#she’s playing the part of one

[whiterexpper]

I need to say …

Annabel gets so much fucking hate way too early on.

Yeah, she’s…basically playing everyone like a pawn, but step into her shoes for a second.

Not only does she find out that there’s only one life to have out of all the other students there, but she has to survive amongst her OWN team in the end, she has to make up a strategy along the get-go to save her and her lover, Lenore.

She knows her and Lenore have a past together, she has to make a plan drawn out long enough for Lenore to not only find an exit, but in secret as well. They have to go through hoops and stay along amongst their own groups just to be able to live together again. And, like Annabel stated, she doesn’t want that life is Lenore isn’t in it.

In the end, it’s just those two against everyone else but in such a way that they have to try and kill each other, or make it seem so.

Their own teams have a chance of turning on each of them, hell, even duke or some of the misfit could turn against Lenore because in the end, it’s ONE LIFE. Unless they think they can all try and escape, who knows?

But that’s besides the point, everyone hates on Annabel because she’s “not trustworthy” or “is playing Lenore and is just using her”

Annabel’s TWO freak outs in the SAME DAY because she thought Lenore didn’t make it through the maze trial isn’t enough to show you guys her devotion to her?

Annabel climbed out of a WINDOW and got caught amongst the losing students by the deans to find “her Lenore”. Her “pet”

She loves Lenore to the fullest and would do anything to be with her in the hellish trials of nevermore and people STILL think she’s the villain.

You’re forgetting that she also has to survive amongst the other students and also is at the mercy of the deans.

She can’t survive against them, she knows it. Which is why she plans on escaping instead.

Unbelievable.

UPDATE

seems that people are still hooked on hating her so I��m gonna add more

Does no one realize that they both have different views of each other?

Annabel is literally risking herself by lying to her own group about one another (aka. Prospero liking Ada but is shy, is what she told her. And how she didn’t step in for Ada and Morella against Montresor, but made it clear to him not to ignore her , not Morella or Ada. Bc he ignored her.)

It’s LITERALLY just her planning as she goes along, in the most recent chap that released, she stopped Lenore from the bell. There HAS to be a reason, you’re jumping on the horse too fucking early to judge her. She’s sincere with Lenore. And you’re ignoring that. Seriously, I’m not gonna tell those who hate Annabel what to do. But read into it a bit more and look at it from HER POV.

I’ll defend Annabel til the end of time , her being judged this early is bullshit but you’ll defend Montresor with what he does. (Yes, I’ve seen ppl support him. Some joke and that’s fine, it’s the others that fucking aren’t joking.)

Idk…

This is just me.

It’s dumb fuckery with how she’s still being blamed for being dead and literally has to be challenged to survive amongst other students trying to get one life while she works up a plan as she fuckin goes to escape w Lenore..

But no one sees that.

Not saying you have to change your opinion.

Just don’t be an ass and scream “I KNEW WE SHOULDNT HAVE TRUSTED HER. I WAS RIGHT.” Or “SHES A MANIPULATIVE BITCH, I KNEW IT.” No hun, your heads up your ass bc your one who judges too quickly. You take action first then think later lol and it says a lot about you.

I’ll make another Fuckin post about this too idc I’ll defend her for as long as this comic goes on.

THIS. PROVES. HER. LOVE.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[fluffyartbl0g]

Everytime I go into the Zosopp tag, I just see people SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING about the lack of posts IN the Zosopp tag. THE ZOSOPP ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but it's super interesting how

Din = Power = Ganondorf

Naryu = Wisdom = Zelda

Farore = Courage = Link.

Because Din, in the hylian creation myth, created the physical world. Naryu then created the laws - gravity, time, etc. And Farore finally created life - plants and people.

Din created the body, naryu the mind, Farore the soul.

And the triforce and its wielders so perfectly reflect that.

Ganon is physical power, he is big and intimidating and he breaks things. He is cunning and determined, but that's not what he focuses on. He is might makes right.

Zelda is wisdom and cleverness. She is stall tactics and information and team work. She is a powerful mage with a spine of steel, but that's not how she'll win. She is the pen being mightier than the sword.

Link is courage and persistence. He is the wild card sneaking behind enemy ranks, always moving, plunging into terrifying situations head first. He's a phenomenal fighter with a keen wit, but that's not what will get him through his challenges. He is bravery not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

They sit in perfect parallels to each other.

