#why you gotta go resurrect him

[ghosts-and-glory]

Some Narinder character analysis for y’all.

This is a slightly re-edited excerpt from a much longer post of mine where I was specifically trying to provide a rebuttal to someone else. I’m kinda proud of some of my takes here and the write up took me hours so I’m gonna repost it here on its own.

I’m going into specifically into Narinder’s

Speech patterns and way of expressing emotions.

Implications of his post defeat dialogue

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Feelings on Ratau’s death

And a little extra on why do we “babygirl” Narinder

Full analysis under the cut.

The way Narinder expresses his positive feelings

First I gotta establish Narinder’s voice. Narinder seems almost incapable of giving a genuine compliment especially without turning it into something about himself.

Here’s three examples of him giving a complement to The Lamb. Taken from after defeating Amdusias and Shamura. He also complements The Lamb when you sacrifice Ratau but I’ll come back around to that.

I wanted to grab the entire quotes so it didn’t look like I was nitpicking.

"Very good, my vessel. It seems I chose well when I kept you from Death.”

First example, “very good,” is the complement, but immediately after he takes credit for this by calling you “my vessel” thereby claiming ownership over you. His vessel did well. And again “I chose well” doubled down and complemented himself.

“I admit, you have worn it (the red crown) almost as well as I could have myself.”

Again we see the complement layered in ego. “Almost as well as I” in other words you did well, but don’t forget I’m better. Also important to draw attention to is “I admit” this is a very explicit statement of his refusal to acknowledge the success of others.

"Your appetite for death is something I can admire, Vessel. But the Crown is mine, and none - NONE - are worthy. None other than I.”

Here he almost lays down a complement. “Your appetite for death is something I can admire” straight up, states his admiration. He seems to almost realize what he’s done and quickly pulls back into his ego, “But the crown is mine” “-none are worthy- None other than I.”

These are the three of the four ONLY times that Narinder ever says anything explicitly positive about someone else when he is a god. Thus establishing that the head ass cannot give out a compliment to save his life. The one time he gives you full credit for your actions he immediately pulls right back into his ego.

I cannot stress this enough. Someone who is characterized as cold and emotionally closed off as Narinder is WILL NOT suddenly undo this characteristic when they try and express a positive feeling.

Okay with that established we can look at his follower dialogue. Specifically these two examples from when you resurrect a follower and allow him to go on a mission.

“I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself.”

Literally saying I don’t resent you for taking my place. It’s not an explicit statement that he respects you but this is he weird fucked up little way of saying it. Of course he still lays it out in a way that’s self centred but we know from the way he has spoken that this is about as much verbal praise he is capable of giving.

The other one is a less explicit statement but I think it’s a interesting reflection of the final place of his character.

“…my thanks, Lamb.”

Being his last bit of unique dialogue, it’s an incredible ending to a character. He thanks you. That’s all he needed to say.

Narinder’s reaction to his defeat that he would rather die.

Let’s go over his dialogue in some depth.

"You weak, snivelling, foul thing. You - wait! Waaaiiiiiit!"

I’m starting with this line as it compels me the most. I find that there are two separate readings of this and I can’t really point to one above the other. On my play through I had assumed his wailing was more in reference to being denied death. It could also be read as him not wanting to be reduced to a follower and realizing what your mercy really means for his future.

“-are you to be a vengeful false idol, or a merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vile acts on me."

Okay, looking at the way he presents your two options he seems to push more for the murder action. “-vengeful false idol,” is how he refers to murder. It’s not exactly a glowing review but his use of the word vengeful is important. We know that one of Narinder’s main goals in the game is revenge, we he already acts with revenge I can’t say that he’s using this word as an insult. The false idol part of this statement seems like he’s attempted to separate himself from you, again for is ego.

Then he presents the spare option by calling you a “merciful coward.” The flow of this full sentence puts more pressure on this option. He presents it as the “or” the second option. This is the bad option, the option of a coward.

“So. vou are no different to me after all. You have become as I am."

I know this is a deranged order to go over these quotes but last we got murder. Compared to his spare dialogue this is incredibly sombre. We know from already establishing how big his ego is that saying you are the same as him is almost a compliment. I do find this dialogue incredibly interesting tho, I can’t exactly explain why but I can’t help but read this as damning as well. It’s like he means it in both ways, the ultimate fuck you. You are just as I am, for better and worse.

But from what we know about Narinder his edgy ass cannot express emotion. He wraps his statements in layers of irony and selfishness. Unless it supports the persona he puts on or inflates his ego he WILL NOT right out state his feelings or needs, especially when he was a chained god.

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Aym and Baal are incredibly hard to characterize. They don’t have much dialogue to work off of and only three characters every speak on them, Shamura, Narinder and Forneus. The context of the game does present them as more Narinder’s first (and second) hand, less followers more apprentices, almost, but where’s the fun in assuming.

"Intended as keepers, perhaps, but they were young and in need of guidance. Must I be blamed for my influence?"

I wanna draw attention to the specific wording of keepers. Again, based on the way Narinder speaks its safe to assume he means the formal meaning of a keeper, meaning a caretaker. It is unclear if Narinder was told they where his keepers or if he assumed so, but either way he still speaks on them as such.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t wanna rewrite this bit entirely) I’m gonna put the idea that Narinder brainwashed Aym and Baal against my presented idea of them being his keepers or apprentices.

The proposed idea of the brainwashing angle can be developed based on Narinder saying that “they where young and in need of guidance, must I be blamed for my influence.” This implies that, as much as Aym and Baal may have been sent as keepers, they where still young and Narinder could not help but be an influence on them. I am gonna come back around to this thread so hold onto this for a moment. Moving on.

“Two kits I did have, true love found! And yet one lackadaisy summer day, my beautiful children were taken away... a gift, they said, for the one they loved most, the one that waits...”

“Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift.."

It is unclear and morally dubious how Aym and Baal came to Narinder. First we’re not 100% where Narinder is chained. The wiki lists it as the afterlife and in dialogue Narinder refers to it as “at the gates between this life and the next, trapped at the nexus of what was and what wasn't.” (When he asks you to send him on a mission.) We can travel there both by dying and being summoned there by him.

