#they never even explain it he's literally just 'i escaped somehow'

[ultralaser]

anyways so also i'm still thinking about that mary sue jackass on twitter whining about rey still bc the complaint is always 'rey beats kylo ren easily out of nowhere' and that is just fundamentally not what happens in that movie

-- one of the first things we see rey do is absolutely demolish a bunch of guys on jakku, so we know she can fight

-- one of the first things she does in the saber fight with kylo ren is echo her staff fighting motions and try to lunge at him, but she doesn't have the same range w the saber

-- so she holds her own defensively but is literally on the run and ends up pinned between ren and a sudden cliff edge as a crevasse opens up

-- she doesn't actually turn the battle against ren until she

wait for it

USES THE FORCE

(which is exactly what LUKE did!)

also that whole fight kylo ren is literally dying after being gut-shot, bc chewie blasted him with his fkn bowcaster, which is ALSO set-up earlier as being strong enough to send dudes FLYING after a hit

so kylo ren took a GRENADE to the stomach and STILL nearly won that fight!

just absolutely no reading comprehension at all, it's almost like they haven't seen the film more than once and remember it wrong, or are deliberately or unconsciously lying about to serve a reactionary agenda, and it doesn't matter how rey won but rather THAT she won, at all

the only actual mary sue in that movie is kylo ren

the only other mary sue in that movie is poe dameron

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard x vault born reader. She's from one of the more messed up experiment vaults, when she uncovered the truth of the vault she runs away from it. The first interaction they have is when he tells her he fucking hates vault dwellers and she tells him "I don't really give a shit what YOU think of me". She's been in the wastes a good long while, has a lot of skills and they end up traveling together and getting close. The area she is naive in is sex her interpretation is it's boring, and hurts. He of course tries to explain that it's not suposed to feel like that. They become really close he asks if he can show her which she agrees, she cums harder than she ever has before he has to remind her to breath through it, maybe she squirts and is embarrassed he realizes it's new for her, tells her it normal and that he loves it. Bonus points for: squirting, choking, hair pulling.

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A discussion with The Ghoul reveals things that you never wished to tell him, including your views on intimacy, and lack of experience. When he offers to show you what you were missing out on, how could you say no? Tags: Not Beta Read, Prompt Request, Backstory for Reader, Virgin Reader, Inexperienced Reader, Banter, This one might be even more OOC for The Ghoul, Soft Ghoul, Smut, Squirting, Doggystyle, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Choking, Confessions (kind of) Author's Note: i know that vault 75 is actually like on the other side of the us from where the show takes place but this vault always stuck out to me so i needed to use it for the prompt lmao.  also thank you anon for the amazing prompt (and my first ever request :D) ! i hope this fulfilled it sufficiently!

If you’d told yourself a year ago that you’d be traveling the surface with an irradiated man dressed as a cowboy who only kept you around because you could make him his drugs, you’d call yourself insane, and rightfully so.

But here you were, following after him like an obedient soldier, just like you were raised to be. For the past few months, you had wandered alongside The Ghoul, searching for your purpose on the surface. There was a deal between you two; he’ll travel with you, and you’d make him the chems that stopped him from turning into a feral. 

It was a reluctant acquaintanceship at best, The Ghoul keeping you at an arm's length, and you didn’t blame him. The reason he had difficulty trusting you fully was because you were vault born, which he made abundantly clear when the two of you first started traveling. You spent the first eighteen years of your life in Vault 75,  where you were trained, both mentally and physically, to become the perfect soldier and scientist that would bring justice to the surface world. That had been your life’s goal, up until you turned eighteen. 

Along with the rest of the top peers, you were selected to make your way to the surface. But before you could leave they provided a vaccine, claiming that it would build immunity against the radiation that still plagued the earth. 

In actuality, it had been a sedative, and you remember awaking some time later, suspended in a glass chamber. For days, months, years, you weren’t quite sure, you were prodded, stabbed, cut open. It was pure agony, moments that you only remember in your darkest dreams, leaving you panting and shaking. To this day, you still weren’t fully sure what they had done to you, but you knew they had quite literally taken things from you that you’d never get back. 

Somehow, you managed to break free of the sedative that they continuously pumped into your body, keeping you alive yet without control of your body. You weren’t certain how you managed to escape, but you remembered that your hands and knuckles were bloody pulps, glass embedded into the flesh, fingers broken and mangled. Even now, you could still see the scars that still lingered, and the way your fingers looked off, bones not set right. It caused you issues and aches, but luckily today was a low-pain day. 

A gruff drawl snapped you out of your reminiscing, and you looked up from your hand into the eerily human eyes of The Ghoul, who had stopped in front of you. “What?” You had missed what he said. 

“The fuck you doin’?” 

“I… my hand hurts,” you lied. “Sorry.” 

He angrily grumbled something under his breath, yet you watched him dig into one of the pockets of his trench coat. He pulled out a small pill bottle, and after double-checking the contents he tossed it to you, and you caught it with your non-injured one. “Keep yer head on,” he added before turning to keep walking. 

You didn’t have to look at the bottle to know what he’d given you: painkillers. He’d always give them to you whenever your pain would flare, and each time you reevaluate your relationship with him. You couldn’t figure out if he detest you or cared about you, whether he saw you as a friend or foe. He was a confusing person, and his hard exterior and guarded responses to your questions made him hard to understand. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, and if he heard you he didn’t respond, just continuing to walk away. Tucking the pills away, you jogged to catch up with him, keeping a few feet distance between the two of you. 

Looking around, you tried to make some sense of the dilapidated buildings and cracked roads, creating an image in your head of what you imagined the town to once be. Full of energy, full of life, able to roam without fear of being killed by man or creature, or fear of being slowly poisoned to death by radiation. 

There was a row of buildings on either side of the road, most caved in, but there were still a few that remained, windows shattered or boarded up. Rusted mental skeletons of cars littered the road, you and The Ghoul having to weave around them. Glass crunched underneath your boots, and you swore you stepped on a few bones. 

Glancing at the road, you noted how elongated the shadows were, and you didn’t have to glance behind you to know that the sun was setting, night right on the precipice of falling. Not wanting to become a late night snack for a deathclaw or some ferals, you cleared your throat, getting the attention of The Ghoul. He stilled, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “We should find a place to stop soon.”

You watched him debate it for a second, eyes flicking from the setting sun to the walk in front of him, then to the buildings on either side of you two. Eventually he came to a decision, sighing. “There’s a standin’ building’ down a little ways. We’ll stop there.”

You were eager to finally rest, the rifle in your hands was becoming heavy and the straps of your backpack were digging into your shoulders, so you had a bit more energy in your step as you continued down the street. As you reached the end of the street, you were able to see the building he had mentioned. It was an old shop of sorts, any signs long since gone, but it looked still relatively intact.

The Ghoul got there first, like he normally did. Opening the door with one hand, he held his gun in the other, raised and ready to shoot. He swept the room as he entered, and you follow hot on his heels, gun at the ready. 

In the dim light, you were able to see rows of shelves in the main area, a small desk with a register tucked into the left corner. There was a closed door behind the desk, and another on the rightmost wall of the building, also closed. 

Stepping further in, you were able to start making out the contents on the shelves: boxes and packages of food, no doubt beyond edible, labels faded away. But you also saw a few cans of food littering about, but you’d have to look through them once you’d cleared the building. 

Focusing back on the task at hand, you watched him peer into the far right room, before turning and speaking to you. “Check the desk,” he kept his voice low, as to not alert any possible dwellers. Nodding, you carefully made your way over to the desk, eyes rapidly scanning your environment. 

You tried to open the door, but it merely rattled against the frame, locked shut. If you had the tools, or the patience, you would’ve tried to pick the lock, but you didn’t care that much. Besides, if there was anything in there that was alive, it wouldn’t be able to get you. 

The desk didn’t have much to offer, either. Partial destroyed papers dotted the desk, and the register sat broken and open, robbed of the pre-war cash that once resided in it. You were a tad bit disappointed; it always made for great kindling. 

Searching through the rest of the drawers, you only found garbage, and after a few moments you gave up trying to find anything of value. You slowly made your way back over to The Ghoul, who had better luck than you with his door. You could hear him digging through drawers as you entered, and you were sure to make some audible noise so as to not startle him. 

It was a small living area, a twin bed tucked into the corner, as well as a kitchenette and small desk. A TV and couch sat in the center, and you saw another door, opened by The Ghoul, which you presumed was the bathroom. “Not bad,” you commented. This was truly one of the better places the two of you had stopped at; this at least had four walls and a roof. 

He grunted in response, still rifling through drawers. “Find anythin’?”

You shook your head. “I’ll go look again,” you responded, and before you backed out of the room you dumped your bag on the floor. You sighed happily at the relief, rubbing your shoulders as you began to look through the shelves again.

You didn’t bother to look at the boxed goods, heading straight to the few canned items you saw. The cans were still whole, thankfully, but the labels were long since gone. Shrugging, you grabbed the cans, about four in total, and brought them back to the other room, dumping them on the counter of the kitchenette. 

“What’s that?” You heard him ask, spurs clicking on the linoleum floor as he came over to you. The room was now illuminated by a small oil lantern placed on the desk. 

“No idea. But they’re still good. Probably.” You spoke as you moved to sit on the counter, legs dangling. Man, did it feel good to sit after walking all day. You reached for your knife, cursing when you felt empty space instead, your knife in the bag instead of on you. 

Before you could even get down, The Ghoul handed you his knife, the blade glinting in the low light. He pointed the handle towards you, and you took it from him, and you murmured a small thanks. You got to work opening the first can, hunger making your stomach rumble. The knife plunged in and out of the tin top, peeling back the rest once you got most of it cut. 

It was an almost gelatinous red substance inside, with darker red, round something suspended in it. It smelled sweet, sugary even, and you tried to tilt it into your mouth, but it didn’t budge. Maybe it had gone bad, then. 

Confused, you reached down to the drawer that was in between your legs, managing to get it open enough to reach your hand in. You grabbed the first utensil feeling thing you could find, and to your delight it was a fork. You didn’t waste any time, taking a decent-sized forkful and bringing it to your mouth. 

It was overwhelmingly sweet, and you’re sure you made some face, because The Ghoul was chuckling lightly. It wasn’t bad, but it almost hurt to eat, and the gelatinous nature of it made it stick to your teeth. “That’s whatcha get for eatin’ unlabeled food.”

You shook your head. “It’s not bad. It’s just… sweet.”

He hummed curiously, and you offered the can to him. You laughed when he eyed it suspiciously. “I promise you, it doesn’t taste bad. And I haven’t poisoned it,” you teased.

“I’m surprised you haven’t,” he grumbled, but he took the can from you. 

“I wouldn’t,” you grabbed and handed a utensil to him. “I rather like your company.”

See, as fun as it was to be out on the road, nothing but the endless horizon in front of you, it was the nights that you truly cherished. He didn’t talk much while you walked, keeping a literal and metaphorical distance between the two of you. It was like when he was on the road, he was The Ghoul, a cunning and vicious bounty hunter. But when it was just the two of you, secluded away in some abandoned house, around a fire, wherever, it was like the human side of him resurfaced, leading way to conversation and… friendship? 

You had no idea if he considered you a friend, but you knew you considered him to be one. It wasn’t like you had any other person in this wretched world, your “friends” from the vault turned enemy. As a wanderer, it was hard to build and maintain relationships with other people, so you chose to just stick with The Ghoul. 

And you wouldn’t lie, there was something beyond “friendship” that you felt for The Ghoul. It had taken too long for you to even admit that to yourself, so it was unlikely that you were going to admit to him. Besides, it went against everything that you were raised to believe, and even though you’d long since left the vault, their ideas were still ingrained into your brain.

“Not sure why,” he muttered before eating a spoonful of the mysterious substance. You were barely able to see it, but his upper lip twitched into an almost smile. You always liked when he smiled. It was rare for him, a genuine smile. He’d sneer and smirk, sure, but it was those true smiles that got your heart beating faster and your knees getting weak. You refused to name the reason why your body reacted the way it did, not wanting to face the reality that you felt something for The Ghoul just yet.

“It’s pie filling. Cherry pie filling, to be exact,” he lifted up another spoonful, one of the dark red balls on it, covered in the sheer red substance. 

“Cherry pie filling?” You said each of the words as their own question. You’d never heard of any of what he was talking about. 

He rolled his eyes, handing the can back to you, and you took another bite. You still weren’t used to the sweetness of it. “Fuckin’ vault dwellers,” he sighed. “Cherry’s a fruit. Pie is a pastry. Filling is what you put into pie.”

It didn’t clear up anything, but you nodded anyway, not wanting to annoy him further. “Interesting.” Taking one final bite, you set it next to you, moving on to the next can. You were in the middle of opening the second one when he spoke

“You mean to tell me they didn’t have pie in your vault?”

You weren’t expecting his question, and you halted mid-cut. He never asked you about the vault you grew up in, and you never told him anything besides the name and that you left. He made his opinion on vaults and vault dwellers abundantly clear when you first met all those months ago, back when your relationship was a tenuous allyship. You hadn't cared what he thought about you and your old life then, telling him straight to his face, and you certainly didn’t care now. But it was curious that he was willingly asking you about it now. 

“No,” you drew out the word, mildly suspicious. “If it didn’t have good nutritional value, then it wasn’t allowed. So no candy, no sugary drinks, no pastries. Nothing like that.” You answered while opening up the second can, and you recognized it immediately: sweet corn.

He didn’t ask any further questions, so you didn’t elaborate. Not needed to do a taste test of the sweet corn, you set it aside, then opened the other two cans, which were baked beans and tomato soup. Wordlessly, The Ghoul grabbed two of the cans, making his way over to the couch, and you followed behind him, the other two cans in your own hands. 

Sitting side-by-side, the two of you ate in silence, and you propped your legs up on the coffee table in front of you. The two of you would eat half the can before passing it off to the other. It was how you shared your dinners for at least the past month. 

It didn’t take long for there to only be the pie filling left, and you held it in your better hand. Even though you’d been free from the vault for some time, a part of you still felt wrong for indulging in a treat like this. Pushing those memories aside, you took another bite before passing it to the man next to you. You jumped when you felt his gloved fingers brush yours, and you missed the way he knowingly chuckled. 

Sighing, you sat back against the couch, ignoring the armor that dug into your shoulders, and you found your eyes flicking back down to your hand. You traced over the scars littering it, a familiar pattern to you at this point, and you flexed your fingers. They popped and cracked, bending unnaturally, and it caused a small jolt of pain to shoot through the nerves. You hadn't realized your eyes weren’t the only one on it until you heard the man beside you speak. “How’d that happen?” 

Now you were suspicious; he sounded like he actually cared. “Did you get replaced with a synth?” You asked, bewildered. 

He rolled his eyes in response, taking another bite before setting the can on the coffee table in front of you two. “I realize I don’t know a lot ‘bout you.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you admitted. “But,” you added when he glared at you, “if you really want to know, I got it by punching something. Repeatedly.”