And ganon is reborn through his body - his resurrection is immortality. No matter how low he is cast, as long as he has a body he can claw his way back. He can cling to his power, build it ever higher.

Zelda is reborn through the magic of her bloodline. It's the accumulated knowledge handed down for generations, the unique power she must master, the skills she must develop to survive and get her kingdom out the other side intact. Even her name, the knowledge of herself, is handed down from all the way from the very first. Her ancestors knowledge of her future presence, her stability, is what gives her the edge.

Link is reborn in spirit. He is not bound by flesh or blood. Just like his wanderlust soul he can reappear in any time or place. His variation, his unpredictability, is exactly how he fights. It's what makes him so hard to pin down.

Ganons need to build strength means he can't chase after link. Links impulsiveness means zelda can outwit him. Zeldas stationary predictability means she's an easy target for ganon.

But the other direction?

Fire melts ice, ice redirects lightning, lightning burns fire.

And that's the very essence of the triforce.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Ghost x Family

So, back on my cute romcom BS

So the premise. Dani, as Danny's speed grown clone, wasn't the most physically stable. Turns out, it's really hard to speed grow a clone, and even harder when ectoplasm is involved. There's not enough time for the structures to properly stabilize and that leaves the cellular structure pretty weak and prone to breaking down into goo. The ecto dejecto was just a temporary solution and other measures were needed

aka Dani had to essentially grow a body from scratch the old fashion way, so she's now physically her actual age minus a couple months

So Danny, at the age of 20, is the father of a 4 year old Dani and is trying to keep a low profile in Gotham. His and his daughter's existence is still illegal, and being the single father of a 4 year old ghost girl isn't exactly easy. Now Danny has to deal with the very real threat of CPS being called on him by a neighbor, and trying to get Dani into school without either of them having papers for their assumed identity of Danny and Dani Nightingale and money to by fake documents. He'd ask Tucker, but that requires braking radio silence and potentially putting a target on all three of their backs.

Danny, desperate, asks his neighbor Jason to pose as his significant other for a meeting. Jason agrees, but things escalated and frankly he's now emotionally invested and committing to the bit

So now he and Danny have legally been married for about 4 months according to the papers Babs made them. The fake ID, birth certificates, SSNs, and high school diploma for the Nightingales were simple enough for her to do, but man Jason is going to owe her a BIG favor for this.

They move in together, Dani goes to a good private school, Jason is effectively Danny's sugar daddy paying for a sizable chunk of all this, and they are committing to the loving married couple bit, which is hard to do when the new in-laws are detectives

The best part?

Danny has not figured out Jason is the Red Hood, and Jason doesn't know about the ghost stuff. The only one that does? Dani, and she is physically and mentally 4 and watching Jason and Danny fall in love

oh the shenanigans

OR

I've been watching SPY x FAMILY and just need the fake relationship/family turns into a real relationship/found family dynamic. Jason is basically Loid, Danny is pretty much Yor, Dani fills the role of Anya, and uncle Dick is Yuri, except he's doting on Dani.

Dick is a smart man, but I love the headcanon that Jason is his emotional blindspot. Jason? MY Littlewing? He couldn't possibly.

[whatudottu]

Me and the homies I dragged into playing ISAT with me (voice over style) and thus thoroughly infecting them with the ISAT hyperfixation gathered to play poker and so- drew us VAs as the cast give or take some liberties :P

[scoriarose]

Baby that is not an enrichment activity

Baby... Baby no you... Child...

I know you like to play with crinkly things but...

Aaaand into the messenger bag she goes.

[dogrocks]

an au where dovewing trains in the dark forest instead of ivypool....

[space-sheep08]

Actually so tired that people mainly focus on the bdsm when they talk about La Pianiste when we literally have this dynamic right here. Like, that's insane.

What if you were a little girl in her 40's who couldn't grow up because of your mother-wife who made you sleep in her bed and forced you to repress every sexual desires and thoughts of becoming your own person just to keep you close to her ? What if you fought back and yearned for dangerous things out of her reach ? But also, what if you let her because it's all you've ever known and been taught to want ?

