#where he lives but that's really not relevant to this)

[emitowrites]

Ok so part of this, to me at least, was that I didn't realise I was queer for such a long time? I mean, genuinely, my frontal lobe was fully developed and I still hadn't even worked out that I was pansexual. It took me reading gay fanfics in my mid-twenties to even come out to myself!

All along, I was a very ardent ally, I had so many gay friends, I lived in the gayest place I could find (Brighton, I love youuu), and I even wrote queer songs (although I've only worked out that's what they were since) and, really, that should have been the rainbow flag, right?

All straight girls think other girls are beatiful, don't they? We all have debilitating infatuations on our female friends, right? All straight women drunkenly make out with random pretty girls in clubs, right? Every straight girl prefers gay clubs so that random straight men won't hit on them (valid and fair, tbh)... and, it's not just an excuse because that's where all the beautiful, out girls go???? And all straight girls have beautiful female friends that they go on (for all intents and purposes) dates with, right?

No, turns out that that's all being very, extremely 🏳️‍🌈 G A Y 🏳️‍🌈.

Like, in all honesty, I had never read a queer book in my life. I grew up in the 90's, there were no queer books available to me. I'm also autistic (although I didn’t know that until this year, what can I say… I’m a late bloomer!), and I just assumed that either that's how everyone felt or it was just another way I was different. So, it wasn't until I randomly started reading gay fanfics online (queer, pining, internal viewpoints a-plenty) that I had to face the fact that perhaps I wasn't just an ally.

I was twenty-fucking-seven, for fucks sake.

I've never even come out to my family because it's not really relevant to them as I'm in a long-term straight-facing relationship. I only started telling my friends if/when I wanted. My current partner was part of the reason I worked it all out, and my hunch that he was a good egg was confirmed when he was totally chill when I came out to him.

So, yeah, it was only through fanfic explorations of queer-coded characters that my brain was like 'oh... that's how I feel, too... wait...!?!?!?!?!'. And, like, I don't pretend to be the smartest person, but holy fucking shit Emi???? How oblivious could I be?

I suddenly had these characters I could read about that experienced the same feelings as me, and it all clicked for me. I'm pretty autistic and I have always found people hard to read, but I hadn't realised that that would extend to even myself?

So, yeah, gay love stories are really important to other gay people. But they're also super important to completely oblivious idiots who perhaps need to have a big chat with themselves.

No you don't understand how important the gay people in my phone are to me

[silliest-sideblog]

New Years Kiss

Pairing: Etho/Tango

Length: 1k words

A/N: It's technically New Years here already and I wanted to post this before people are heading out. So here's another little Slabtek fic, this time for new years eve!

Technically it's set after my other fic "Just a little distraction" but it's not relevant. I just wanted to write something indulgent for the holidays.

Happy New Years everyone, hope I can get even more writing done next year!

Etho and Tango sit in the reiling of the steampunk blimp that looms above Tango's still unfinished factory, looking towards where Cub is hosting a large fireworks show with the help of some of the others. There's food and people are talking and laughing.

Almost everyone is there, but not these two.

Of course they love their friends and enjoy spending time with them but it's already so noisy and crowded at times and right now they prefer the quiet of it all. Plus Tango insists the view from up here is so much better than being up close.

They sit, legs dangling, and just watch over the server for a while. It's a comfortable silence around them, without the need to fill it.

Tango got out his notepad occasionally to write down some idea or another that went through his head, telling Etho about it as he writes.

Neither of them has a clock on them and they don't know how late it is.

Eventually, Etho breaks the silence."So when do we get sappy and talk about the past year?"

The smile is audible in his voice and Tango doesn't even need to look up to see the way his eyes crinkle slightly alongside it.

"We don't have to if you don't wanna" he just offers in return. Neither of them is the type for this kind of stuff anyway.

Etho shrug and they sit in silence once more but now that Etho mentioned it once, Tango is of course thinking about it anyway.