“If that’s your fist, I’d hate to see the other person,” he muttered. 

“Something, not someone. It was, well, glass.”

“Why the fuck were you punchin’ glass?”

“It was the only way I could escape.” You laughed humorlessly when he glanced at you, confused. “What, you think I left the vault freely?” You shook your head. “After my eighteenth birthday, they trapped me in a chamber so they could harvest stuff from my body, pumping me full of sedative and rapid-healing agents. Something about creating the ‘perfect human’. Eventually, the drug they used to keep me docile stopped working, and I was able to smash my way out. I’m pretty sure there’s some glass still left in my hand,” you chuckled, stopping when you realized he wasn’t joining in. “It’s fine. I’ve repressed most of the memories anyway.”

“Not well enough,” he muttered more to himself, and you couldn’t help the small bit of dread that washed over you at the realization that he knew about your nightmares. They made you feel weak, and you didn’t want him to think you were. 

“Well, I….” You trailed off with a sigh, finding it not worth it to try and disagree, sitting back on the couch. “Rude.”

“So you do have nightmares.” He chuckled at the glare you gave him once you realized you fell into his trap. “Are they ‘bout that?”

“Is this an interrogation?” You asked, getting defensive. “Why the fuck do you care? You haven’t before.”

“If ya paid attention, I said I barely know anythin’ ‘bout you. Figured if we’re gonna continue to travel I should know more besides your name.” He sighed before adding, “This ain’t an interrogation. You… you can ask me whatcha like.”

His reluctant openness made you feel more comfortable, and you relaxed a bit. “Really?”

“Sure, why the hell not. But answer my question first.”

There was silence for a few beats. “Fine. Yes, they’re about when they had me trapped. It’s… it’s mostly the pain I remember. And their faces, the people who raised me, who I trusted.  watching me through the glass. I forget most of the details when I wake, but that’s what sticks out.”

The Ghoul didn’t offer any verbal response, merely nodding his head slowly. You prayed that he couldn’t see the way your hands shook as you willingly brought up those memories in your brain. You shoved them away, forcing a light smile on your face. “My turn.” Adjusting so that your back rested against the arm of the sofa so you were facing him now, your knees tucked up to your chest. “What’s your name?”

He scoffed. “Out of all the questions, that’s the one ya go with?” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Cooper. Cooper Howard.” His response cut you off, and a small smile lifted the corners of your mouth. 

“A pleasure, Cooper Howard,” you smiled gently. It was hardly noticeable, but something shifted in him when he heard you say his name, but you weren’t quite sure what exactly. 

He cleared his throat while adjusting in his seat, his eyes flicking away from your own. “Better not make me regret tellin’ ya that.” 

Your slight smile fell at his semi-threat. “I’m assuming you don’t want me to call you that, then.” His responding silence was answer enough, and you didn’t press it further. “Do you got any more questions for me?”

“Plenty,” he seemed more comfortable now that the attention was off his past life. “Why the hell are ya still travelin’ with me?”

You thought of your answer for a moment. “I wasn’t lying when I said I enjoyed your company. And it’s not like I’ve got any place to go.”

“We’ve traveled to plenty of towns. Why don’t ya just stay there?”

“Do… Do you want me to leave?” It almost hurt to ask. You thought things were amicable between the two of you, and the thought of leaving your one “friend” was something you truly did not want to think about.  

He regarded you for a few moments, eyes dancing over your face. “I suppose not,” he finally sighed out, crossing his arms and resting against the back of the couch.

“Good,” you tried to not sound too relieved. “You’re stuck with me.” You swore you saw a smile tug at his lips.

“Unfortunately.” He didn’t sound too upset about it. “Anythin’ else?”

“Why didn’t you kill me when we met? I tried to rob you, and I’ve seen you kill people for less. You had the gun right to my head; why didn’t you pull the trigger?”

“That’s two questions.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “They’re the same damn thing. Just… why didn’t you kill me?”

“I dunno why I didn’t kill ya right away. Somethin’ made me hesitate. And then once I realized you was a vault born, I figured I could get a good amount of caps for you, so I kept you alive.” The Ghoul sighed. “I expected to only keep ya ‘round for a week. But then you saved my life, even though I had ya captive, and I couldn’t bring myself to sell you. That’s when I set you free.” He chuckled as he reminisced. “But for some fuckin’ reason, you decided to stick around, and I thought I was gonna regret not killin’ or sellin’ ya.”

“Do you regret it?”

“That’s three questions now, sweetheart.” Your cheeks grew warm at the nickname. It wasn’t the first time he’d called you it, but it always elicited the same reaction from you. “But no. It’s nice, havin’ someone you trust enough to watch your back. After years of solitude, wanderin’ this godforsaken Wasteland with you has been a pleasant change.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone regard you so kindly, which was insane because of who it was coming from. “Thank you,” you responded, sincerely.

“Before I inflate your ego any more, it’s my turn. Do you miss life in the vault, back before all… that?” He gestured to your hand. 

“Honestly, you’d think I would,” you chuckled. “No danger around every corner, no radiation, no worry about dehydration or starvation. It was secure, but so constricting. Every part of my life was monitored, from the foods I ate, to the things I did, to the people I spoke to. If the higher ups didn’t like it, they’d make me change. If anything threatened the ability to become the most optimized person, then it was removed. I’ve had more freedom during the time I’ve spent up here than I did for the first eighteen years of my life.” You took a breath. “So, no, I don’t miss it.”

It went like that for a good while, you weren't quite sure how long, and eventually the two of you finished off the pie filling. Questions were shot back and forth, and you learned some things about the man beside you that you never thought you’d know. He learned more of the experiments led by Vault 75, and your role in it. You refrained from asking him about his life before becoming The Ghoul, and although he didn’t say it, you could tell that he was grateful. He had long since shed his coat, draping it across the back of the couch, down to only a once luscious blue button down. His hat was also off, sitting on the table alongside the now empty cans. 

You had asked him about the strangest person he’d met, and he was recounting this one “doctor” he’d met in Filly, with greased hair and a rotted cap, selling ailments for quite literally every predicament. “Pretty sure he was fuckin’ the livestock,” he added, and you gapped at him, horrified. “Strange fellow indeed. But, after that it probably has to be this vault born I met, who no matter what I do, refuses to leave.”

“I’m second after that? I… fuck you!” You’d never sworn at him before, but now felt like a good time to change that. 

His brow raised, shocked, and he grinned at you. “Looks like I’m rubbin’ off on ya, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide your own smile behind your knees, which were still tucked up close to you. “It’s your turn. Although, I don’t know if I wanna respond after you insulted me like that.”

“My apologies,” he responded, not sounding sorry at all, especially with the way he continued to chuckle as he thought of a question. “Did ya have friends? Lovers, perhaps?”

If you weren’t blushing because of the nickname, then you certainly were now. It was a taboo subject in your vault, having lovers. Romantic companionship was seen as a hindrance, a liability. “I had some friends, sure, but they all turned out to be back-stabbers or were taken like me. I don’t know if they survived; I couldn’t stop to rescue them if I wanted to live.” You shook off the bit of guilt you felt when thinking of the others. “But I wasn’t close friends with anyone. As weird as it is, you’re the closest thing to a true friend I’ve ever had.”

“You only answered half my question.” Damn him. “Any lovers?”

“No.” Your hand was looking quite interesting now, and you traced over the familiar pattern of the scars again. 

“‘No’? That’s it?” If looks could kill, The Ghoul would be six feet under right now. “Touchy subject?” 

You realized that no matter what you said, he was still going to continue to ask. Groaning, you let your head sag back off the couch, not wanting to make eye contact with him when you responded. “We weren’t allowed to take… lovers. There were no romantic relationships allowed in the vault; they were seen as a liability. And I know that they’re not, but it’s been drilled into my brain that they’re wrong, that they’re… improper, and I’d rather not talk about it.”

When he didn’t respond, you thought he lost interest in the subject, and you slowly began to lift your head back up. “How the fuck did you guys repopulate?” And there your head went back down, face burning. 

“IVF. They took the eggs and sperm from the captives, as they were the best genetically, physically and mentally, and then put them in the body of one of the scientists.” You chose to not add the fact that there was an entirely real possibility that you had a kid or two.

“So no sex then?”

Something like a groan and a curse left your lips, and you squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment and something else washing over you. How you wished for a raider or synth or anything to break down the door and kill you. “No,” you responded, and you missed the way his gaze locked on to you, intrigued by your answer.

“So you’ve never-”

“No!” You didn’t let him finish his question, not caring about what you just admitted to him.

“Not even after you left?”

“No.” You were getting really tired of your same responses. 

“Why not? It ain’t like you got your vault monitoring everythin’ ya do anymore.”

“Well…” you sighed, running a hand over your hot face. “It seems boring, from what I heard. I’m just supposed to, I dunno, sit there in pain while they use me for their own pleasure. It’s never appealed to me.” That last part was a lie, and you both knew it. You just wanted to hold on to some semblance of your pride that was lying in tatters around you.

He had the audacity to laugh, and you wished the couch would just swallow you whole. “I dunno who told ya that, but it ain’t like that. Not even fuckin’ close.”

Shakily, you exhaled, your heart feeling like it was about to beat out of your chest. You couldn’t believe you were having this discussion, with The Ghoul of all people. His next words had you going deathly still, staring wide-eyed at the mildewed ceiling. “Can I show ya?” 

In just one sentence, he managed to change the entire atmosphere of the conversation, of your relationship. You wouldn’t deny, the idea of being intimate with him was appealing, and definitely not the first time you’d thought of it. What made this time different, though, was that you didn’t push those thoughts away, disgust and shame not overwhelming you. And it was also different because this wasn’t just a scenario that you’d played out in your head, alone while you slept. No, this was actually happening. 

“What?” You managed to stammer out, sitting up slowly. Your mouth went dry at the way he stared at you, almost hungrily. You squirmed under his intense gaze, which seemed to please the man. 

“Can I show ya what it’s supposed to feel like?” He repeated again, and one of his gloves hands crept across the couch, resting an inch away from where your legs were. “If ya don’t want this, just say the word, and we can pretend like this ain’t ever happened. But I can promise ya won’t regret it.” For once, you were grateful for his self-assurance and cockiness, as it bolstered your own confidence in your decision. 

It felt like five hours had passed before you nodded, and you felt his hand brush up your clothed calf, gripping the muscle lightly. “Lemme hear ya say it, sweetheart.”

Even though it was far from the first time he’d called you sweetheart, the implications now made your face burn even more. He made it sound dirty, and you had to take a breath before speaking. “Show me.” Your voice barely came out as a whisper; any louder and you feared it would crack.

You let out a startled noise when he pulled you close to him using the hand on your calf, the action effortless; you’d forgotten how unnaturally strong he was. You were now laying down fully on the couch, hair splayed out around you. He moved between your legs, hands now braced on either side of your head as he leaned above you. His face hovered a few inches from yours, and you could feel his breath as he spoke. “You gotta let me know if ya don’t like somethin’, deal?”

“Deal.” 

You shivered when you felt him caress your cheek, a surprisingly gentle gesture from the rough man you knew. He smiled at your body’s response to him. “Finally,” he muttered out, but you didn’t get a chance to ask for further elaboration before his lips were on yours. 

Unlike his touch, they weren’t gentle, almost bruisingly strong against yours. You groaned, and you could feel him smirk. The hand that had been touching your face settled, grasping the side of your face in a warm, gloved palm. The other hand remained braced by your head, keeping him upright. You found yourself latching your own around his wrist, the other grabbing a handful of his shirt, trying to find some way to keep you grounded. 

Kissing felt even better than you’d imagined it would. You didn’t think it would be so enjoyable, feel so good, so right. It was like his lips were made to slot perfectly against yours. If you concentrated hard enough, you could taste cherry pie filling the both of you had eaten. You jolted when you felt teeth tug at your bottom lip, a droplet of pain in the sea of pleasure, and your grip tightened even more, threatening to tear the clothing. You didn’t think he would mind. 

Energy pulsed through your body, and you found yourself unconsciously beginning to move, your hips moving in small circles. A familiar tension began to form in your lower body, something you felt during your late night thoughts of The Ghoul. Even though it was only just forming, you’d never felt it this intensely before, and you were desperate for some kind of relief. 

An amused chuckle left him, pulling away slightly to do so. You almost whined at the loss of contact, and you attempted to pull him back down with the hand that currently had a fistfull of his clothing, but he didn’t budge. “Eager?” It was a rhetorical question, but you found yourself nodding anyway. 

“Please.” What you were asking for, you weren’t quite sure. Your words trailed off into a sigh when you felt his lips return, this time along your jaw by your ear. He left your cheek, running down the front of your body tantalizingly slow. 

“Where’s these manners comin’ from?” It sounded like his voice had turned raspier, and it elicited a shiver from your body, his lips still pressed close to your ear. “If this was all it took for ya to start actin’ all proper, then I would’ve done this weeks ago,” he teased, and his fingers ran underneath your breasts. 

Maybe it was his lips on your skin, or the way he pressed his body into yours, or the way he touched you, but you lost control of the words tumbling from your mouth. “I would’ve let you,” you admitted, and even though it was quiet you heard his breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” His voice had somehow gotten even raspier, and he groaned when you nodded. “Fuck, sweetheart,” his teeth nipped at your earlobe before moving further down your neck. You no longer felt his lips; instead you felt tongue and teeth leaving marks, growing more fervent as he descended. 

You let go of his shirt, your fingers popping uncomfortably, yet you paid it no mind. You rested your hand on the back of his head instead, almost immediately pulling it away, unsure if he wanted to be touched or not. But you felt him gently grab your wrist, bringing your hand back to where it had once been, making an approving noise when your fingers made contact. 

When he reached the strap of your shoulder armor, you felt him immediately get to work at losing the strap, and you sighed in relief when fresh air hit the newly exposed skin. He tossed it to the side somewhere, and it didn’t take long for your chestpiece to join it. The only thing left on the top half of your body was your bra and tank top, yet you felt completely naked, both because of the lack of armor and the way his eyes bore into your body.

His eyes trailed over the top of your chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, greedily taking in the swell of your breasts. You gasped when he took them in his hands, kneading and toying with the tender flesh. Even through the thick material of his gloves and your clothing, you could still feel his heat. But you wanted to feel him closer. You wanted to feel his bare hands on your body. 

Before you could even comprehend what you were doing, you were tearing off your tank top, throwing it somewhere in the room. You arched your back, your chest pressing further into his touch, and he groaned. Reaching behind, you had enough confidence to unlatch your bra and remove it, but not enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were burning, a flush creeping down your neck. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” you heard him mutter, and his praise gave you enough confidence to finally return your gaze to his, expecting them to be locked on your chest. And they were, at least until he felt your eyes on him. His pupils were blown out, irises gone, and the almost predatory smirk on his face made you look away again, the tension in your body growing. 