Either way the assumption is that Aym and Baal had to die. (As an aside I have my own speculation on the conditions required for a person to be presented to Narinder or to be resurrected but that’s off topic.) The horrific implications being that either Shamura themself killed the kits or that they where already dying. However you cannot blame the reaper for ushering the dead away from life.

I’m going to work off of the cult specific definition and characteristics of brainwashing. It’s hard to characterize where Aym and Baal sit here as, again they have little dialogue and due to the nature of brainwashing it’s hard to spot. First I wanna grab my brainwashing resources.

I’m using Encyclopedia Britannica’s page on brainwashing, cults, indoctrination, manipulation as my primary resourse.

Again I kinda wanna apply a layer of irony to how literally I apply real life tragedy to this game that obviously uses cults in a comedic manner. I wanna focus in on the characteristics displayed by victims of brainwashing and the techniques used in brainwashing by an abuser.

Looking at the elements used in brainwashing the only one I can say off the bat that is present is isolation, obviously. But with that let’s grab all of Aym and Baal’s dialogue.

What is clear from their dialogue is their obedience to Narinder. They call him master while his keepers and still when you meet them later when adventuring. And physically we do see them by Narinder’s side the entire main game and they fight the Lamb first. But if we add some nuance and look at their role as keepers or my own theory of being apprentices both actions of obedience make sense still for those roles. On the same note they also don’t display traits you would expect for someone fully under Narinder’s control. They speak to the Lamb out of turn and attack without prompting from Narinder.

Other characteristics are hard to imply. With torture I do want to pass it off an unlikely as based on the way Narinder tries to manipulate the Lamb it’s only verbal and he cannot attack while chained and I don’t see that changing with the keepers. Traits like sleep, water and food deprivation can’t be applied for various reasons (mostly the being dead one) and we don’t know anything about Narinder and the keeper’s interactions in the past so I’ll have to disregard other traits like suggestion.

Baal: "It's you. Usurper of the Red Crown. The one who freed us."

Aym: "Ha! You are nothing compared to our Master. We have not been in this world long, but already I can tell you are weak. You lack discipline. Our Master wielded Death with precision and control. You allow chaos to reign."

Baal: "What my brother means to say is thank you."

Moving onto groupthink I can pretty comfortably say that this is not a present characteristic of Aym and Baal. In their limited dialogue we can easily characterize Aym as more outwardly defensive of Narinder but Baal is more reserved and even contradicts Aym and is able to speak freely of Narinder.

Looping back around to the way Narinder speaks on his influence on Aym and Baal. Again we know how Narinder speaks, he cannot give honest compliments and dodges affection like it’s a professional sport. With the way he will outright tell the Lamb to manipulate followers and then uses the words “guidance” and “influence” about Aym and Baal, he has to be avoiding admitting affection to the keepers. He does follow that up with “Do what you wish, scornful God. I care not for them.” But again does Forneus not also allow her kits to do as they wish?

My own reading of Narinder’s relation to Aym and Baal is that of mentorship but it could also be read as parental. But saying brainwashed is a big stretch.

His feelings on the death of Ratau

This is like another example of like, yeah, wow, an evil character does evil? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this? Sarcasm aside I do see his comments on this being a lesser evil.

First I do have to ask why, if Narinder held strong sense of unrest against his former vessel, did he not have him struck down? The main reason I can see is that Ratau is still devoted to the red crown, most clearly seen by the statue at the lonely shack which generates devotion.

Second, Ratau’s death isn’t on his hands, it’s on yours. I find his pride here is from The Lamb’s actions not the death of Ratau. You killed your mentor, he describes your actions as “treacherous opportunism” and says “A great Vessel takes their master's will as their own.” Based on his later dialogue this is likely more foreshadowing the Lamb becoming as Narinder is. Narinder tried to kill his siblings, and you did kill your mentor. “You have become as I am."

I’m gonna tangent quickly cause there’s a line here that is incredibly interesting.

"He renounced his position after striking a bargain that resulted in the sacrifice of a Follower. He was weak."

Incredibly interesting the way he condemns Ratau’s sacrifice of a follower. Narinder directly contradicts himself. It is implied that the follower was lost to another being that did not benefit Narinder, but the Lamb also sacrifices followers to the Fox and Midas. Just something to chew on.

Why do we “babygirl” Narinder and other evil characters?

This is kinda the last bit I’m gonna get into before I cap this off. It is incredibly funny for me to say “I babygirl Narinder” only to get a reply that’s like “I don’t think you babygirl him on purpose.” But I wanna talk about why this happens and why it happened to specifically Narinder.

When people complain about the fandom interpretation of Narinder I think they forget the tone of cult of the lamb. The closest thing I could think to call it would be a dark comedy kinda energy.

The game has very dark themes going on. Mentions of real horrible things like genocide, cults and religious abuse. But also just like look at the game, it’s visual style is so cute and non threatening, the bird characters have two mouths to commit to the bit. If you look at the way it depicts cults it’s very surface level, it’s more focused on being a satire on the common satanic media kinda look of a cult. Visually it bathes in its aesthetics, taking names from books like The Lessee Key of Solomon, uses villainous depictions of symbols like the pentagram or old Hebrew script, disregarding its nuanced origins.

And then they go onto do the funniest thing ever. The other bishop’s? Gross little freaks, based on commonly disliked animals, worm, frog, squid and spider. And then- and then they make the god of death, who they characterize and manipulative and evil, they make him a catboy. You cannot tell me they did not know what they where doing.

Why have I shot Narinder with the babygirl beam? CAUSE THE GAME DID IT FIRST!

I’m gonna call the god of death my little meow meow and point out his status as a Tumblr sexy man cause he’s a little guy and I wanna give him head scritches. But I’m also gonna call him a layered, fucked up and an incredibly interesting character in the same breath.

[athanza]

A Time For Us - part 3

Shouta Aizawaxfem!Past-love hero oc (not self-instert)

Plot: Trying to cheer up her teacher, Eri manages to resurrect his long-lost love who died seven years prior while protecting him from a villain.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, age difference (both adult), crying, fluff, referenced character death, not canon, romance, alternate universe, if I've missed any let me know! ♡

Warnings: Angst, crying, referenced character death, may tug at your heartstrings (sorry lol). Again, if I've missed anything let me know, I'm still relatively new to fiction writing and tags etc.