"It sure was a year. Thought I would've gotten more done" Tango sighs. He's now looking down at his unfinished factory. "Thought I'd at least have that thing done a bit more done by now. Instead I spent half the year in a hole and the other half fixing this mess." he laughs sorely.

Etho gently kicks against his boot.

"You got everyone addicted to your game. Again." he throws in and Tango knows that it's not just to cheer him up.

"Only took me what? 5 months? And even then it was kind of a mess. All the bugs and so much that went wrong..."

A beat later, "Sorry. Didn't want to spend the last few minutes of the year being miserable" Tango says but he can't help the slight smile in his voice because Etho knows how he is. And Tango knows that Etho doesn't mind; that sometimes Tango needs to talk himself down, let out an annoyed sigh at himself and get to it. But there's not really a getting to it now on New Year's now, is there?

But the sigh already helps enough.

"What about you? Happy with this one?" Tango asks, changing the subject away from himself. Funny thing how neither of them can stand bring the focus for too long.

"Sure, could say that." Etho says but doesn't really elaborate.

Many good things have happened for the both of them. They made games for their friends and had the joy of watching them play and laugh. Struggle and get better.

Etho got over himself and built a roof for his house, something he's at least decently happy with.

Tangos factory is, despite the flaws he's deeply unhappy with, quite the impressive piece of redstone work.

The time they spent with everyone, laughing and learning from each other, watching their friends grow and live alongside them.

Neither of them says it out loud but that's what's been filling this year for them.

Another thing they don't say out loud, not earlier, not right now, is them. For a few months now they have been closer than ever before and since that one afternoon in the redstone of Hungry Hermits...

Things have changed between them, kisses have been stolen away, nights spent at the others, mostly Etho's, base; Tango's starter house being mostly unused at this point.

Still they haven't talked about it. Why would they? It's not like that would change anything.

Or it would. It would put expectations up, and Tango doesn't know if he's ready for that.

What would Etho even expect from him? Dates? Kissing? To tell other people?

Tango is lost in his own thoughts, he barely hears Etho's question.

"How long do you think we still have till midnight?"

"Huh?" Tango looks up at him, taking a moment to register the question and as his brain catches up and he wants to reply, the fireworks are beginning to light up the night sky.

And Tango can't take his eyes off Etho, his face illuminated by the flickering lights all over the night sky.

What would be expected of them? Shouldn't they kiss now?

Does it matter what's expected of them?

"Happy new year, Etho" Tango says with a bright smile as he realizes it doesn't matter.

He can see Etho return the expression, see it in his eyes, his eyebrows, the way his cheeks move under the mask.

Carefully, Tango reaches out and pulls on the fabric and Etho doesn't stop him. He never has.

Slowly their lips meet, as if they're making this something special.

Tango smiles into the kiss. He wouldn't have expected to be the type of person who enjoys something as dumb as a kiss on new years but here he is. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Of course it feels silly and cheesy and neither of them really need it. But maybe that is part of the charm.

Once Tango pulls back he cant stop grinning at Etho. And that grin doesn't vanish when the taller one starts leaning his head on Tango's shoulder, slouching slightly to get comfortable.

Tango's tail wraps around his waist affectionately and he hears Etho say quietly, "Happy New Year, Tango."

[sleepy-grav3]

Glitching issue

So I was getting distracted again. I heard Masochism Tango and Stalker's Tango, wanted a yandere playlist with intense ballroom songs, that types of thing.

And then I thought of another story idea for my current hyperfixation: DCxDP

One of my favorite ships in that fandom is Dead Tired/Brain Dead, cause I love them... so much...

Anyway-

With the context of the yandere ballroom playlist, you should know where I'm going. And I read a few fics/prompts/whatever else you'd call them where it portrays a normally pretty toxic relationship but they're actually in a really healthy relationship.

There was one about mutual stalking, another with kidnapping shenanigans, one that mentioned attempted deprogramming- you get it. (don't ask me for them, I don't know what they're called and there's too much to sift through to find them, very sorry, do feel free to reblog/comment the authors of them or ones that hold some relevance)

But yeah, now I'm making a fic with a playlist as storyline inspiration. Idk the layout yet.