“Take them off,” you whispered when his touch returned. His movement stilled, much to your dismay. “Your gloves,” you pleaded. “Take them off.”

When he didn’t respond, you forced your attention away from the ceiling, breath catching when you looked into his eyes. “And here I was praisin’ your manners,” he rebuked, and even through the lust in his eyes you could see a playful glint. “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“Please take your gloves off,” you responded immediately, not caring if you sounded desperate. “I wanna feel your hands on me, please.”

“Much better,” he practically purred, and you watched him bring a hand up to his own mouth, tugging the glove off his hand with his teeth and letting it fall, landing on your body. It almost felt wrong to see his hands without gloves on them; it felt like he was more undressed than you.

He wasted no time in returning his now bare touch to your breasts, and it felt better than you thought it would. Fingers dexterously toyed with your now perked nipples, pulling little noises from you. You never thought it would be enjoyable to have someone playing with your breasts like this, but you were happily proven wrong.

It was when his mouth joined the fray that your noises turned louder, his lips wrapping around your other nipple. When his teeth grazed the sensitive bud, your hips bucked right against his, and you felt him groan against your chest. Wanting to hear that noise again, you repeated the action, and your ears were blessed once again. 

But your victory was short lived, and the hand that had been by your head the entire time finally moved, pressing your hips down into the couch. “Behave,” you heard him growl, not halting his attention towards your chest. But you did see his eyes flick up, making it look like he was glaring at you, and you found your mouth going dry. You nodded, not finding it in yourself to go against him just yet, to see how far you could push him. You hoped there would be a next time.

He continued to lavish your chest for a few more moments, swapping his hand and mouth, continuously building up that tension in your core. You fought against the desire to move your hips, his “threat” still ringing in your ears. Your hand was still resting on the back of his head, trying and failing to keep your nails from digging into his scalp. A particularly hard suck had them biting in deep, but any apology you had died on your lips at the sinful moan he let out, followed by a string of expletives. You took a mental note to do that again later.

With a pop, he removed his mouth from your chest, and he let you pull him up into a searing kiss. His hand sneaked down between your bodies, which you only realized when you felt his fingers run beneath the waistband of your jeans and underwear.

He pulled away, sitting back on his heels, and you weren’t quite sure who was panting heavier. You immediately missed the feel of his body over yours, the comforting weight of him, and you couldn’t help the small pout that formed on your lips as you tried and failed to pull him back down again. “Please,” you whispered, hoping that your words would convince him. And you could tell they almost worked, his jaw clenching as he grit his teeth. 

But he didn’t relent. Instead, you watched as he began to slowly unclip your gunbult, your armor, your kneepads. Every bit of protection against the Wasteland stripped from you, joining the pile on the floor, leaving you only in your clothes. It was freeing, yet a bit nerve wracking, your chest continuing to rise and fall rapidly. 

You tried to lean down to help with your boots, but he swatted your hands away, silencing any rebuttal with a look. It took a few moments, but he eventually was able to remove your boots and socks, but you barely heard the sound of them hitting the floor over the loud heartbeat in your ears. He practically ripped off your pants, his patience becoming thin because of the boots, but you were just grateful he didn’t actually ripped them. Good clothing was hard to come by.

His gaze was locked onto your lower body as he eased off your underwear, the final article of clothing on your body joining the rest. You were almost glad to be rid of them; they were cold and uncomfortable, and damp, for some reason. But it didn’t seem to put off The Ghoul. In fact, it seemed to please him immensely, an almost proud grin on his lips.  

You quickly grew embarrassed under his ravenous gaze, his eyes trailing over every inch of your body. You tried to close your legs, or at least tuck them to your chest to try and cover you, but he was having none of it. Two hands, one gloved and one not, wrapped around your ankles, pulling them back down and out. “None of that. Lemme see ya.”

Swallowing, you relaxed, at least as well as you could. It became easier when you saw how much he was loving your body. His eyes jumped around, like he was trying to memorize every detail of you. “Like I said. Fuckin’. Perfect.” You weren’t expecting the sheer honesty in his voice. 

The hands on your ankles began to slowly trail up, making goosebumps appear on your skin. It was like your skin was a million times more sensitive when someone else was touching you. You got lost in his touch, your eyes fluttering close, simply enjoying the feel of another person. 

They shot open when his touch suddenly left, and you gaped at him, confused. You watched him adjust so that he was now sitting normally on the couch, resting against the back of it. 

You understood, though, when he patted his legs, wanting you on his lap. With shaky movements, you complied, but were once again confused when he stopped you, hand resting on your shoulder. Wordlessly, he turned you so that your back was to him, and you let out a startled noise when he roughly pulled you onto his lap, his still clothed chest pressing into your bare shoulders. 

Moving the hair from your neck, you felt his lips return their ministration on your neck, and your head rolled back, giving him more access. Both hands were on your body, ungloved one returning to your breasts, the other skating down the side of your body. You gasped when it began to inch towards your center, and you felt him chuckle. “So sensitive,” he commented almost absentmindedly.

You felt him grip your thigh, spreading your legs even farther so that they went around his own, now using his knees to keep your legs open. It left you completely exposed and at his mercy, but you felt comfortable, safe even. Relaxing fully against his chest, your head now rests on his shoulder, and if you strained enough you were able to look at him. It was clear by the expression on his face that he was enjoying this just as much as you were, if not more.

He reached his hands around your body, and began to pull the glove off his other hand. You stopped him with a gentle grasp of his wrist, tugging his hand to your mouth. Just like he did, you took the material between your teeth, and he was able to free his hand with a tug. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Think ya can do one for thing for me?”

“Anything,” you responded, and you felt two of his fingers, the middle and ring, trace your bottom lip. 

“Anythin’?” You nodded, not caring what that might imply. “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind. But first,” those fingers tugged at your lip, “get those nice and wet for me.”

Even though you weren’t quite sure what you were doing, you parted your lips anyway, taking the digits into your wet mouth. Slowly, you began to bob your head up and down, running your tongue along the textured skin, barely tasting the saltiness of it. Whatever you were doing seemed to please him, because you felt his chest rumble with a groan. 

Before you could build a rhythm, he pulled them out with a pop, and they glistened in the low light. He didn’t give you much time to observe them, though, because before you could process he was running them through your folds. The sudden touch in your most sensitive area made you try and shut your legs, but his knees made it impossible.

His chest rumbled with a light laugh, and you were confused as to what could possibly be amusing him. “Guess that wasn’t necessary; you’re already so damn wet for me.” You detected another hint of pride, this time in his voice. 

Another swipe had you moaning, but then you felt his fingers locate something between your legs that made you cry out, your legs jerking involuntarily. “There we go,” he rumbled, and he focused his attention on that area, fingers pressing firm and slow circles into it. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but it felt incredible, the tension that had slowly begun to rescind returning. 

You tried to tell him, but it came out as a garbled moan instead. “Feel good?” It was another rhetorical question, and you yet again nodded, and you watched his lips quirk up. 

“Ghoul…” you moaned out, one of your hands reaching behind to hold the back of his head, needing something to hold onto as he continued to pleasure you. 

For the first time since you’d met him, something like self-consciousness flicked across his face, gone as soon as it came. “That ain’t my name, sweetheart. C’mon, lemme hear ya say it,” he almost sounded desperate as he talked. 

It took a moment for your lust-addled brain to remember what he had told you earlier in the night. “Cooper…” you sighed out, and he bit back his own moan, and you felt his hips jump the tiniest bit. 

“And I thought I liked hearing ya say my name, but fuck, I like hearin’ ya moan it a hundred times more.” You realized that when you had seen something shift in his eyes when you first said his name was disdain, it was actually the opposite. That realization had you smiling, and you managed to pull him down into a messy kiss, the angle too weird to allow a proper meeting of your lips. 

But it wouldn’t have lasted long anyways, another few moments of his fingers making you cry out again, that tension beginning to become unbearable, like it was just on the precipice of snapping. “Cooper.” It came out as a moan, but with a hint of confusion and worry behind it, unsure of what was happening with your body.

“You close?” 

“Close?” You had enough focus left to be confused, and even though his fingers didn’t yield, you felt the rest of him go still. 

“You’ve never… oh, fuck,” his voice turned husky, almost like a growl, “am I gonna make you come for the first time?” He sounded elated. It just created more questions, but another swirl of his fingers made all thoughts go out the window.

You fidgeted and squirmed, trying to escape the onslaught of things you were feeling. “Relax. I promise ya, this’ll feel good.” And because you trusted him, foolishly or not, you did relax, no longer fighting against him. It felt like you were a dam that was about to burst, and you barely registered that your nails were digging back into his scalp until you heard one of those delicious moans escape his lips.

That sound triggered something in you, and all at once that tension snapped, exploding like something that was pulled too tight. Pleasure ignited your body, making it feel as light as a feather. Every nerve in your body was humming, and you swore you blacked out for a moment. 

His voice, gruff yet a bit concerned, brought you back to your body. “Breathe,” you heard him say, and you realized the dizziness you were feeling wasn’t just because of the mind-shattering pleasure you’d just felt, but you indeed had stopped breathing. Inhaling shakily, you felt some of that dizziness leaving now that oxygen had returned to your lungs. 

An uncomfortable jolt had you glancing down between your legs, where he continued to pull every last bit of pleasure from your body. “S’too much,” you managed to slur out, your voice quite hoarse. He halted, thankfully, resting his hand on your thigh, still close enough to your center that you could feel the heat from his hands. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He sounded mildly amused, and if your muscles weren’t currently jelly you would’ve hit him. 

“I… what did…” you said between gasping breaths, trying to get your heart rate back down. 

“You just came. Rather loudly, at that,” he teased, and your incredibly hoarse voice made sense now. You were suddenly very glad that you were in the middle of nowhere. 

Turning so that you were able to face him better, you felt the material of his pants rub against your bare legs, which wouldn’t have been too weird if it weren’t for the fact they were wet, borderline soaked. The hand that had just been resting on your thigh was brought into view, just as soaked as his pants, and you watched as he examined his hand, almost transfixed. “And messily,” he added, and you felt your cheeks burn even more than they already were. 

You opened your mouth, ready to apologize, but nothing but an airy noise left you as you watched his tongue run from up from his wrist to his fingers. A pleased hum left him, his eyes never once leaving your own as he continued to clean his hand, like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, even better than the desert you had shared. There was a stir in your gut at the action, what you now assumed to be arousal coming to life as you continued to watch him. 

When he caught you staring, his lips twisted into one of those smirks that made your stomach flip. Turning fully in his lap so you were now straddling him, you tugged his wrist far enough away so that you could kiss him. You groaned when his tongue swept between your parted lips, his slightly damp hand holding the side of your face gently. 

With shaky fingers, you began to try and unbutton his shirt. You didn’t get far before he was suddenly standing, and even though he had an arm tucked beneath your thighs, you still clung on to him, legs and arms wrapping around him tightly. Not once did he remove his lips, even when he bumped into a few things on the way to the bed. It was like all that mattered was you and the way you felt. 

The bed, which was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, squeaked obnoxiously when he lowered you onto it, but neither of you paid attention to it. And it wasn’t like you had to worry about anyone else hearing. Like on the couch, he hovered over your body, arms braced on either side of you. His lips were back on your neck, giving you a few moments to take heaving breaths of air. 

For once during the entire night, you knew what was about to happen next, but even though you could feel anxiety threaten to grip your mind, you managed to shove it off. It was easier when you focused your attention on the man in your arms. His continued attention was nice, but you wanted, needed more. “Cooper, please…” you trailed off, hoping he got what you were asking for.

And you know he did, because you felt his lips curl into a smile against the skin of your neck, and he lifted his head up. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so care-free, and the sight had your heart swelling, a small gasp leaving you as well. He looked good like this, and a part of you craved to see it for days to come. 

“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite hear what ya said.” For a moment, you retracted your previous stance, embarrassment making your ears burn. You either wanted to kiss or slap that shit-eating smirk off his face when he noticed how bashful you’d grown. “I’ll give ya whatever you want. All ya gotta do is ask.”

Your pride and embarrassment were at war with your desire, but a winner was quickly decided. “Please, I need you, Cooper.”

Apparently that wasn’t good enough, because he didn’t move. “You need me to…?” You groaned in frustration, and you tried to get him to just forget it with a roll of your hips, trying to make him break. It seemed to almost work, but you felt him press down firmly on your hips, pinning you to the bed. “That ain’t gonna help ya. Use your words.”

You sighed, finally relenting. “Fuck me, please,” you whispered out, and it finally seemed to do the trick.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Go ‘head and roll over for me.”

As much as you wanted to be able to see him clearly, excitement had you turning over anyway, now on your hands and knees. The position was revealing and it almost felt degrading, but yet again you felt at ease, anticipation making your heart beat fast. Turning your head, you were able to see him a bit, and a moan slipped from your lips when you heard the sound of his belt being undone, the sound of a zipper following suit. This was really happening. 

One of his hands gripped your hips, and you felt his still clothed legs pressed up against the back of your own. His cock, warm and solid, pressed into your entrance, a low groan pulled from your lips when he breached it. It was only the tiniest bit painful, not as bad as you initially believed it would be, like a muscle being stretched, which was earlier overshadowed by the pleasure it brought. He let out a groan of his own, the fingers on your hips digging in harshly. 

Inch by inch, you felt him press himself fully into you, both of you letting out similar sighs when he was fully sheathed. Cold metal bit into your skin when his hips were flush with yours, the buckle of his belt no doubt going to leave imprints on your skin. He stilled once he was fully in you, giving you a chance to get adjusted to him, which you were grateful for. You could tell that it was taking every ounce of restraint in his body to just sit there, though, and it only took a few moments until you felt like you were ready for him to move. 

All it took was you wiggling your hips for him to get the message, something like a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Slowly, he pulled out of you, fingers never once letting go of their grip. The sensation made you moan, and you could feel him everywhere, hitting all the right spots as he pulled out.

You grasped at the barely-together bedsheets, probably creating new holes in the fabric. It was less uncomfortable when he pushed back a second time, and you felt your head go limp between your arms, his name falling from your lips. He started creating a rhythm, hips beginning to pick up the pace. His hips snapped into yours, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed.

You could do nothing but take it, pleasure making you lose control of your body. Your cries were becoming increasingly louder, that familiar tension returning, and you tried to bury your face in the mattress. 

That was until you felt him grab a fistfull of your hair, yanking your head back up. It hurt, but it felt wonderful, and you felt yourself tense, a wanton moan louder than anything previous escaping you. “Fuck, ya like it rough?” His pace quickened, his cock spearing you relentlessly. It filled something in you that you didn’t quite know you needed, a craving satiated that you didn’t know you had. But now that you had it, you needed more of it. 