[grackleshells]

In the midst of all this amazing and highly anticipated Agatha hype; I feel it’s important to acknowledge another marvel character who also possessed intense homoerotic tension with her rival and neighbor,,, the og girl kisser herself,,, Dottie Underwood 💄

[laniidae-passerine]

Louis is such a Catholic good girl btw. Gets courted by a wealthy gentleman for months before they even kiss. Married in a church. Gets himself a precious baby daughter because he’s been dreaming of that perfect family since he was a little girl. Loyal to his man not even multiple deaths can separate them. Says Hail Mary like fifty billion times to cancel out the anal sex he keeps pretending he didn’t enjoy but also calls that dick his personal black tar heroin. Gonna lie to everybody he meets including himself. Feels guilt for a century about things that weren’t his fault but also kinda doesn’t give a shit about the things he did do. God’s gonna see him through <3

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[hephaestuscrew]

I'm sure Minkowski never forgot that Cutter was the first person ever to call her Commander. After recruiting her in Once in A Lifetime, he starts to call her Lieutenant, then breaks into laughter, before correcting himself: "What am I saying? Commander Minkowski." He draws attention to himself granting that title, stressing its significance. By initially calling her by a lower ranking, then conspicuously correcting himself, Cutter emphasises that he's the one granting her that title. Right at the beginning of Minkowski's employment with Goddard Futuristics, Cutter plants the seed for his line in the finale: "People cared about you because of what I made you: A soldier. A leader. A commander. I gave you that, and now? I taketh away."

And he does take it away. Cutter makes a point of calling her Commander in that first meeting, but he hardly ever calls Minkowski Commander after that. He almost always calls her Renée. He makes the point in that first interaction that he has the authority to grant her that title, and then in every subsequent interaction he tries to make the point that she doesn't have command over him. Having called her Commander once makes every time he doesn't call her by her title seem more deliberate. It's not that he never uses titles - it's that he uses them selectively. He gives her a taste of that sense of authority, but he doesn't want her to feel worthy of it.

In the liveshow, he cuts her off by shouting "I AM SPEAKING, LIEUTENANT!". Minkowski is the Commander of the Hephaestus in official terms at this point and Cutter even refers to her as "a mission commander" later in the same episode. So there is a deliberate malice to Cutter calling Minkowski Lieutenant here. Not only does it emphasise the use of authority structures as a means for control and the abandonment of first-name-basis false friendliness, calling her by another title makes his choice not to call her Commander even more explicit, denying her that authority.

Apart from when he recruits her, the only other time I can think of when Cutter directly calls Minkowski Commander is in Ep60, when he lays out his offer to let Minkowski leave on the Sol: "How does that sound to you, Commander?" Again, calling her Commander is a kind of power play, an attempt at manipulation, highlighting the sense of responsibility that motivates so many of Minkowski's actions. Cutter is prompting her to ask the question she would be asking herself anyway: what choice would a good Commander make? Just as he did when he recruited her, Cutter offers Minkowski something she desperately wants, and the use of her title here only draws attention to the idea that Cutter is the one with the power, choosing what to give her.

[inklore]

i feel like some people forget pen has been pining after colin for three seasons. twenty episodes of home girl being love sick over this man, colin just needed to catch up. to realize him looking for pen in every ballroom, only feeling comfortably seen by his best friend, is something more. that’s why there is no slow burn. those twenty episodes have been the slow burn!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 86

Let it be said that someone breaking into Arkham Asylum was not something anyone was expecting. And let it be said that if one was to ever try it, they all- guards, residents, and doctors alike- would think they would be breaking in to break someone out. 

They are not in fact, expecting a child to be running through the halls giggling with everyone failing in catching him. Someone catch the child before he gets hurt or somehow makes it to the isolation ward! The joker is in there!

Danny is honestly having fun. Ms. Arkham- Gotham’s own Gatekeeper and daughter- is really fun! Sure he’d rather she not view the people within her walls as dolls and playthings, but he supposes she’s not exactly harming anyone. And honestly she could hold on tighter to a few of them to prevent them from escaping in his opinion. 

But he’s here to spend time with his new ghostly Aunt, not judge her, so he’s going to get the whole tour! Secret tunnels you say? Oh, a graveyard, inside your walls? That’s amazing! Isolation ward? Ah, where the naughty dolls go, makes sense! 

Well of course he wants to see it, lead the way! 

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.