1 Long Chapter : 1 Song

or

Story Arc (probably short) : 1 Song

Always a 1:1 ratio, maybe a special 2 songs here and there? Not sure.

But so far!!! I have the usual: Masochism Tango and Stalker's Tango.

Got the Cell Block Tango ready. El Tango de Roxanne will be there too. I got some waltzes and looking into other types of rhythms like them. Tango, Waltz, thinking about Salsa and Swing, got a few others too

Looking into some less yandere themed songs since I can't solely do it on yandere themes. I want it to be drama filled but with some healthy doses of attraction, y'know?

Yeah, that whole thing is going on a headcannon and an idea.

Ghosts feel things more strongly, so some unhealthy things to humans are meh or minimum level things to ghosts. Because of this, Danny's a bit unhealthy in what he considers love (his vigilante life didn't help with that, especially with Vlad), but his human side keeps it more on the downlow

There's a different species of beings that are immortal in a way: The Undying. Life loves them or they're obsessed with Life. Tim is one of the only true Undying. They're as rare as true Halfas.

So... yeah. Love this little idea. Been working on it for a few hours now. And I need help. Song recommendations mostly, storyline ideas are welcome.

I'll be posting a playlist once I get it all sorted out, chronologically, and the outline of the story put up. The summary will be a genuine summary and not just some background info or a quick sentence like I usually do.

But I want a happy ending. No bittersweet, no hurt/barely any or no comfort, no fully angst-

I need some kind of betrayal for someone to go to jail TvT

Will it be Tim or Danny? Who fits best as a viewer for Cell Block Tango, just casually listening to people talk about killing (and that one framed murder).

Who's the one that lives off the thrill of getting hurt (I'm thinking more of the bdsm way, but also the "I'll only let you hurt me" type of way too? Doesn't have to be physical or verbal or even intentional... I'm making this sound worse-)

I got this one part for the Roxanne one

The yandere is "cheating", no idea if it's fake or a previous relationship, or whatever. still under planning for that.

And the "victim" is the one who's begging the yandere to not deceive them. Maybe they've been lied to a bunch of times, maybe they really don't want false hope, maybe they're fine with an open relationship as long as the yandere doesn't leave- idk, but the "victim" is the one who's pulling the strings during then.

I'm trying to think of who's the other person, the yandere, and the "victim". Who's who? Not sure. And how does it fit with the rest of the songs too... Ugh, I really should just do oneshots T^T But I can't at the moment, not with the ideas-

So yeah

Ideas? Song recommendations? Character ideas? Scene prompts????

Please?

Oh, and this post is named glitching because it broke my fucking computer. I don't have a mouse anymore. Luckily, it's touchscreen and the keyboard still works. Still annoying though

[lightningant]

Severus Snape thoughts

I've prodded him with my thoughts before but now I need to post through it. Because he's my princess.

I think a lot of what makes Snape so complex (and so compelling) is that he is neither a good person nor a just person. He really is beefing with that 11-year-old. He really did scoff at Albus saying that he would protect Harry because he cares about him. (LMAO, btw). He really is just a horrible guy, which honestly makes his efforts that much more brave and noble!

When we see the Prince's Tale, Severus Snape personally curates his timeline to showcase his bigotry to Harry. He specifically isolates moments where his antipathy for muggles is contrasted with his love for Lily. He does not show Harry his home life, or how much Lily liked him, he is on topic: I hated muggles, but I loved her. And then he isolates a moment where Lily finally explains how troubled she is by his friends, and he cuts off whatever teen drama motivated her to say it. He shows his worst memory again, something he was shaking with rage and fear at Harry discovering. He shows the aftermath of him grovelling.

And after that is the timeskip. His feelings are not relevant. In fact, all of his memories may as well be from Lily's perspective. It is significant that all his memories are essentially from Lily's perspective.

What Snape was showcasing to Harry is that he knows that he was not listening to her. He knows he was being patronizing, that he prioritized his exclusive access to her over feelings, that he treated her beliefs as if they were irrelevant or biased.