You nodded, at least as best you could, the grip in your hair keeping your head still. It took you too long to realize that he was using the leverage from his grip in your hair to pound into you. “D’ya know how fuckin’ incredible ya feel?” He panted. “This cunt was made for me. For me to ruin.” 

“Cooper,” you cried out, and he groaned in appreciation. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Who’s fuckin’ ya this good? Who’s ruinin’ ya for any other?”

You certainly weren’t expecting him to be this vocal, but you were far from complaining. His voice, which normally electrified you, was driving you insane, the tension building up tenfold. You tried to say his name again, but it came out incoherent. “Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed before laughing lightly. 

You were so close to your release again, and you could feel moisture run down your thighs, but you had little mind to be embarrassed now. “Cooper,” you were able to sigh out. “I’m… I’m close.”

His grip turned vice like, and you’re sure your neck would be hurting later because of the angle, but you didn’t care. “Let go. C’mon, lemme feel ya cum on my cock.” His words left no room for debate, so who were you to go against his orders? After a few more thrusts, you felt that tension snap again, pleasure once again washing over your body, making your arms turn to jelly. Panting, you collapsed on your arms, face squished against the mattress, the sound of slick skin on skin the only thing you could make out.

You didn’t stay down for long. Both hands wrapped around your front, pulling you flush against his body. He continued to thrust into you, and you felt another release begin to build, but it was too much. You made a sound of protest, something like you couldn’t come again, but he shushed you with kisses on your cheeks, which were damp with tears and sweat. “Just one more, sweetheart. You can do it.”

Nodding shakily, you felt his continue to fuck you, one arm wrapping around your stomach, the other holding right above your breasts. A startled noise left you when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, survival instinct kicking in immediately. With wide eyes, you twisted out of his grasp on your throat, panic evident on your face. 

He had let go as soon as he heard any sound of protest, but he still lingered close by. “You trust me?” He asked, somehow still able to form a coherent sentence. 

Your answer came immediately; you trusted him with your life. Why else would you travel the Wasteland with him? You nodded, a soft yes leaving you as you did. He pressed another grateful kiss to your cheek, a wordless thank you, and you felt his hand return to where it was. You still tensed when you felt his grip return, unable to turn off the instinct to be free of someone choking you, but you provided no further protest. 

Fingers squeezed against the sides of your neck, and like with your hair he used the leverage to snap his hips up into you. Even though it was harder, you were still able to breathe, your gasps and noises labored. Yet you still found yourself growing dizzy, the restricted blood flow making you so, which just heightened the pleasure you felt. 

Your third and final release of the night barreled into you, completely catching you both off guard. Your mind was so fuzzy; you couldn’t even get his name out. You were quickly snapped out of that haze when you heard him moan your name. Not sweetheart, not Vaultie, not any other nickname. Your name. 

He eased you to the bed, hand leaving your neck, and you let out a small whine when you felt him pull out of you. You felt empty, lacking, and even though you knew it would upset your overstimulated body you wanted him back in you. 

You had just rolled onto your back when you felt something hot splatter against your skin. You watched slack-jawed as he stroked himself to completion, his release painting your skin. The sight caused the flames of arousal to reignite, but you tried your best to snuff them out; you needed a moment. 

He sagged forward when he was done, arms once again bracing him from completely falling on top of you. Silence now filled the air, which was significantly warmer than it was a bit ago. It was you who moved first, grasping the side of his scarred face and pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It was short, but probably the most passionate of the night. 

When it broke, he sat up, getting up and off the bed and towards his belongings. You let out a noise of protest, and he just shot you a teasing look. “I’ll be back in a sec. We gotta get ya cleaned up,” he gestured to the remnants of him on your skin, and you watched as he fished out a canteen, before searching the area for something else. 

You decided to glance over your body as you waited for him to return. Your skin glistened with sweat, and you could see various marks littering your body; you didn’t want to know what your neck looked like, where he focused a lot of his attention.

The feeling of the bed shifting snapped you out of your examination, and you regarded the man who sat beside you with a soft look, and you were surprised when he returned it. It quickly turned into a scowl when you felt a damp cloth brush against your stomach and breasts, the cool water making you hiss. 

When he was done cleaning your skin, he handed you the canteen, and you took a few sips. You’d long since gotten used to the acrid taste of the Wasteland’s water, so it didn’t bother you, and you watched him finally kick off his boot. He was still fully dressed besides that, shirt sticking to his body.He set it beside the bed once you finished, before eying the bed that you were currently laying on.

“What?” You cringed at how raspy your voice sounded.

“Just dunno how I’m gonna fit.” In the back of your mind, you worried that he was going to push you away after all was said and done, so you were quite relieved to find the opposite happening. 

With a grin, you scooted back until your head rested against the thin pillow, before opening your arms to him. Shock crossed his features for a split second, before a grin of his own grew on his lips. He was still hesitant when he entered your embrace, but he relaxed almost immediately, especially when your hands ran soothingly up and down his back. When you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, he practically shuddered, his face nuzzling into your skin. You wondered how long it had been since someone showed him affection like this. 

You held him for a good while, your body calming down, and you thought over the events that had just transpired. Weirdly enough, you thought less about the things he had done and more of the words he said, especially right at the beginning. “Cooper?” You called out hesitantly, almost immediately regretting it. “Do… Can I call you that?”

He had raised his head when he heard his name being called, and you watched him debate it for a second. “Only in private. I’ve gotta reputation to uphold.” His response was gruff, but there was something warm in his eyes. 

It made you giddy, that he trusted you enough to call him by his true name, and you hoped you weren’t smiling like a fool. “Alright, Cooper. What did you mean when you said ‘finally’?”

He chuckled lightly, propping up a big so he could respond properly. “What, ya thought this was a spur of the moment decision?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You gaped at him, stunned. “You… you have?”

“How could I not? I mean, look at’cha,” his eyes trailed appreciatively over your still naked body. “But you’ve got a fire ‘bout ya. You ain’t afraid of this world, even though you damn well should be. You ain’t afraid of me, even though I’ve given ya plenty of reason to be. You’re a fighter, and I… I admire that ‘bout you. I-” He caught himself, like he said something he wasn't supposed to. “I’m too sober to be discussin’ my thoughts with ya. All ya gotta know is yes, I have.”

You were once again left stunned, so you let your action speak for you, pressing another kiss to his head, trying to ignore the way your heart soared. You felt him shift upwards, and he kissed your proper. It was another short yet passionate kiss, and when he broke away he rested his head against yours. 

“You wanna know somethin’, sweetheart?” His voice had dropped lower, and that familiar dark look was back in his eyes. So much for snuffing out the arousal you felt. He smirked when you nodded vehemently. “You wanna know the real reason why I always take first watch when we go to bed?” You felt his grasp one of your hands, loosely enough that you could pull it away if you wanted to, and he brought it between your bodies. You gasped when you felt the hard tent in his pants, having tucked himself away when he got up, but you knew it wasn’t going to stay like that for long. 

“It’s ‘cause you do this to me. You should hear me out there, moanin’ your name like I do, imaginin’ your hand wrapped ‘round my cock instead of mine.”

Your tiredness was completely forgotten, the pleasant ache in your muscles nothing more than a gentle distraction. “Can you show me?”

“Fuckin’ gladly, sweeheart.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

can we get soft angst hcs of caine comforting a reader who entered the circus but found solace in escaping their old life?

Dang it didn't take long for the requests to come in haha, but yessss I'm eager to write for TADC now!! (just note my hcs/interpretations of the characters will change as more episodes come out).

.......

When you first arrived to the circus not long after Pomni, Caine was worried that you were going to freak out over trying to find an exit (that definitely does NOT exist).

So he just cuts to the chase and states you're stuck here forever. There's no exit doors or hidden portals or secret keys, so you can just give up on returning to your old life altogether.

But you don't look scared in the slightest.

Confused? Yes. Certainly.

However once you've taken in all this information, you just stand there with a smile and a relaxed posture--a display that concerns Caine a lot.

"They seem happy, boss.." Bubble whispers. "Is that a good sign?"

"Not sure. Never seen anybody react this way. Maybe they're just holding it all in and pretending to be fine when they're really no--WOAH, stop the presses!!!" His eyes bulge out of his head/mouth(?) as he sees the tears running down your cheeks. "You're crying more than Gangle does on Tuesday! Is it true that you were masking your emotions????"

"..huh? What..oh no!" You laugh and wipe away the tears, before explaining to the ringmaster that you were indeed very happy.

You spoke of how sad and dull your life was outside of this game.

It was your escape, a comfort, and you've been a huge supporter of its development over the years.

Even in your sleep, you never stopped thinking about it--you always had dreams of being in this very circus, having loads of fun with the other characters and joining their wacky adventures.

So to learn that (somehow) you became a permanent part of the game is literally a dream come true!

Of course, you weren't expecting the presence of the Abstracted and Pomni's constant freakouts, but you couldn't be happier.

Caine was surprised that you remembered so much of your old life (whereas poor Pomni couldn't even recall her own name).

But he sees you're content with starting a new life here in the Digital Circus and grins, eager to plan some exciting fun and games for you to enjoy.

He will, however, make a point to pair you with Pomni so you could help her calm down and show her that being in this virtual world wasn't so bad.

It's probably not the best idea, though, as nothing you say comforts her.

"I mean, your old life could've been really bad and-"

"But what if it was good? What if I had tons of friends and a great family and a successful job and.....oh god..what if I had PETS?!!!" She wails. "Who's gonna take care of them?!!!"

Had she remembered at least one little bad detail from her old life....persuasion would come a lot easier.

But Caine encourages you to keep trying anyways.

[faux-ecrivain]

Yan babysitter

(Fourth official post)

(This one is a bit shorter than my other posts)

“Don’t worry I’ll take good care of them!” He placates your parents as they leave, waving them off and slamming the door shut when your parents have gone far enough.

He turns to you, with a rather fierce glare and shoos you off to your room. 

Yan babysitter that wants nothing to do with you, that only took the job because he needs the money. 

Yan babysitter who thinks you’re too old for a babysitter, but he doesn’t care, your parents are rich and that’s all he needs to know.

Yan babysitter who did not anticipate you to be such an irresponsible nuisance. (What’s with the weird cultists that keep knocking on the door and where’s that strange whispering coming from??)

Yan babysitter who quickly discovers that maybe this job was more than he bargained for, maybe he shouldn’t have been so dismissive of his job.

Yan babysitter who, somehow, ended up trapped in another dimension and is trying to escape. (Turns out cultists don’t take too kindly to the door being slammed in their face)

Yan babysitter who is sure he’s going to die here in this strange dimension.

Yan Babysitter who regrets ever taking this job and swears that if he ever gets out he’s never coming to this house again.

Yan babysitter who faces the horrors of this other dimension, each monster warping his mind and easing him into insanity.

Yan babysitter who’s so close to escaping, but then he gets trapped by some weird otherworldly creature.

Yan babysitter whose life flashes before his eyes as the creature nears.

He closes his eyes and can only hope that this won’t be dragged out, he can feel the creature approach, and he can do nothing but curl up into a ball and beg for mercy.

However, death doesn’t come, no, just when the creature unhinged its jaw and prepares to (quite literally) devour Yan babysitter, he’s saved.

Yan babysitter who’s stunned whenever you rescue him and when he tries to express his gratitude you dismiss his gratitude. (This happened a lot, you tell him, you even suggest that it was your parents intention to sacrifice him.)

Yan babysitter, who from then on, is absolutely obsessed with you (he treats you like a deity, swearing that he’ll serve you forever.)

You brush him off, as you are used to saving irresponsible babysitters from the jaws of doom, then your try to ignore his constant rambling about you being a deity. (Because you aren’t, you’re just a normal person with magic powers) Yet, no matter how much you ignore him his ramblings don’t (Maybe you should’ve left him in that other dimension)

He takes your indifference as a sign of shyness, his mind warped by the brief time he spent in that other dimension. (Seriously, he’s going to need major therapy when he leaves this house) He decides to dedicate his life to protecting you or at the very least repay you for saving his life.

Which then leads to him following you around, intervening in everything you do and then isolating you from those he deems a threat. (Mostly your friends)

Somehow, in less than two weeks, he has threatened half of your neighborhood and caused almost all your friends to go missing. 

At this point, it occurs to you that maybe Yan babysitter is a danger to your lifestyle and you should probably get rid of him. Which marks the beginning of your attempts to erase him from existence, however this doesn’t sway him, and he somehow believes that the person targeting him is actually aiming for you.

So, now, you’ve got an overprotective babysitter watching your every move and probably hiding in your walls. (Maybe you should have let him rot in the other dimension, less trouble and you wouldn’t have had to explain to your parents why the demon in your basement is still hungry)

Yan babysitter who promises to always protect you and to be by your side forever. (He’s such a nuisance)

(Sorry for the short post, I was somewhat distracted by the tv when I was writing this.)

(Regardless, enjoy this post and feel free to comment)

[imagopirateversion]

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist

Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.

An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.

Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.

The Beginning

At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.

Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:

How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?

Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?

Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?

Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?

Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow

Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.

Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".

The Pearl in The Bottle

So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?

What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence

A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.

What's Wrong With the Guards?

Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?

Paul McCartney

This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.

Salazar

I am confused. Once again, I have questions.

El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?

The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?

Poseidon or Calypso?

What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.

The Compass

This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.

That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.

So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.

That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate

Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.

Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.

Justice for Hector Barbossa

If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".

So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.

Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.

I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.

How does Carina Smyth exist?

Let's do the maths. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.

When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;

it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.

The Post-Credit Scene: What?

WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.

My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.

Imago

[iamgonnagetyouback]

chef!sirius black x reader who is terrible at cooking

The kitchen smelled like a battlefield. Smoke wafted from the stove, and you stared at the pot with a mix of betrayal and confusion. How could cider betray you like this? It was just cider!

Sirius walked in, his black apron already tied around his waist, looking effortlessly in control as always. His hair was in a messy bun, sleeves rolled up, and his eyes scanned the room. The minute he saw the pot, he froze.

“Oh no… What happened here?”

You waved a wooden spoon, attempting to explain. "It just… I don’t know! I followed the recipe! It was literally two ingredients."

Sirius crossed his arms, raising a brow. “Two ingredients, huh? And somehow, you’ve managed to turn it into this.”

“It’s not that bad!”

He sauntered over, peering into the pot. His face twisted as if he'd just seen something truly horrifying. “Not that bad? There’s charcoal at the bottom of this. How do you burn cider? It’s literally two ingredients.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks—not from the stove but from the embarrassment of being caught in yet another kitchen disaster. "Okay, it got away from me!"

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, dramatically sighing. “Got away from you? Cider doesn’t just escape. It’s not some wild racoon running loose in the kitchen.”

You huffed. "If you’re going to be all bossy and smug about it, then maybe I should just let it burn."

He smirked, stepping in behind you, his arms reaching around to take over. “Sorry, love. But lucky for you, I’m here to rescue your—whatever this is.”