This is a non-canon, stand-alone fic but the idea came to me and I had to write it. I hope you enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 3

The drive to Aizawa's home was uncomfortably quiet. One of his students, Yaoyorozu, had used her quirk to makr her some clothes to go home in, which touched her. She hadn't even met any of his students, and yet she already knew he had done a wonderful job as their teacher. She didn't expect him to go into teaching, but it didn't surprise her that he was doing so well at it.

The silence was so stifling it was shrinking her. Neither of them knew what to say, not that they had the courage to speak. But she needed to say something, anything.

"I'm sorry." Said Aizawa, just as she opened her mouth to speak. He didn't know why it was so hard to get words out.

She looked at him, a little surprised. Finally, a proper word from him other than just relaying information or talking about the technicalities of what happened. She knew what he meant by it.

"You don't have to be." She replied. "This is a unique and difficult situation. It takes time to process."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his heart was in his throat. He knew she was upset with how he was acting, and she was right to be, and yet she was still so understanding.

"No." He said. "I've been distant. It's hurting you. I just-"

"I know." She smiled.

They pulled into UA and arrived at his teachers unit on campus. He opened the door to the cozy unit and she was met immediately by several cats.

"That's...a lot of cats." Saiyu chuckled, kneeling down to greet the ones that came up to her, her eyes lighting up the way they always used to when she'd see a cute animal.

"That's Sushi, Nigiri, and Sashimi."

"So cute!" She giggled as they brushed against her legs.

He couldn't help but let out a smile, he'd missed her laugh, and her smile. He'd missed them so much. Despite the events of the last few days, this was the first moment where he didn't feel so heavy.

She stood up, cradling sushi in her arms as he purred loudly. She wasn't surprised one bit that he still loved cats, he always did, especially when they were younger.

Then she spotted a photo on a shelf in the living area and she walked over and picked it up. It was from their graduation. Shouta, Hizashi, and herself. She had to convince him to shave and let her brush his hair that morning because he was just going to show up in the same thing he always wore and she wasn't having it. She smiled at the memory of his grumpy face as she combed the knots out.

"This is our graduation Shouta! You gotta look your best!"

"I'm only doing this for you." He replied, arms crossed. He looked like a scruffy cat, mad at being at the groomers.

"This was a good day." She said as he walked over to her by the shelf. "And you even look somewhat happy, a miracle." She joked.

"We'd been looking forward to that day for years."

"Hizashi was so excited, he was even louder than usual."

Shouta chuckled and she smiled again, she needed to hear that. Sushi snoozed in her arms and it calmed her for the conversation she knew they were about to have.

"Shouta, I don't know what you've been through the last seven years, but I can imagine."

Shouta tensed up a little.

"If I ever lost you I-" she continued. "...I would feel so utterly broken and lost. This is such a messed up situation, and I know you may not know what to say or how to say it, but tell me we can get through this? Please? I don't want to be brought back just to lose you."

He just had to force the words out. "I'm just-" come on... "I'm just so scared."

A look of sympathy and confusion washed over her face. "Of what?"

Come on. "...of losing you again." The flood gates were open now. Now he couldn't stop the words from flowing. "I can't. I can't go through that pain again. Enough of me is already so broken. If I lost you a second time, I think I'd finally fall apart."

"Shouta," she gently put Sushi down on the couch and he stretched and went back to sleep. "Who else gets a second chance like this? Everything we had was ended in one fight, and yes, I was gone for a long time, but I'm back. I'm back, and I'm never going to leave you again. We can still be happy."

His breath hitched as he struggled to hold the tears back, but she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, feeling his stubble on her forehead and his heartbeat against her own chest. He held her back tightly, as if she'd disappear if he let go.

"You're right." He said. "I'm sorry."

"Fear can be paralysing. Don't let it control you like you have in the past. You told me that day at graduation that you wouldn't from then on, remember?"

"I just...I've missed you so much."

"It's ok." She replied softly. "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you Eri. Thank you so much." He thought as a tear escaped, leaving a dark spot on her shirt where it fell.

To be continued...♡

...

Sorry this part is so short 'xD I didn't know how to segue into the next bit without it being a little jarring lol. Part 4 coming soon! ♡

[whateverisbeautiful]

Richonne in Retrospect - The 💋 List

(every Richonne kiss ranked)

#8: The Bedroom Kisses (1.04)

Y'all...🥵. If you want to talk about a kiss that is in every way dripping with passion - then you know we gotta talk about the mesmerizing kisses in this bedroom scene right here. This love scene is both impeccably hot as Richonne truly become one again and impeccably heartfelt when Michonne so beautifully helps Rick through a panic attack. I've said before that stanning Richonne means winning endlessly. And the fact that a scene like this really exists - all we do is win with the limitless beauty of this ship since they can make a scene masterfully sensual and meaningfully deep all at the same time 👏🏽...

It's great how this love scene starts with that lovely warm lighting and Michonne on top of Rick in bed as they are both wholly immersed in this intimate moment and allowing their bodies to finally reconnect after years of reserving this side of themselves only for each other. Then the steamiest kiss in the scene is definitely the one when Rick lifts his head up toward Michonne and they have that whole tongue-to-tongue moment. Listen, they gave the sun some damn competition with how hot that kiss was. 🔥

And as I said at the start, this kiss is quite literally dripping with passion. Also I hadn't realized until recently that they both stick their tongues out again after that kiss. It just confirms that we aren't kidding when we say they match each other's freak. I've said it once, I'll say it 1000 times - they were truly wild for this whole Richonne moment. ❤️‍🔥

While that kiss is the standout of the kisses in this scene, I love all the rest too. You can see and hear how into it Rick is getting just before his panic attack. And then that panic of coming alive so viscerally with her takes over and we get that moment of Michonne calming Rick by placing his hand on her heart. 😭 I know I've already gushed about it extensively in the reveling of this scene, so I'll just quickly reiterate that it's really perfect and super powerful to see such a resurrection of Richonne in this moment.

