny in order to give you a little privacy.

"My love," Marcus began again, holding both your hands tightly in his. "It is difficult to put into words how I feel," he said, taking in a shaky breath. "I wish I were able to show you, but I do not have any talents. If I were a poet, I would write sonnets of your eyes. If I were a musician, I would write ballads of your laughter. If I could create art, I would sculpt and paint for hours to capture the essence of your beauty. But I am just a man, and my foolish words will have to suffice."

Fat, hot tears began to unabashedly roll down your cheeks and your eyebrows pinched together as you tried to memorize every single second before it was gone.

One tear fell from the corner of his eye and he gave you a sad smile. "I have never felt like this before-" he said, but you stopped him, unable to hold back any longer.

"I love you," you sobbed, not even noticing the way Danny's head snapped to look at you in surprise. "I know it's fast and stupid but I love you and I'm sorry but I couldn't let you go without telling you."

Marcus grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you in for a deep, breathtaking kiss. Both your lips were trembling and your tears were mixing together on your cheeks but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment.

He pulled back and pressed his forehead against yours before whispering, "And I love you, cor mea. You are my sanctuary. I wish to spend the rest of my days cherishing you and making you happy."

"Then stay," you begged, the words finally slipping past your lips with such earnest desperation, your voice cracked. "Please. Stay with me. Please-"

He pulled you in for another urgent kiss but this time, he wrapped both arms around you and pinned you tightly to his chest, pouring every ounce of emotion he had into it.

"Are- are you certain?" he stammered when he finally released your swollen lips. You gazed up at him with bleary eyes and nodded with a wide smile. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your hand, which was pressed firmly against his chest, and he broke out in a huge grin.

"They couldn't have this conversation before I got a parking ticket this morning?" Lizard muttered to Danny under his breath, but Danny just elbowed him in the side, unable to look away from the two of you with a big smile of his own.

"I never thought I would feel happiness such as this," Marcus whispered in your ear, tears falling freely from both of you but for an entirely different reason now. You giggled into his neck, tugging him even closer, afraid to let him go even though he agreed to stay.

Danny clapped his hands, breaking the two of you up but Marcus still held you protectively against his side and you kept one arm wrapped around his waist when you turned to face your brother.

"So, no time travel today?" he asked, cocking his head to the side with a smirk.

"There is nothing left for me there," Marcus announced, the dread of being a disgraced man on the run or a gladiator becoming a distant memory. "Everything I ever wanted is right here. I apologize to you both for any additional work this has caused."

"No apology necessary," Danny said, squeezing Marcus on the shoulder good-naturedly. Lizard cleared his throat and took a few steps forward. You narrowed your eyes when you saw he was about to speak and quickly cut him off.

"I'll pay for the goddamn parking ticket, Lizard!"

He smiled at you sweetly, pleased he got exactly what he wanted. "So happy for you both, by the way."

You rolled your eyes and looked back up at Marcus.

"Do you want to go home?"

He smiled down at you warmly, his eyes dancing with adoration and happiness before bending forward to brush his lips tenderly over yours.

"Yes, my love. Let us go home."

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[opbackgrounds]

This scene with Sanji is one of his most important moments in the series, and in my opinion also one of the most difficult passages in the manga to interpret, because to completely understand it you have to look at the manga holistically rather than this scene by itself.

The big question that needs answered is why does Oda let Zoro "win" here by having him be the sacrifice instead of Sanji. Both are equally willing and both are identified much later on as the Wings of the Pirate King, implying that they have similar importance (although vastly different roles) within the Straw Hat crew.

If we go back to Sanji's introduction on the Baratie, his big flaw was that he lacked the "spear of spirit" to pursue his dream. Since he's been a boy he's wanted to find the All Blue, but even when he had the opportunity to go after that dream he chose to stay on the Baratie out of a feeling of obligation to Zeff. Sanji put the continued existence of the restaurant over his own life, something Luffy rightfully called him out for at the time, and even at the end of the arc had to be pushed away by Zeff and the other chefs before he finally set sail for good.

On Drum, Sanji once again almost died protecting Nami and Luffy during the avalanche, resulting in a broken back that required surgury from Dr. Kureha. Luffy again calls him out (note the English translation here isn't entirely accurate, see here for a breakdown), and with his power there's a good chance Luffy could have gotten them all out of trouble without all the dramatics by Sanji.

Something similar happens on Skypiea, when Sanji puts himself in the way of Enel so that Usopp and Nami can be saved. This case is perhaps more justifiable given the extreme situation they were in, but nonetheless he was still quick to throw his life away.

Then on Enies Lobby Nami--while not criticizing his chivalry--calls out Sanji for simply not running away from Kalifa, instead just accepting that he's going to get the shit beat out of him, and possibly die.

So there's a pattern of self-destructive behavior. Sanji repeatedly puts his life on the line when he doesn't need to in order to preserve the lives and dreams of the people he loves. Even him constantly simping over Nami and Robin falls a little into this category, because if either of them told him to take a long walk off a short pier I have no doubt he'd comply. It's that same extreme willingness to sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for that we see in Baby 5, except Sanji was fortunate enough to not be surrounded by people that encourage these worst impulses of self-destructive behavior. As he says here in Thriller Bark, he's just the cook. Luffy can always just find someone else.

(The glory of Whole Cake Island being Sanji realizing, no, Luffy can't, and he won't).

And it is finally on WCI that get to the heart of why Sanji is like this with yet another episode of putting his own dreams and happiness aside for the sake of others, and not until Wano that we finally see him take the first steps toward asking others for help instead of passionately throwing his life away when he doesn’t need to.

When Zoro first offered his head to Kuma, the prominence of his dream was first and foremost. Notice that Sanji never mentions the All Blue. One Piece is a series that places the pursuit of one's own ambition above all else, even if that ambition is selfish. Sanji hasn't yet learned to be selfish, so Zoro knocks him out and ends up being the one to accept Luffy's pain. Sacrifice isn't sacrifice if the person doesn't value what they're giving up, and right now Sanji clearly doesn't value his own life compared to the rest of the crew.

Next chapter Oda will speak through Brook to confirm that Sanji's willingness to give himself up wasn't foolish or stupid. It's just that he's missing a piece of the puzzle, and that's not something he'll have for a long time yet.

[ccieatchildren]

I’m sure we’ve all seen by now Steve Blackman’s reasoning for Five/Lila stating:

“I felt that Five had to have a love story.”

And how it shows how this man somehow has such a deep fundamental misunderstanding about his own characters. How he helped create the first three seasons of this show and doesn’t realize that

This is Five’s love story.

Umbrella Academy the show wouldn’t exist without Five’s love. The whole plot and story is it.

He is the catalyst of all the plot lines while his family is the center of all the story beats. His love is the instigator for all the events of the show simply because he chooses to do everything possible in the hope that it will save his loves.

It’s not like this was even a subtle idea because Five literally states it himself multiple times over the series!

I just don’t understand how you can get it so wrong.

He creates the Commission in hopes of regulating the timeline so his family won’t get obliterated from existence, tattooing himself with the potential solution to rewriting the universe so they can all live happily one day.

He survives the apocalypse all on his own, when there was no real reason to, just because he believed he could get back to his family, spending 50+ years developing the math to one day do so.

He joins the Commission and murders and maims and manipulates in the desperate attempt that he might have a chance to go back and see/save his family.

He spends the first time he sees his family after over six decades not with them, but rather searching for a way to stop their deaths, sending them all through time when it doesn’t work.

He runs himself ragged stopping apocalypse after apocalypse just for them.

And when he loses all hope, accepting the kugelblitz, he is content to know he is doing so with his family.

As much as this show is about the whole family, ultimately, imo, this is Five’s story about his grueling quest to save the family he loves.

Because otherwise this show wouldn’t exist without him and the rest of the characters would just be decorations in the rubble of a world long gone.

So to say bro needed a love story— he doesn't say romance, but love story— is so durna, like what??? I guess if you really wanted him to have a romance you could do that, but there were many better options than the wife of someone he deeply loves, something he would never do.

(Not to mention all the real world implications of the romance with the actors, production really was waiting for him to be legal ಠ_ಠ)

Also I don’t think it’s a coincidence that many fans view Five somewhere under the aro/ace umbrella (pun intended).

Now, because of this misconstruction the ending of the show also suffers.

Brushing over all the mind boggling things the real ending says about abuse, its victims, and growing from it (which is actually like how did no one look at that and think hmm maybe this isn’t right for the story we’ve been telling), it also misunderstands love. It tells the audience that love isn’t worth it, in a show… about love. Not just Five’s but Hazel/Agnes, Viktor/Sissy, Allison+Claire, and more. How all your pain and suffering and tribulations for those you love are stupid and useless and cringe.

But y’know what, Mr. Blackman, I think you’re cringe for that absolute bonkers bananas ending.

And that’s why having the solution to the series being that Five should have never jumped in the first place would have been the best ending.

Making it so that the only solution to save the whole universe be that Five stay with his family, with those he loved— what he had been trying to do for the whole show— would have been the perfect conclusion to the story. It would show that all he had to do was stay, because that’s all they ever needed, that’s all he ever needed.

AND IT WOULD MAKE LOGISTICAL SENSE.

Five and Viktor are well confirmed to have been the closest ever since they were young. And Five (doesn’t matter if he’s the now Five who lived through the shows events or the young one who ran off) would most certainly be a supportive figure in Viktor’s life. He’s smart, for one, and it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to figure out what was really going on (especially with his hatred of Reginald) and help Viktor that way. But even if he doesn’t, when they grow to adults and Viktor naturally doesn’t take his pills or his power starts showing, Five’s love and care for his (closest) brother would most certainly help prevent the apocalypse. Especially since if Five and Viktor are close, as they grow older, I feel like the others would grow closer as well, maybe not the same degree, but they would be more willing and supportive of Viktor in the end (I feel like Season 1 shows us how at the end of the day the siblings do care for Viktor, but they were just too late, so this time they wouldn’t be).

Through the subway we see the timeline where he jumps still exists, so that should mean there is a way for him not to do that. His jumping (and the siblings he brings along) is what creates the paradoxes and the "need" for the Commission. So by him not jumping, problem solved.

This might come at the cost of the current versions of the characters, but I think if they can make the developmental journeys they did once, I think they can do it again, and have a happy ending.

(Also the Jennifer incident wouldn’t happen either bcs of Five or just bcs that plot line was so fluffin stupid, so yay alive Ben)

(And Diego and Luther meet Lila and Sloane respectively cuz they are also part of the marigold brood so they still do exist at the same time, so yay happy couples)

It is somewhat simple, but I think that works as well, especially for a character like Five. He spends so much time looking at all the different equations, trying to find some complex solution to everything, trying permutation after permutation (as evidenced by our and the diner Five's), when it was right in front of him. Idk, I just think it would be nice if he just decided to stay with his siblings instead of running off.

Sure it may not be completely perfect, maybe Ben still does die, or Klaus can’t meet Dave again, or characters still find themselves prey to their arrogance but I don’t think it needs to be, because real life isn’t perfect. But the bonds we make and the love we share makes it so, a major theme the Umbrella Academy isn't unfamiliar with.

And it just makes me so deeply sad that this isn’t the ending we got. That this isn’t the ending the characters got.

They deserve so much better than Blackman gave them, and it’s a disgrace that he didn’t.

[shaisuki]

CIGARETTE SMOKE

|| the third entry for the series “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”

content warnings ─── yandere themes, implied kidnapping, hints of smut, jealousy.

is it bad that you want to take someone just to protect them from this world? aki regretted but doesn't feel bad about it.

we devil hunters don't have the long life to live.

there's a certain annoyance that has been creeping up on me since you joined the division. you clearly didn't belong here and sometimes i would ask myself why are you here? why are you wasting your life in this hellhole for no reason. you're alive. happy. you aren't here for revenge. to avenge your loved ones from the devils. you have no purpose here. you don't belong here.

however it's not my place to dictate someone's choice of being here but you infuriate me to no end that i wished for your demise. i didn't understand why i feel this way towards you. it doesn't make sense. you were a nobody to mine. not the one i should care for but sometimes i can't take my eyes off you.

the gnawing feeling of seeing you so friendly and close to someone like denji makes my blood boil and it's easy to ignore it but i can't not when you're starting to grow on me.

what casual moments between us, i have cherished it. not realizing what effect it could have on me. i started to see you on my dreams. started to crave your presence that i can no longer breath and it hurts me so much that i have started to feel this way to you more than i would like to admit.

then we started to lay on the same bed. where can i hear you breath. feel you under my fingertips. the softness and warmth you provided for simply existing. how it provided the intimacy of comfort and security. drown in the depths of the pools of your eyes that i can no longer swim and sink in to you.

is this what it feels to fall for someone who is close but is distant. how could it be when you're the one who initiated it. how cruel are you but i can't blame you. we simply comforted each other with our bodies and it's my fault that i let myself feel what i wanted to feel.

this would be our last night together. allow me to cherish you. let me feel you. let me sink my teeth unto your skin that you will feel me for days.

the gasps and moans that left your lips breathlessly is the air i breath. say my name the way i like it. say my name as i touch you in places where it brought you pleasure. the stretch marks and scars decorating your skin that i have memorized. the curves and every swell of your body where i have kissed and worshipped. allow me. allow me. allow me. allow me to savor all of it. you won't deprive me of it. i know of it since you're helplessly under me.

that's right. that's how things should be. you and me. nothing else in this world that can stop us. not even the devils.

why won't you be mine?

the thought occured to me. why? we have shared our thoughts. the touch that i came to miss. the kisses that i denied at first and learned to crave. i have touched you. we've exchanged sweet nothings. the string of salivas connecting our lips. my lips on yours and my spent deep inside you. painting your walls white as you came around me. isn't it enough that we belong to each other. you're mine. you're mine. you're mine. you are mine.

so forgive me. forgive me that the last thing you will ever see is the smoke coming from my cigarette as i lay claim on you. protecting you from this cruel world that took the people i loved and i won't let it happen to you. i don't understand myself why i am asking for your forgiveness when i know you won't forgive but it won't hurt to ask. you're too kind and that was your mistake for having me. for letting me in your world that I claimed to be mine.

my thoughts are muddled and the only thing that keeps me sane of my reality is the light coming from the end of my cigarette and your warm body resting beside me. warm. it is a good thing. you're still alive and you'll wake up with me beside you. that's better. is all i can think as i watch my cigarette smoke disappear in the thin air like you were.

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Mermaids Don’t Exist]

Summary: Jake continues to plays your knight in shining armour when tensions rise between you and an overly intoxicated patron. Bob brings up a mutual memory.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Sexually degrading comments made towards reader. Sexual tension, trauma. Mentions of death & violence.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Still not writing as much as I once was but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Any comments, thoughts or concepts are welcome!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dreams mainly occur when the body falls into a stage of sleep referred to as R.E.M. Rapid eye movement occurs when the brain and body are finally able to completely rest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that when your body is able to rest, it allows you to do so. 

“We’ll find you, Y/n!” 

Nightmares are typically thought to be an evolutionary conserved trait. Some researchers believe that nightmares provide a rehearsal for life-or-death situations. Before you lived one? You would have said something along the lines of ‘that checks out.’

“No no no no please, Patrick, stay with me—“ 

Some researchers believe nightmares to be a practical experience for many people as it allows the brain to run through multiple different algorithms to find the most desirable strategies, and solutions to often critical and complex situations. 

From a procedural standpoint, simply imagining doing an action can improve your performance.  

“I love you—take Charlie.”

This applies when we simply imagine doing an action such as playing the piano or running for your life after being run off the road, it activates something called a mirror neuron. 

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here, girly.” 

In theory, the more nightmares you have, the more of those algorithms your brain is able to run, and the more prepared you’re likely to be for the daily struggle of survival. 

But evolution herself is seen by the scientific community more so as a tinkerer than as an inventor. 

“Oh god—please, not my baby, please! Someone! Help us!” 

So, that’s probably why you have the same nightmare over and over and over again every single night. 

Every morning you wake in the same way, with your face pressed into your pillow and your chest sinking into your mattress. Secretly, every morning you wished that your pillow would have suffocated you in your sleep so that today would forever be unobtainable. But you couldn’t do that, no. Not when the only way to bring a sense of worth to your life was to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

With a groan and a look that spoke volumes to your lack of self-esteem, you rolled onto your back and let out a heavy sigh. Your hands were quick to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon rays beaming into your bedroom via the slightly cracked windows. 