You leaned into his presence, the warmth of him taking over the room as he quickly switched off the burner. "You didn’t even let me finish my masterpiece!"

“Sweetheart,” he said, laughing softly, “if this is what your ‘masterpiece’ looks like, I’m filing a restraining order against your cooking.”

You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “You’re such a dictator.”

“And you,” he poked your nose with the wooden spoon, leaving a bit of cider residue, “are a menace.”

You wiped your nose with a grin, grabbing a towel to clean off the mess. “Fine, Gordon Ramsay, what’s the verdict?”

He pulled you in by the waist, a playful glint in his eye. “The verdict is that you’re never touching cider again. In fact, stay away from all things stove-related unless you want to burn this place down."

“But I wanted to make something for us! Something cute and tasty-ish,” you pouted.

Sirius kissed your forehead, giving in as he always did when you pulled that look. “How about this: you handle the decorations and leave the cooking to me?”

You feigned offense, gasping dramatically. “Are you saying I’m only good for setting the table?”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I’m saying I’ll handle the food, and you can handle being cute.”

You burst out laughing, shoving him lightly. “Oh, you think you’re cute?”

He winked, grabbing an apple from the counter. “I know I’m cute.”

"Bossy and smug. I swear, you’d think this kitchen was your kingdom."

Sirius took a bite of the apple, leaning against the counter, watching you with amusement. “It is my kingdom. And in this kingdom, we don’t burn food, especially cider.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, Chef Black. You win this round.”

He pointed to the scorched pot. “This isn’t just a win. It’s an intervention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again as he started preparing a new batch of cider, expertly slicing the apples and cinnamon sticks. His hands moved with such ease that it almost made you envious—until you remembered the last time you tried to chop an onion and nearly sliced your thumb off.

“Just watch and learn, love,” Sirius teased, catching your eye as he worked. “One day, you’ll master boiling water.”

You tossed a kitchen towel at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

"And that too very happily."

got the inspiration of chef!sirius from @ellecdc

[sc0tters]

Goodbye Too Soon | Luke Hughes

summary: the rise and fall of love was always meant to hurt but maybe with Luke it wasn’t your end?

request: yes/no

warnings: semi-angst, swearing, underaged drinking.

word count: 2.48k

authors note: just like that I’ve written for Luke again and now Angst Week is finished! I’ve realised too that Luke is one man I can’t write angst for because this was so hard. I left the end more open because it started to sound like a decent series so let me know if you want it!

Love was something you never quite understood.

You knew that you were bound to feel it eventually, yet you never thought that it would be this soon. Luke came into your life in your freshman year during orientation weekend.

The atmosphere was strong as the seniors were convincing certain freshmen to join the drinking competitions “shit!” Your white shirt was quickly turning brown as the wet fabric revealed your blue bra beneath it “oh my god.” Luke brought his hand to his mouth as he dropped the empty cup.

Embarrassment flooded the boys mind as his eyes widened “I’m so sorry.” He blurted out having a loss for words as he truthfully had no clue what to do “it’s fine.” Your teeth gritted as you felt your skin grow sticky by what you could only assume has something to do with the coke in his drink.

Luke’s panic only increased when he realised how your bra was playing a losing game of hide’n’seek “here.” Luke was quick to take the flannel off of his shoulders as he held it out for you to grab “I’m good.” You shook your head sighing as you wondered how you were going to clean your shirt.

It only made the boy feel worse “please.” He pleaded with you clearly not prepared to leave with you having your bra on display “okay.” You nodded sending him a soft smile as you took the piece of clothing from him.

The flannel encapsulated you in this warmth as you were practically drowned in fabric “now could I get you a new drink?” A toothy grin covered your face as you giggled “I don’t even know your name.” You pointed out as you buttoned up portions of the flannel to cover your shirt.

That part was true as you hadn’t met him yet, even if Luke spent the entire week watching you from afar “Luke Hughes.” He held his hand out for you to shake “y/n l/n.” You explained as you sent him a smile that he’d remember for the rest of his life, regardless of if you were ever going to be more than an acquaintance.

It seemed that from that night on you guys were only ever met to grow closer as before you knew it you were going to hockey games wearing Luke’s jersey like it was a badge of honor with his name proudly displayed on your back. Love came at you in ways you didn’t expect like with the shadows of the night. And before you knew it you had fallen for Luke, both literally and in love.

It was cold as Luke had somehow convinced you to join the team and their families for the weekend where the family skate took place “I got you okay?” Luke smiled as he watched your hands tense around his “remind me to kill you when we get home.” Your grumble caused a laugh to escape his lips.

You scoffed as he continued to skate backwards “this should have been something you knew was going to happen when I became your best friend.” It was now your turn to laugh “whose say you’re my best friend?” You shot back leaving his lips pursed into a thin line.

He didn’t need to respond as he dropped your hands giving you a push to continue skating “Luke!” You squealed shaking your head as you grew unimpressed “you wanted to tell me I’m your best friend now?” His request made you laugh.

A smile formed on his lips at the sound “alright you big goof you’re my best friend!” With that his hand wrapped around your waist pulling you in close as he helped you steady yourself on the ice “now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Luke mumbled sending you a grin as you rolled your eyes.

He stopped freezing as he looked at you staring down between your eyes and your lips “you’re a little shit.” You laughed as you shook your head ignoring how he made you feel.

You began to fall in love with Luke and for each week you tried to deny it you were only falling deeper in love with the curly haired boy. You knew that you could try and act like he was just a friend. But that only got you so far when you’d watch him get close to other girls leaving you tight lipped.

Luke let his hands wrap around your waist as he pulled you into his lap “you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He mumbled pressing a kiss on your shoulder as you had been quiet all night “you make me so mad.” You confessed furrowing your brows as you swore you wouldn’t let your emotions get the best of you.

He frowned letting concern wash over his face “you flirt with all of these girls and it’s just-” a sigh escaped from your lips as he smirked “you just want my attention huh?” Luke teased running his thumb over your lips as you nodded hating how he made you feel so open.

The boy wasn’t one for leaving you in your embarrassment for long “good thing I want all your attention then too.” He smiled leaning forward as his hand moved to your chin “god you’re going to kill me.” You gasped as his lips finally hit yours.

It seemed that within seconds his hands went to your ass as yours wrapped around his shoulders. You moaned at the feeling of his cock forming a tent in his shorts. The hockey player was in awe as the sweet taste of your lipgloss had him feeing drunk, even with one drink in his system.

Neither one of you knew how long you had been there for as his lips began to nip your jaw “oi love birds are you going to play beer pong or not?” Marks words made you pull away from Luke as you sighed “this isn’t over Hughesy.” You mumbled running your nails over his shoulder as his hand rested on your thigh.

As you got up the boy nodded “better not.” His hand locked in with yours letting you pull him into the crowd.

It was that night that he had asked you out and quickly you began the perfect relationship that everyone grew jealous of. If only someone had a crystal ball to predict the future. Maybe then you would have valued the smaller moments more.

Your laughter echoed through the house as Luke smothered you with soft pecks “god I can’t believe I left you.” He announced to himself leaving his friends to roll their eyes “you left her for one night.” Mark reminded the boy causing you both to look at him.

Whilst Luke sent him a glare you couldn’t help but run your fingers through Luke’s hair “don’t be mad that Lukey here missed me.” You announced making the boy furrow his eyebrows “I think it’s sweet.” Your words made Luke smile as he turned to face you.

All you had to do was nod to make the boy finally kiss you properly leaving you with an even larger grin on your face with Luke scooped your into his arms opting to get rid of the audience and take you up to his room “don’t make us uncles!” The boys called out before the door shut.

Yet as the saying goes, all things that come up must come down. Yet you never thought that you’d crash and burn in the ways that you did. It was the morning of the boys frozen four game in Florida when you got the text.

Luke 💗: this isn’t working out anymore, I’m moving to the Devils and think we should go our own ways.

You responded to his message like any normal person would who had just been dumped over text. Luke wasn’t surprised to see the flurry of messages that came in all from you but he knew that if he came to you he would still be with you. And in the fucked up world that his brothers spoke so highly of, loving you from afar was meant to be easy. Leaving you like that was also meant to be easer for you to move on if you thought he was an ass.

Junior year at UMich felt like a foreign drink that you hated on your tongue. Luke was a shadow everywhere you looked and it had you thinking their was a bad smell you couldn’t get rid of. Your friends tried all that they could to help you move on yet there was only so much they could do if you weren’t going to listen.

To say that you were a fraction of yourself was an understatement. You found yourself sat in your dorm most nights as you felt sorry for yourself staring at the old memories in the form of photos and old hoodies, you could never bear to get rid of.

Yet all of that changed on your birthday, it was the one day you were forced to share with Luke as your birthday fell on the same date. Your friends and his old teammates believed alike that you needed a day to let loose. That’s how you all landed up at a bar where your handful of legally aged friends were on duty buying drinks for the group.

At first it was fun and you enjoyed it, feeling the reminders of why you loved seeing your friends having fun with you. But as the DJ changed the song opting for one from ABBA. It had you feeling like a bubble was burst over your head and you were drenched in the reminder of those memories.

It was cold in Michigan as Luke was preparing to leave you for the winter break “stop for a sec.” He muttered to himself as you had been packing gifts for his parents into his bag “I need to finish this.” You pointed out clicking your tongue as his hands found their place on your hips.

He smiled as you dropped the box on his clothes “you’re such a gorgeous girl.” Luke confessed as your hands found their place on his shoulders “not so bad yourself.” You giggled pressing a kiss against his cheek shutting the gap between you both.

The soft hums of the song echoed in your ears “digging the dancing queen!” The hockey player sang as he swayed your hips back and forth “you’re a teaser you turn ‘em on.” You laughed when he spun you around leaving your back against his chest as he left his head nuzzled against your shoulder.

You guys stayed there for a few moments “I’m so in love with you.” His confession made your cheeks feel warm “don’t think those were the lyrics.” You teased turning back to face him.

As the boy panicked not knowing how to respond you smiled “I love you too.” Your lips were soft on his leaving you wanting to stay there forever.

You felt as though bile was building up in your throat when you forced you way out of the bar. Passers by were waved off as you placed your hands on your knees attempting to do everything in your power to stop yourself from falling forward. Your head tilted upwards in an attempt to force more air into your lungs as you opened up your phone go it into your contacts.

It took little to no effort to find his contact as you shifted into muscle memory not caring for this one moment of lapsed judgement “hey it’s Luke, I can’t get to the phone right now so if it’s important call Quinn or I’ll get back to you!” His voicemail made you smile as you remembered learning how irritated Jack got by the mention of his older brother “god I’m meant to hate you.” You began as you clicked your tongue.

The air around you grew colder “but no I still like you and I sure as hell fucking love you.”

Tears began to roll down your cheeks as just on cue rain began to drop from the sky “why couldn’t you have cheated on me or something so I could move on!” You grew angry as you clenched your hand around your phone.

There was a subtle reminder that the message was going to stop recording soon “I don’t know why I sent you this because you haven’t even listens to the last ones.” A huff left your lips as the line went dead leaving you to run your fingers through your hair as you felt defeated.

The rain brought this level of calm that you hadn’t felt in a while letting it wrap you up in a blanket as you were growing unsure of what was tears and what was rainwater “there you are birthday girl, c’mon!” Rutger cheered as he found where you were stood.

All the way in New Jersey stood a similar scene. Luke wasn’t interested in celebrating his birthday, not without you by his side. Yet he still ended up drunk and curled into his blanket as Jack tucked him in “I miss her.” Luke confessed letting out a sob as the build a bear you got him sat in his arms.

Jack frowned slipping his brother’s phone into his pocket “I know you do bud but she isn’t calling and you need to focus on your hockey.” Jack sighed getting up before the turned the light off seeing that Luke was already asleep.

The notification of your voicemail stood in front of him like a calling to stop trying to meddle in his brother’s life “I do this for him.” Jack reminded himself as he deleted the voicemail not bothering to check it.

Sure someone might wonder what Jack was doing in that moment, truthfully he was beginning to ask himself that too. But after his own horrible rookie season Jack knew the last thing Luke needed was to be waiting for a girl that wasn’t even in his state.

College romances were meant to only last a few months or a year tops. It was why Jack didn’t feel guilty about lying to Luke about how you sent at least one voicemail each month. in trying to protect his baby brother through righting his own previous wrongs Jack lost sight of the most important thing, Luke.

Some might say that luck was on Luke’s side though, or maybe it was the divine act of fate that could withhold a brother’s stupidity. Because this wasn’t the end of your story with Luke. No instead this was the beginning of it, and your reunion was set at Little Caesars Arena. So the true question was were you both willing to get there or were you going to find new people as stops along the way back to where you belonged?

[spiritofpassionfruit]

Ratiorine medieval AU where Aventurine tries to escape being sacrificed to the Demon King and, in turn, finds himself kidnapped by the Dragon Veritas instead.

The Chiuch of Qlippoth has a tradition of sending their most beautiful men and women to the Demon King. The stonehearts, so they called them. They say that the sacrifice of the stonehearts are a way to keep the peace between humans and demons at ease, but it is all just a lie, and the sacrifices are only to strengthen Demon King and his army, while the church is given the army to control the people from challenging them. Aventurine and his sister had connected this knowledge for so long, but now he is the only one left with the truth as his sister was made a stoneheart sacrifice for the Demon King and sent away to his castle. He plans to get her out of that place one day. If not alive, then at least dead to hold a funeral for her. But first, Aventurine needs to escape the clutches of the church.

It was a huge gamble, but in the end, he managed to get out of there. Bloodied, wounded. With his white attire and gold ingots everywhere, he looks like a ghost wife. Thankfully, he is in the deeper parts of the forest, where a supposed dragon lives, said to be taller than palaces and cast wilfires with his breath. Aventurine doesn't believe there to be a monster like that so close to a human civilization, but he is glad that at least this story keeps everyone away from venturing too deep into the forest. The church won't find him here, and he can recover as much as he needs, but gods, the bleeding is too much, it's bound to attract wolves, he can only limp and fall to the ground as his gaze slowly shrinks into darkness.

And the next thing he knows, he is in a tub. In a cave more precisely, but somehow in a tub. There's herbs to his side, needles and weird silver utensils with blood on the other. The water is also not that cold, rather it seems to be heating up. To say Aventurine is scared would be an understatement. Quickly he tries to escape this horrible (lucky yet unlucky as always) situation he has been put through, but before he can get his feet out of the tub a literal dragon wakes up in front of him and stares down at him. The darkness of the night had camouflaged him so well that even as Aventurine tried to calculate how huge he is, he could only clearly see the golden-red eyes of the dragon. (Haha doctor your huge)

"Don't move." The dragon says it so quietly yet it still makes Aventurine tremble before going back into the tub. He covers his body quickly realizing now that he doesn't have anything on except bandages all where he got hurt and a simple cloth to cover him from his shoulders to his knees.