And then it's sweet that neither of them wanted to stop but rather, Rick then gets even more passionate with it as he kisses her again and then we can see and hear Michonne's positive response to all this. I adore the way she looks up at him. And Rick finally, after years of living devoid of any joy, lets himself enjoy this vulnerable, intimate, and special moment with his wife wholeheartedly. Their sensual kisses that end this scene are great as well and I love the way the end is filmed with them visible between the sheer curtain and the glowy warm lighting.

A scene like this is why the term ''make love" exists because this was a really impactful expression of love between two soulmates whose love runs as deep as oceans. Knowing Richonne's "first time again" was going to be a big moment for them post-reuniting, I love that Danai crafted something so memorable and meaningful for this moment and that Andy and Danai delivered it like only the best captains could.

And what's crazy is for so many ships the kisses in this bedroom scene would be so hard to top, and yet even in this very episode there's a certain kiss scene prior that ranks even higher for me. Just another thing that goes to show that episode 4 is rich with many many stnadout moments. And the Richonne kisses in this bedroom are immeasurably golden. ♥️

[msookyspooky]

I see your Creature Randy and I raise you; Creature Reader! (Btw how are you I miss you on may dash >_<!)

I love this especially as someone that's a huge Lisa Frankenstein, Corpse Bride, Nosferatu and Beetlejuice lover

@f1nalboys if ur still into Randy and still write ur masterpieces on him ♡♡♡

And I am so so so so sorry this is astronomically late! It was under like 23 anons of long winded spam forgive me 😭😢 Missed you all too, pookies ♡

I'm just going with Scream since it wasn't specified (But I accept other request too)

Scream 1996 Character + Lisa Frankenstein 2024 Mash Up:

Randy Meeks, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher

TW: Gore, Bodyhorror, Death, Decay, Murder, Bugs

Scream Characters x Creature Corpse Reader

Randy Meeks:

♡ You enjoyed the young man's voice even from 6 feet underground. Muffled and hard to hear; but heard none the less. Visiting your grave site and telling you about his day every so often on his way home. He wanted a partner and complained of the woes of dating as a social outcast? So endearing. You're non-beating heart still stirred even if you were in a peaceful twilight of paralysis and decay.

♡ But he didn't react how you hoped. Absolutely freaks the hell out when you followed him home from the grave after it got struck by lightning and you were resurrected from your eternal slumber

♡ Then you were confused and offended. Why was he running and screaming!? He wanted a date and here you are! Did men not court anymore?

♡ "Jesus!!" He had exclaimed while staggering over objects and holding up a vhs tape as a potential weapon. You gestured to things explaining you were the one he visited at the cemetery, "I wanted a d-date not a damn Evil Dead character from the Grave all guts and maggots!"

♡ When you still didn't quite get it in your haze of reanimation; he spelled it out for you same harsh energy as the gif.

♡ "YOU. ARE. DEAD! A nasty, oozing, rotting corpse! Of course I'm not interested!!"

♡ Ouch. Okay, so you were dead! So, your ear fell off and you didn't feel nerve endings now!...You still had feelings feelings. The kind that made you whimper and feel your heart beating a new and twisting painfully in your hollow chest.

♡ He faltered seeing tears (or um...Whatever body fluids you had) well up in your milky eyes and you stumbled away.

♡ He felt really bad and confused hearing you sobbing in his closet. And absolutely fucking terrified of you.

♡ "Hey...Hey look, I'm sorry but ya gotta cut a guy slack here, okay? It's not everyday an undead person stumbles in my house. You took me by surprise is all...Maybe you're a nice zombie? C'mon, I'm sorry that um...Ack, God!-" He gagged quickly covering his nose at the smell you must be admitting as you cried and he begged, "Pplleeassee stop crying before my room smells like friggin roadkill."

♡ He makes you shower and well even you were a lil grossed out seeing a worm fall from you. Disgusting. And he even gave you an oversized shirt with 'Friday the 13th' on it. How sweet! A gift!...Well, you sorta took it because it was soft and he scrunched his nose telling you it was all yours.

♡ Shows you movies and soon realizes he has someone that will listen to him ramble. He points things out and you hum and nod as he goes on and on and you sit there a 'zombie' as he called you.

♡ He scolded you in the kitchen and waved a paper at you, "Hey, hey, hey! No. Bad Zombie. You can't just go wandering around my house. My sister and parents will flip!"

♡ You grunted in offense at him scolding you like a dog but relented venturing his house...You were bored! You had been in that coffin in the ground way too long just to be shoved in a closet sneaking the same VHS tapes on his mini tv over and over

♡ He's horrified when you killed a guy bullying him in his yard one night that had followed him home after Randy had made a remark about him at work. How dare that bastard hurt your living boy! Said boy is mortified you not only bludgeoned the guy to death but that you stole the bullies ear and urged him to sew it on. You shrugged at him...What? He wasn't using it!... Not anymore.

♡ Randy had the idea of using the faulty tanning bed to jolt your dead tissue after claiming it worked in...Too many movies to remember as he rambled like a mad scientist. And It did work.

♡ He tries to tell you that you both can't just kill anybody but that all backfires like everything else in Randy's lil losercore life

♡ But...The more you're resurrected. More human. More alive with life in your eyes and able to smirk or pull him along to explore. Well...You see how he gets tomato red at you undressing in front of him. Your body not as disgusting as it once was. Not at all.

♡ "Damn...I mean um..." He rubbed the back of his neck giving your now fleshtoned and warmer looking body clothes. "Ya know, maybe no one will miss Robert anyways? I mean he was a total geek like me. No one will remember him." He faltered at you nude and tracing his jawline in concern at how he always talked about himself. He stammered, "I-I-I mean, ya know um...Shit..." He swallowed looking at your eyes now as vibrant as they were in life. "You're...Kinda cute for a zombie. I mean...Well..." He blushed more at you smiling. Not kissing him, not yet, too afraid you were still a bit ripe and just took the clothes while squeezing his hand and he averted his eyes bashfully at your nude form. "Just put clothes on, would ya?"