Snape took on a patron-like relationship with Lily, teaching her wizarding culture and presumably acting as the source of her incredible potions ability (despite her expertise clearly being charms). He most definitely assumed that in the Dark Lord's new order, people like Lily would be coveted for their magical skill alone, and he would not really care if the Death Eaters executed Lily's parents and sister because they're just muggles.

And then she is murdered for protecting Harry Potter too well. She is disposable. He had to have heard it. She's just a mudblood.

Snape gives himself no excuses in the Prince's Tale. He did not include what he did for her in his memories, because he prided himself in uplifting her star and probably still does, and the memories in that bottle exhibited his shame. He provides no context which might paint himself in a better light. He is giving Harry his remorse, with raw, open honesty. 'Here is where I went wrong.'

Snape's character is that of someone who is bearing the excruciating burden of not only being responsible for the death of a loved one, but silently de-radicalizing himself, all alone, while still on the inside. He lives in his muggle house. He intentionally repaired the link between his current self and his shameful muggle origins in order to acknowledge the way he treated muggles was wrong and the way he treated Lily was unforgivable. He won't even let paintings use slurs.

There is a temptation to polish his image, to say he was justified or uniquely victimized, without acknowledging Snape is messy and cruel has always been fundamentally incapable of empathy, yet he has passionate feelings on doing the right thing. He spent 10 years making an active choice to be a good person, a thing that does not come naturally to him. The point of the Prince's Tale is that it does not come naturally to him!!!!! And he does it anyway!!!!!!

He doesn't want Harry to die because he's the last thing he has left of Lily (🙄), but because the right thing to do, the Lily thing to do, is to not raise a boy for slaughter, let alone her boy.

[prodixal]

Sinking deeper into his chair, the air of usual cockiness that surrounds him all but disappears. There was a strange sort of relief to be had, in his sisters company, when their conversations turned serious and raw. And he wished they'd allowed themselves more such moments, perhaps if they had, things would have turned out different. Better. Easier.

"I should think Vaelora has more than enough soft things to protect, dear sister. Perhaps what they needs is someone stern enough to rely on as they take care of everything and everyone around them." his index lifts gently from the cup to point her way, as he held it over an arm of his seat. "And you very much are that person." Varyn was certain if Vaelora could find it in them to trust her, then love would come with ease. With necessity. "You are in no need of my advice, nor my opinion, but I shall offer the latter freely nonetheless. So that you may do with it as you please." he did not need her snapping again.

"Mother used to say a head needed its neck. To rest upon, to turn it the right way." he did not know why such a thought occurred to him, only that it did. "And the head above your proverbial neck shall hold extra weight in its crown. She should need...a sturdy neck, a neck she can trust, rely on." his voice is calm, quiet, tired. "Just be their equal. Show them your fire --- a dragon will love you for it. Else I fear..." he tilts his head, leaning forward, placing the cup atop the low table beside him. "You might never get what you're after. Vaelora might be many things, but stupid is not one of them, and should you wish to hide --- they'll know." that much, he was certain. Cersha was good, but she was not good enough to deceive someone who could see through people like they were made of lace. "But who am I? To offer such thoughts to you anyway, huh dear sister?"

Deep down, beneath the gaping black hole where the heart should be - and several layers of selfishness, arrogance and pride - Varyn really did feel the two to be a perfect match. Vaelora had the passion, and the urge to do 'better' than her mother. To do right by people and the crown. Vaelora loved their family, their friends, their name. Vaelora was of good heart, with a strong mind, and a kind of warmth that Cersha shied away from. -- Cersha had the strong intellect, the long lasting desire to for power and rule. She too cared for her family, her name, the crown. To put it simply, Vaelora and Cersha complimented one another in almost every relevant way. So Varyn did not worry, that love would blossom from their union in time, should they both be willing to put aside their differences and open up to that possibility.

But this would remain a private thought.