“Your name is Y/n Y/l/n, you are doing the right thing.”

Guilt and grief aren’t linear emotions. They don’t have a perception of how much time has passed. Realistically it had been three years, six months, and two days since your entire world had been flipped upside down. But every morning, after seeing your husband bleeding to death as he sat pressed against the steering wheel, and having held your five-year-old son in your arms while he took his last breath, the wound was reopened.

And the clock always resets.

“Ah, there she is.” You couldn’t help but hang your head in shame almost. Penny’s glare from behind the bar was as piercing and sharp as it was endearing and playful. Like a woman who took no shit from no one. “You know, you’d think management would be here on time more frequently than whatever the hell this is.” All you could do was take the semi-serious scattering from the owner of the bar you’d been lucky enough to be set up with a pretty good gig at. “Get over here and give me a hand will ya?” 

“Sorry, Penny—” There wasn’t much more you could say to justify yourself. You woke up late, got ready slowly, and got lost in the steam of your mid-afternoon shower as you fought off the existential dread that was your current situation. “Flat tyre,” You shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal that you were currently twenty-three minutes late for your shift, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah well, you can start by clearing off the table by the piano,” Penny smiled as she nudged her head in the direction of the unruly table of patrons that had surely had far too much to drink. “Think Rick’s had a little more than his liver would care to admit.” 

“Yeah righto,” you sighed as you came behind the bar, doing up your apron as you looked around at the utter mess that had become the place. “I’ll sort him out.” 

North Island wasn’t somewhere you ever saw yourself living, but that was the real kicker in all of this. You didn’t mind the picturesque town with clear blue skies and water that mirrored it. But being the outsider, being the new resident, being the Hard Deck’s newest manager was all some of these people saw you as. Six months in a small Naval town was barely a dint in the years some of these families had been living here. 

“Aw hello, Brewer!” Rick Spencer, the resident rioter, cooed as he beamed your way. For someone in their mid-sixties, he surely went alright. “What brings you in on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Typical - If you could have, you would have rolled your eyes so far into the back of your head you would have fallen over. Instead, you chose to smile and settle into the nightlife festivities with a can-do attitude and a rather cheeky smile. 

“Came to check on you, Spence? How’s everything over here boys?” It wasn’t uncommon for you to entertain the banter most of the patrons would give you. Most of the locals had caught on quickly that you enjoyed a good laugh every now and again but also knew how to handle your own. 

But there's always one in every group, isn’t there? 

“Would be a hell of a lot better if the barmaid was a little more topless! Right boys!?” A man you hadn’t seen before interrupted before a roar of ‘yeahs’ and agreements were made. Fists and beer bottles along with spirits alike slammed against the tabletop. “Come on girly—” The man continued as you stood there holding the empty bar tray, ready and waiting to collect the empties that littered the table. “Get your kit off.” 

“I don’t think so, boys,” You politely declined the offer of public indecency. “Perhaps in another lifetime.” 

“Sorry about him, Brewer,” Rick explained as he shook his head and stood from his seat at the booth. “My nephew’s here for a few days.”  

“Yeah well, so long as he remembers I run the joint and can have him tossed any time,” You replied sternly. “Keep him in line, Rick.” 

“Oh come on now, sweetheart, I was only joking!” The man you only knew as the nephew chuckled as he overheard your comment. “It’s slim pickings around here anyway, you just look like the best of a bad bunch is all.” 

“Hey!” That voice, that far too familiar voice echoed through the crowd. “You speak to her, or any woman for that matter, like that again? So help me god I’ll punch your teeth right through the back of your skull.” Jake snarled as he came to stand in front of you with his back nearly pressed right into your chest. “Got it!?” The close proximity, the overwhelming aroma of the familiar cologne, and the notes of burnt orange and bourbon made your heart warm. It all had your heart beating against your chest with a force so intense you thought it might break through. 

“Yeah right,” the man only known as the nephew agreed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get on the waters for a while.” 

“That and a pretty big tip should call us even,” you added with envy conviction laced in your voice that you even had yourself fooled that everything was alright. “Let me just grab these empties for you fellas.” 

You didn’t mess around with it, you simply let the group fall back into their regular chatter as you filled your tray. 

Jake stood with crossed arms a little off to the side, eyeing off all the men who sat idly. Fucking pricks. 

“Been here all of five fucking minutes—” Jake could sense your frustration as you turned into him. At first, he didn’t move, he simply stood there drinking you in as you held the now full tray of dirty glassware. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” was all you said. 

With wandering eyes, Jake didn’t miss a single inch of you. 

“I know,” Jake smiled softly as he reached around to lead you back to the bar for a moment to decompress. His hand gently fell to the small of your back as you walked side by side, “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but just because you’re capable? Doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.” 

Alone, that’s all you’d ever been for the last three years. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” the sigh that left your body allowed your shoulders to relax as you placed the tray onto the bar and slid it over for Penny to take. “Thanks, Jake, I owe you one.” 

Jake Seresin had never been the kind of guy who saw himself settling down. But when he first saw you, that thought hadn’t left his mind. 

“Name a time and place,” Jake teased as he sent you a wink. It didn’t take Jake long to find himself at home up by the bar, perched on one of the bar stools as he entertained his favourite bartender. “I’ve always wondered what our first date would be like.” 

“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Seresin?” You knew Jake had a thing for you, it wasn’t all that hard to put together. But it could never work, not in a million years. Not when you were playing pretend on a professional basis.

“What’s that even mean?” Jake asked as he leaned his elbows on top of the bar, grinning ear to ear as he pressed your buttons more. 

“It means—“ You cooed as you leaned into his space, making it known that the flirting was welcome, but the end goal wasn’t in sight. “I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.” 

“Pretty good-looking set of pants if I do say so myself,” Jake teased as his eyes trailed down the expanse of your body, then back up. Those emerald cities of his were full of complex wonder and undoubtable loyalty. Something you could never give back. “But despite the fact I think you’re pants would look a hell of a lot better in a pile on my bedroom floor, I’m not just doing any of this for a chance to, well, you know what I mean.” 

You did know what Jake meant, and for all intents and purposes you could admit to yourself that it sounded very tempting. But you knew what the repercussions would be.

“Jake, that’s all very sweet of you,” you felt as if you had this very conversation every week. The gentle let down. The kind-ish conversation where you reminded the overly-confident and somewhat self-assured Aviator that you weren’t looking for love or lust, or anything. Besides, there were already too many people looking for you. “But you know, as much as I think you’re a good guy and friend, I’m not interested.” 

Jake stood silently before you, drinking in all that was you. From the lines etched into your forehead to the small scar that ran through your left eyebrow. He wasn’t listening, there was just something about you. Something so intriguing that he couldn’t stop trying to win you over. He couldn’t stop trying to get you to give him just one chance. One chance was all Jake wanted to convince you he wasn’t everything he knew people had told you he was. 

“What would you say if I asked you to–” Before Jake had a chance to finish his question, the echoing sound of a glass shattering into smitherings against the wooden flooring, interrupted his train of thought. 

“OOOIII– TAXI!” It was almost as if all the patrons, besides Jake that was, had all congealed into one as they yelled shouted and cheered towards the man who had dropped his glass. With a heavy sigh and a quick roll of the eyes, you knew you would be the one who ultimately had to clear the mess. 

“I should probably get back to work.” The silence that came from Jake was deafening as you pulled away from where you had been standing far too close to a man you thought you didn’t want. A man you couldn’t have even if deep down you really wanted. Life was unfair like that. You couldn’t have anything you wanted, anything you loved. Anything that made you happy in the smallest of ways. 

“There’s really no chance of getting you to agree to just one date, is there Brewer?” Jake watched as you made your over to where you kept the cleaning supplies in a small section behind the bar. 

“If you already know that then why do you constantly make such an effort?” It was the look on your face that told Jake everything he needed to know. There was no chance in hell he was ever getting that date. 

But Jake Seresin never gave up without a fight, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to now. 

“Because you gentled me, Brewer,” Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who wanted to settle down. He was always so content with the relations he chose to have and the way he chose to have them. Short simple quick flings. Girlfriends who lasted no longer than a year and one-night stands he’d promise to call but never got their numbers. But then there was you. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Please don’t put that on my shoulders, Jake,” You weren't sure how to respond to that, how to process that kind of admission. “Just lay off the heroics for a while alright? I don’t want people getting the wrong impression.” 

“That impression would be?” Jake questioned like you’d just insulted his very being. That it would be a crime to love him. 

“Jake, I have a job to do alright,” It wasn’t that you were angry or upset that Jake cared for and about you. It was more frustration on your part for not being able to act on your own feelings towards him. It had been three years since your husband died. Three years since you felt the loving embrace of another human being. That alone was enough to frustrate anyone. “Please, just–just, I need to get back to work.” 

The thing about nightmares is that they often don’t stick to their own parameters. Sometimes, you end up living a nightmare more often than you dream one. Right now? As Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the heart, you knew you were wide awake. Living a nightmare that continued to punish only the good. 

“You’re untouchable,” Jake sighed to himself softly as he shook his head in defeat. “The untouchable woman who won’t let anyone in, you’re too proud or something aren’t you?” 

“It’s just–” All you wanted to do was explain yourself, pull Jake aside and let him in on why you couldn’t allow him to love you the way you wanted him to. But no words came out as you stood there holding the old dustpan by your side. 

With every blink, you saw flashes of Patrick. The love you lost too soon, too suddenly. He made sure to haunt your dreams to keep you safe. For a brief second of all-consuming anguish, you saw him too. Standing right behind Jake, warning you not to. “I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.” 

“Right,” Jake clenched his jaw when he felt the word vomit about to spew from his lips. He wasn’t mad, rejection just wasn’t something he was familiar with. “When you get a chance, put a Budweiser on Bradshaw’s tab.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line of regret, instantly kicking himself for pushing. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the chase was as addicting as it was thrilling. With a simple knock of his knuckles on the bar before, he turned on his heels. Leaving you to stand there in your own self-loathing. 

Your heart sank as you watched Jake shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a head that hung so low you almost wondered if his neck would be sore. Guilt, shame, it all felt the same. But you couldn’t let Jake in, you couldn’t allow him into your life more than what you’d given him over the last six months. 

You’d tangled yourself in barbed wire so you couldn’t be reached by anyone. Unknowingly bleeding when as it digs into you more and more. You would think the touch of skin on yours wouldn’t be so terrifying, but you’d been bruised before. You couldn’t allow Jake to fall into your web of lies that kept you safe from harm’s way. If hurting him was the only way to keep him safe, you’d hurt him twice over every single day.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay the untouchable woman. 

***~***~***~***~***~****

As a child, there was magic in the mundane. You often found yourself missing the mermaids among the koi in the pond, their glittering scales reminiscent of a childhood fairytale. Summer mornings you’d make bouquets out of the same flowers adults would now mow away while wrinkling their noses at the weeds. 

You often wondered to yourself when the awe of the day-to-day faded away and when you stopped believing in your ability to see mermaids in the momentous world around you. 

“Another round fellas?” You tried not to think too much about the way Jake’s eyes burned into you like a fiery sunbeam as you stood behind Rooster. “Same old same old? The usual orders of Bradshaw’s table?” The squad, affectionately known as the Daggers erupted into laughter all the while Rooster remained silent and brooding. 

“You are all bleeding my dry,” Bradley sighed as you made the rounds and collected all the empties onto your bar tray. “Seriously, I know you aren’t all working for free, cough up.” 

“You could– just apologise for being a Neanderthal and I’ll close it out?” Your statement left a bad taste in Rooster’s mouth, he wasn’t one for apologising for things he didn’t think he’d done wrong. 

“I could,” the brooding moustache-having man replied. “But it’d be an empty lie.” There was something about Bradley Bradshaw that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, he was–an only child. He probably never imagined mermaids among the koi.  

“Appreciate the honesty there, Bradshaw,” you chuckled deeply as you finished you collecting all the empty glasses and beer bottles. “Guess the next rounds on you.” 

“Here here,” Coyote chimed in with a Cheshire Cat grin. “All in a hard day’s work there Rooster, you always know how to piss off the barkeep.” 

“Works out in our favour,” Bob smiled as he passed you two empty glasses. “I don’t think I’ve paid for a drink of my own in a few weeks now.” 

“No, you just keep trying to convince everyone Brewer here was your first kiss,” Phoenix smirked as she finished off her beer. 

All the air inside your lungs felt like they had been sucked right out. The chills that ran down the expanse of your spine made your blood run cold. You stood tall with your now full tray of old beer bottles and empty glasses and sent a polite smile Bob’s way. 

“You still riding that wave?” 

“You just really look like Y/n from Nurellun Public,” Bob countered with an almost pleading tone. “She was my first kiss by the sandpit and I remember she had a little yellow dot in her right eye.” 

“Brewer has a yellow dot in her right eye,” Jake decided to enter the conversation from his place in the corner of the booth. “Tell you what Floyd, you must have been one shocking kisser if you got Brewer here to change her damn name.” The table erupted into a loud boisterous laugh as the Weapons System Officer sunk a little lower into his seat. 

You felt for Bob, being the butt of the joke was never a good feeling. But when your case officer relocated you to North Island, he didn’t bank on one of its locals being your first snog. You hated gaslighting the guy, but you had no other choice. Bob Floyd had to stay in the era of Meridamis and weed bouquets. 

“Like I told you last time Bob, you’ve got the wrong girl,” It was as nonchalant as it was dismissive. “My first kiss was with Johnny Bennett out at some random guys shed.” You had gotten used to lying about your life and who you were. At the very beginning it was almost impossible, but three years on? You’d gotten pretty good at playing pretend. 

Only you wished it could be with the mermaids in their fairytales. But much like all those mermaids and all those fairytale stories……you didn’t exist. Much like Johnny Bennett.  

***~***~***~***~***~ 

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[mxtxfanatic]

Jiang Yanli's Sacrifice of Love

Something that's bothered me for a while has actually been how Jiang Yanli's sacrifice at Nightless City is discussed. It was neither a spur of the moment decision nor something that she would have avoided had she "had more time to think." For one, the reason why Jiang Yanli is at Nightless City is to speak to Wei Wuxian. It's pretty clear that this is the reason, because when Wei Wuxian had gone to Koi Tower to retrieve Wen Ning and Wen Qing's ashes, he was discovered by Madam Jin outside of the palace where she and Jiang Yanli had been mourning over Jin Zixuan's coffin:

Madam Jin had good sight. She saw the features submerged in the darkness, and her face twisted at once. She yelled in a shrill voice, “Everyone! Come, everyone! Wei Ying—he’s here! He crept into Koi Tower!” Wei WuXian leaped down the roof. Suddenly, he heard a series of hastened footsteps. Somebody hurried out of the palace. He could only make a run for it.

—Chapt. 77: Nightfall, exr

Jiang Yanli hears that Wei Wuxian is in Koi Tower and immediately leaves her vigil over Jin Zixuan's coffin, but Wei Wuxian avoids her. Her only other option is to go to the Nightless City pledge banquet, because she would not get another chance. The cultivation world was planning on besieging the Burial Mounds the next day:

Jin GuangShan raised his hands, signaling for the people to be quiet and listen to him talk. When the cheers slowly died down, he continued, raising his voice, “Tonight, the ones whose ashes had been scattered were the two leaders of the Wen Sect’s remnants. And tomorrow! It will be the rest of the Wen-dogs and—the YiLing Patriarch, Wei Ying!”

—Chapt. 78: Nightfall, exr

So now we see that Jiang Yanli's presence at Nightless City wasn't an accident or plothole, and she wasn't there without the knowledge that what she would walk into would likely be bad. She simply did not care because she needed to see her didi, if only for the last time.

Jiang YanLi managed, “... A-Xian. Before... why did you run away so fast... I didn’t even get the chance to look at you, or say something to you...” ... And so, she didn’t know what else she could say to Wei Wei WuXian, under such circumstances. It was just that she felt like she had to see this brother of hers once more.

—Chapt. 78: Nightfall, exr

Now let's discuss the second part:

Jiang YanLi, “I’m... I’m here to tell you...” To tell him what? That it’s fine? That I don’t hate you? That everything is fine? That I don’t blame you for have killed Jin ZiXuan? It was impossible. But she couldn’t say anything that was the opposite either. And so, she didn’t know what else she could say to Wei Wei WuXian, under such circumstances.