♡ And hey? He kinda found it romantic after awhile especially not getting caught helping you kill for body parts. Going from the guy no one wanted to an undead but not fully dead individual with eyes on only him and no one else. It may go against every natural law he knew but damn at least he had a date and someone that once fully alive and warm to snuggle with during horror movie nights.

Billy Loomis

♡ (I don't think we give him enough credit for his off putting creepy behavior or his odd ways. He'd be the most down for corpsey you. Like, he's a freak of nature with pretty privledge. In another life, he was a gothic outcast like Lisa in male form let's be real.)

♡ He'd go to the cemetery to think. Smoke. Sometimes he talked to your gravestone seeing you were near his age when you died. You liked hearing him. Wishing you could reach up to hold his hand but alas a pine box and 6 feet of dirt stood in your way.

♡ "Must be nice...Wish I was with you sometimes. Instead I'm studying for English while I'm dying inside slowly. Probably as rotten inside as you are...Corny, huh?" He chuckled wryly and patted your tombstone.

♡ When you stumble to his house on a stormy night while his Dad was away doing God knows what; he obviously flipped. He went to stab you and you just looked down at the knife and pulled it out. A bit of your rot going out with it.

♡ He backed up against a wall breathing heavily. Eyeing you till you put the knife down and pointed at a picture he took of your grave on his bedroom wall.

♡ You're dead eyes look pleased when he remembers and you went to hug him and he was a bit like...No. Pushing you away with a grimace.

♡ Yet, he looks at you in wonder. Intrigued how you work, your anatomy...And he's actually flattered you came to him. That you were 'special' in the same dark way he was.

♡ You're disheartened when he specified he wanted to be in the ground too, not necessarily with you. It hurt. Being rejected in death like you were in life.

♡ "Oh Fuck-" He grumbled pinching his nose at your tears. "Okay if you're gonna be dead; you're gonna be clean and dead. Shit-" But he muses, "This is like Re-Animator. Or Frankhooker only I didn't pick your parts." You give him an offended look and he smirks, "Oh? You got sensibilities? I just saw a worm fall out of you."

♡...He had a point but you were still offended.

♡ He gives you one of his oversized polo shirts or flannels. He slid his fingers over your cold thigh, curious as can be as you lightly went to smack it then realizing...Oh right. No hand. How Embarrassing.

♡ He smirked in fascination and lifted your wrist to examine it, "Bit of a problem." You couldn't help watching how his beautiful dangerous dark eyes looked at you, "You need parts...And I think I know exactly how to get them." You grunted in response and he raised a brow, "What? I won't give you some ugly old wrinkled hand or something. Don't worry about it...I'll take care of you. Promise."

♡ Let's you sleep in his closet and he SHOULD be mortified but instead he's like a young boy who has a secret friend no one knows about.

♡ Gets you a hand and you blink as he still had blood on a rag it was wrapped in. "Hey, don't worry. I told you I'd get it. You're like my newest thing to focus on. Like...Like Edward Scissorhands even if I'm no Winona...More like the mom." He jokingly mused while putting the new hand on your wrist. You grunted but relented as he sewed the hand onto yours. Both of you disappointed it didn't work. He paced the room in annoyance, "Damn... There's gotta be something-" when...The neighbor did have a faulty tanning bed they didn't use anymore

♡ Treats you like a beloved experiment. Enjoying his kills having a purpose to bring the perfect girl/guy/person to life.

♡ It even distracts him from getting revenge on Sidney. Sometimes.

♡ He eases into bed with you, "Hey...You're dead you know. I'm not waiting around till you're alive to get laid. I mean, does everything...Even...Ya know, work?" He mused aloud. His eyes scanning your body barely covered by his flannel as you may not blush yet but your skin was a blu-ish flesh tone or getting more warm by the day and you watched and let his hand...Travel curiously.

♡ Finds it endearing that you don't like him having a girlfriend or beinh so close to Stu, "Aw, you want me all to yourself? I have a lot of chicks I have sex with you know-" Grins wider at you almost fully alive again grumbling and holding his pillow in bed with a pout. He loves feeling wanted. Adores it especially with a girlfriend like Sidney that was too nice, too pure, too trusting. He craved a possesive partner that wants him and only him...But damn it, this living man was all you had. You had no one but him. And he had such pretty eyes too.

♡ He's secretly very possessive of you even if he gives you a hard time. When you sneak out and some guys were flirting/haggling you; he yells at you then drags you back before holding you close reminding you you were HIS secret. HIS deadgirl/guy/person. HIS project. HIS.

♡ You knew his killing was getting erratic near Fall time and on the night before the murders; he fully makes you alive and you both don't hesitate to explore. Why not? Go all the way making the night special. He reasons horror movie logic doesn't work on supernatural creatures like you

♡ The night he dies; You're devastated beyond belief and you sneak out and get his body from the morgue not caring if your caught and resurrect him with that tanning bed

♡ He's not as dead as you were but has no memories solid. That bullet scrambling his brain a bit and if anything; it's perfect. You take care of him while trying to make him alive. No revenge, no mommy issues, no murder. Just you...Just you and him. A twisted couple but together forever.

Stu Macher

♡ He only knew your grave from it being a shortcut as a tween to home. THEN he used it to scare kids with the shtick of, 'watch out...You say the name at midnight and she comes back!'

♡ Screamed so shrill and loud he'd never admit it when showed up at his house covered in mud and clearly a corpse. He screamed like a young girl at you actually showing up on his doorstep undead both out of longing and annoyance of him constantly PESTERING your resting place

♡ "Get away from me you undead freak of nature!! Bro, I SAID GET BACK!!" Followed by him throwing a pot at your head and you groaning in discomfort and annoyance clutching your rotting head.

♡ He finally mustered his usual bravado when you were thumbing through his CD collection, "Ugh nooooo! Goddamn, why?!" He grimaced. "Man, you got your nasty dead fingerprints all over my shit!" You ignored him and tried sitting the CD on top the CD player expecting it to work like a record. He raised a brow, "Uh no. Get with the times, babe." And begrudgingly played it for you properly.