At her dissection of happiness, fulfilment -- victory, he is thoroughly lost in thought. Varyn had never looked at it that way. For she was right. Happiness was fleeting. An emotion that changed with each candle mark. But victory, glory, a sense of fulfilment? Those were constant. Something to hold on to when sadness, or anger or disappointment strike, and something to relish and be grateful for, in moments of joy.

He would adopt that mindset, perhaps, or study it more up close in days to come. He had much to think about. For his life right now, had consisted of chasing happiness at any cost. Chasing comfort. Chasing emotions so fleeting that even while he had them, part of him always awaited their demise. It was no way to live. But he was also undisciplined, and thirsty of instant gratification.

Such thirst was precisely the reason for his current unfortunate predicament. And he had no one but himself to blame.

As the word 'curious' leaves Cersha's lips, he will frown. "I'm not --" a rookie mistake. "I'm not defending her. It is simply facts. Up until a moment ago you seemed to be fond of those." he should know better than to try reason his way out of this one. It was far too late for that.

What comes next, out of the mouth of his sister, leaves even his own jaw ajar. He knew her to be calculating, to be cold -- but he had never seen the sheer depth of her ruthlessness. He had almost, strangely so, admired it?

"The child lives." the words are quick, defensive, certain. And while he desired nothing more than to believe his sister was willing to do all of this for him, he had also known better. And he made note, not to ever cross her in his life again. The stakes were higher now, and the space for mistakes was growing smaller with every step Cersha took towards her ultimate goal.

Varyn shudders, at the decision he knows he's about to make, and his stomach turns as the heaviness of reality and impending responsibility weighs upon his tired shoulders. "I will marry her. And it shall be as you say."

CERSHA'S EYES ROLL SPECTACULARLY AT HER BROTHER'S EXCUSE FOR A JOKE . it is with a sigh that she moves to pinch at the bridge of her nose , that she replies , " whatever you need tell yourself , varyn ." despite spending near the entirety of her life with him , cersha could never understand the appeal of her brother . as much affection as she may grudgingly have for him it was mind boggling , truly . varyn was varyn , she saw him nakedly as he was and had no other choice but to accept him as that , after all , their blood demanded it . however , all others had a choice in this . and yet they chose varyn regardless . chose not to see the facade that was right in front of them . admittedly , it was times like these that leave cersha quite sure that all those around her were fools . she was sure that if the shoe was on the other foot she could see through varyn with ease . however , she supposes he would say the same for her . perhaps in some ways it was simply a byproduct of their upbringing . " i am not acting like a nervous fool ." cersha tone is near exasperated as she drops her hand , as she squints at him in vague annoyance before arching her brows to add , " this is actually a quite unfamiliar process to you called coherent thought . i hope that you might experience it at some point in the future , but at this point i do quite sincerely doubt it ." vaelora was a puzzle that cersha could solve . she was quite sure of it . after all , she had yet to come across a puzzle she couldn't solve . she'd be damned if the one she failed to was the dragon she was set to wed . " if necessary i intend to play a long game in order to obtain the power i have sought all my life , varyn , yes . perhaps the performance may not be needed forever , and perhaps it may not be absolute . but some part of vaelora seems to wish for something soft to protect . do i appear to be that to you ?" cersha snaps in annoyance at her brother's jabs , her eyes rolling with a scoff as he continues . it is with efficiency that she reaches for the nearest object to throw at him . luckily for him it happens to be the pillow on the chair she is sat at . " yes , well , i do not care what you want , varyn . thankfully , might i add ." she makes a face at him as she turns her attention back to her goblet , lifting it to add , " in fact , i'd rather delight in emulating the exact opposite of what you may want in a sister just to vex you further ." it occurs to her suddenly that she truly had no idea how the targaryens seemed to get along so well . did they not irritate each other ? was it all an act ? at the current moment she is quite sure she would trade her brother for an apple tart . " ah , yes , i am sure you are quite familiar with the later ." cersha brings her goblet to her lips with a roll of her eyes . it is only after a delicate sip that she brings her goblet back down to say , " i am quite familiar with the thin line between love and hate , varyn . however , it would be quite a gamble for me to emulate everything vaelora hates and expect her to love me . i do not particularly enjoy gambling with my fate where it is not necessary . leaving my wife-to-be's love for me up to the gods and chance ." a twist of her lips . " how can i trust in such things ? i trust in me , varyn ." a huff . " and if there is a surer path to victory i will take it ." an arch of her brows as her eyes meet his squarely . "so unless there is need to pivot —  to gamble — the plan will stay the same ."