—Chapt. 78: Nightfall, exr

I've seen this section analyzed in a way that makes it seem like Jiang Yanli does wholly blame Wei Wuxian for everything that has gone bad but simply has no will to speak that hatred into existence. That is clearly an overly simplistic and mean-spirited interpretation of Jiang Yanli's internal dilemma. Jiang Yanli's hesitance is not a reluctance to give validity to her hate but that she doesn't know how to directly face the contradictions in her relationship with the man she sees as her didi. When they were both children in Lotus Pier, the contradiction between she as a master and Wei Wuxian as a servant could be ignored because the strictest enforcer of them, Madam Yu, spent most of her time away from home. After the Jiang Clan massacre and Jiang Cheng assuming leadership, there was nobody who would override her stance on seeing Wei Wuxian as a true brother. When she had Jiang Cheng sneak her to Yiling to show off her wedding outfit to Wei Wuxian, she was making a conscious choice to act as if the dynamics between them have not been irreversibly changed despite Wei Wuxian's defection from the Jiang, his subsequent exile from the cultivation world, and her impending marriage into the main clan pushing for his persecution. She even invites Wei Wuxian to Koi Tower for Jin Ling's one-month celebration despite surely hearing about how terrible his reputation was at the time!

But the Qiongqi Path Ambush crushes her dreams of peaceful coexistence and pushes the contradictions to the forefront where they can no longer be ignored. Wei Wuxian is not just her didi. He is the feared Yiling Patriarch, loathed by all, and now the murderer of her beloved husband/father of her child. Her other brother and father-in-law are gathering cultivators to kill him, in turn. She is hurt and grieving, and this pain is for more than just the loss of her husband. This is the same dilemma that Jin Ling finds himself in at the end of the novel: he suddenly has to contend with the fact that his favorite uncle, Jin Guangyao, is the real reason why he was orphaned, and he must contend with that betrayal atop all of his memories of Jin Guangyao's acts of love and kindness towards him as well as the fact that the man is now dead. Does the love cover the hurt? No, but the hurt also doesn't erase the love nor convert it into hatred. Likewise, for Jiang Yanli to say otherwise to Wei Wuxian would be a disservice to both of them. Yet despite not having words prepared beforehand to discuss all of these conflicting feelings inside of her, Jiang Yanli still rushes out of the palace to catch a glimpse of Wei Wuxian, still finds her way to Nightless City, still calls him by his pet name and speaks gently to him despite having just been slashed in the back by one of his corpse soldiers.

And while she wasn't expecting it to be the last time they'd see each other because of her death, that doesn't make her sacrifice any less meaningful for the fact that she did not predict it prior to it happening. She—a notoriously frail woman who had just had her back cut open—gathered enough strength to push a grown man out of the way of an incoming attack that only she saw coming:

Shyly saying a few words to Madam Jin, [Jiang Yanli] walked to the edge of the watching platform and tossed out two flowers at them. This used up as much strength as she could muster. For one second, Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng were even worried that she’d fall off. Seeing that Jiang YanLi steadied herself, they finally relaxed.

—Chapt. 70: Departure, exr

Suddenly, Jiang YanLi’s eyes opened wide. Her hands conjured up an explosive current of strength from nowhere and pushed Wei WuXian hard! Wei WuXian was pushed onto the ground again by the force. The next time he looked up, he saw the gleaming blade of a sword pierce through her throat.

—Chapt. 78: Nightfall, exr

If that wasn't an act of love, I don't know what is.

[bumblebugwrites]

Are You Mine?

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: For as long as you could remember you and Lockwood had butted heads. Always getting on each other’s nerves, getting in each other’s ways. You basically hate each other. Right?

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Cursing, Angst (like lowkey)

Word Count: 3.8k

If there existed within the planes of this earth a man more detestable than Anthony Lockwood, you had been lucky enough to avoid making his acquaintance. Though Quill Kipps may have made for a close second, you would rather spend an hour locked in a room alone with the latter than fifteen minutes solo with Lockwood in the kitchen of your own home. It had always been that way, with some minor exceptions and though time managed to cool some of the ever-raging conflict between you, you never quite saw eye to eye.

It was a well-known fact that you and George came as a package deal. The brains and his bodyguard, that’s what Lockwood called you. And for what it was worth, it wasn’t too far from the truth. You were, always had been, a strike first, ask questions later kind of girl. Where George had the perspective and the research to see the world in shades of gray, your situation forced you to see only in black and white. Maybe that’s why you and Lockwood had always hated each other so much. Everything was always an act with him, and you simply didn’t have the time to peel back the layers. 

From your very first meeting two weeks after George was fired and you quit to ensure his safety, your chances at friendship had been dismal. The pair of you had been staying in a small, rundown hotel with what little money you could spare from your previous stint of employment, getting by on only one meal a day, a small black coffee passed back and forth and one half of a bagel each. It was miserable to say the least. Needless to say, not many people were looking to hire a fired Fittes employee and his weary sidekick. Then, on the second Tuesday since your loss of employment, George found Lockwood’s ad in the papers and after calling and being informed that you would be given the chance to interview immediately you couldn’t help the small plum of hope that settled deep within your chest at the opportunity. George on the other hand was ecstatic, fantasizing eagerly about his first meal post hiring before even setting foot in the door. That is until it opened, revealing a boy no older than you, outfitted in a freshly pressed suit.

“Mr. Lockwood?” George questioned, as you held back taking him in.

“That’s me, come in.” He signaled you forward with a smile so dazzling you were forced to avert your eyes. Your gaze fixed itself on the ground instead, taking note of the unsullied sill and the doormat, that’s edges aligned themselves perfectly with the jambs on either side. It was pristine. Alarmingly so.

“I take it we’re your first interview of the day?” The boy looked caught off guard by the sound of your voice, but quickly readjusted his features into an easy grin. 

“The rest were here yesterday, so you’ve just missed them.” You quirked a doubtful brow but remained silent and followed as he beckoned you forward into what looked to be a small library of sorts. 

“Normally I do my interviews one-on-one,” Lockwood spoke, looking back and forth between the two of you as you sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch. You felt George shift uncomfortably to your left.

“Well, we’re a package deal. We come together or not at all.” The phrase weighed on your tongue as it left your mouth. You’d been using it all week and where at first it felt simple, some sort of obvious truth, it was growing harder and harder to use. Especially when George had his parents to rely on and you had, well, nothing.

“Right… Well, the tests don’t work quite as well when you’re both in the room.” George leaned over, squeezing your hand in a signal that all would be well, before standing up to move to the hallway.

“That’s fine, I’ll wait my turn.”

After a series of demonstrations regarding your Talent, easily passed as you’d always had a fairly strong sense of Sight and a long wait in the hall for George’s turn, you were back in the room once more. 

“Right then, that’s all I’ve really got for today, so you can be on your way, and I’ll be back to you tomorrow with my decision,” Lockwood smiled, leaning back into his armchair.

“Tomorrow?”

“(Y/N)--” George attempted to place a soothing hand on your shoulder, but you shook him off with ease.

“No. I want to know what is going on here.” Once more Lockwood’s brows arched in surprise, but he kept the remainder of his features under control this time.

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re not excused. You have an ad in the papers calling yourself an agency, but you’re obviously just some sad excuse of a one-man operation, sorry one-boy operation. I mean do you even have a Supervisor?”

“Well–”

“Oh, never mind that, because worse yet, you’ve been lying to us since the moment we set foot in the door. There haven’t been any other interviews, have there Mr. Lockwood? And you had better tell me the truth because I don’t appreciate having my time wasted.”

“You do realize I’m the one conducting this interview? As in I have the power to employ you, or not.” The boyish facade vanished in only a moment and the clear hint of a threat laced his tone, but it didn’t matter, because you were outraged. Act first, think later, right? Your hand flew without hesitation to the rapier at your side and within a moment it was drawn and swinging directly towards the boy in front of you. Not to harm of course, just to return the threat. But he was fast, faster than you’d realized, and by the time your blade was making its descent, he had risen from his seat to meet it with his own.

“I highly doubt you would like to face the implications of attacking me in my own home.”

“I was just leaving anyways.” You resheathed your sword in one quick motion, and began your warpath towards the door, George calling out after you. He caught your arm just as you reached your destination.

“(Y/N) please. He’s actually considered us, that’s more than we can say for any other place.”

“I am not here to be to entertain the fantasies of some boy who’s decided to play grown up for the day.”

“Come on, this seems real enough, he’s certified and everything. Besides, we’re running out of options, and you know it–”

“We can find another–”

“We can’t. I could always go live with my parents, but it will take years for anyone to hire me after Fittes let me go. And you– Well I doubt any of those places from before will take you now, and it’s not like you have–”

“That’s enough George–” You cut him off as Lockwood appeared in the doorway to the library, a knowing look painted across his features. “We should just go. I’ve caused enough of a mess as is and it’s not like he’s making his decision any time soon.”

Your stature deflated as you reached once more for the exit.

“Actually, I made my decision the moment you both passed my test.” You and George spun around in unison. “You were right,” he said, hanging his head sheepishly, “there were no other interviews.”

“So, what are you saying?” It was George who spoke, but Lockwood kept his eyes fixed on you as he made his answer.

“I’m saying you’ve got the job.”

Since then, you and Lockwood had come to a sort of understanding: as long as George was safe you would do anything he asked. Any job, any task, no matter how dangerous. Still, that didn’t mean you would take his shit either, a fact he picked up on rather quickly, and though he never let you in completely, a trait that went both ways, he told you enough to gain your trust and you returned the favor. 

And so it went in the year before Lucy came. You weren’t friends, necessarily, but you knew at the end of the day he had your back, and in return, you had his.

Still, Lucy’s arrival made the waters more murky, as she went about breaking down walls like they were nothing. One night, Lockwood happened upon the pair of you in your shared bedroom, giggling like schoolgirls at a story from your youth, splayed out across the attic bed in identical fits of laughter and though you missed it, Lucy told you in a barely audible whisper that night of how his gaze had lingered on your scrunched up face. How his eyes had softened. How for a moment, the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to vanish as he stood there in awe. Just a boy looking at a girl. No more, no less. 

“You should have seen his smile,” she whispered, her body turned to face yours beneath the covers of the queen. 

“Trust me I’ve seen the ‘Lockwood Smile’ more than enough in one year of acquaintanceship,” you huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“No, no. It wasn’t like that. It was– He looked so–” She sat up then hands flying at the air as though they might grasp the words she was trying to say.

“He almost looked like a kid. So… unburdened. It was pretty disturbing actually.” She broke off with a laugh. “Look I can’t explain it, but it was like he was actually happy and not just using his dashing good looks to get whatever he desires.” You rolled your eyes at the final bit, but tucked the rest away deep within your heart, stashing it beside that single plum of hope from that very first day on his doorstep.

By the following morning the whole thing was nothing more than a distant memory. You stood, pouring yourself a coffee, watching George scribble away at his notes on your current case when, Lockwood slipped by, swiping the mug from right under your nose.

“That was for me.”

“Well, I pay for everything in this house.” He smirked from behind your steaming cup.

“You don’t even like coffee.” Without breaking eye contact, Lockwood took a long sip and physically incapable of suppressing his reaction scrunched his brow in disgust. Then, parting the drink from his lips he smiled.

“Delicious.”

“You’re such an ass, now I’m going to have to brew another pot.” He shrugged off your inconvenience and took the seat beside George at the table. After putting another pot on, you joined the pair, ditching your previous research in favor of etching your new mantra into the tablecloth. Anthony Lockwood is a pompous ass. Anthony Lockwood is a pompous ass.

“What have you got so far George?” Lockwood questioned, setting down the mug in his hand after just one more sip. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a Type One I think, probably a Lurker.” 

“Excellent, Luce and I should be able to handle that on our own.”

“Lucy? I’m sat right here.” You glared across the table, daring the coffee thief to disagree with you.

“Besides you know my swordsmanship is superior even if she is basically the Stephen Hawking of ghost hunting.”

“Which is why she needs the practice.”

“And there is a wonderful place for her to do so in the basement. Come on Lockwood, it’s like you won’t let me go anywhere since–”

“Since the last time when you acted like a bumbling idiot and almost got yourself maimed?”

“I had the situation completely under control.”

“You fell down a staircase.”

“You can’t keep me on house arrest for forever.” Lockwood groaned and drew a frustrated hand across his face.

“Fine, but if you screw up like that again I’m locking you in the archives with George myself.” With that he withdrew, coffee abandoned on the table. Dragging it towards your person you let out a deep huff.

“It’s like he doesn’t trust me at all.”

“Or maybe he just cares about you?” George suggested, but quickly averted his eyes following a threatening glare thrown in his direction.

It was late when you reached the house, later than you would have liked. Lockwood had forgotten his rapier, so you’d had to turn back, though you had a suspicion it was some sort of ploy to get you to stay home and let Lucy go instead. Still, you held your ground and remained patient. Well as patient as you could.

“Lockwood, what the fuck. You said this place was ten minutes away, that was a thirty-minute metro ride. Not to mention the fact that that man beside us was trying to look down my shirt the whole way here.” You shivered at the thought but continued to fix Lockwood with a glare as you spoke. Through your anger you almost missed the slight shift in his demeanor at the second comment.

“Well, we’re here now are we not? Besides, it’s only a Type One, we’ll be fine.” 

You were not fine. Within only a moment of stepping foot inside you felt the temperature drop dramatically.

“Lockwood–”

“I felt it too.” His face twisted into a more serious expression. Still, you continued inside to further assess the threat. Dropping your bags several feet inside the entryway, you crouched almost immediately to sift through them for the filings when from across the house, a shadowy figure flew by.

“(Y/N)--”

“One second, you did an absolute rubbish job of organizing the kit, I can’t find the filings anywhere.”

“(Y/N), really–” 

“I said just a second Lockwood–” But he cut you off by using two fingers to drag your chin upwards, fixing your gaze upon the glowing figure lying in wait across the room. 

“That is definitely not a Lurker.”

“No shi–” Lockwood was cut off as the ghost unleashed an unearthly scream, launching itself towards the pair of you. The boy beside you was quick to draw his blade and, tucking yourself into a small ball, you rolled deftly out of the way in an attempt to attack the Type Two from behind. Pulling your rapier from its sheath, you took a defensive position as Lockwood struck at the figure from in front. After causing the ghost to dissipate into thin air his eyes quickly sought yours out.

“We need to locate the Source. Now.” With a shared nod, the pair of you began to advance throughout the remainder of the house. Upon entering the kitchen, something caught your eye immediately.

“Lockwood, look.” You pointed your rapier in the direction of what appeared to be a hand carved cuckoo clock, hung high on the wall. “He was a clockmaker, right? That’s what the file said.” 

“That has to be it.” Lockwood nodded in agreement. Moving at a slow and measured pace, you advanced on the clock, before realization hit and you grabbed Lockwood by the arm. 

“The net–” You stopped short as a glow began to form in the upper corner of the kitchen.

“Go, I’ll handle it,” Lockwood ordered and with a final concerned glance in the direction of the ever-expanding light, you set off in a run down the hall. Distant clattering sounds informed you that the ghost had made its appearance in the other room, and you pushed forward harder, now at a sprint.

Skidding to a halt, you all but dumped out the entire bag of kit in your effort to locate the silver net, before grasping its cool material and spinning on your heel. Distantly, you thought you heard Lockwood call your name, though any reason as to why was beyond you until your eyes caught on the ghostly figure just before you. 

Easily dodging its first attempt to harm you, you slid past its grip and through the doorway to the hall. It followed close behind and as your feet pounded against the wood floor, you could feel the atmosphere around you grow colder by the second. Flying in a panicked fury through the doorway to the kitchen, you just managed to catch Lockwood’s eye before an unseen force threw you against the counter. Your head hit the marble edge. Hard. And in a single moment you crumbled to the ground.

All sound in the room became distant, including the noise of several items on the counter’s smooth surface being dislodged with your impact. And then, in a tone you’d never heard before, Lockwood’s voice cut through all the muffled, pounding noise. 

“(Y/N)!” Your head jerked up just in time to watch as the knife peeking out over the counter teetered over the edge. In a single moment of clarity, you angled your body towards the ground, clasping your head with your hands. A piercing pain laced your shoulder and you let out a scream. Distantly, you noticed Lockwood, backed into a corner, swinging wildly with his rapier, fear etched deep within his normally steady features. That was all it took.

Ignoring the sharp pounding of your head, you reached back to dislodge the knife, pulling it from the deep, now severely bleeding wound in your shoulder. It took most of your energy not to call out in pain at the action, but you knew it would only shift the ghost’s attention back to you. Dragging yourself across the floor, you snatched the net from the ground before using the wall to pull yourself up.