♡ He watched you listening to the music and get mud and worms and body juices- "Oh damn it, get in the bathtub! Fuuucckkk, man. I just got this carpet my parents are gonna kill me." He grumbled shoving you in the tub

♡ He watched you get in washing away grime as he cringed, "Man, you smell awful. Like, I'm gonna puke just looking at you-"

♡ If you threw a worm at him from your insides for being an ass it would so funny. You should do that so he screams again.

♡ After he gets over the shock he's calling Billy up and nervous and of course Billy thinks he's high or pranking him and hangs up just for you to be standing behind him

♡ Does question if he can use you like a pin cushion and you feel no pain just for you to lift your shirt and remind him if he tries to take out his sick lil urges on you...It ain't blood. It's decades of rotting insides and flesh and body juice.

♡ He's gagging but morbidly curious, "Eewwwwww, you're fucking disgusting." As he goes to poke a hole on your rotting torso and you smack him with your stump of a wrist where your one hand is missing, "Soorryyy, got it. Don't finger your holes." He joked and you grumbled tempted to crawl back to your grave in annoyance at him.

♡ He's cleaning frantically and doesn't let you help after you bent over and more...Stuff came out of you through the shirt he gave you and onto the carpet but he does wonder aloud, "Wonder if we put you together like, I don't know, Frankenstein or something if it would work?" He looked at you as you shrugged with a grunt unable to do much else as a corpse

♡ He warns you to stay in the attic and you definitely did not enjoy that but shrugged as you busied yourself going through his families belongings. You saw the dolls hanging up in there, grunted and kept it moving

♡ You secretly disliked Tatum and how she talked to him and he was over the moon teasing thinking his dead toy was jealous. He even made remarks that hurt your feelings but you didn't cry. Didn't give him the satisfaction of finding something else to nitpick. He had new girls behind Tatum's back there constantly anyways.

♡ You...May have coughed up a worm as a fuck you in him and Tatum's popcorn one makeout movie night when they were distracted.

♡ But you blinked at him getting you and hand that didn't match you. Blinking but he was already sewing it on and excitedly saying, "Don't worry, I got it. Man, this is gonna be so friggin cool!"

♡ He told you to get in Leslie's old tanning bed she said had a short in it and cranked it up...To your shock...It actually worked. Shocking your system.

♡ He grinned smugly, "Ha! Knew it...Wonder if I can sew a dick on you or big tits or-" You glared with your newfound muscles in your face restored and he held his hands up, "Alright alright. Jokes, jeez."

♡ You started to realize he may have initially acted normal but was anything but. He WANTED to show you off like some fair project and you refused for obvious reasons. He was charming and a huge risk taker to the point of being a ditz but also not. He was an odd conundrum

♡ He was cute obviously but he crushed on you first having bizarre taste. "Ya know..." He had you in his bed with his sister one oversized nightgown on you. "I always wondered what it would be like to...Ya know...Do stuff with a stiff-" You gave him the most bewildered offended look, "I'm just saying! I wouldn't do it. And you're...Undead, not the same morally." He rolled his eyes with a huff but eyed you and got closer. "Just...I mean, you're like the ultimate doll. Just for me. And you can't blame a guy for being curious."

♡...You were also curious but thankfully his parents came home and you groaned as back up to the attic you went. He did provide magazines for you though

♡ You just had one more 'part' left to replace in an embarrassing area and he used the night at the party as Ghostface to get it. Billy still didn't believe him and he seemed to not care. Not wanting to 'share' with Billy anyways

♡ Bloody and looking better than you wanted to admit he smiled like a kid in a store sewing it on and touching you along the way in a way that surpringly made your undead carcass...Warm.

♡ People still drunk at the party complained when the power went out when he fully resurrected you to living breathing tissue and you and him despite your better judgment kissed and...Tested out your parts.

♡ He had it in his head you were his toy and doll and thing and you disliked being a thing and yet the way he made you feel alive literally and metaphorically...Maybe you could play along.

♡ When he died that night from the tv you brought him back before cops could fully investigate. He wanted to go back for Billy but didn't hesitate to leave him either once he came to

♡ Is devastated he looks like 'a freak' with his face now and yet you cup his cheek and kiss him. His player cassanova days are over but...He had you. Now? There was level playing field. And if you both had to kill to get parts along the way so be it.

[thewertsearch]

I'm sure he wants Slick to kill her - but Scratch has this all planned out, right down to the second, and it's not quite time for this.

Slick is supposed to kill her, but he can't do it until all the dominoes have been set up.

Now that's a goddamn resurrection.

It's arguably flashier than John's original ascension, which makes me wonder if he's going to be more powerful after coming back a second time.

AG: Still not alive yet? Man. AG: You 8etter hurry up! She pro8a8ly doesn't have much time left. AG: Trust me, what she's going through on Derse right now isn't much fun. […] AG: You have to wake her up! 8reathe some life into her. Do the windy thing, with your lips!!!!!!!!

I think this is our first successful resurrection kiss since Hivebent.

...I mean, I certainly hope it's successful, and I don't see why it wouldn't be. Rose is probably fine, now - but she no longer has a backup body to deliver the Tumor. I guess you're up, Dave.

That's awfully intimate for a murder attempt, Slick.

I guess Kismesissitude can bloom, even on a battlefield. Especially on a battlefield, come to think of it.

AG: Gotta kiss her. AG: Don't worry, I still can't see you, so there is no reason to 8e 8ashful or anything. AG: And since we are a couple of professionals here who are focused on winning, we 8oth know it doesn't have any meaning. AG: It's not l8ke I would 8e jealous even if I could see. AG: Why wo8ld I 8e? AG: Or may8e that didn't even cr8ss your mind…….. haha. AG: M8n, why am I ev8n t8lking a8out th8s.

I'm actually not sure if John's reading these messages as Vriska's sending them, or if he's seeing them all after her death. Probably the latter, just for the sake of maximum tragedy.

Either way, I think it's very telling that John's not even trying to respond. His dad's dead, he just died, the whole world is ending, and he's finally lost the ability to be casual about it. Look at his face!

Yes, he'll read his messages, just in case they're important. Yes, he'll do what needs to be done to save Rose's life. But he's not in the mood to shoot the shit with Vriska - even though, unbeknownst to him, it's the last chance he'll ever get.