despite herself , cersha can't say she's entirely unaffected by varyn's confidence . while she would do what she wished either way , and while her own confidence wouldn't waver for it , the belief that her family had in her only added to her pride . she would rather swallow a sword than admit it of course . but there was something to be said about having someone in her corner . cersha was notably not alone . lions move in packs after all . so she lets him tap his goblet to hers with a nod , her eyes sure until she is blinking at the strange question . her brows furrow . " happiness is fleeting , varyn ." cersha says simply as she moves to take a sip from her goblet . " i could be happy in the next candle mark and then deeply angry in the next two ." a shrug . " i'm sure there will be joy after my goal is achieved but what i know there will be is satisfaction . fulfilment ." cersha's spine straightens a bit then , a steely glint of triumph in her eyes as she says , " victory . that is more important than mere happiness to me ." she shrugs as she waves a hand dismissively . " and i'm sure happiness will come with it ." winning was something that cersha had become used to . it was a driving force . a goal , in all things . she would be victorious . she would be better . she would outsmart the competition , and then , once she stood on top of the defeated she would laugh at them from above . better . smarter . superior . after all , it is only the best who could seize what they wanted . and cersha was that . it was because she was the best that she was well suited to be queen . she was sure of it . and it was not merely a prize , her skills made her aligned with the position . once she was queen she would cement herself in history as the best at that too . after all, who was her competition . visenya ? it was laughable . she would trump viserys too whilst she was at it . aegon the first as well . and whoever else laid before her . in all honestly , it was fortuitous that cersha was in this position . if she wasn't perhaps she would be fighting for the spot of head of house . she may as well be , with how much of the family mess she took on . as varyn speaks her fingers come up to rub her temples . " enough . you disgust me and any more talk of your preferences in your conquests will have me prepared to lose the contents of my stomach ." cersha says as she brings her hand back down to her goblet , her finger trailing up and down the stem . her brows arch tiredly as her brother continues , her tone blunt as she says , " you see fit to defend her ?" cersha studies him briefly , before she's turning her attention to her wine with a simple, " how curious ." it is something to take note of , cersha supposes . her judgement was absolute in all things . very few were free from it . but it was interesting to note the individuals that people tried to shield from it . it spoke to innerworkings ; vulnerabilities . cersha takes note . if not for her own knowledge , then perhaps for varyn's sake . " yes , well , again i did expect you to father a thousand bastards ." cersha's eyes roll . " i suppose i should only be glad that it has taken this long . although , who's to say ? i certainly would not put it passed you to have more in the shadows , dear brother . perhaps some you are still even wholly unaware of ." another sigh as raises her goblet to take another healthy gulp . it is only once she's put the goblet back down and licked her lips of the bitterness that she says , " if i were truly anticipating my own stress i would have had you castrated long ago and been done with it ." it feels almost like an act of affection that she doesn't . after all , it was only the most logical of solutions , even if it were perhaps a bit messy . however , even now when varyn presumably has a heir to succeed him and will have little need for other children to follow , it is not an option she even truly entertains . she supposes love really does blind you .