Three things happened at once then. Lockwood’s eyes fixed on you from behind the ghost, wide with concern and something else you couldn’t quite place. Simultaneously, your hand made contact with the clock, instantly alerting the ghost to your presence. Finally, the Type Two turned on you. 

In one fell movement, you wrenched the clock from the wall, just as the ghost launched itself in your direction and covered it with the net, the creature disappearing mere inches from your face. Lockwood took a breath. It was mesmerizing, though you couldn’t understand why, that moment of quiet. And then you began to sway.

“Lock–” But the name died in your throat as you began your descent towards the cold linoleum floor. You were out before you hit the ground, though not before you felt the comfort of two arms as they wrapped themselves around you, breaking your fall.

It had been two weeks and Lockwood could still barely look at you. By the time you awoke in the hospital, he was gone, though George and Lucy had stayed, tangled up with you in the hospital bed, a mess of sleeping limbs. Once they awoke, you questioned the pair on the absence.

“Where’s Lockwood?”

“Said he was too busy to wait for you to wake up,” mumbled George bitterly, but Lucy only chided the other boy.

“He was worried sick about you, really. It’s just, well you know. He’s Lockwood.” You smiled at Lucy’s words, but a seed of disappointment planted itself firmly in your gut.

Your arrival back at 35 Portland Row was not much better. Lockwood remained hidden away in the library as Lucy and George helped you through the door. 

And so, the first week continued. Wordless breakfasts in the kitchen, cold greetings in the hall. One time after you accidentally grazed his side in passing, he physically flinched away. 

On the eleventh day, you found yourself near tears with the behavior.

“I think he hates me, Lucy.”

“Lockwood could never hate you.”

It was day twelve of Lockwood’s one-sided standoff when you caught him in the kitchen alone near two in the morning.

“Could you make me a cup?” You’d questioned, coming up behind him to search the cupboard for some bread as he poured himself a cup of tea. Nothing. Not even a glance.

“Come on Lockwood, it’s been days, can you just drop it? I’m fine.” Still no response. No matter. You’d always known how to get a rise out of Anthony Lockwood.

Waiting until he’d set the kettle down to reach for some sugar, you moved quickly, sandwiching yourself between the counter and the boy. For the first time in days, his eyes met yours, though he dismissed the moment with a quick huff and reached once more for the cabinet above your head. You gave him a shove.

“Fuck you Lockwood, talk to me.” His eyes glinted in a warning, but he made no effort to speak. He didn’t move a muscle. You shoved him harder. 

“Talk to me you prick.” He caught your wrists in his hands as you pulled back for another shove and gripped them tightly.

“Say something!” As you struggled against him to give one final push, your shoulder caught at an odd angle and the searing pain from your still healing wound nearly sent you crumpling to the ground. Nearly. As you began to curl in on yourself, Lockwood removed his hands from your wrists and caught you by the waist.

“You’re going to reopen the gash on your shoulder.” He chided, his tone cold, but his arms continued to hold you in place.

“I know that you hate me. And that’s fine. But this– The silence, it’s too much… It hurts too much.”

“You’re an idiot. You acted recklessly and without forethought. You could have died. You could have gotten yourself killed–”

“I was just–”

“I’m not finished,” he continued, his hold on you tightening, “you jeopardized the entire mission with your actions–”

“I saved your life!”

“I had it under control–”

“Oh, like I did with the staircase?”

“I should never have brought you.”

“Because you hate me? Yeah, I know.”

“Because you are nothing but a distraction.” You froze. Body rigid in his hold. He pushed on.

“Because all I could think about the entire time we were in that house was you. If you were safe, if you were– if you were alive.” One of Lockwood’s hands traveled carefully from your waist to your cheek.

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the staircase. It’s why I couldn’t bear to go on any missions with you, it’s why I nearly made you George’s bloody research assistant, it’s why– it’s why I nearly fell apart when I watched you hit that oven– when I saw that knife about too–” 

You could hear his breaths becoming labored and his grip tightened once more as his eyes clouded with the anxiety of distant memories.

“Hey. I’m fine.” You reassured him, bringing a hand up to caress his face. “I’m okay, really.”

“I think I’m– I care about you, so much it hurts.”

And there it was, the boyish face Lucy had seen that night in the attic. Young and afraid. Completely unguarded. You really couldn’t help kissing him.

Bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand, you pulled his lips down to meet yours, and though surprise initially stilled his mouth, he quickly pulled you closer, kissing deeper, pressing forward to meet you. His hand curled gently in your hair, his other arm pulling you closer, closer, as though if he loosened his grip, you would simply slip away. You only pulled back to catch your breath though you could barely convince yourself to do that much as his lips followed after yours, looking to meet again.

“I love you too Anthony Lockwood.”

[violetasteracademic]

Why do you think elain is a better fit for azriel than gwyn?

Hi anon!

I've said this before, and don't mind saying it again and again million times; I ship story and theme, not characters. I'm not particularly quiet or shy about the fact that I absolutely love Gwyn and Lucien, and I've been met kindly and with respect from my mutuals who absolutely despise those characters or at best find them boring and don't care about them. So- I hope this doesn't come off as sarcastic, because I truly don't mean for it to be, but I don't think I even have the words to express how little I sit here comparing Gwyn and Elain as women and why one of them might be more "right" for Azriel than the other. I don't consider Gwyn as she pertains to Azriel, because I don't believe that she does pertain to Azriel. The story and themes I imagine for her are beyond Prythian, and it literally thrills me to think about what might be in store for her.

I am a huge Twilight of the Gods believer, and I think Gwyn and the Valkyrie are going to play a huge role in it. I actually ship Gwyn with Fenrys, in a borderline this is not a crack ship I really seriously believe it kind of way, and Fenrys is my second fave ToG man to Dorian. Whenever my bestie wants to make me cry randomly (in a good way), she'll send me blinks throughout the day. Iykyk.

And I love shipping Gwynrys (just made that up, open to work shopping for better ship names 😂) because they thematically and story wise make sense to me and excite and deeply move me.

They both are twins who had to witness the other half of their soul be murdered in front of them, then were horrifically SA'd afterwards. They both responded to that trauma with absolute silence- Fenrys remaining in his wolf form because he could not bring himself to speak, and Gwyn remaining silent for five months after returning to the library. If they ever met and discovered they share the same tragic past and they both overcame it to be strong, loyal, and beloved friends- omg. I just got chills typing this. They could stand to connect on that deep level that Feysand shares, that Rowaelin shares, that I obviously think Elriel shares. They could see that depth and pain within in each other in a way no one else could understand, then would be the first to volunteer to stand at the front lines in a war against the gods.

I process SJM's couples as being deeply and thematically connected, and I see that with Gwyn and Fenrys and truly believe side characters who haven't gotten their HEA's will do so in the new series. They had complete arcs that became very cherished by the fandom, and though their emotional and character growth in service of the main characters were complete, their story simply didn't feel quite finished.

Anywho. Now I'm turning this into a Let Me Tell You Why I Ship Gwyn and Fenrys seminar 😂 but honestly, I couldn't say that I don't think Gwyn and Az aren't right or good for each other. They could be if these were real people and we were trying to matchmake character traits. I just don't know what they would be together in the story as it stands now.

Whatever their story would be- it would have to be dripping with more sexual tension and angst and longing than Azriel and Elain have. It would have to be more powerful and more interesting than the Cauldron being wrong, going up against fate, and discovering that the Cauldron has in fact been corrupted. Their partnership would have to do more for the women of the world (as both Nesta and Feyre did in their stories with restoring female High Ladies in Prythian and warriors in Illyria) than what Az and Elain stand to do- get to the bottom of the corruption done by the Asteri, which is likely why unhappy and poorly matched mating bonds exist in Prythian, and fix it. Thus freeing not only themselves, but every woman who stood to be a pawn or an object and forced into a lifetime of misery with a man she didn't love lest she risk violence or spend the rest of her life wondering why she didn't love her mate and if she made a mistake.

I don't personally vibe with or agree with the (admittedly few, I stay out of the G/wynriel space not because I hate the idea of the ship but to protect myself from the conversation surrounding women's birthing abilities making them viable love interests) ideas I've heard about Gwyn and Az. That she will save Illyria- absolutely not. That belongs to Emerie. That she will be a sidekick in a new Nesta POV book. That sounds terrible to me. SJM has spoken on how freaky and hot Azriel's spice is going to be, and I'm supposed to just not want the woman's half of the POV because she's a side character in Nesta and Azriel's story? No thank you. No one has presented a story that I would want to read more than Azriel and Elain's, or a story that I believe makes any sense and is worth erasing all the work put into Az and Elain as far as this year 2024 in HoFaS with confirming the problems with the Cauldron.

Look, I'm still pretty new. I joined this online fandom, my first time ever doing so, this spring after HoFaS left me spiralling with thoughts and ideas of the future of SJM's books. Then I started writing fanfic. Then I started analyzing the text to comfort people who had the same experience as me- being someone who couldn't wait for Az and Elain's book and came online to a shocking, Elain hating bloodbath.

I do think that this shipwar is a very strange phenomenon born of an extreme dislike for Elain, whether people want to admit it or not. Elain and Azriel have all the same elements Feysand and Nessian had to set up their romance, but suddenly narratives that have never happened in the history of SJM have been created to explain it away. The "just lust" narrative literally does not exist in the SJM codex. It's not a thing. But it's a thing now for people who don't like Azriel and Elain together to try to erase Elain's existence and convince the world how it is completely impossible for her book to be next or for her to be with Azriel simply because they don't want those things to be true.

I do not care about whether or not ships are even canon. I could go on and on about all my favorite non canon ships, and times I thought the canon story was dead ass wrong 😂 It just so happens that when it comes to Az and Elain, I ride SO HARD for the canon text. People who ship G/wynriel will likely continue to ship them, and that is what fandom is for. I don't mind that they exist. I do wish everyone, on all sides, was kinder.

To me, the only love triangle exists between Azriel, Elain, and Lucien, which is why most of my theory or analysis posts center around them. I think Gwyn was an incredibly successful (maybe too successful) red herring. My opinion is that the bonus chapter was meant to re-touch on and shine light to her powers, and also create little question mark so it wasn't too obvious Elain and Azriel are endgame when she still hasn't formally rejected her mate since she hasn't had her book yet. Instead, it lit a wildfire for a group of people who were already primed and ready to erase Elain and replace her.

Maybe Gwyn and Azriel as characters removed from this story and put in a different one would be great together. In fact, I'm certain they would. They are great characters and I'm sure they could be written beautifully. I prefer what Az and Elain have got going on, but that's personal preference. I think Gwyn already had a complete arc, and I loved it, and now I'm crawling out of my skin with excitement for Elain's story.

I hope that sort of answers your question. I'm just not really interested in pitting Gwyn and Elain against each other for Azriel's attention, and I don't believe the books actually created or intended that.

Pleaaaase let me know if there are any fellow multiverse shippers out there 🙏 cause we are thinking too small focusing only on ACOTAR!

[1d1195]

Committed Extra II

Read the rest here: Committed

Based on this ask

I always suggest listening to this TikTok while reading this series but I think they remind me SO much of Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros.

Warnings: 18+, smut, maybe a little more romantic-smut than smut-smut but anyways. Please ignore any continuity errors from previous parts. I couldn't find what I was looking for but it doesn't mean they don't exist. not suitable for Ramadan

~3.2k words

Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.

Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So he was going to devour her body instead.

Sarah was going to Mitch’s, which meant her place was empty.

Harry didn’t have any clothes or anything, but he didn’t care. There were leftover items between himself and Mitch so as long as they didn’t have to attend a wedding there was an outfit for him the next day.

The car ride was silent. Unless he heard her heartbeat, which was extremely plausible because it was beating so hard. He held her hand, like he had ten thousand times before, but now it was different. Because Harry loved her. Like really loved her. The way she always dreamed of him loving her. Every time she remembered he loved her she squeezed his hand. It brought a smile to his face, and she swore the needle of the speedometer crept up another increment just to get them home faster.

The logistics of the night hadn’t dawned on her until they were in her apartment living room. Silent as Harry locked the door behind him. Nerves started to swim in her bloodstream. They had incredible chemistry, their friendship was solid, she had seen Harry at his worst—sick with the stomach bug that required a complete change of clothes, and he had seen her sweaty and covered with dirt after helping her dad in the backyard.

If the sex was bad, what would it say about their relationship?

It couldn’t be bad, right? She had waited so long to have Harry in her life in this capacity. Friendship was their opener. Saying I love you was the main setlist. Sex was just the encore. It would be fine.

Right?!

“Are y’okay, kitten?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“You’re ‘bout t’squeeze m’fingers off m’hand,” she released the death grip she had on it. “Tell me,” he ordered, but his voice was soft.

“I’m so nervous.”

“Nervous?” He repeated.

“What if the sex is bad?”

He chuckled. “I highly doubt it will be bad,” he pulled her close, trapping her against his body, cupping the side of her face and kissing her as if he had kissed her in the very spot a thousand times before. “But m’not with you for the sex.”

“Well, I don’t know what you were up to while I was gone but I haven’t had sex in a year and a half so I would like it to be good,” she murmured.

His eyes scanned her face, searching for something. “Y’think I had sex with someone else while y’were gone?” He asked.

She rolled. “That’s what you took away from that?”

“Who did you sleep with a year and a half ago?” He asked ignoring her follow-up question.

“It’s none of your business!”

“Your body s’all mine now,” he said simply. But it set her skin aflame and her heart into a frantic beat that had her worrying she would need an ambulance on standby outside the building. “S’very much m’business,” he murmured.

“Harry,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. “That guy I went out with for like a month?”

“You slept with him?”

“We went out for a month, Harry.”

“But he was awful.”

“You thought everyone I dated was awful.”

“They were,” he said petulantly. She sighed.

“When did you last have sex?” She asked.

“I don’t know, three years ago?” It should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. This was his best friend and he didn’t care.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “No really, I told you. You have to tell me.”

“M’not kidding kitten,” his voice was firm.

“You haven’t had sex in three years?” She still sounded incredulous, and Harry just stared at her waiting for it to click. Her lips parted. “How...why...?”

“When I realized I was in love with y’kitten,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want t’have sex.”

“So you were just going to...never have sex again?”

He shrugged again. “I hadn’t thought ‘bout it t’be honest.”

It was so quiet in the apartment, not even her rapid heartbeat made a sound. “What if it’s bad? What if I’m bad at it? What if it’s not—”

“Kitten,” he sighed and shook his head. “We were terrible at French, and we took three years of it together. We’ll practice. M’not in love with y’because of sex. Obviously—loved y’before sex was an option. M’in love with you because you’re m’favorite person. M’only person,” he reminded her. “I don’t care about sex.”

It should have relieved her but it didn’t. “I want it to be good,” she whispered.

“I do too, kitten. Trust me. But s’not the end all be all.”

Quiet, surrounded them again. “C’mon,” he hummed and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Jus’ say stop if y’need a minute,” he pulled her jacket off her shoulders and bent to slip her shoes off. She felt like Cinderella. He was so gentle and while she was slightly terrified it would suck and he would realize he hated her, it was normal. Harry getting ready to undress her was normal feeling. It was warm, gentle, and all things that were Harry. She felt safe and maybe finally she realized he was probably right. Sex wouldn’t be bad. “We don’t have t’do this tonight either, kitten.”

“No way, you’ve been waiting three years and I think my vibrator is dead so it’s going to have to work,” she explained.

He groaned quietly, began kissing the length of her neck and making the noise vibrate her skin and veins in a way that nearly made her knees give out. “Well, charge it, because I have t’see that,” his breath was hot on her skin making her dizzy.

They stood and kissed for at least three minutes, her hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head silently begging for him to get closer. It was so quiet in her room she was starting to feel uneasy. “Can we put on some music or something?” She whispered.

“Turn on your radio?” He suggested kissing the curve of her neck and shoulder, taking the collar of her shirt away from her neck.

She shook her head. “I downloaded your music onto a CD, and I love you, but I think fucking to the sound of you and our friends would be a little too much for me.”

He chuckled against her skin forgoing the kisses and pulled his phone from his pocket and set up a random playlist.

Harry’s mouth found hers again and he gently guided her back onto her bed. His fingers started to push her shirt up her torso. She pulled away from his mouth and stilled his hands. “What are you doing?” She asked quickly. He chuckled.

“Trying t’take your shirt off. Do y’want t’stop?”