The dragon then surprises Aventurine even more by shifting into a human look alike(he admits its the most beautiful man Aventurine has ever seen, but right now he cant focus on that—) and walking towards him with a disgruntled face to explain the situation to him.

Aventurine has 1, entered through dangerous territory despite the warnings of this forest, so ofc the dragon has to drive them out. But 2, since the human is injured to the brink of death, the dragon decided to take care of him until his body recovered.

"...But wouldn't it be better for you to just eat me instead? Why waste so much effort into helping me recover?"

"First of all, I don't eat humans. Secondly, what gives you the idea taking care of a human will be a struggle for a dragon of wisdom?"

.

Seeing as it is hard to debate the dragon— doctor, aventurine decides to call him now— to nope out of his treatment, and for Aventurine to find help somewhere else, he decides to take the gamble and recuperate until his body is healed.

The doctor is surprisingly kind for a species that doesn't like humans and burn down villages when interrupted from their nap. Or so the tales of them are told. He's never seen a dragon in real life, so the doctor itself is already a fascinating sight to behold (his human side as well is a treat for the eye). Still, what impresses him the most is the fact that he cares about humans. At least those from his rural zone. Upon being able to walk around the cave, Aventurine discovers that all the books the dragon holds are from humans that gifted him such things for his help. He trades knowledge for food and trades his service for more knowledge. The books are maintained and transcribed over and over again that Aventurine can see the care handled into preserving them all, even the tiny letters the dragon is said to have kept from his former students. Unfortunately, they all died many years ago, seeing as how fleeting a human life is, it was bound to happen each time. But it didn't seem to shake the dragon's will to keep on taking more students (those who dared and survived his harsh teachings) and helping any human around him.

As the wound healed it seemed like Aventurine was also healing from his past, learning things the church would have never let him, while still planning a way to get his sister back from the claws of the Demon King.

(Fuck I forgot got to say this— Veritas was given his name by Aventurine since no one had tried to give a dragon a proper name until now. Usually, they would just call him a doctor, the dragon, teacher, or other things since they thought it would be disrespectful to call him by a name or give him one too. And since dragons don't see a meaning to having a name, he was fine with it. But Aventurine wasn't! So he ended up thinking about it for days before deciding to call him Veritas. Due to showing all the truth of the world that he had never gotten to see when he was trapped in the church. Aventurine is the only one who calls him Veritas now, hahahahahah)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 12

Author's Note: This has literally just been sitting in my drafts waiting for me to get my thoughts in order. I got sick and hit with a massive writing slump and I started doubting where I wanted to take this, but I think I've got it now. Thank you all for your patience, I swear this will end up a finished fic eventually.

Summary: This is literally just angst,

Content Warnings: Some cursing, a little suggestiveness

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

----------------------------

There is no sunlight in this world of stone, and yet you know, sense it somehow, that wherever it is above your head, it’s changed. You feel the thrum of its absence in the walls, in the floor, in your bones. It is different and it is entirely your fault.

The familiar stone walls crack when you brush your fingertips, no, not fingertips, claws now, over the walls; the floor shakes with every step you take deeper into the mountain. 

“Death,” a voice calls, a whisper on an ether of a new wind, twining around your body. It calls to you as if that is your name, has always been your name, there has never been anything else. “Come.”

You follow the voice through familiar and strange halls, the world of stone crumbling apart around you until you get your glimpse of the ruined world outside. The sun has turned the world blood red, the air dead in your lungs and yet you throw your head back and take a satisfactory breath of it. Good. This world deserves to burn and die. 

“Come.” The voice, a male’s you think, though the distorted echo might prove otherwise,  pulls you deeper still, until you stand beside a ruined throne, the Mountain now wholly rubble around you. Splattered across the throne, crimson seeping across the stones, the crumpled bit of a rusted chain still clutched in her broken fingers, lies Amarantha. Her black eyes remain open, face twisted in a perpetual scream, though her head now lays separate from her body, much as the twins had been.

You step over the remains, broken bones crunching under your heel as the voice prompts you further. The further you go, the more bodies litter the floor. A flash of red hair beneath the rubble: Eris. A shock of blonde dripping blood impaled on some wood: Tamlin. You drag your claws over their remains and their mangled bodies turn to ash on the wind.

“Death.” If anything lives around you, it withers and dies as you approach, until you crest a hill made entirely of bones. A top the hill, upon a mound of skulls sits a massive, black cauldron. From its mouth swirls tendrils of ancient green magic that splash over the edge, hissing and bubbling like a living thing.

“Hello, Sweet Harbinger,” the cauldron whispers. “Come closer, Lady of Bloodshed.”

You can’t stop yourself from grabbing the lip, the metal biting into your palms.

“Closer, Little Death, let me free you,” it prompts, the magic within swirling over the edge to splash your hands, leaving pinpricks in its wake. “Let me make you all you’re meant to be.”

You wake up screaming, hands clutched to your chest, the ice in your veins nothing to do with the chill of the Mountain. The last remaining pull of the dream clings to your consciousness, makes you push yourself back against the bed frame, trying to escape.

Rhys is up in a flash, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into his chest, making soothing noises, even as he brushes a mental talon against your shields. You shiver in his grasp, trying to catch your breath, to shake the vision from your mind.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “You’re ok. I’ve got you. You’re ok.” He lets himself into the nightmare and you make no attempt to stop him because there’s no way you’ll be able to explain how real it had felt. When he’s done, he shuts the door and locks it, so that your mind can quiet.

“It’s just a dream,” he soothes, hands stroking your bare sides.

“What if it’s not?” You whimper into his chest. You’re both still completely bare from the events of the night, having fallen asleep still holding each other.

Rhys continues to rub shapes into your skin as he mulls it over, trying to find the right answer to appease you, even though you know he’s aware it’s a possibility.

“My father,” you press, mind spinning with all the things this could mean. “You said my father started looking for me recently. Why now? What does he need me specifically for that he didn’t need decades ago?”

“I don’t know,” Rhys admits quietly, like he’s ashamed to even say it.

“The twins mentioned he wanted to get through the Wall,” you explain, “but they never found a spot big enough. Are there other ways to bring it down?”

Rhys stills, even as your mind continues to spin. “The Cauldron… it’s been missing for centuries… if he’s been looking for it, if he finally found it…?”

“He’d have to have found all the missing pieces,” Rhys tries to assure you.

“But if he has?” You return.

“He could do just about anything with it.”

“And my uncle never seemed to think that I needed to train my powers because they would just click, but what if he wasn’t worried about them because he knew there wasn’t something strong enough to fully activate them?”

When he doesn’t answer, you tilt your head back to look at him. “Dagdan said…” you shutter as you try and find the words. “He said Hybern specializes in breaking people like me. Like my mother.”

He brings his forehead down to rest on yours, trying to comfort you. “And Amarantha said she’d been wielded in battle. Could this, my dream I mean, be how he did it? How he plans to do it to me?”

Rhys cups your face and kisses the tip of your nose. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You drag your hand over his, comforted by his warmth and the assuredness he floods down the bond. “We have time,” he insists. “Before he gets here, we have time to get ahead of him, to keep him from ever getting his hands on you. Nothing will happen to you, I promise.”

You tilt your head up to kiss him, gently at first, and then a little more desperately, trying to distract yourself from the panic building in your chest. He continues to flood the bond with soothing thoughts and lets you distract yourself with more kisses and touches, does his best to chase away the lingering fears, and you shut out your questions as he rolls you onto your back. 

You have time.

You have time.

You have time.

---

Rhys is gone when you awake, his side of the bed cold. You drag yourself into the tub, hoping the warm water will ease the tension returning in your muscles. 

It is strange to be back here. What once was a cage now feels like a luxury, your muscles partially stiff from the shift from hard floor to mattress, as lumpy as it is. You’re more used to the icy bite of stone than you should be. At least the bruises dotting your hips and throat are from something other than being thrown around by a monster in a Pit, but the clink of the collar still reminds you that you’re not free. It’s just a larger cage and it’s keeping you right in your father’s reach.

You climb from the tub and towel off hurriedly. Perhaps, before anyone realizes the door to your cage is unlocked, you can find something useful. That book Rhys had left you should still be tucked into your bed frame if you can find your way back, you can start there. 

Your only clothing options are the sheer slip of a dress from last night and Rhys’s discarded jacket, and you slip into both of them as quickly as you can, before ensuring there’s a glamor over the bargain marks on your skin. Both of them. The twining line of stars swirling across your palm is sure to attract notice. 

The door is ridiculously loud in the stillness of the Mountain and you see now why Rhys always winnows inside instead of using the door, but you don’t have the time to figure out how to do that now. You get it open a crack and slide your way out before wrangling it shut, body tense the whole time. It’s not like you’re trying to escape or anything, but you’ve never been given the freedom to roam and you can’t jeopardize losing it now.

The hall is different from any of the ones you’d seen previously, the floor covered with an old, but still ornate rug the color of wine. A few tapestries, fading with age, line the walls, depicting great battles from the early ages of the fae. There are other doors along the hall, each a bit more decorated than the last, some with sentries standing out front. 

The hall is as dim as the others, at least, allowing you some shelter in the darker corners to observe and calculate your best course of action. Heading left takes you down at an angle, where the hall abruptly ends with a set of double doors marked with a blazing sun emblem and a single sentry. The Lord of Day’s quarters most likely, and though Eris had claimed Helion was with you, you’ve never actually met the male, and can’t risk being caught near his door.

Down the right side of the hall, past a curve in the wall is another set of sentries, guarding a door marked with apple trees, the leaves a dazzling array of red and orange, though the fruit they bear has mostly fallen and turned to mush at the base of the pots. The High Lord of Autumn has favor with the Queen, and it shows. Worse yet, to get away from this wing of the Mountain, you’ll have to walk right past the sentries, both of which are sharpening already pointed daggers. Not Amarantha’s men, at the least, but that doesn’t mean you can get past them uninterrupted.

At the very least, the Lord of Autumn is going to know where you’d come from, considering you’re wearing Rhys’s jacket. Even with the darker shades of the Mountain’s colors, no one’s going to think the black leather is anything else than the High Lord of the Night Court’s.

You chew on your thumbnail, thinking hard about your options. The guards show no sign of leaving, and the torches anchored to the wall above Autumn’s door leave you no place to sneak past. 

What would your mate do if he couldn’t winnow around them?

You draw a shaky breath and square your shoulders. Rhys would waltz right past, hands in his pockets, the picture of bored elegance. He wouldn’t need anyone to tell him what his place in the world was, he commanded the respect of everyone around him by knowing exactly who he was and where he belonged. If he was your equal, then you should be able to do the same. 

At the very least, the collar might get you passed without incident, because you’ve now been claimed very publicly as Amarantha’s feisty little pet.

You swallow your pride and tuck your shaking hands into the pockets of Rhys’s jacket and walk right past, chin up, pretending you don’t even see them.

“Hey, doll, where you coming from?” One of them whistles at you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he calls after you. “I just want to talk.”

“Dude,” the other hisses at him. “You really want the sloppy seconds of Amarantha’s whore?”

You’re seeing red; talons biting through your nail beds, and it takes everything in you to not turn and slash your claws through the male’s eyes. How does Rhys take this all the time? He never lets it hit him, just keeps walking, and you force yourself to do the same. You only manage to get around the corner by telling yourself that, when this is over and there’s no danger in showing your claws, you’ll come back and make him regret every word. 

The hall ends in a staircase and you go down a level and peek your head out, checking for any familiar signs, but see none, so you go down another level. If Amarantha’s rooms are at the highest point, then maybe she keeps the rooms organized by rank, so yours should be a couple floors beneath these. You make sure to draw a little tally mark into the dirt on the walls so you remember how to get back as you descend lower. Six floors down, you finally find a hall with claw marks scratched into the wall.

It feels like a lifetime since you’d been in this part of the Mountain. 

The marks lead you back to a very familiar door and you push it open as quietly as you can. There’s no light anymore, now that no one occupies the space and you take a second to let your eyes shift into something that can see more clearly before creeping towards the abandoned bed. Sure enough, Rhys’s book on Death Gods and Goddesses is still tucked between the headboard and the frame and you slide it into Rhys’s coat pocket before turning back towards the door.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice calls from the dark corner of the bathroom and you can’t stop the scream that tears from your throat.

Light flickers to life on the bed side table and you have no choice but to throw a hand up to shield your eyes. Footsteps draw nearer and you back yourself up until your legs hit the bed.

“My spies told me you’d be one of two places,” the voice continues. It’s male, deep, a little gruff. The scent of warm metal and fighting leathers drifts your way. “I’m disappointed to see you’ve debased yourself with that Night Court whore.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You snarl, tearing your hand away from your eyes, ignoring the slight burn. 

The male before you looks strikingly familiar, the slicked back hair a twin to your cousins’, the same dark eyes and sharp features, the same armored chest plate and sigil above the heart. 

The male before you smirks as he watches your attitude shift from aggression to horror. “Hello, daughter.”

You’ve never been so well aware of your own heartbeat in your chest. “You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you whisper in disbelief. This can’t be happening to you! You were supposed to have more time!

“And that’s exactly why I’m here now,” he says, stepping closer.

You back away, putting the bed between the two of you. You have to get out of here, have to find help. “What do you want?”

He puts a gloved hand over his heart. “To see you, of course. You were so small last I saw you.”

“Why now? You never bothered before.”

“When I lost your mother…” he says, dark eyes sad. “I lost a piece of myself. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave her tomb. By the time I pulled myself together, all traces of you had vanished. I searched, I sent my Ravens, but it has been some time since I even dared hope you were alive.”

“And it’s just a coincidence that you learned the truth right as you intend to start a war,” you hiss. “And you’re fresh out of death gods to wield.”

“You say wield as if you are a tool,” he returns. “As if I don’t intend to set you up to rule as my only heir. I want you seated at my side. Do you think I intend to let Amarantha rule these lands? Lands that have belonged to our people for centuries? She is a pawn.”

This is a trap somehow. “You mean to kill her?”

“I expect you to do that,” he says, his gaze lowered like he can see right through the jacket to where the bargain mark lies. “You’ve already set those pieces in motion.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” you counter.

“Lying is beneath you, daughter.”

“Stop calling me that!” You snarl. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“You cannot change what you are, Y/N,” he steps slowly around the bed and you have no choice but to back yourself up into the corner to get away. “And I worked very hard to make you what you are.”

“You didn’t make me anything,” you hiss, fangs threatening to poke out. 

“Do you know how many goddesses I had to go through to sire an heir? Do you know how hard it is to make something like you? I spent centuries moving pieces into place until I found exactly what I needed.”

Claws and fangs tear free, as if your powers have taken control, and you swing as hard as you can at his face. “You vile fucking bastard!” 

Despite the gray appearing in the edges of his hair, Hybern is no feeble old man, he snags your wrist and spins, yanking your arm behind you back hard enough to wrench it from it’s socket. His free hand snags the chain around your neck and holds, locking you in place.