cersha studies her brother as he speaks , her eyes scrutinizing as they scan every inch of his face from the way his eyes avoid hers to the careful sip of wine he takes . cersha studies thoroughly and files away . cersha takes only a moment to bask in the position of power she holds in this moment . at the act of her brother needing her help and asking for it . for a younger sister this was quite something to brag over . if only it wasn't also so deeply frustrating . " if she loves the child , then we can use that to our advantage ." cersha says simply then , tone cool with rationale as she eyes her brother with a hawklike gaze . her brow arches . " we can take quite a literal approach to that and threaten said child . a mother's instincts are usually quite predictable ." cersha shrugs as she moves to take a sip from her goblet . " 'speak on this and you both shall suffer' is a simple enough solution , so that is an option ." she gestures to her brother with her goblet then , meeting his eyes to say , " however , if we truly wanted to be rid of the problem , the child could die ." another shrug . " however , if it is tied back to us that may make enemies of the daynes , and that would be rather unfortunate . but it does close the book on this , if that is what you prefer ." cersha hums thoughtfully . she swirls the wine in her goblet with lazy twists of her wrist . she has little intention to actually kill a child . after all , such a thing was truly a last resort . death was a messy option . it left trails of blood in its wake and unless one was very , very careful that trail tended to lead towards equally bloody hands . cersha was very careful . but even still . " however , if this woman loves you or if you can make her love you , as you seem to so freely boast about ." cersha's eyes roll as she waves a hand dismissively towards her brother . " then make her love you anew . come to her in the night in the picture of romance and profess sweet nothings to her ." cersha gestures with her goblet . " tell her you have made a grave mistake and wish to be a family , that this all made you realize the error of your ways ; whatever it takes , you understand . and once you have been sufficiently convincing , get on a knee and propose . in private of course ." cersha meets varyn's eyes pointedly . " and once that is done we will have you both wed . secretly of course . i can have the papers forged to reflect a different date , that is of little consequence . you can both announce it after the announcement of my own betrothal . you will not steal this moment from me , varyn ." cersha makes sure to meet her brothers eyes pointedly again as she gestures to him with her goblet . " ... and once that is done you can spin the tale that you were both so deeply in love that you married during your time in dorne ." the words are accompanied with nonsensical flourishes of her hand , cersha's tone becoming mocking as she mimics the fools that surround her as she says , " and would you look ! such love has resulted in such a beautiful child ! oh hurrah , oh hurray . wine ! celebration !" another roll of cersha's eyes before she shrugs and says , " and with that it is done and you are a father , varyn . congratulations ." it is with a sigh that cersha sits back in her seat , brow arching as she looks at her brother then . there is a curious part of her that wants to test his own judgement . her brows arch . " so , what will it be then ? threat , death , or marriage ?"

[greensaplinggrace]

one of my favorite domestic darkling headcanons is that he’d join the local old ladies’ knitting club and have a blast gossiping with them and causing untold chaos

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Half-formed thought here, but. Usually in my mind I assume that the topic of Abigail goes almost completely unspoken between Will and Hannibal post-canon, but... man. What if they were even more unhinged about it than that. Like, what if they displayed a massive portrait of her on the mantlepiece or something, as a symbol of Will getting Hannibalpilled and buying into the idea that her death was a sad but inevitable consequence of the force of nature that is Hannibal. And then everyone who visited the house assumed she was just a beloved relative of one of them or something, without knowing anything about the details of how she died (or even that she was dead). And whatever murder buddies/protégés/frenemies/pseudo-children/sexy little thirds/[whatever unholy combination of those things] Will and Hannibal acquired would piece together some very idealized understanding of her as the Perfect Dead Sister-Daughter that they could never measure up to, whose ghostly presence hangs over them... and then coming to the very macabre discovery that Hannibal was the one who killed her! I think that'd be neat.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #30: Preparation

Masterlist

content: no warnings :)

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It was a lot like planning for a vacation, but more stressful. For Heather, at least. Her packing had the frantic, frenzied pace of a burrowing shrew. She came up with a list of things to bring: clothes, food, money, a weapon—better safe than sorry, she told him—coats, water, more food? Toothbrushes, soap, sedatives—she wouldn’t offer an explanation for this one—buy gas, gloves, boots, and so on.

Jackie certainly wasn’t taking this any more seriously than a vacation. He hadn’t gone outside in a while, and besides that, he hadn’t left the vicinity of Heather's house for several months now. He found himself curious as to what it’d be like. Had the world changed at all while he was gone? No longer was he privy to the knowledge free men took for granted. News never reached his secluded life. He wouldn't know if there was high water coming or if the Swedes landed on the sun.