She shook her head trying to shake the nerves away. “Sorry,” her cheeks reddened.

“S’okay,” he assured her. “S’new, s’gonna be a little weird probably,” he amended.

She swallowed. “I don’t really like my body,” she whispered. “I don’t really talk about that with you...” she reminded him.

She was wrong. She was so beautiful and in Harry’s eyes there wasn’t any reason for her to feel ashamed or insecure about her body. It was perfect, exactly as she was. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “M’gonna make y’feel beautiful or we’re never having sex again,” he chuckled.

She giggled despite herself and nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“M’sure,” he nodded firmly. “M’gonna take m’shirt off first, then.”

“No, don’t do that, that’s not fair,” she stopped his hands before he could tug it over his head. “I can’t take my shirt off after yours.”

He laughed a little louder this time and he kissed her sweetly, pecking at her lips over and over as he pulled away. “We can’t do this without being naked, kitten.”

She took a deep breath, sighed, and pulled her shirt over her head.

Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.

Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So, he was going to devour her body instead.

His gaze scanned her upper half for a few moments admiring the tiny little bow on the center of her bra right between her breasts. He kissed the swell of each one every so slightly spilling out of the cup. Her breath caught in her throat and Harry kissed upwards, bringing his lips back to hers and he pulled off his own shirt without any fanfare. Harry often walked around without a shirt, when at the pool or a beach he obviously didn’t wear a shirt. This she was used to. Her hands roamed his body and his skin felt so warm and so nice she couldn’t believe she thought this could be bad.

Harry couldn’t get her zipper down.

She giggled and Harry snorted. “Didn’t know y’were gonna wear a chastity belt, kitten.”

The clasp of her bracelet somehow managed to catch on to the fabric of his boxers a few moments later. “Jesus,” she sighed and brought her face so close to the fabric to work it free Harry turned a bright shade of red, cleared his throat and she realized her hand was resting on his dick to get it undone.

“Oops,” she whispered and pulled back. Harry chuckled softly. Every awkward moment was completed with more kisses that by the time Harry finished struggling with the clasp of her bra, (“I’ve never seen a bra with a snap like this!”  “It’s comfier!”) There were only Harry’s boxers and her underwear between them.

“There’s no going back,” she reminded him.

“I don’t want t’go back,” his voice was thick with the promise.

“Me either,” she whispered.

“Kitten,” he tilted her chin up from her staring at his chest. He brought her gaze back to his. “M’so in love with you. Always.”

She nodded. “I love you too,” she smiled.

He brought his mouth to cover hers again and a new feeling took over. The air was hotter, thicker, like they were moving through a pool of water. His lips never stopped kissing her, his tongue stroking softly against her lip as he did. It made her shiver. He curled closer to her, his hand reaching between them and skimming the outside of her panties. Her breath caught at the touch of his fingers on her suddenly aching center. Harry went back to kissing down her throat, over to the space where the curve of her shoulder met her neck. “Want t’make y’feel so good, kitten,” his voice was husky.

She already thought she was going to come undone from just his fingers touching the outside of her underwear and his throaty whisper. His fingers deftly pulled the fabric to the side, and he slid his finger down through the wetness that had accumulated between her leg. She shivered again and moaned softly again. He hadn’t even done anything. But his fingers were searching. Not for what she felt was aching for him most, but for her clit and he found it so quickly it made her cry out as he skillfully circled the pad of his finger on it not too hard but not too soft. “S’good, baby,” he hummed quietly and continued to kiss her. “You’re nice and wet, kitten. Who’s that for?”

“You,” her voice hardly carried through the whisper.

“Good,” he mumbled and dropped his finger lower, teasing her, because it felt like she was clenching, begging his finger to enter her.

Maybe if she had met Harry that night and hadn’t known his personality so well, she would have been shyer and wouldn’t have had the reaction she did. But part of her felt a little competitive and if he was going to tease her, she wasn’t going to let him enjoy it too much.

She pressed her hand to the outside of his boxers, feeling how hard he was and making him gasp at the touch. His hand stilled between her legs, and she tugged his boxers lower, so his dick escaped the fabric. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him. “Kitten,” he grunted into her skin, and she sighed as his fingers continued to circle her clit and search for something that she wasn’t sure Harry was going to find.

“Kitten, I haven’t had sex in three years,” he groaned.

“So...you better get inside me quick?” She suggested.

He groaned again. “Yes,” he nodded against her collarbone. “Please,” he almost whined. “Condom?” She nodded and pointed to her nightstand drawer.

She couldn’t disagree. Harry had double the time on her since her last intimate moment, but she wanted him so badly in her she thought if they waited any longer, she would cry. She removed her underwear and Harry sat up to remove his boxers.

Of course, she just finished feeling how big, hard, and long he was. But it was another thing entirely to see his length literally in the flesh. “Did y’jus’ gulp?”

Her cheeks warmed. “You’re...big,” she murmured.

He snorted putting the condom in place. “Y’know how t’give a guy an ego,” but she could see the way his cheeks pinked.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just...I want it,” she caught his gaze and as awkward as everything felt, looking into the pretty green eyes of her best friend, this was not. “I want everything with you.”

Harry’s gaze softened and he dropped his hips between her legs and caught her lips again. The sound of gentle music, their tangled breath, and the skin-to-skin contact was the only noise in the room. Harry reached between them again and slid the head of his cock along the wetness that pooled between her legs again. She moaned, loudly and without abandon. Harry grunted and pushed himself inside her.

It was like sliding the final puzzle piece together. They locked into a position that felt so right, so perfect, every bit of that awkwardness went away as quickly as it appeared. Harry groaned and buried his face in her neck again. It was his new favorite spot, tucked into the curve that smelled like her perfume and her hair. It was entirely her, and so perfect. “Fuck, kitten,” he grunted letting her have a minute to stretch to accommodate his body. It had been a while since there was a dick inside her and despite how wet Harry made her it didn’t help the ache that started as he settled perfectly between her thighs.

“Oh my God,” she whispered breathlessly. “Wow,” she mumbled.

Harry focused on breathing deeply so he wouldn’t burst the second one of them shifted. “We can jus’ stay like this,” he murmured. “Nothing else, for the rest of our lives.”

She kissed the side of his head and nodded. “Yes, please.”

He pulled back slightly, his body readjusted to the feeling and his gaze was hungry as he looked her in the eye. “You are my everything,” he whispered.

Her heart fluttered, as good as Harry’s body felt inside her, it was nothing in comparison to the way his words touched her. “I love you,” she whispered because everything else she thought to say seemed inadequate.

He smiled and brought his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and started to move.

It felt fast and slow at the same time. A juxtaposition that she didn’t know was possible. Every time Harry’s hips pushed from hers to create a heavenly friction, she followed him begging for him to come back. It felt like being apart from him, even the inch he moved to make everything feel better, was too much. She thought if it felt any better, she would cry.

“Fuck,” he groaned pumping into her at a steady rhythm. Her hands searched his body, the length of his back, digging her nails into his hips to keep him close to her. His hands held her hips in place so he was able to provide the right leverage that angled his cock, so it hit every right spot.

“Baby,” she moaned into his neck and kissed his skin. He groaned again in response. He twisted her as if he had done it about a thousand times and suddenly, she was on top of him. Pressing her hands onto his chest and moving her hips up and down so she was gliding rhythmically up and down his length.

“This was a horrible idea,” he moaned. “M’gonna finish jus’ looking at you.”

She blushed, covered her face with one hand, and laughed lightly. “It feels so good,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”

Harry brought her body close, one hand cupping the back of her neck and other slid down her back, gripping her butt. “We don’t have to,” his voice was hungry and he sealed his lips between hers.

“I’m going to...” she bit the inside of her lip and buried her face into his neck again. “Oh my God,” she moaned.

Harry answered her moan with his own again and met each of her thrusts with his hips. “S’good, kitten. Fuck,” he sighed. “Wanted this for so long,” he brought her mouth. “Can’t wait for you t’cum all over me and then do it all over again,” he groaned.

His voice made her ache all over. She was already aching. She wanted to stay like this for the rest of her life. Maybe longer if it was allowed.

She had a vibrator and she had sex enough times to know when she was going to have a good orgasm. But this was nothing like that.

This was so much more. The connection she felt to Harry the adoration and love she felt was more than any tingling, body shaking reaction she ever had when Harry thrusted into her just so. “Oh there, there, there,” she begged and dropped her face to his neck again with a heavy sigh.

“M’here, kitten,” he promised holding her close to him. “Right there,” he repeated thrusting as she rode through the toe-curling, body shaking orgasm. He nipped at her shoulder as he finished. Sighing heavily she dropped to him fully, her body warm, and he kissed her forehead. He brushed her hair down kissed her again. “Gotta get off, kitten,” he murmured.

“I already did,” she mumbled back.

He chuckled. “Just two minutes, kitten,” he assured her. “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed deeply, rolled to the side and let Harry get out of bed quickly. When he returned from the bathroom she was sprawled across the bed facedown. “You okay, m’love?” He asked.

She nodded. “I love you too, Harry.”

He chuckled, wrapping himself around her like a koala bear. “Good.”

“Wanna do it again?” She asked.

He laughed and kissed along her back. “Already?” He asked.

“Gotta make-up for all that lost time. And three years, Harry!”

He smiled against her skin. “Give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need. We have forever now.”

--

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[lettersfromaphrodite]

[8.58]

― pairing : Chris x fem! reader ― content warnings : a tiny bit of angst, smut, fluff, vampire au, medieval settings, Chris is a vampire, soulmates au, mentions of blood, unprotected sex, fantasy au ― word count : 6.432

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🧛‍♂️ VAMPIRE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix

«I dare you to,» your friend pondered, before mumbling suggestively, «spend a night all alone at the haunted Manor.»

«What?!» you shrieked in disbelief as a chill ran down your spine at the mere mention of said house. The Forest Manor was a house surrounded in mystery; it didn’t look decadent, so it definitely had owners who looked after it, the gothic architecture gave it a mysterious and almost inaccessible aura and on top of this, the cases where people - blinded by courage, tried to enter the huge mansion were definitely not rare.

However, no one of them ever returned and so, through the years, numerous legends had been told: the most popular being about dangerous and thirsty vampires living in Forest Manor.

«You can refuse, if you want,» another one of your friends smirked mischievously, «but you will be called “coward” for the rest of your life.» they laughed, and your blood boiled.

If this was going to be your punishment for saying you believed in the existence of supernatural being, then you were going to accept it; screw your friends and their obnoxious and close mindset.

«Okay.» you simply said, clenching your fists together, trying to avoid acknowledging the fact that honestly, you were scared.

With your hands tightly gripping your skirt as your life depended on it, you walked through the most external part of the forest, ignoring the faint and frequent howls you heard not too distant from where you were, inevitably giving you chills.

“Why can’t I shut up,” you thought, trying to keep your breath even; walking alone in the dark through the forest was a terrifying experience, especially because - probably due to your fear, you had the feeling you heard steps every now and then. “I’m going to die in here, I know it.” you were about to trip in your dress, which unconventionally got stuck into a bundle of tree roots, and as you exasperatedly sighed at your own clumsiness and kneeled to untangle it, you could have sworn you heard someone chuckle just next to you.

Needless to say, you couldn’t see anything in the dark, and you finally regretted not to have brought a torch with you; it would have made you an easy target, but at least you could have been able to see something instead of letting your imagination run wild.

Probably, you spent hours wandering in the forest following the almost forgotten path that connected your village to the haunted Manor, but when you got there, no legend nor rumour could have prepared you for its singular beauty.

Rather than being centuries old, it seemed like it was merely a couple of years old, and you wondered whether you had walked on the wrong path; you carefully stepped out of the forest, and the threatening and dangerous aura made you froze in your tracks for a moment, almost making you feel like you were suffocating. You tensed up, feeling observed once again, your eyes rapidly scanning the iron gate and the stone wall running all around the house.

The Manor looked much bigger than you initially thought, and you wondered how many people could live in it; it was definitely too big for only one person. There was no sign of life inside; the lights were off, and the only source of light - beside the two small torches next to the iron gate, was the faint moonlight.

“I wonder, am I allowed to step closer?” you thought, and immediately, the threatening aura from the house seemed to vanish in thin air as soon as you took another step closer to the gate; you furrowed your brows, confused at what just happened. The feeling of being watched remained, but the tension and fear that you were feeling now were completely coming from your own soul; the Manor was now emitting an almost welcoming aura.

It was when you were about to touch the Manor’s gate that you stopped; what if someone really lived there? You could not trespass someone’s property like that, it wouldn’t be polite burst into someone’s house just because of a stupid bet.

With a sigh, you held your hand in mid-air, gradually retreating it until it was clutched against your chest once again; you made up your mind, you’d just climb on a tree and sleep there to be safe from the wolves, only to return in the morning and lie to your friends.

«Aw, leaving so soon?» someone near you chuckled, and you jolted your head towards your left in fear, not expecting for anyone to be there. A boy was looking at you with an amused smile and glimmering bright red eyes; he was sitting on the top of the stone wall, it being not too tall meant that the stranger was definitely a little bit too close to you.

«I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.» you politely bowed your head, nervousness momentarily paralyzing your body, and the stranger hummed, crossing his legs and partially balancing his weight on his left hand, so that he was leaning towards you.

«Someone dared you to come here, am I right?» he said, his head tilted on his side and his hair delicately falling on his face; from his annoyed - yet somehow amused, tone of voice, he was clearly used to this. A rush of embarrassment washed over you, realizing that you shouldn’t have accepted the bet in the first place.

«I’m sorry, I will be going.» you hastily said, turning around and starting to take your leave.

«The worst thing I could do is send a young lady back home in the middle of the night - while the wolves are on a hunt.» his voice made you stop in your tracks and you curiously looked at him. «And the house seemed to have accepted your presence already.» the stranger said while quickly glancing behind his shoulders; you furrowed your brows, before jolting forwards as you saw the boy purposely letting himself fall behind the wall.

Strangely enough, you didn’t hear any sound, meaning that the boy didn’t fall and hurt himself; in less than a second, he was standing in front of the now slightly opened gate with an unbothered expression and his clothes neatly in perfect order, utterly confusing you.

«Would you like to come in?» he offered you his gloved hand, and you were sure that as soon as your gaze locked with his from up close, your heart skipped a beat.

The boy - which introduced himself as Chris, was exceptionally handsome to the point that he almost looked inhuman; his pale complexion made him look ethereal, and his natural plump and rosy lips made him look like he just walked out one of the fairy-tale books you used to read when you were younger.

His eyes, however, were a bright crimson red, and the more you looked at him, the more you felt hypnotized with a weird feeling of recalling those warm, big eyes; it was definitely almost if-

«Have we already met before?» you mumbled more to yourself, but Chris heard you nonetheless; his eyes widened for a moment, before his expression turned incredibly soft for a few seconds.

«I’m afraid not,» he shook his head; you nodded at him, feeling silly because, if you ever met someone as handsome, you would have remembered for sure, «at least, not in this lifetime.» you thought you heard Chris mumble, but something in his sudden nostalgic expression made you refrain from asking further.

A sudden close howl interrupted the silence of the night, startling you and making you instinctively take a step towards Chris as if you were unconsciously looking for protection; you gently placed your hand in his and he smiled, leading you inside.

If you believed that the Manor looked huge from the outside, you were in for a big surprise; Chris led you through so many countless halls that at some point, you believed that the house was under a spell making it appear smaller on the outside.

Despite the fact that it was your first night visiting the Manor, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgic familiarity as you passed through a certain hall, which Chris simply skipped instead of leading you in it.

«Where does it lead?» you politely asked him, your gaze locking with a dark mahogany door.

«My personal chambers.» Chris simply explained, before starting to walk away; you nodded, not wanting to result too nosy since you were allowed to spend the night in a safe place instead of the woods.

However, the fact that Chris purposely avoided taking you there made you furrow your brows as a countless questions formed into your head; there were other people living with him, but he didn’t skip the hallways leading to their chambers, so why did he purposely avoid his?

«Don’t think too much about it,» Chris chuckled from next to you, successfully interrupting your thoughts, «maybe, one day, I’ll let you in.» you immediately adverted his gaze from his, suddenly finding his suggestion not so chaste and innocent, anymore.

Chris eventually led you to his study room, where he used to spend his time reading and researching about the most various things and so, that’s how you spent most of your night: sitting on two expensive armchairs next to each other while talking.