“Everything I have done has been for our people,” he says through his teeth. “Everything we will do will be for our people. We have had to live in the dark with nothing for centuries! Prythian abandoned us. And we will take back what we are owed, that is your birthright and your destiny.”

You slam your other elbow as hard as you can into his chest plate after several failed attempts to twist around and sink your fangs into his throat, but the metal of his armor shields him. “You don’t know anything about me! I won’t help you in this stupid world domination bullshit!”

“I’d hoped that you were smart enough to navigate Amarantha’s little court on your own. I gave you time to step into yourself, send the twins to test you. It was my hope that your mother’s spirit would carry on in you, but it seems your uncle has snuffed that out.”

You reach for that bridge between your mind and your mate’s, desperate. “Rhys!”

That dark, obsidian power slithers across the bond, sliding into your mind so easily now.

“It seems I’ll have to find other ways to convince you to see reason, daughter,” Hybern snarls.

“Darling, what’s-” He doesn’t have time to finish before the world starts moving past in swirling colors and roaring wind, as Hybern winnows you both out of the Mountain.

-------------------

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[lowkeyrobin]

MONTY FINCH ; dating headcanons

summary ; dating hcs w monty

warnings ; none

word count ; 575

masterlist

he's kind of quiet so a lot of times you do most the talking

he rambles when he's stressed/nervous/anxious or when he's rambling about an interest/something he likes

and trust, he rambles a lot because he loves you bro

he's very respectful with boundaries and will NEVER cross them

he's got a whole list in his mind that he constantly checks on before he even moves around you

he's very gentle but he's not infantilizing if you have any mental / physical disabilities

like he's not gonna treat you like a baby, but he will be careful and respectful and help as much as he can

having a panic attack? he's right at your side trying to help. need your medicine site changed? he's at your service with hand sanitizer and everything you need

you were actually kind of oblivious to his advances

you thought he was just being nice by giving you a reading / teaching you about astrology

he'd always somehow find you just at the right time so you could escape your little dead boy detectives + crystal & niko

gonna be honest, you need a break sometimes. it's hard

but you loved going on little late night adventures with him and trying new food and rollerskating with him

but you did catch on to his feelings after he had to literally spell it out for you

you reference inside jokes ALL THE TIME and charles/edwin/crystal/niko never understand

then you remember "oh I have to explain this" when they give you a confused look

you love looking at funny tiktoks together

and cringe ones that deserve a restraining order

you're basically commentary youtubers atp

you make him bracelets as well, whether they be kandi or string or whatever

he wears them all the time

he's given you a couple jackets as well... let's hope esther never finds out (because they're hers. she was not buying him a whole wardrobe after turning him human)

he loves sharing music with you

and he's always begging for aux in the car / to make you listen to a song / etc etc

i see him being a hozier / david kushner / ethel cain / old friends fan

but he relates to a large handful of sleep token songs as well (I have to mention them at any moment I'm sorry)

he usually listens per artist on his playlists but there are some stray songs that are just there that scream him / he loves

like the reason by hoobastank, airhead by honey revenge, and hell by the home team

I'm describing my monty playlist atp... (link on my masterlist (go to playlists then monty finch))

he's a pretty empathetic person

like if he sees you in any sort of non-happy state, he's gonna ask if you're okay and be there for you

he giggles and laughs a lot

you're very funny, you make him laugh a lot

it's cute 😔🫶

he also picked up drawing

so he's always drawing you when you aren't looking / just in his free time

the diego to his frida

he lovesss compliments

giving and receiving

so there's a lot of those between you two

he's genuinely so sweet

he remembers all your interests and things you like and stuff

so if there's a new season of a show you like coming out or a new album from an artist you like, he's gonna be informing you

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Remember the Pokémon trainer ask with having pokepastas in their team? Could I maybe request something angsty?~ basically can I get headcanons of Arven and Kieran’s reaction to finding out Trainer got in a accident and was suffering from VERY lethal injuries and in panic missingno..basically messed them up into a pokepasta trainer,kinda corpse looking and now in never ending pain because of the raw wounds that never fully Heal but ofc take medication to numb the pain down and look out now for they’re friends so they don’t suffer the same fate? :))

Oh btw have a nice day or night!!! Remember to drink water!

Arven

From the moment he, Penny, and Nemona discovered your team enjoying a picnic...he always wondered how you got something like Missingno on your side.

But since it nearly corrupted his damn pokedex trying to just get information on it AND you were reluctant to share your past, he figured you'd just say "don't ask questions you don't want answers to" and end the convo right there.

He definitely wouldn't let Mabosstiff near it.

Last time he went near a Pokémon nobody should've known about...he almost lost his companion.

From time to time, he catches glimpses of your wounds (not during picnics ofc), bandages, and the medication Nurse Miriam prescribed to you, and suggests you save some of the herbs for yourself.

And they do help with your pain management when incorporated into tea or sandwiches (especially the salty herba mystica, which relieves your aches for a little while).

They're not miracle cures, but it's something.

Eventually, there comes a point where you know Arven wants to understand how you acquired Missingno, why you have so many ghastly Pokémon by your side, and why you were determined to defend him and the others down in Area Zero.

So you sit down and explain how you found it by accident in Kanto, caught it, and realized it was simply a lonely creature who wanted a trainer it could love and protect. Like any other Pokémon.

Yet you didn't realize the extreme lengths it would go to achieve that goal....until you nearly suffered a lethal wild Pokémon attack (it was in the dead of night, and you were ambushed while chasing after what you thought was a shiny).

You were bleeding out, bones broken and gaping wounds all over your body, and unconsciously begged for help-

And Missingno somehow heeded your call, escaping its pokeball and reviving you.

But in doing so, you were brought back as a zombie..one who still remembers the pain of that night and often cursed the glitch for not letting you die.

In time though you've made peace with it, knowing you were stuck this way now and it wouldn't let you go...

To the point where it erased its own pokeball from existence and became a constant presence around you, invisible aside from a few occasional glitch particles.

Yet you knew Missingno didn't mean any ill intent--all it wanted to do was save you.

Now you vowed to save others so they didn't suffer the same fate as you, whether that be haunted Pokémon left abandoned in some town or atop a mountain or your human friends in Area Zero.

Your pains aren't as severe now thanks to the meds, and you're grateful for Arven introducing you to herba mystica.

You were afraid he was gonna be freaked out by your story (or not believe you), but..while he finds it horrific and sad at first, he understands you better and is simply glad you're here now.

He's also happy to help his buddy manage their pain better, even if the remedies are only temporary.

Kieran

You had to bandage and conceal a great deal of your wounds so nobody at BB Academy got concerned, with DISABLED giving you a consistent best Heal Pulse to ensure your chronic pain wasn't debilitating).

Even so, Kieran assumes you got better over the past year and is desperate to battle you and win Missingno..something he vowed to acquire after realizing he'll never get Ogerpon.

You try explaining that it's literally impossible for you to surrender it, and it's too dangerous to bring it into a battle anyway, but he thinks you're just lying to him again and bragging.

In the back of his mind, though...he kept wondering why you had so many injuries..

Ofc..he's too focused on being stronger than you to ask you.

But after seeing Missingno come out (in its Fossil Aerodactyl form) and literally glitch Terapagos' beam out of existence and use Cut on multiple falling rocks---he was amazed.

You finally invite him to your dorm to talk after the mochi mayhem events, knowing he deserved some answers.

He sees the pain meds littered all over your countertop, and you finally reveal to him why you need those, why you look the way you do, and why you keep Missingno around:

Basically, after catching and befriending it, you got attacked by some wild Pokémon, and they would've left you for dead had it not intervened.

You made it feel loved, cherished, never using it as a weapon or an infinite item dispenser...and it couldn't watch you bleed to death.

So it saved your life, but it came with a great cost: neverending physical pain with your wounds never fully healing.

You used to curse Missingno for not letting you go, trying to release it several times to no avail, and just being miserable in general.

Yet once you realized it attracted more misunderstood, tortured, and damaged Pokémon to your side..you came to forgive it, knowing it was just like them despite its uncanny appearance: a creature who just wanted to protect its trainer.

Now you take medication (and a few leaves of herba mystica) to numb the pain down, so it didn't hurt as much as it did before.

You wouldn't want anybody to have a brush with death like you did. Not even your worst enemy.

That's why you went so far to protect your friends in Area Zero, especially Kieran.

After hearing your story, he felt so torn up and guilty--and convinced he was being "overdramatic".

You were still suffering all along, for years..and he had no idea, only thinking about himself and his selfish ways and how his pain couldn't possibly compare to-

But you stop your friend from spiraling, holding him and letting him cry out all of his renewed guilt, telling him that his own suffering was valid, too.

He was starting to look like a corpse with the dark circles and paler complexion....and it scared you.

Seems like he took "I wanna be like you" a bit too literally.

But you're glad Missingno saved you--otherwise you never would've gotten the chance to meet him and help him become more confident in himself (ofc you wish things were different before and didn't require you shattering his confidence first).

Since that conversation, Kieran starts taking better care of himself and makes a promise to protect you.

Not from physical threats per se as you're basically immortal, but from rude stares and whispers of how "creepy" you are.

He tends to hug you a lot and lend you his jacket for warmth if you ever get cold in class or in the polar biome.

It does help with the chills you get so often, and makes you feel grateful that you two were still friends despite everything.

[mezzy303]

So I've been rereading skip beat from the beginning for the first time in uhhhhh almost 10 years and I'm going inSaNE over characterizations and development that I have to write it down

At this point I'm only at the Heel siblings arc so I haven't gotten to the Guam or Saena arcs which are very big for Kyoko and Ren's character development and healing which I haven't reread since those chapters came out

Can we just take a moment to appreciate Nakamura for basing Kyoko and Ren's childhood struggles and trauma on very real things that aren't often, if at all, dealt with in anime/manga and also writing them with utmost care (Not only do the traumas inform their personalities, but their healing arcs aren't just a one and done thing!! It's a very slow process) Like starting with Kyoko, her single mother neglected her so much that she was raised by a family friend. On top of that, nothing Kyoko did was ever good enough for her mother, and both of these things are so apparent in Kyoko's character. She attaches herself to fairytales and magic as an escapism and because she relates to stories like Cinderella. She literally cannot function if she messes up and no one criticizes her. She can't properly acknowledge her own talents and beauty without it being attached somehow to fairytales; she never quite believes shes good enough. Similarly, she didn't want to bother anyone with her troubles, so she always dealt with them alone/in private spaces. Pretty sure she also has lowkey abandonment issues. And this is all parental trauma!! Things she already has before the series starts and she gets so utterly heartbroken she swears off romantic love entirely so she can never get hurt the same way again.

(I don't think I'll ever get over how Kyoko told all this to Kuu and he was literally like I'm adopting you. Your mine now. Sorry I don't make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And Kuu going home to his wife like hey we got a new kid 😂 Like Kyoko freezing up when she made mistakes and then Kuu showing her love instead of reprimanding her makes me go 🥹😩💖✨😭💝 Kyoko getting all fluffy from head pats🥹🥹 But on the downside she literally can't bring herself to call him dad unless she's in acting mode sjdfhsf)

When I really consider it, I wonder if Kyoko really loved Sho as a person or like.... the idea of him. Like he was just a convenient guy via proximity bc Kyoko needed someone to be her "prince". We haven't been shown exactly why she fell in love, but it would explain why she stuck with dedicating herself to him despite his terrible personality and knowing he never saw her the same way. It's portrayed like the concept of hatsukoi in anime where its ✨pure✨and innocent✨It seems very idealistic. Whereas Kyoko's love for Ren is more mature. She sees every aspect of Ren and doesn't sugarcoat it, she sees him as he is (she does him up on a pedestal but partially bc she admires him but also as an extreme measure to protect her heart and hide her feelings imo)

And REN. trauma to the max. He had to deal with the hardships of making a name for himself when his parents are already famous, extreme racism from being biracial, his friend/mentor dying from an accident he unintentionally caused???? Like boy hates himself so much he's literally disassociating 24/7 he needs a fucking therapist. I get how being Ren has helped him in some capacity but he needs a professional asap. Though deep diving into this is so interesting because Ren/Kuon compartmentalized his issues and the parts that he hates about himself so much he created its own persona ("Dark Kuon"), to the point he's rarely ever just himself. And he buried it so deep that as soon as he cracked the lid open, those emotions just spilled out. He can't even allow himself to be happy, and when he does feel truly happy, his automatic response is acting nonchalant,,,,,,,,,,,, he didn't even realize he was doing it at first 😢

Also the symbolism with Ren's watch makes me go a little feral. I don't remember if it's originally his or Rick's but it obviously stopped when the latter died and Ren keeps it as a reminder of what happened and why he went to Japan. It's a weird item since it grounds him but also represents his heavy trauma, and I think having those two things in one kinda showcases Ren's unhealthy coping mechanisms (like grounding himself to something traumatic isn't... great...). But that scene where he realizes he took it off and he has a moment of whether it to keep it on as Cain Heel or not??? *clenches fist* it was so good. (To recap it, he had his watch so he wouldn't lose himself in the role of BJ and then forgot it in the bathroom after an unexpected trauma response) Ren narrates his thoughts as choosing between Rick or Kyoko but interpreting this, he's choosing whether to keep himself stuck in his past trauma or move forward and let himself be happy AKA stick with unhealthy coping mechanisms vs try something healthy and rely on people he trusts. Kyoko essentially becomes someone Ren grounds himself to 🥺 He still needs therapy though lmao. He's so mentally unstable in this arc,,,

As I'm writing this I'm seeing a parallel between Kyoko and Ren and how they both had an experience that completely and utterly broke them, and it was this that pushed them onto their current paths in showbiz. And they likely would never have met each other again if those things never happened (they had to lose themselves to find each other?? 😭). It's so funny to me that Ren is all like ThEiR fAtEs ArE iNtErTwInEd with Kyoko and Sho when you have to consider the fact that him and Kyoko meeting again was like. a chance in a billion. It was fate 😂

KyoRen is such a poetic ship to me. The fact that they're different people when they meet and don't recognize the other. How Ren starts falling in love AS SOON AS HE REALIZES KYOKO IS THE SAME GIRL HE MET (Ren being gray/demiromantic.... more at 5). Kyoko lowkey starting to crush on Ren when she witnesses a bit of his real personality. These two things happening around the same time??????? And Ren being SO afraid of being Kuon, his true self, because of his bad qualities, but Kyoko pulling out the good qualities without him fully realizing it?? (I'm 100% referring to Kuon being a mischievous little shit and I live for how he teases Kyoko) tbh they treat each other differently from other people without even realizing it lol. And Kyoko being surrounded by toxic and possessive men pursuing her, and Ren being anything BUT. Like my man is a gigantic green flag. He recognizes that he can't seriously pursue Kyoko bc she's a minor and he really tries his best to only be a friend and mentor in her life and keeping her trust and never crossing her boundaries despite the stereotypes of men being "unable to control themselves." Y'all take point this should be the standard at minimum☝️

I have to talk about Sho bc this boy is so fucking toxic but he makes such a fascinating character. As much as I hate how Kyoko got heartbroken in the way she did, I think it was necessary so that she could leave Sho's sorry ass and cut him out of her life. Seriously,,,, he took advantage of her and used her as a servant. she literally dropped out of school, moved to a different city, and took on two jobs for the sole purpose of helping his career and then he threw her away like a used rag (JUST THROW THE WHOLE MAN AWAY). And then he has the audacity to fall in love with her smh. Anyway the fascinating part about him to analyze is how he's so possessive of Kyoko. Like she was a mere fly in his life, but she was always his. Until she wasn't. And I think those twisted thoughts kinda morphed into feelings for Kyoko. Ig in a way he still cares about her, but it could never hide how toxic he is. Anyone who's like I don't care how this person thinks of me as long as I take up the biggest space in their heart is egotistical and narcissistic. BUT he and Kyoko bickering like siblings will always be funny. Like epitome of two people who've lived with each other for way too long so they know how the other ticks and also get on each other's nerves 😂😂Sho does makes a good foil for Ren though. Like he's basically everything Ren is not: immature, temperamental, possessive, vain, the list goes on. His only redeeming qualities as a character is providing good drama and humor and being an example of what Ren isn't.