[lostsoulaltair]

OnS Chapter 146 - Analysis and Review. Warning: Spoilers Ahead!

Hello everyone, a new chapter dropped and I gotta say it was rather interesting except for certain character's offscreen.

The chapter starts with the Progenitors detecting Ky Luc's presence as gone, furthermore, the remaining progenitors have noticed they're under attack leading for Lest Karr to go to the battlefield.

Given Urd and Rigr's differences, Urd warns Lest to be careful but Rigr of course suggests that Urd doesn't have faith in Lest, leading of course to Lest boost with confidence that he will succeed.

Within this part, the dots have begun to connect, what do I mean? We got information regarding the spells in the most subtle ways possible, but at least we know two of the three.

Following up with the panels, the encounter with Lest and Ferid Bathory begins.

Then we jump to Yuu and Mikaela trying to decipher the First's spells, along this, Mikaela is the one monitoring the memories of the First whereas Yuu is pretty much eating. (Yes...literally...*sigh*)

One of the things I find fascinating is that there's limit to what Yuu can read in terms of the ancient language along what Mika can. Let's remember that when Yuu and Mika did a memory regression, Mika was unable to read yet Yuu was able to...but among this, there's another character able to read all the information Shikama had within his memories, who do I mean? Correct, Shinoa Hiragi.

Then we return with Rigr Stafford checking the spells of the first along his goal to fully decipher them nevertheless we still see the differences of ideals between Rigr and Urd, like the moon and the sun.

Given that Rigr saw the memories of the First, he's obviously inclined to literally grant his Father's wish just like Yuu is aiming to do so since Rigr has much more knowledge in the field of magic, sorcery and spells.

Still, focusing back in the panels, Rigr on the other hand is not interested on what Urd has to say, ensuring Yuu gets the calories needed to keep exploring the memories of the First; meanwhile Urd is analyzing further that the enemy is actually gaining the upperhand thus leading to something I found fascinating.

Rigr was in a mode of: you go do this and that but Urd literally took a firm posture and chose to stop following Rigr.

Now, what was what I mentioned at the very beginning of this post? True, we got information regarding of the spells, one of them is how to Resurrect Michaela.

Still, how would that be possible? Correct. Gathering the 7 Sinful Keys and sacrificing all the progenitors standing. Ironically, Rigr has been cunning enough to make the Progenitors head to such path. What Rigr did with Lest by dismissing Urd's warning is merely psychology and manipulation.

But given this, Urd finally took a decision, he managed to grab the Sinful Key and of course, before Urd could actually use it, Rigr used an illusion on which Yuu died but of course, Urd is fully aware now how Rigr attacks, meaning the illusion was futile.

Ultimately we have a flashback of Rigr and Urd back when they were children and slaves, Rigr was always optimistic whereas Urd was the opposite.

Within this, there's a lot of parallelism between many characters, what do I mean?

Thanks to a dear friend, the whole lore of OnS is always related to paralellism and change.

Urd and Rigr reflect the ideal vs the truth, Ashera and Krul reflect the same yet Ashera realized too late that the treasure of life he had, discarted it easily by following the devil and at the end, being unable to save his sister. The last pair being of course Mika and Yuu. Mika when he was a vampire, was always opposing Yuu but given that Yuu is one of the main characters; it was bound to happen the current result, yet with the case of Urd and Rigr, such pattern actually shattered. The greed carried down by Rigr is simply too much, there's no guarantee with anything even if hope is what lingers within him.

The sacrifices they will make are extremely high hence why Urd stated that their journey has gone for too long, nevertheless, they detected they were being watched by Shinya Hiragi no less.

Guren is fully aware of Yuu's location and the final panel being Ferid Bathory devouring Lest Karr.

I must say this was disappointing.

Lest Karr was a full representation of a pointless character within the plot given that we didn't have a backstory for him or his motives. Unless the author actually gives him a flashback even if he is trapped within Ferid's body.

More answers will come following this , what do you think dear readers?

[cubeofanhilation]

How I think dpxdc would go

The whole gang graduated high school, and one of them got an invite to Wayne gala (idk which yet) and they decide to make a whole trip out of it. So they all decide to sight see in the second most fucked up city, attempts to get her hands on fear toxin, Tucker tries to track down Oracle, Danny ends up accedentily fight crime,

Danny: *finishing up with some random mugging, and see’s Jason* yo why tf you dead

Jason, taken aback by the comment: *shoots him in the kneecap, and it goes right through Danny*

Danny: …

Jason: …

Danny: I'm going to take this as my que to leave *yeets outta there*

Jason: wtf

and Wes?He takes this as a fucking challenge, he tries to figure out who the batfamily is, so he purposely gets himself kidnapped so he can get a better look, and he immediately figures everything out, (they're bad at hiding it, and Wes is batshit insane, we love him for that). He meets Bernard around then, probably fresh out of kiddnapping (see previous post) Then they head to Wes’s uncle's house, and everyone

sees the E. Nygma on the mailbox and then Wes then casually reveals The Riddler is his uncle, and he's married to the penguin and everyones like “wow that explains a lot” then they end up playing some stupid game like clue or something, until it turns out the Quinnzels were coming for dinner. That includes, Harley Quinn Poison Ivy, Bud & Lou, and Tempest (long story as to why they're there, can elaborate if anyone's interested) Wes then proceeds to tell everyone he figured out all the bat identities (previously telling his friends, Danny first because he's in love), and the Riddler and the penguin start feeling awkward because now they're the only ones who don't know who batman is.

Then it's the next day, Tucker and Sam check out the sketchiest places because, it's fun, and surprises everyone (maybe including some of the batfamily) with how prepared they are to deal with this shit.

Danny and Wes go on a date because they're adorable. They end up getting lunch, then going out and stalking two-face, because Danny hates evil, and Wes doesn't trust politician. They easily stop him from robbing a bank or whatever, and th n the batfamily shows up and Wes is like “nope! Not being interrogated again!” Picks up Danny bridal style and runs away

Then comes the gala, first off

Babs: how would you know that I'm Oracle?