Something you couldn’t wrap your head on was the fact that Chris seemed so familiar, to you: the way he talked, the way he would gently lead you anywhere you wanted him to without ever letting go of your hand, the way he looked at you.

It was almost as if you knew him, but Chris had already said you never met before that night, so you decided that you probably should have stopped thinking about it.

Another thing that made you feel strange was the fact that you were indeed staying in a Manor supposedly inhabited by vampires, but you didn’t feel anything besides tranquillity and occasional nervousness, but the latter was completely because of Chris’ presence. From the moment he told you that you would have been safe, you believed him, and never doubted it ever again for the rest of the night.

The door of Chris’ studio opened without notice, slightly startling you, and a tall boy with blonde hair reaching his shoulders suddenly bursted in, looking distressed and definitely on a hurry; his eyes were a bright crimson red as well.

«Chris,» the boy said, apparently, he still didn’t took notice about the fact that you were in the room as well, «where are the necromancers? I have an issue afoot.»

«Hyunjin.» Chris simply answered, his stern tone completely different from the one he had been using with you; your eyes were still locked on Hyunjin, which immediately looked at you with wide eyes before his features eventually illuminated in a nice, friendly smile.

«Oh! You’re finally back!» he said, waving a hand towards you, which weakly waved at him as well, even if you were confused at his words.

«I’ll go ask Han, I bet he knows.» and with that, he left with the same hurry he invaded your small comfortable bubble.

Finally glancing at Chris, you couldn’t help but giggle about the fact that he was staring at the now closed door with an exasperated expression while he kept rubbing his temples.

«So, do necromancers exist as well?» you asked him, momentarily forgetting about the fact that Hyunjin just acted like you knew each other.

«As well?» Chris looked back at you, with a confused frown, and for an unknown reason, you decided to confess; after all, you were not the first one visiting the Forest Manor because of a bet, right?

«I said that I believed that supernatural beings exist,» you admitted, your gaze drifting to the numerous shelves filled with books adorning the walls, «my friends dared me to spend the night here, since rumours say it’s inherited by vampires.»

«And you believe in it?» Chris asked you with a gentle tone; you knew that, differently from your friends, he didn’t ask about it with the intention to judge you for your beliefs, and you also knew that common human people didn’t normally have bright red eyes. You shrugged, and Chris accepted your silent vague answer; despite the fact that he had so many things to tell you, he knew that it was still too early for that.

Eventually, somewhere during your talk, you drifted off to sleep, the vague feeling of a warm blanket being draped over you making you wake up for a second; you thought that your mind also registered the fact that Chris kissed the top of your head, but you weren’t sure.

«You’re alive?!» was the first thing you heard from your friends as soon as they saw you walk back into the village completely unharmed; you scoffed at them, before they started asking you a countless numbers of questions.

Of course, you didn’t say anything about Chris or your night, but simply said that a family lived there and gladly hosted you from the night.  

Since the first night you’ve been at the Forest Manor, your visits became pretty much frequent; if at first you went there during the night, you eventually ended up visiting during various times of the day. Needless to say, you did it in order to see Chris, which was absolutely happy anytime he saw you walking out the forest and towards the Manor.

Two months later, you were absolutely sure that you developed a crush for Chris; he was gentle, caring, mature, funny. Chris was definitely everything you were looking for in a man, and definitely no one in your village had ever made your heart race as he could. Sometimes, you had the feelings that your crush was reciprocated, but Chris kept acting neutral about it, still leading you around the Manor while politely holding your hand and, sometimes, not leaving it as soon as you reached your destination.

By now, you’ve met every one of the boys living with him, and the fact that every single one of them acted like Hyunjin when he first saw you, confused you to no end.

However, they never explained what they meant with their «We’ve missed you!» or «Chris is finally in a good mood now that you’re back.», and eventually, you dropped the topic.

Even if you wanted to know, you knew it was better not to be too insistent about it; despite the fact that they never confirmed it, you were almost completely sure that they were vampires, and even if they somehow considered you a friend, you knew better than to get on their nerves.

Strong arms partially held you up and you were instantly pulled towards a boy’s chest, which was holding you like you were made of crystal about to shatter in million pieces; you felt so weak that you couldn’t hold your head up, and the sound of the boy’s choked pleads interrupted by loud sobs made your heart clench in sorrow.

You knew you were dreaming, but even so, you couldn’t move as you pleased, you couldn’t do anything; it almost felt like you were remembering something from someone else’s life.

«Please,» the boy spoke, his voice sounding dangerously like Chris’, «I can’t lose you again.» even if you felt weaker each passing second, the only thing you wanted to do was to reach out and comfort the boy, which continued to cry while holding you up.

Eventually, he re-arranged your position, holding your head up in the crook of his neck as he held your body close like it was the last time. The feeling of his cold and gentle hands sliding from your cheek to your hair were the only thing you could feel, since the “you” in your dream still had her eyes closed.

«I’ll come back,» you heard yourself say, «I always do.» you felt hurt at your own words, knowing that any kind of pain the boy was going through, he didn’t deserve it; finally, you opened your eyes, looking up to see Chris’ shaking frame, his tears falling on your face as he repeatedly shook his head.

The crimson gentle eyes you were used to see were now wide and filled with desperation, and out the corner of your eye, you saw yourself weakly trying to lift your hand in order to wipe away his tears; however, you were too weak, and your hand fell back on your lap without managing to touch Chris’ ethereal features.

«Don’t go, not again.» he pleaded, «Not this time, not again.» he kept repeating, and as if you felt the “you” in your dream slowly dying, you felt yourself waking up in your own reality.

To say that you spent the whole day feeling distressed was an understatement; no matter what you did, you kept having strange glimpses of memories involving Chris that were definitely not yours. Or, were they?

Slowly, you spent your day re-arranging together the pieces you got: Chris seemed incredibly familiar and he acted as if he had known you for a while, his friends talked to you as if they had been waiting for you, you were the only human that was allowed to visit the Manor anytime she wanted, and now, you kept having random flashbacks about Chris. You were sure you were about to have a headache from thinking so hard, but you needed answers.

Contrarily to the other times you went to see Chris, this time you didn’t pay attention to your dress; you acted on instinct, your feet leading you towards the Manor, where you eventually found Chris sitting on top of the stone wall, exactly like the first night you met.

As soon as your eyes met, you were certain about your theory: Chris was your soulmate.

«How many times did you have to go through that?» you asked weakly, standing few steps away from him; Chris furrowed your brows in confusion, before his eyes eventually widened; in a blink of an eye, he was in front of you, his gloved hand ghosting over the outline of your jaw.

«I’m pretty old, by now I think I’ve lost count.» he admitted with a smile, and you felt your heart clench at his words; you felt angry at yourself – actually at your past selves, for being so selfish.

«I’m so sorry,» you mumbled weakly, before throwing yourself into Chris’ strong arms, the sensation foreign but yet so familiar; his arms circled your helpless frame, pulling your body close to his, «I’ve always been selfish, I’m sorry.» you were crying, your tears falling on Chris’ expensive shirt and your shoulders shaking.

«I always let you choose, and I always will.» he gently confessed, caressing your back and trying to help you calm down, «If you were to choose your human life again, I’ll wait for you and find you again.» despite the fact that in this life, you’ve known Chris for a little less than three months, you’ve never felt so loved.

That night, was the first time Chris let you into his bedroom, and you understood the reason why he never let you in the same moment he closed the door behind you; a wave of memories washed over you, consecutive fragments of moments spent with Chris. You felt your knees go weak, you were sure you would have fallen due to the intensity of it all, if it weren’t for Chris wrapping his arms around your waist.  

Chris was sitting on the bed now, his back resting against few pillow pressed against the headboard; you were sitting next to him but partially sideways, so that you could constantly look at him, your legs were thrown over his lap.

During all the time you spent at the Manor, both you and Chris kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, but since you somehow regained your memories, you wanted to keep him as close as possible. For the first time since you met, Chris had took off his leather gloves, his touch was as cold as ice and left shivers along your skin.

«I missed it.» he murmured, his eyes focused on the trail of goosebumps on your arms erupting anytime he ran his fingertips on your skin.

That night, Chris confessed everything to you; he was a vampire, and – confirming your theory, the two of you were soulmates. Somehow, he always managed to find you and every time, you always managed to fall in love with him; however, in the end, you’d always choose your human life, trusting the fact that you’d meet again.

Hesitantly, Chris answered to your question about the longest time he had to wait for you, saying that he was about to go crazy.

«Two hundred years are pretty long, I thought you wouldn’t reincarnate anymore, that I had lost you for good,» Chris’ gaze was unfocused, before he eventually erupted into a smile, «but then you walked out of the woods because of a bet.» you held his hands in a tight grip, aware that you couldn’t even imagine how much he had suffered because of your selfishness.

«You don’t deserve a soulmate like me.» you confessed, but he shook his head.

«What kind of soulmate would I be if I choose for you?» somewhere, deep in your soul, Chris’ words made you realize that maybe, this time you weren’t so afraid of living for eternity anymore.

«I’ve seen so many versions of you during the centuries,» he chuckled, distracting you from your thoughts, «It was like… seeing your adolescence’s stages.» you covered your face in embarrassment, asking him which one was the worst. «Oh, the vampire hunter definitely gave me a hard time.» Chris admitted with a sigh, recalling the time he had to physically fight you in order to defend himself.

«Did I hurt you?» you immediately asked, scooping closer to his frame, eager to listen to the things that you did in your previous lives.

Chris simply shook his head, looking at you with malice, «You got your memories back just in time.»

«During a fight? And how could that happen?» you scoffed, not believing to Chris’ words until you took notice of the emotions his eyes held; with extremely slow movements, he lifted his hand to your chin, his eyes repeatedly shifting from your eyes to your lips as he started inching closer. Judging by his sudden smug smile, you were sure that Chris could hear your heartbeat hammering in your chest, and you inched closer as well, meeting his lips halfway.

As you felt Chris’ full lips on yours, your head started to spin; you definitely couldn’t imagine that a wave of such intense emotion would fall over you as soon as you kissed him.

To you, his lips tasted like home, the familiar sense of security and love that had irremediably made you fall in love with him all over again, life after life.

To Chris, your lips tasted like a bittersweet déjà-vu; he’s had countless of first kisses with you, and he inevitably fell in love with each single different reincarnation of you, but still, you always ended up slipping away from his grasp. 

Chris’ hand moved on your nape in a swift, gentle movement, tilting your head just to deepen the kiss, as if he could kiss his own desperation away; he knew how the story would have gone, but nonetheless, he loved you enough to wait for you for eternity, if he needed.

Weakly gripping on the collar of his shirt, you sighed into the kiss, pulling Chris even further into you; even if you didn’t want to mention it, you kept having small flashes about your past lives, and so you wanted to keep on kissing him, just to know more about what you could not remember.

A hiss escaped your mouth as Chris unintentionally grazed your inner lip with one of his fangs, and you parted from him, finally taking him his appearance: not only Chris’ eyes seemed to glow a deeper shade of red now that he smelled a little droplet of blood, but also, his lips were slightly parted and his fangs were exposed.

However, the thing that completely felt your heart sink in your stomach, was the fact that Chris had signs of dried tears on his cheeks. Instantly, you reached out to gently cup his face, not caring about the fact that you were bleeding and he could have killed you, and Chris simply tightly closed his eyes.

«I’m sorry,» he sighed, «I thought you wouldn’t come back.» you hugged him without thinking, your eyes blankly staring at the wall.

You didn’t see Chris for the next week, since you were forced to stay in bed due to a sudden high fever. Strangely enough, anytime you slept, your dreams were composed by a strange mixture composed of memories about your past lives and memories about your present life, to the point where you couldn’t tell what was the truth and what was caused by your fever.

Forced to stay at home, you definitely had enough time to think about what were your intentions, and day after day, you managed to realize what you really wanted to do and so, on a Thursday morning, despite your fever wasn’t completely gone, you quickly washed up and dressed yourself, heading towards the Forest Manor.

«Where is Chris?» you asked Seungmin, which eyes immediately widened over the book he was busy reading.

«Uh,» he said, his gaze nervously shifting towards Minho, sitting next to him on the leather couch.

«There’s a new restaurant in town,» Minho said, covering up for Seungmin’s lack of explanation, «He and the others went there.» With a scoff, you put your hands on your hips, rage and jealousy bubbling up inside you.

«I came here with a fever telling him I was ready to stay and he goes around feeding on other girls?»

«Girls?» Seungmin questioned, furrowing his brows.

«You’re staying?!» Minho exclaimed at the same time, excitement evident in his voice; you plopped yourself on the leather chair in front of the two vampires, which were looking at you with two different emotions plastered on his face.

«I made up my mind.» you told Minho, which eagerly nodded, whispering a soft «I’m happy, then.»

«Isn’t he feeding from… the ones who works… you know…» you tried to be as eloquent as you could with a simple hand gesture. Of course, you were thinking about the worst option: brothels.

Deep inside, you knew that Chris would never do this to you, but in that very moment, your fever suggested you that it was the most plausible excuse. Seungmin eventually interrupted your thoughts with his contagious laugh, and Minho snorted.

«I can promise you he’s not. He’s the shame of our family,» he said, shaking his head, «He feeds from animals.»

«Oh!» you replied immediately, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. «Of course, animals have blood as well… I'm… an idiot.» you muttered to yourself, but they heard you nonetheless, and did their best to chuckle without sounding too disrespectful. Despite that, you decided to wait for his return.

«Oi, we’re home-oh, hi!» Chris said, entering the living room, and your eyes locked with his lips, still faintly tainted red.

«Yeah, we’re going out.» both Minho and Seungmin said, walking towards the other boys now standing behind Chris. Hyunjin and Changbin looked at each other with furrowed brows, while Han and Jeongin were already on their way to come and sit next to you, happy about your presence in the Manor, claiming that everything was more enjoyable anytime you were around.

«But we just came back?» Felix questioned, and Minho quickly grabbed his forearm, not bothering to repeat himself.  

«You’re gonna be alone until tomorrow night.» Seungmin winked at you, before patting Chris’ on his shoulder and exiting the room along with the others.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Chris’ gaze, nor to bring up your decision.

The awkward nervousness you felt, eventually, completely disappeared as you and Chris changed for the night and laid together on his bed.

It wasn’t the first time you spent at the Manor, but now that you made up your mind, it definitely felt way more intimate. Chris was sitting on the bed, balancing himself with his left hand lazily spread out behind him, while his right hand was draped around your waist, pulling your chest flush to his; you were straddling him, the thin fabric of your night dress not leaving much to the imagination, its fabric pooled around your thighs and your arms gently cupping Chris’ cheeks.

«I need you, I-» Chris mumbled against your throat; despite his skin was cold, his kisses made you feel like you were burning up. His voice was extremely hoarse, and you deduced it was from his hunger. «I need your blood,» he said, his hand tightly gripping your waist with a strained whine, «I need you.» his voice was low, and his arms were holding your body impossibly close to his.

Despite the fact that you were sitting on top of Chris and he was occasionally glancing at you with eyes full of desire, you didn’t have the slightest trace of control over the situation.

With a breathless whimper, Chris’ hand slid inside your nightgown, tightly gripping on your thigh as you completely sat on his lap in a silent answer; now that you were completely pressed against his body, you could feel that he was already hard. You knew Chris loved you, you knew Chris desired you, but still, knowing that only you could reduce him in that state made you feel incredibly powerful; knotting your hand in his hair, you connected your lips at the same time you hesitantly grinded on him, swallowing with your mouth the surprised moan that escaped your lover’s lips.

Chris eagerly returned the kiss with fervour, and it quickly turned into a passionate make out session, your body shaking lightly anytime you felt Chris’ fangs graze on your skin.

«I want to be yours, Chris,» you murmured against his lips, as he effortlessly rolled you on the bed, so that he was on top of you.

«You already are,» he murmured back, tilting his head just enough to deepen your steamy kiss, his tongue making you momentarily forget about what you wanted to say.

«No, yours… yours.» you whimpered, unsure whether what you were saying had any sense, but, in the moment you felt Chris’ knee spreading your thighs and his full lips closing on your lower lip just to pull on it as his head drew back, you swore you were about to lose all the traces of sanity you had.

The thing was: earlier, you didn’t have enough courage to confess him that you wanted him to turn you, but somehow, the feeling of Chris’ erection pressed against your inner thigh made you think that it was definitely the best moment in the world to ask your boyfriend - which happened to be a vampire, to turn you into one as well.