Skip Beat is really a story about healing and learning to love yourself and letting others love you and Nakamura is such a good story teller 🥺

[spyxfamilyanalysis]

Do you think donovan has something to do w project apple? The one that makes Anya can read minds, and if he does do you think he experimented w his children? Or Demetrius is born that weird

Well, I think there might be misunderstanding about the name of the Project. Project Apple is experimented on animals like Bond Forger, to make them useful with special abilities, for Bond's case is predicting the near future. But of course, there are still some limitations: the future can be altered, it is not fixed, as can be seen in Spy x Family episode 13-16, when Anya reading Bond's future predictions and changed it before Twilight was in danger.

And if you are asking what project Anya is experimented, is actually "nameless". Throughout the series and manga, the name of the project is currently unknown, and I, myself, am not sure if the Tatsuya-san will reveal it... Yet somehow, the Internet "said?" that there are the same name? That confused me???

Anyway, this hypothesis about Anya and Donovan has gone wild ever since, so let me explain.

We haven't known much about Demetrius, the only time he appeared was when Damian called him to meet their Father, which can be found in this scene (Chapter 37)

To know more about chapter 37 -> link (it's not that I'm lazy, this post already analyze full so idk what to add...)

About the scars, here are my predictions:

Maybe he really is related to the Project, since the mark of the stiches are pretty close to Anya's. And some are suspected that the ornaments on Anya's head could be a way to hide her scars from the experiments, or I think they are literally just accessories for her hair, like when she was small.

About the scientists, some said that after Anya escaped, the only "laboratory rat" managed to survive, they may be working on animals, like Bond, after that, as "hope" for science to save "world peace". And Donovan could be either an experiment like Anya, testing some sort of weird stuff on himself, or someone like the scientists who just got injured from, like idk, being attacked by his "laboratory animals". And I think that the chances of him being injured from war is very low, because he is the one to start war between Ostania and Westalis.

Are there any chances of Demetrius inherit the intelligence from Donovan? I think no. It's definitely not from the crazy ideas of his own father thinking of war, Ostania and Westalis are currently in the period of the Cold war, where there are no need for weapons, yet politicians are in a tense period, with the risk of war breaking out. True that his intelligence might be genetically inherited, but I can assure that both Damian and Demetrius may know nothing about what he was planning. So, uh, yeah, Demetrius is just that weird, and he is an introvert. You can tell how short his lines are when he was on the phone.

Off-and-bonus topic: I am very suspicious about their mother, Melinda. She first appeared officially in chapter 65, and the bus hijack incident of the Red Circus Arc. When Damian spoke about Donovan, her expression changed completely, as if she hated him deeply and want him gone from her sight. This could mean that she might know about what he was hiding, and probably she has an obsession to Damian, her sweet son~(?)

Look, she is so sus for hell sure. >:( But I'm not sure whether or not she is evil? Even Loid is aware of her now...

Also, take a very close look at the dialogue after the hijack (Chap 75):

She truly loves Damian, yet what we didn't realize that, his brother, Demetrius was not even mentioned in her interior monologue(?)/ mind. We also know that she calls Damian as a curse...: "I never should have come here... If only he'd died in the hijacking...", "If only I weren't burdened with this child...", "How he disgusts me...". At first when this chapter was out, I read this part and thought "he" that she mentioned was Donovan, and now, re-reading this, she was mentioning Damian. And I have no idea if she cares Demetrius more than Damian, or is it the opposite?

And finally, I bet she is hiding something from Damian... I mean, when Anya was mind-reading her, she was a bit scared. A scary obsession to Damian terrifyingly... maybe something about Donovan and the war between the 2 nations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message from the author (me): This is a very interesting topic! After I received your question, it took me several days to give you my answer which I think is most suitable and accurate, I do hope it is the answer you are looking for. Truly sorry for the long-time response, I was working with my final exams, so I can't answer you immediately.

Anyway, thank you for waiting and taking your time reading!🥰🥰🥰

[nogenderbee]

You have pet seelie named after them

You weren't hiding the fact that your seelie is named after them, they simply never asked you to this moment

⊱ it was time when you finally were about to move to another nation so of course you wanted to say goodbye to your boyfriend

⊱ right now you waited for Venti to come stop by the statue, so you played with your seelie meanwhile

"That's right Venti! Who's a good seelie?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm not a seelie, YN! Hehe"

⊱ it took him only your explaining to understand it and he didn't mind your seelie being named after him, quite the opposite

⊱ he talked with your seelie and told them to take care of you when he's not around

⊱ he even tried to give your seelie a sip of wine but... that's up to you if you let him do it or not

⊱ and next time you meet, he will ask the seelie if they took care of you and talk with them like he can't understand what they say

⊱ but on your adventures you discovered something interesting... does this seelie has anemo powers?! I think you will need to talk with Venti about this one...

⊱ you waited on top of Wangshu Inn for Xiao to end fighting some monsters so you two can have a date together

⊱ but while waiting on him, your seelie kept you company and you could play with them

"Do the trick! Congratulations, Xiao! Good job, come here!"

⊱ it just so happened that when you said that, Xiao was done so he literally moved your seelie out of his way and hugged you instead

⊱ when you explain to him that you named your seelie after him, he can react in two ways:

⊱ 1st: he will get jealous over the seelie which might look very funny to you + you'll get clingy Xiao

⊱ 2nd: he will try to teach your seelie how to fight so they can protect you when you're far away from him

⊱ so if one day you will see your seelie fighting by your side then you know who's behind it

⊱ Heizou promised to take you to some place, and told you to wait for him on bridge, and now your seelie came your company, and was doing everything to get your love and attention

"Alright, alright Heizou, my attention is on you!"

"I'm glad my mini version kept you company but I would prefer it if you give your attention to me."

⊱ your boyfriend figured it all out in a light speed, so now don't think that you can escape his teasing

⊱ but after he's done with teasing you, he will try to build up a bond with your seelie, after all it's named after him

⊱ he hates to admit it but sometimes he do get a little jealous over seelie because it always wants your attention, but your boyfriend also wants it!

⊱ you had come to Albedo's place to make sure he hasn't been overworking himself, but as Sucrose told you he's out exploring and she was about to leave too, so your seelie was the one to keep you company

⊱ you didn't mind waiting for your boyfriend and you had time to practice tricks you tried to teach your seelie

"And now up! Good job Albedo!"

"Thank you, but how did you knew about my trouble while exploring?"

⊱ you would have to explain to him that you were talking to your seelie and that you named them after him

⊱ Albedo is now interested why you did that and if your seelie really is somehow similar to him or is it just because of the color

⊱ if it's not just the color, he would be happy if you let him experiment a little bit with your seelie, but don't worry he won't hurt them

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 31

quick note first of all, would anyone be interested in me also doing a liveblog for 'The Unwanted Guest' as well as these remaining chapters?

and after three books we’re back on the Ninth where this all started. Kiriona’s putting on a bit of a show with the ‘Home sweet home’ thing, but it really can’t be pleasant returning to somewhere she spent an absolutely horrible childhood trying to escape, and without Harrow no less

this might genuinely be the first time there has ever been a dog on the Ninth, i don’t really see the cult of goth priests being big on pets

‘then again, i’m not sure of John period’ yeah me neither, quite frankly even after a book which spends half its page time detailing his backstory i’m still unsure about what exactly his plans and powers are

‘a string of fairy lights wouldn’t have gone amiss’ honestly given Harrow’s general penchant for interior bone design, i think she could be persuaded if the fairy lights were made out of actual bone somehow

ohh holy shit there was a good moment while reading that description of Gideon surrounded by corpses with blood on her sword that i fully thought that she’d come back to the Ninth on some weird revenge mission and just straight up murdered Crux

‘My lady, you have come home to us … at last’ why is this making me feel things for Crux of all people. like he has no idea about Nona, or that Harrow’s lost in the River, or anything she’s been through at all. all he knows is that she left for the First, became a Lyctor, and never communicated or came home again

oh great we’re returning to possibly the creepiest part of GtN with the weird ‘devil’ things. between the duel of the Third and Sixth and possession of Colum Asht, the second half of that book is suddenly becoming very relevant again. while Nona’s been living in a combination slice-of-life/war drama, Kiriona’s life seems to have taken a sharp turn into zombie apocalypse novel. fun!

i’m very intrigued about the little pieces of John and Gideon’s relationship that we get here, notably i think (if i remember correctly) that this is the first time she’s mentioned him as ‘Dad’, seemingly completely sincerely, unlike calling him ‘Pops’ at the end of HtN. and apparently he falsely reassured her that the devils were confined to Antioch, but Kiriona seems to have fully believed him and sounds genuinely upset that he apparently lied about it

wow Crux literally cannot stop hating on Gideon even when he’s actively fucking dying. on one level i can admire the commitment but dude, this level of beef with a literal teenager is ridiculous

‘there was a figure there - dark robes with a pale face’ okay i really can’t figure out what is with the weird stalker figure here. is it Nona having a hallucination of Harrow? just a strange description of one of the nuns?

Pyrrha apparently painted a mint green nursery here a long time ago, i assume for Anastasia’s kid, which would explain the weird remark about helping deliver a baby back in chapter 10. also this implies a version of the Ninth which was at one point not quite so dedicated to the doom-and-gloom-bones-and-death aesthetic, which feels inconceivable to me

well hello Aiglamene long time no see, this is a slightly more welcome return than Crux at least. ngl i really wasn’t expecting to see all these characters from the beginning of GtN again, but it’s interesting to catch up and see how little has really changed there despite all the events of the series

ohhh my god. this is not how i expected a reunion between Aiglamene and Gideon to go. Aiglamene seems so genuinely shaken by the fact that she’s dead, and the fact that she’s apparently very angry at Harrow on Gideon’s behalf, like !! she definitely seems to care about Gideon a lot more than she ever actually let on to her

‘Nona was deeply horrified to see actual walk-around skeletons’ i think Harrow would be mortally offended that anyone in her body could find skeletons horrifying

actually yknow what i take back what i said in GtN about Palamedes, Paul should absolutely not be a therapist with this bedside manner

‘You can’t take loved away’ uh, excuse me for a minute i need to sit in a corner and cry my heart out for a moment. this moment really feels like a summary of a lot of themes in the whole series

ok the final nail in the coffin for my emotional wellbeing at the end of this chapter is that Pyrrha did actually get a birthday present, one that she’ll never be able to give her. here i am completely distraught over cheap moustache rides what have you done to me Tamsyn Muir

istg at least some part of Nona needs to live on. like c’mon Gideon died at the end of the first book and she’s still kicking, Nona can do it too. once again it is nearly the end of a Locked Tomb book and i am in severe denial about probably permanent character death

[rickybaby]

#miss those simple times when he could crack a silly joke and not have ten articles written about whether he’s serious about f1 or not :((

no but can we talk about how much he had to shrink himself after 2022? It’s crazy like he was having fun in 2023 but he was very restrained and you could tell it was…filtered. Corporate. Not him. Even when he tried to crack a joke (eat shit was very tame imo) or stir the pot (re lando v max) his comments got dissected to hell and the hate comments. They even tried to get Felipe Massa mad at him.

the car video he posted 2 days ago. That was Daniel. That was the Daniel i got obsessed with from DTS. That was the Daniel I heard about. Cocky. Big dick. Manspreading. But hot about it. Sometimes I wonder maybe this violent separation from a sport that didnt appreciate him as much as he loved it was a necessary evil. Maybe this was what Daniel needed to realize that. No bitch. YOU are the CUNT. You are HIM. Never shrink never surrender.

I don’t know how to really explain this, but I think Daniel Ricciardo is this odd ball of dichotomies. He has this ability to be so authentically himself and yet, still somehow be this persona. I think it all goes back to his toro rosso days when Jevs admitted that his career suffered a lot because he had this always-smiling positive Daniel to contend with. It’s also what the red bull people said about him as well — how he came into the team in 2014 and just lifted everybody’s spirit with his positivity in what was a tough season for them. And perceptive little Daniel would have realised that if he was always the nice positive guy, they’d always like him.

And then he started winning and the more daring overtakes he did on track, the more he played into the whole laid-back arrogance. The whole red bull PR machinery played such a big role into making him look like the guy who did everything effortlessly except that at his core, he was still the overly anxious guy who kept having to work really hard to do what he did. Maybe the interesting thing for me about Daniel is that the more he faked it, the more he did become this supremely confident person. He fed off the admiration of people to truly become this cocky guy that had this unshakable confidence in himself that give him ANY car and he was going to drive it real fast.

But then 2021 comes around and things are not as easy however hard he tries and so he reaches for his funny persona because it’s his protective mechanism. That first half of 2021, you can literally see him come to the realisation that people had come to resent him for being ‘funny’ and he’s spent the years since trying to escape that image he himself actively created just to prove he was serious about this sport. Despite all that, he stood there in Abu Dhabi in 2022 and tried to show that more vulnerable side of him, but even then, people still rejected him. And he tried so hard to please so many different people - his team that wanted him to be charming Daniel for the sponsors, his team that wanted him to show he was trying really really hard, the fans that wanted the old Daniel back, the vultures in the media that wanted him to show he was serious (whatever that actually is) that ultimately it simply became easier to stop sharing so much of himself.

And now that he’s walked away because, in all the mess of his last weekend in the sport, he did choose himself above all else and that was his way of reclaiming a bit of himself in a way. And now he gets to choose which Daniel he wants to be and when you’re free of the people who tried to limit you, it’s easy to go back and find that guy who used to swing his dick about. It’s easy to remember that you could once again be THE cunt.