Like Heather, he also packed a few things. Nothing impressive. A new book from Heather’s shelf—something by Oscar Wilde about a portrait—alongside his clothes, a pencil and paper, the dollar bill he'd taken from Matthew, and one of Heather’s old backpacks to carry it all. 

On the second day, she also handed him a heavy, black wool coat. It went a few inches below his hips, and was studded by brass buttons all along the front. 

“I think it looks good,” she offered.

It did look very intimidating in the mirror. He pulled the coat off and shrugged. Petty things like vanity no longer appealed to him. There was no time for such luxuries. He could remember being invested in his appearance, long ago. He missed being able to care about stupid things. He missed buying his own clothes. Heather’s fashion sense was okay, but it wasn’t the same.

There was also the matter of the cop, with his warning of returning in two weeks or so. Evidence was key, and they needed it gone. With a gallon of gasoline and an old firepit in the yard, Heather burned the tapes, the cassette recorder, the polaroids of Jackie’s open chest and exposed organs, hell, even the ropes. It all went up in flames, went black and curled around the edges, until there was only a pile of ash and char. She cleaned the blood off her tools and gutted the house of stains from the inside-out. 

The third day arrived with a flurry of snow outside. The intensity of the sun was wholly unfamiliar to Jackie, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. They shoved their luggage into the back of the car. Jackie was happy to learn that he could sit in the front.

“What?” she said when he let out a sigh of relief. “Did you think I’d keep you in the trunk?”

He laughed at this, but it was an uneasy smile he wore. It was hard to tell with her. What sorts of things she found ridiculous, and what lines she wasn’t opposed to crossing. 

Still, things were generally okay. He was safe. He was out of the silence, out of the isolation, and he felt okay. He felt happy. Before this, his happiness was brief and based on whatever small luxury could distract him. Maybe a painkiller, maybe a break from the tests. But his happiness now was more of a pervading contentment. It was a constant, heavy high in his heart, felt in the far edges of his soul.

Although he had found it redundant, Heather had an idea with strings of thread. Before they left, she taped up a string near the front door, and also to the hallway’s entrance. This, she informed him, would reveal if anybody had come in and searched the house. The thread would snap easily when someone walked through it. It wasn’t clear what the benefit of this knowledge was, if she would go to jail either way, but it seemed to calm Heather down a bit.

The wind scratched at Jackie’s face when he stuck his head out the window. The flecks of falling snow pierced his skin. The cold stung his eyes, making them water. He didn’t care. The feeling of movement and freedom was exhilarating. Heather started the car with a jerk of the gear shift. And off they went, out of the house, into whatever lay behind the highways and empty roads.

He rolled the window up after a while, then turned to her. “How long are we leaving for?”

“Three weeks.” Her grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to nearly bruise. “Longer, if we need to.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions, I’m going to be sick.”

Indeed, her expression had not shifted from dull panic. There were dark circles under her eyes. Something played on the radio, but the melody was too quiet to recognize. She turned it off with a small, barely noticeable frown. 

Jackie left the subject alone and leaned his face against the window. This was the best day of his life, he thought. 

The sky was starting to turn black. They left the house late, to draw as little suspicion as possible. Streetlights shone like cat’s eyes on the sides of the road, streaky and long with motion. He thought he saw a few people, passing by, their faces blurry and indistinct. There were trees, pines with bristling needles, bare birches, old oaks. Snow stained the sidewalks in shades of dirty white. There were one or two other cars, but not many. Maybe it was a holiday. Maybe it was Christmas.

“What’s the date?” he asked.

“I told you, stop asking—” The tension eased from her shoulders, but only slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Well, he could wait. He was good at waiting. Jackie wondered how long he had been waiting, locked down there—it could have been weeks or years, and he would never know. But that was behind him, now. That was in the past. He could file it away with all his other bad memories. There was no point in dwelling on it. He had lived, and he would continue to live, and that was all. It was nothing to worry about.

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Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

@whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation

@creppersfunpalooza

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(*・ω・*)b♪

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