It was like you could hear the imaginary gears inside Chris’ head spinning as he gradually slowed down the pace of his kisses. What were movements purely driven by lust were now once again gentle, unsure and tender movements.

«What are you asking about, exactly?» Chris asked, kiss lips in moving on the side of your  neck; you took a big sigh, circling his waist with your arms.

«I want to stay with you,» you confessed, unsure on which words you should use, «for eternity.»

Chris’ body tensed up, and he slowly pulled away from you in order to sit back up, balancing himself on his ankles, he run a hand through his already messy hair, before eventually caressing your thighs in a loving manner.

«Are you sure about what you’re asking?» Chris mumbled, his red crimson eyes burning into yours, and immediately you nodded, sitting up as well.

«I spent a lot of time thinking about it. I’ve been selfish, and yet, you still waited for me.» you explained, holding his gaze, «I don’t want you to suffer again, and I don’t want to be parted from you again.» Chris attentively listened to you, before eventually, his serious expression turned into a soft one, a gentle smile adorning his full lips.

«If that’s what you want,» Chris gently pushed on your shoulder, not enough to hurt but enough to make you fall back on the mattress, «Enjoy your last night as a human.» he gave you a sly smile, before ripping the fabric of your nightdress.

«What a show off.» your laugh was cut off by a surprised moan, as Chris’ lips closed around your nipple.

Chris spent the night worshipping your body; he made sure to kiss almost every millimetre on your skin, mumbling praises and confessions of love every now and then. You didn’t know how much time he spent with his head between your legs, but you were certain about the fact that you already came twice and your legs were shaking.

The feeling of his fingers and tongue working together to lead you towards another orgasm made you squirm both in anticipation and both in a slight different need. As much as you loved the feeling of Chris’ tongue repeatedly teasing your wetness, you kept growing impatient with the desire of feeling him buried inside you.  Chris’ lips harshly sucked on your clit as his fingers curled inside you, and another orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, your legs tensing up before weakly falling back on the bed.

«Can you come again?» Chris husky voice mumbled, kissing your now sweaty body all the way back to your lips; completely aware about the fact that you probably created a small pool of wetness under your lower half, you nodded, running your thumb over Chris’ plump lips and smearing the remaining proofs about the fact that you came not one, not two, but three times thanks to his tongue.

With a smile, Chris tilted his head enough to suck your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digit as he aligned himself with your entrance before bottoming out with a single thrust. Chris head fell in the crook of your shoulder, and you were thankful your thumb wasn’t in his mouth anymore because you felt his jaw clench at the point it sounded almost painful.

«I missed you so much,» you heard him murmur on your skin, and you gently caressed his hair, kissing his temple as a doubt made its way in your head.

«Did you ever-»

«Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,» Chris cut your words, lifting his head up just enough to look at you in the eyes, «I could never lay with anyone else,» he mumbled, shaking his head, «I would never.»

Even if you already knew the answer to your silent doubt, hearing those words from him made you feel incredibly better, and incredibly loved. Chris had started moving his hips in a slow pace by now, clearly holding back and being too concerned trying not to hurt you by being too rough.

«Show me how much you missed me, then.» you said, lifting your hips to change the angle of his thrusts just to make him reach a little deeper than before, action which earned you a choked whimper from Chris.

«Good luck.» Chris scoffed, his crimson eyes burning into yours as he was re-adjusting his position; from the moment he started moving again, you completely lost the ability to think due to how good you were feeling.

The fact that vampires were faster than human beings definitely came in hand; Chris’ movements were passionate, his fingers were alternating between stimulating your clit and your breasts, and his lips continuously made sure to leave an intricate pattern of kisses along the expanse of skin within his reach.

Needless to say, you quickly approached your orgasm, and as Chris felt you clench around him and gradually tensing up, he slowed his pace, but kept stimulating your clit with his fingers, just to bite on the side of your neck as you finally came with a loud moan.

The sensation of an orgasm was per se intense, but the bite of a vampire, somehow, prolonged the sensation as long as they fed from you; you were gripping Chris’ back, your nails sinking into his skin and drawing deep red lines, before eventually, you lost consciousness because your neck was burning.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up, was Chris sitting on the bed next to you, quietly reading a book; you groaned, rolling on your side.

Despite your throat was burning as if you’ve never drank anything in your life, you also felt like your senses were heightened; you could hear what the boys were talking about from different part of the house, the sensation unusual but definitely something you could get used to.

With a quick movement, you swatted the book away from Chris’ hand, not caring about it flying on the floor, and placed your head on his thighs.

«Good morning, sunshine.» Chris chuckled at the fact that the first thing you did as soon as you woke up as a vampire, was cuddling on his side; his hand brushed your hair, and you hummed.

«Thirsty,» you croaked, ignoring the stinging sensation you felt in your lungs. Minho walked in the room few moments later, since he clearly heard what you said; he stopped on the doorway, holding to large glasses filled with blood in his hands.

«Oh my God,» he sighed, «You look dead.»

«Yeah?» you retorted, quickly sitting up in anticipation of finally drinking something, «Go look yourself in the mirror.»

«I fucking hate you.» Minho laughed, incredulous, and you could hear the others – which were curious about when you would wake up but they didn’t want to disturb you too much, laughing as well.

The moment when Chris held you tight to his body without having to measure his strength in fear to hurt you, you knew you made the right choice.

«I’m sorry it took me so much.» you confessed, eager to learn everything about your new life and eager about spending it with Chris.

«It was worth it.» you heard him whisper, followed by a content, soft sigh.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 4

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.3k Also on AO3

“And that is the sound of your Grand Prix ending before you’d even formed up on the grid. That is such disappointment” 

The commentators' words bounce off your ears like a cacophony, the images of your car coming to a stop on the grass being shown on the screen for the third time in a row since you arrived at the garage. There you are again, jumping out of a Formula One car that has just begun blowing smoke, hand over your heart like that would stop it from breaking out of your ribcage. 

How on earth had you been persuaded to sit down on that car yet again, remains a mystery. Nick had come to retrieve you after an hour-long ceremony, hand on your back as he hurried you out and towards the two lines of Formula One cars. Nobody had seemed to be on as much of a rush as him, the rest taking a walk to wherever they had come from while you both were almost sprinting through the road.  

You had not even been able to say goodbye to this Lewis guy, who you had been stuck like a lost puppy for the whole ceremony. He had seemed so comfortable there, in the middle of all those people screaming and taking photos of him while he moved around the place with a constant smile on his lips. A natural. You, on the other hand, could only follow his steps as your eyes jumped from one place to another, completely dazed by the situation.  

Lewis had not batted an eye at your antics though, had instead kept the conversation going until the presentation started and managed to sneak a few comments and smiles during the show, keeping you calm.  

Other people from the private zone had seemed to recognize you as well, greeting you with nice words and wishing you good luck all around. Some of them wore a jumpsuit akin to yours, like the group of men you and Lewis had been talking to, while others were simply dressed in formal clothes. The fact that all their jumpsuits had matched the Formula One cars parked behind you was a clear hint of what would soon start, why would you all be lined up on a red carpet on the middle of this road otherwise? But you were way too nervous to see that. 

Yeah, let’s blame the nerves and not the man in that orange jumpsuit who you had been stealing glances at the whole time.  

You had expected him to greet you in a similar manner to that of Nick this morning —literally crossing every single boundary that exist between strangers—, but that man had instead chosen to completely ignore you. Well, he had greeted both you and Lewis when you first approached the group, making light conversation with everyone there. But after that, silence. Like nothing had happened the day before, and you being there in the middle of a road surrounded by strangers was a normal thing. 

It had reached the point where you wondered if you were mistaking him. It is not like you were in the best state of mind yesterday, to really pay attention to anything other than the clear nervous breakdown you were having either. And he might have been dressed a bit different as well, a bit more rundown and sweatier than now, that’s for sure. Even his hair is now neatly under a matching cap rather than in that mess of curls you saw then. Yet, you would never forget the fear in his eyes as you cried your heart out, or the way he had held you with such care before you lost consciousness.  

It has to be him. 

The man himself comes to confirm your suspicions later on, when the event comes to an end. He finally appears when Nick and you are nearing the first row of Formula One cars “Okay, don’t be mad” he starts, sliding to your right side and swiftly matching your pace to look at you properly “Just want to know if you’re feeling alright, that’s all” 

It takes you a second to realize that he is in fact talking to you, the different conversations around mixing in as you try to navigate the crowd. However, Nick instantly picks up his words “I sent you a message already, doctor said it was the exhaustion”  

Nick’s quickness catches off guard, a frown setting on your face when you only manage to nod in confirmation at the other man’s questioning gaze. It is what Nick said in the car earlier today. 

The man’s expression sours at that explanation, eyes showing clear as day that he does not agree with any of it. “Yeah, sure, that’s why she was freaking out too, right?” he scoffs, sarcasm and pure irritation dripping out of his words. 

Nick does not react to any it though “She’s been good all morning...”, voice calm and collected, as if he had already been expecting some pushback. 

The man in orange can only laugh at that, hands coming up to fix the collar of his suit while he shakes his head in disbelief “You and I know she shouldn’t-” 

Although his tone was calmer this time, that statement had seemed to be the last straw for Nick, who came to a sudden stop before the man could even finish talking. “Daniel, we’re not talking about this in front of everyone. It’s done” 

Now that you are back in the garage, seated with a pair of huge headphones on your ears and surrounded by strangers, you realize that maybe that had been the perfect opportunity for you to step your foot down and stop this nonsense. What better time to demand an explanation that when you were literally in the scene of the crime? Standing between the only two people you had seen before fainting yesterday, the same ones who were now fighting about your condition like you were not even there. They knew something, they had to. The look of uncertainty Daniel had given you before ending the conversation and walking away said as much, his words “We’ll talk later” etched on your brain. 

And still, you could not force yourself to act on it. 

The race had restarted a couple minutes ago, as shown by every single television on the garage, each one giving a different perspective of the circuit and cars. A Formula One race you would have been participating in if your car hadn’t broken down, which sounds crazy in itself, but your surname being in that list of drivers on the side is what is ticking you off the most. OUT. 

Oh, and there it is, you are being shown on screen yet again. This time in an incredible close-up where you look like you have been run over by a truck, hair sticking in every which direction and sweat making your cheeks shine.  

When you arrived at the garage, they had suggested for you to sit inside to cool down and relax, that they will call you latter on for the meeting. An offer you had politely refused. You had already committed that mistake once this morning, so no more closed off rooms for you, it is best to be out on the open where you can see everything. However, that also meant everyone could see you. You attracted way more attention that you had expected, your face being plastered in the screens at every possible opportunity while they talked about how unfortunate your exit had been and how attentive you were now watching the race. You had even felt bad about leaving the race at first, the dejected looks, pats on the back and half-hugs from the people in the garage making you almost forget how close to a mental breakdown you were mere minutes ago. 

A ball of mixed feelings that follow you throughout the rest of the day, the random strangers appearing out of thin air to comfort you not making any of it much easier to handle. You are completely exhausted, mentally and physically, brain a mush of incoherent thoughts that do nothing but weight you down. No matter how much you think about it, you cannot figure out what is your place in all of this.  

Do you even want to find out? It seems much easier to assume that all of this has been a complex dream made up by your overworked brain and that you will wake up in a minute. Just one more minute.    

The meeting after the race is calmer, the same people from this morning seated around a table plus a new face, a blond man with the same white jumpsuit as you and who politely smiles when he enters. You do not understand much of what it is said in there, but manage to repeat a diluted version of it at the following round of interviews anyways. 

Yeah, interviews... At this point, it’s better not to ask question you will not get answers to. 

It is one in the morning when Nick finally walks you back to the hotel, the mechanical sounds of the door unlocking bringing back some of that anxiety you had felt earlier in the day.  

“I’ll come pick you up at... eleven,” Nick informs from the corridor, rummaging through that huge bag of his while you lean on the door “I left some food in the fridge, and... here’s your phone” 

You mouth forms an ‘O’ at the sight, body acting faster than your mind as you quickly take the device from his hold. Finally, there it is, your way out. You hold it close to your chest, nodding at Nick’s plans for tomorrow without really listening to any of it, your internal screams of joy too loud to focus on things you do not care about.  

If everything goes alright, you won’t be here tomorrow. 

There is a spring to your step and a smile tugging at your lips when you approach the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, door locked and phone secure on your hand. It easily switches on, a numeric keypad appearing and disappearing on the screen before you can stress about not having the password. 

The caller app is the first thing you open, fingers pressing your mother’s number at lightspeed, tears springing to your eyes from the sheer anticipation while you hold the phone to your ear. One tone, two tones and three until it sends you to the voicemail. You look at the screen in shock, it is true that it’s quite late but... 

You silence yourself, forcing yourself to focus before your emotions can get a hold of your thoughts. Instead hanging up the call to type your father’s number. One tone, two tones,… 

The tears finally race down your cheeks when you hear the call getting through, “Papá? (Dad?)” a string of voice making its way out your lips. 

However, there is no response from the other side of the line, only some distant noise. “Papá, soy yo (Dad, it’s me)” and when an answer finally comes through, the words and the other person’s voice are unrecognizable. 

You take a look at the lighted up screen, reading over and over the number you have called, pulling it back to your ear when you are sure you have not made a mistake. It is his number, who is this person? But when you go to ask about it, they have already hung up the call. 

What is happening? 

You call your mother again, then your father, continuously alternating between the two only numbers you have ever memorized, sobs racking your body when none of them answer. The opportunity to scape gradually disappearing in front of your eyes. 

When a message comes saying you cannot reach your father’s number sounds, your body gives out. Hand holding onto the glass for any possible support as you slowly fall down to a seated position on the ground, tears rolling down your face while you listen to the robotic voice.  

The night welcomes your sadness like no other, gaze fixed on the darkness outside, vision blurry and teeth gnawing at your lips as you try to hold in your whimpers. You lock your arms around yourself, nails digging into your forearms like that would distract your brain from the emptiness that is consuming you whole. 

This does not make sense. You have tried to log into your accounts, from your social media apps to your email, anything that could get you in touch with your friends and family, anyone that could help you. Yet, the same message comes up again and again: the password or username you entered doesn't match our records. Please try again. 

The desperation prompts a stupid idea to surge on your mind, an exhausted sigh slipping through your lips while you type your name on the browser, as if some missing report from the police would suddenly pop up. And although you had prepared yourself for some webs with totally unrelated information to appear, what you did not prepare for was to find pages upon pages about yourself. 

There are photos and videos of you, a ton of articles talking about the ‘disastrous start of the race’ which have your face plastered all over them. Of course you had noticed the cameras all around and up into your personal space, but you had figured it would be something to be kept private, not that they would be put all over the internet, a literal Google search away.  

Still, there are so many images… You cannot even recognize yourself in half of them. What is all of this?  

Lower on the search appears your name, written in big bold letters and paired with more photos that you do not remember ever taking, the subtitle reading: 

Professional motorsports racing driver.

Next chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the fic 💚

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien

[unnecessary-dinosaurs]

*Long, exasperated sigh*

Ok. Chaos Theory season two review.

Spoilers below the cut. This might be a long one.

When this show was first announced, I was thrilled. The characters that meant so much to me would be coming back in a new series. I almost cried once after the first teaser leaked because I was just so excited to see Darius again. I was admittedly a little nervous too. Camp Cretaceous ended on such a good note. Did we really need a continuation? Going into the first season, I was cautiously optimistic.

Then it came and went. I liked it fine, but it wasn’t the same as Camp Cretaceous. In the following months I felt the years long grip JWCC had on me start to loosen. So by the time this season two came around, I was the least excited I ever had been for a new season.

For all of its run, Camp Cretaceous was so good because it simply refused the flaws of the current Jurassic movies. Where the JW trilogy prioritized action, JWCC prioritized the characters and their bonds. Where JW treated dinosaurs like scary monsters, JWCC treated them like animals. Where JW didn’t know when to end, JWCC ended when its story was finished.

Chaos Theory feels like this side story finally adhering to the rules of the franchise. The characters take a backseat to convoluted plots and mature dinosaur action. The story continues even though it doesn’t need to.

I’m not saying the season is horrible or even bad. I just feel like this show, despite its many strengths, hasn’t yet justified its existence to me. If you’re going to uproot the amazing ending of the first show, it has to be for good reason. And I’m just not convinced yet.

First, what I liked about the season:

-The first episode was genuinely so good. Like seriously amazing stuff. Great atmosphere and tension and sets up the rest of the season nicely.

-Brooklynn!! My least favorite camper in JWCC was my favorite this time around. Her flaws were layered and interesting and her motivations were compelling. Her flashback episode was my second favorite. Her relationship with Ronnie was good, and I consistently found myself drawn more to her side of the story.

-This kind of goes without saying but the art direction is still just so good. The lighting is so perfect, the models and the way they move are perfect, everything is just really nice visually.

-I liked the ending. I was worried that everyone would be happy and reunited by the end of the season and it would be too easy, so I’m glad they’re stretching out the conflict.

-The video call scene in episode three. It was just really cute. Good cute moment.

Ok. And now what I didn’t like so much:

-I feel like nothing happened this season? Like all the information in these ten episodes could have been condensed to five. Just really frustrating pacing. Felt like a lot of filler (a whole season of filler).

-I’m just really upset with how the characters were written. Why were none of them (except Brooklynn) interesting? Who even are these people? Why do they have the most generic dialogue ever? Like, I’m expected to care about Kenji, but that’s just literally not Kenji. He doesn’t look, sound, talk, or act like Kenji. Why is his character just being angry and making bad puns now? Why is Ben so boring? Arguably the most interesting character in JWCC is just some guy now? I know a lot of people will disagree with me on this but I can hardly be convinced to feel for these versions of the Nublar Six.

-The new characters were ok at best. They were all serviceable and likable, but I just couldn’t really understand why they were there. Zayna was completely fine, but I saw no reason for her to tag along the entire season. I really just don’t think she contributed much besides acting as a tour guide. The scientist guy was just completely one dimensional. Evil scientist. That’s the character.

-And the best new character from last season just never came back. Where was The Handler? She was such a highlight last season and she had one scene. Bummer.

-The Camp Fam finding out that B is alive was so underwhelming? It felt random and undeserved. There was little build up so what should’ve been a really important moment didn’t have much gravity for me.

-I get what they were trying to do with the hippos and lions but I just don’t really care, sorry. I’m watching Jurassic World, I want to see dinosaurs. I at least appreciate the thought though.

-I wish Brooklynn’s plot hadn’t been faking being bad to get cozy with Santos. It felt like a rehash of Darius pretending to be with Kash in season four of JWCC. A much better rehash, yes, but a rehash nonetheless. I just wish they’d done something more interesting there.

-There were several plot points from last season that were hardly/never brought up. Darius’s crush on Brooklynn, Ben’s girlfriend, Sammy and her family, etc. Why?

I have more stuff I could say but I don’t want it to seem like I think this is the worst season of tv ever. Or even the worst season in JWCC/CT. There’s a lot of genuinely good stuff in here, I just feel like it gets meddled with all the junk being in a franchise comes with. Camp Cretaceous avoided it to an extent, but eventually, it caught up. I know a lot of people like this show and I’m happy for them, but I’m just not one of them. I hope my complaints are addressed in future seasons, but honestly, I won’t count on it.

[flower-boi16]

You Didn't Know: A Beautiful Song With No Impact

So...You Didn't Know. You Didn't Know is definitely one of my personal favorite songs in the show, simply because like all the songs in HH, its incredibly well sung with a good melody and lyrics. But...I can't help but find the song...hollow. The song is good, but there are so many things about it that could have been so much more impactful that aren't because of the writing outside of the song.

The song is supposed to be a big turning point for the series; its this grand epic musical number and the climax of episode 6, it's supposed to make you feel something...but It doesn't. And that's because the things that actually happen in the song don't have any real impact on the viewer because of the writing in the rest of the show; here's why.

The song begins with Emily singing about how Charlie actually proved that Sinners can be redeemed and how unfair it is that they are still turn their backs, after that, Charlie stands up to Sera and sings about it noting being fair, how a sinner can be redeemed. Then Adam and Lute come in singing about how stupid the discussion is and take some lyrics from Hell Is Forever.

Now, you have Charlie and Emily singing about how souls can be redeemed and calling out Sera for her bullshit, and you also have Adam and Lute come in spewing out their black and white nonesense.

So why isn't this verse impactful? Simple; we never actually saw Angel Dust grow as a person, it happened off-screen. I already talked about why Hazbin Hotel's themes of redemption feel ungodly hollow as well as how hollow Angel Dust's "development" in episode 6 is, and both problems greatly harm this song as a whole and are part of why it feels so hollow; just imagine how much more impact this lyrics would feel if we actually saw Charlie help Angel Dust grow and become a better person, if it came after a full season of character development for the guy, if it came after we got to actually see Charlie help redeem him.

This is what I mean when I say that this song is harmed by the writing around it; in isolation, it sounds like a kickass song, but as something that's part of the story, it feels very hollow. And it wouldn't feel so hollow if the writing around it was better, but it isn't.

These lyrics don't feel impactful because we never saw Angel Dust's development into becoming a better person, it happened completely and utterly off-screen, and that's a major issue.

Then after that, Adam actidentally spells out the truth about the exterminations just existing and Emily is shocked by this. Sera tries to explain why saying that she wanted to protect Emily and she had to do what she thought she needed to, buuuuuut Emily isn't buying and her view of Sera bassically shatters.

So, we have a character whose whole view of someone who she admired completely shattered after finding out the things that she was doing, basically being murdering people. This would be very impactful...if Emily was a character that the audience actually cared about. Again, this is something that's affected by an outside problem with the show's writting, that being; introducing new characters and expecting the audience to instantly care about them.

I already talked about my issues with Emily as a character but a major issue with her is that we barely even KNOW her. She's introduced in this one episode and the show instantly expects you care despite her when we don't know her as a person or character yet. Again, imagine how much more impact this development would have if we actually got to know Emily as a character so we can care about her, what her interests, desires and personality are.

We don't need a full episode developing her, but like, a few scenes where we actually get to know her as a character and actually get to care about her would have made this more impactful.

And then in the grand climax of the song, we get a duet sung by Charlie and Emily about how bullshit Heaven's rules are with a reprise of Hell is Forever thrown in.

I don't have much to say about this part of the song, it just suffers from the same problem that the first part I talked about does; it doesn't have any impact because we skipped Angel Dust's development because this show only has eight episodes (for SOME REASON), so it, like the rest of the song, feels hollow.

So then we get to the end of the song, where Adam reveals to Charlie that Vaggie is an fallen angel, and dramatic music plays to signal how big of a reveal this is to Charlie...

...but it's not much of a reveal to the audience. The audience already knows that Vaggie is a fallen angel, so while this moment is impactful to Charlie, it's not exactly impactful to us. Imagine how much more impactful this moment would have been if this was the actual reveal that Vaggie was a fallen angel; the reveal would have shocked both Charlie and the audience and would have ended both the already epic and dramatic song and the episode on a dramatic note, providing one final big reveal to end the episode off.

But...we didn't really get that. This isn't as bad as the problems with the other parts of the song but it still feels like a big missed opportunity imo.

So...that was You Didn't Know. Its a good song with great singing and powerful instrumentation, but in terms of the narrative of the show itself, the song feels completely hollow. None of the things that happen in the song have any impact because of the writting around it, and this is not the only song with this issue.

Whatever It Takes has a very similar problem; the Vaggie parts are fine, its the Carmila ones that I take issue with. We have Carmilla singing about how she just wanted to protect her daughters but it falls flat due to Carmilla having a similar problem to Emily; she's a character that was just introduced in this episode that we are automatically expected to care about despite the fact we haven't even gotten to know her yet.

This song would have been a lot more impactful if we got to know and care about Carmilla as a character, like Emily, but we didn’t.

You Didn’t Know while a good song feels complete empty and hollow. It feels like it’s supposed to be the culmination of something…but it isn’t. The song is just completely empty and hollow due to it suffering from the writing around it, and if that writing was better, this song would have a lot more impact…but it doesn’t.

And THAT’S the song’s fatal flaw.

[samasmith23]

Why do some people think that stories portraying darker subject matter is always an inherently bad thing?

I’ve recently encountered this weird mindset in regards to certain online fandom spaces, wherein people will argue that fictional characters experiencing intense trauma and pain is somehow inherently problematic and negatively reflects on the creator’s skills or ethics. This feels like such a narrow-minded and shallow understanding of a piece of media, since characters undergoing hardships is often a necessary element for them to grow and develop as the narrative progresses. Plus, while some stories can indeed be more intense and graphic in what types of trauma is depicted, it’s mere inclusion doesn’t automatically make the story or it’s author inherently bad. For instance, even though I personally haven’t read the manga series Berserk by the late Kentaro Miura (May he Rest In Peace…), based on what I’ve heard from others while the series does include graphic depictions of sexual assault which the main protagonist Guts suffered from in his past, said-assaults are NOT framed in a gross or exploitative way, but are instead utilized to analyze and discuss the character’s feelings of physical and psychological trauma derived from said-horrible events, and heavily factors into Guts' overall backstory and development as a character as he tries to heal from the violent trauma of his past and discover some sense of happiness in a bleak world.

And yet despite this I’ve encountered a few people accuse Berserk of being “pro-rape” or even outright stating that Miura “deserved to die” (which is an absolutely disrespectful and disgusting thing to say!) simply because he included these darker elements in his manga. Like... that's as stupid as someone claiming that Quentin Tarantino is automatically "pro-murder" simply because his movies include lots of scenes of characters killing each other.

I’ve also encountered far less overtly toxic examples of this kind bad faith media criticism in comic circles. Awhile I was incredibly confused when I saw some people on Twitter arguing that Saladin Ahmed was “ill-suited to writing teenage characters” simply because of two scenes in his Miles Morales: Spider-Man & Magnificent Ms. Marvel runs respectively, which involved Miles being tortured by the new supervillain, The Assessor (who would later make clones of Miles as a result), as well as the final battle between Ms. Marvel and her evil robot-duplicate Stormranger getting quite brutal at times (you could see blood from the impact Stormranger’s punch).

In regards to the Miles’ torture scene, I've seen a small number of people argue that the scene's existence was inherently inappropriate due to Miles' status as a Black minor, going as far as to label it as "dehumanizing" and "really insensitive to the real trauma of black boys." I'm not sure how I feel about this as those labels feel a tad extreme due to the fantastical nature of Miles' stories. Like, as brutal as the scene with the Assessor is, it’s at least given a more ficitional sci-fi vibe due to the high-tech laboratory, the Frankenstein operating table, and the fact that this whole ordeal leads directly into Miles' own version of Spider-Man: Clone Saga after The Assessor acquires Miles’ DNA in the process. So it feels less grounded and not as reflective of those real-life traumatic experiences Black men and boys unfortunately go through in the U.S. like I saw a few critics of Ahmed’s run claiming. Plus, Ahmed had Miles be rescued by both his father Jefferson Morales and Uncle Aaron Davis teaming-up together. So the narrative frames the Assessor’s torture of Miles as a bad thing whilst depicting two older Black men actively putting aside their personal differences in order to save their son/nephew as a major narrative focus as well. How exactly is it "dehumanizing" or "inappropriate" then?

And it seems like this bizarre criticism isn’t just limited to Twitter comic fandoms, since a certain Lily Orchard recently made an AWFUL video which outright accused animation fandoms and creators of “fetishizing the torture and abuse of POC women” in cartoons like The Legend of Korra, The Owl House, and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. As soon as I saw the thumbnail for that video I knew it was going to be an absolute dumpster fire.

In it, not only does Lily engage in those similar types of arguments like the ones I mentioned earlier about Saladin Ahmed’s portrayal of Miles & Kamala, but Lily went multiple steps further by outright accusing various scenes from The Legend of Korra, The Owl House & She-Ra of being “literal torture p*rn” and “fetishized abuse against POC women.” With Korra, Lily accused the scenes of Korra brutally poisoned with the Red Lotus’ liquid metalic venom, Korra still being significantly weakened by the poison during her final battle with Zaheer (causing her to fall and tumble down cliff-sides) and Zaheer trying to use his air-bending to suck the oxygen right out of Korra’s lungs (the same technique he previously used to assassinate the Earth Queen), plus the Unalaq fight from the Season 2 finale where extracts the Avatar spirit from Korra and kills all her past lives one by one with a water-whip as “white centrist writers being turned on by the trauma and torture of a woman of color.”

And in regards to She-Ra, Lily accused Catradora shippers of being an example of fandom going “full mask-off” simply because she found 2 or 3 random comments defending Catra’s abusive behavior prior to her gradual redemption arc in the final season simply because they found the Adora & Catra fights “hot” (which I know for a fact does NOT represent the entirety or even majority of the She-Ra fandom & Catradora shippers).

It’s just… I honestly don’t understand why Lily is describing these scenes as “torture p*rn” or “abuse fetishizing.” Like, it’s not unexpected for characters to undergo traumatic crap during their story arcs, and most often it’s for the purposes of raising the dramatic stakes of the conflict or to have said-characters eventually undergo some sort of positive change arc (which is what happens in both Korra and She-Ra btw). While the abuse Korra suffers at Zander’s hands is indeed violent, it’s intentionally disturbing and off-putting in order to increase the viewer’s suspense and fear over whether or not the main character will get out of this alive. Personally, when I first watched the Season finale of “Book 3,” I was on the edge of my seat and constantly worried for Korra’s survival, and while she is left physically and psychologically scarred by the whole ordeal I’ve heard that the entirety of “Book 4” (which I still haven’t seen BTW) focuses on Korra healing from her trauma and becoming more spiritually enlightened in the process. YouTuber and MarySue author, Princess Weekes, though had some interesting analyses about Korra’s portrayal of overcoming trauma and how its heavily rooted  in East Asian philosophy, despite Weekes' overall mixed feelings about the series in general:

And while I can’t comment on The Owl House (again, haven’t watched any of it), I can say that Lily’s characterization of Catradora as “torture p*rn/abuse fetishization” is 100% wrong since the show frames Catra’s behavior towards Adora and others throughout Seasons 1-4 as toxic and unhealthy, and Season 5 is all about her fixing herself on her own volition after realizing the harm she’s caused, and it’s only AFTER all of that when Adora & Catra become lovers. But the way Lily describes the scenes in Korra & She-Ra (which are honestly pretty PG in their levels of brutality despite being fairly dark for family-friendly animation) you’d think she was talking about some over-the-top violently explicit tentacle hentai or something, as she even goes as far as to compare the Korra & Zaheer fight to FREAKING The Passion of the Christ (seriously… Lily actually compared Korra to Mel Gibson's antisemitic guilt-tripping exploitation film which unnecessarily stretches out Jesus' torture and crucifixion; which in the Bible occurred in just a few brief passages instead of 2-and-a-half hours like in the movie).

Geez… given how Lily so inaccurately mischaracterizes these scenes from Korra and She-Ra, I’d honestly hate to see she’d react to Neon Genesis Evangelion, which is heavily centered around the characters suffering from intense depressive episodes and experiencing emotional breakdowns, whilst also including lots of psychoanalytical and disturbing imagery. Knowing Lily, she’d probably ignore the fact that NGE’s director Hideaki Anno was suffering from severe depression while creating the series (which heavily influenced the show’s overall production and themes), and instead accuse all the depictions of depression and trauma in EVA of being “unrealistic” and “inaccurate” since according to her all fictional depictions of trauma are inherently inaccurate since there’s no one universal depiction of trauma (Lily actually said that in her terrible video), and accuse all of the series’ violent and sexual imagery of being “torture p*rn” whilst calling Anno a “perverted abuse-fetishizing creep who is turned on by torture” (which feels incredibly SWERFy on Lily’s part, as well as needlessly hostile towards people who are into BDSM or sado-masachism and practice it safely and consensually) just like she did to the creators of Korra, Owl House, and She-Ra (even though NGE and especially the movie The End of Evangelion is highly critical of exactly that kind of gross and toxic behavior within Japanese Otaku subcultures).

So my overall question is this: why do Lily and some other people think that including intense trauma or brutal torture scenes in comics or animation, even when said-scenes they're framed in the story as bad things are inherently “problematic,” “dehumanizing,” “fetishistic,” or “torture/trauma p*rn”? It's like... I can understand not wanting to stomach intensely violent or depressing scenes if they can't handle them, or being critical if they feel unnecessarily mean-spirited or exploitative, but often times having darker elements is an unavoidable aspect of giving a story a sense of conflict. Conflict is necessary in order to have a plot or to develop characters, except it feels like a lot of people on social media believe that the mere inclusion of any type of darker conflict or subject matter is inherently ethically dubious regardless of how its framed within the overall narrative.

I just don't get this kind of mentality and why it's become so prevalent online these days... I really don't...