Tucker: my best friend is a mad lad, anyways-

*Cut to Wes hovering over Tim like “I k n o w w h a t y o u a r e!”*

Chaos breaks, shenanigans ensue, by the end the ghost gang ends up in the bat cave and they clear everything up, and maybe start an alliance, also Danny is like “dude the ectoplasm that resurrected you is not completely out of you're system in a healthy way yet! You gotta do something” and throws supplements at Jason.

[pedropascallme]

Wreck and Resurrect

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...”

Content: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, sexting, brattamer!Damien, like full on dom!Damien, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, degradation, praise, choking, use of a belt where a belt does NOT need to be used, mild dacryphilia? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi! So this is definitely...porn. I re-read and edited and added and took away so much from this fic that at this point it feels like gibberish to me. But I hope you guys enjoy it!!

You woke up before Damien’s alarm. It went off the same time every morning, and you had started to anticipate it even in your sleep—a Pavlovian response to the consistency.

You liked the routine; the way you woke up to his face every day, the way he wiped the sleep from his eyes before rubbing his chin, silently debating whether or not he wanted to shave. And then he would turn over, check to see whether or not you were awake with him.

“I’m sorry,” he turned off the alarm on his phone and rolled back over to kiss you. “Go back to sleep.”

Today, you pulled him closer, keeping him flush against you and deepening the morning kiss he offered. “Don’t want you to go.”

“I’d be a little concerned if you did.” He smiled against your mouth, letting you embrace him. His skin was warm, heated by a night spent pressed against you under the comforter. “I gotta get up, baby.”

“No.” You tightened your arms around his midriff, and he laughed.

“C’mon, don’t be a brat,” his voice, still gravelly and laced with sleep, made the words go straight to your core; it was never too early to want him. “I have a short day. Then I’m all yours.”

“I’m not being a brat.” Your gaze met his, and you frowned. “How short?”

“Just a few hours,” he untangled himself from you, getting out of bed. You watched him stretch, blushing at how the muscles in his back flexed when he rolled his shoulders. “You think you can be good until I’m home?” He smiled, teasing, leaning over you and brushing strands of hair from your face. He tucked it behind your ear, then cupped your face in his hand and let his thumb trace your cheek bone.

You weren’t sure why you felt so needy for him this morning, but you leaned into his touch as soon as his palm made contact with your skin. “I’ll be good.” You grabbed his hand, kissing it, “I promise.”

His smile widened, bending down to kiss you again before turning away to get dressed.

~~~

Hours after Damien had left for work, you found the motivation to get out of bed—motivation that took the form of cats in absolutely dire need of attention—and tried to go about your day. You ran errands, did some work of your own, made a breakfast worthy of the Mythical Kitchen (on a good day); but, Christ almighty, were you bored. There was something missing, and it was making you antsy.

You hadn’t forgotten to do anything—everything on your checklist was in proper order, crossed out and completed. So why did it feel like you were neglecting something?

Damien’s words from earlier that morning echoed through your head.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Ah.

The final piece of the puzzle.

It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...

You loved that kind of attention. You knew exactly where pushing him in the right places would get you. And if Damien thought you were being a brat, then you’d capitalize off of that.

You picked up your phone and fired off a brief message to him.

💬How’s work?

While you waited for a reply, you stripped down from your daytime clothes, rummaging through his dresser to find suitable attire to enact your plan. Your phone dinged when you found the right shirt, as if on cue.

💬Lots of busy work. How has your day been?

It was like he was serving you the opportunity on a silver platter.

💬Pretty good. I miss you.

You stood in front of the full body mirror on the wall; Damien’s shirt hit the midpoint of your thighs, and you pulled it up ever so slightly to reveal the perfect amount of skin.

You took a picture and hit send.

💬Found your soft shirt that I like! Highlight of my day.

You watched intently as the bubbles of his forming message popped up on screen, then disappeared, then popped up again. You laughed silently.

💬Spencer almost saw that.

You smirked.

💬Ask him if he wants another look.

💬You are in so much fucking trouble.

You took another picture, this time leaning on the bed, legs spread just enough to give the camera a glimpse of the naked space between your thighs.

Send.

💬For what? I’m just showing you how pretty I look in your clothes.

For the second time, you watched him start typing, then stop, then start again.

💬Brat.

You smiled at the message.

~~~

You stayed like that for the next hour; lounging in bed in his shirt and waiting for him to get home. When you heard the lock on the door click, you shot out of bed.

Padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, you expected at least a kiss before the inevitable punishment that awaited you, but all you got was Damien’s cold gaze.

“Knees.”

You tried to wrap your arms around him, a lazy attempt to play dumb as to what it was that had made him so fierce. He let you hang off of him momentarily before pulling you off and gripping your jaw in one hand.

“I said get on your knees.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck’s gotten into you today, princess?” He smiled down at you, but the kindness that was usually there had been replaced by something primal. “Thought you said you’d be good.”

“I was good.” You managed, shifting your weight, trying to give your knees some relief on the hardwood floor. 

Damien laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think so?”

“I was good.” You reiterated, fully aware that you were still acting like a brat, but trying to see just how deep a hole you could dig yourself into.

That was half the fun.

“No, you weren’t,” he stated, “Tell me.”

You stared up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. You stayed quiet.

You watched Damien sigh, exhaling for as long as it took him to shuck off his coat and throw it onto an armchair behind him.

“You gonna keep playing like this?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t hide your smile any longer.

He undid his belt, folding it gently and holding it out for you. “Hold it.”

You took it, running your fingers over the leather. He undid his zipper.

“That’s fine. Keep playing.” He ran a hand through his hair before reaching down to remove his cock from the confines of his pants, “But you know what brats get.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning. You watched him fist his cock, and admired the way he seemed almost uninterested in his own movements despite the fact that you knew how much he was looking forward to this.

“Spit.” He commanded, and you let a strand of saliva fall on the tip of his cock; your lips parted, waiting for your cue. Damien pumped himself, aided by your spit, and after a moment tapped his cock to your lips. You set the belt down haphazardly on your lap while trying to stabilize yourself by putting a hand on his thigh.

“Did I say to put it down?” He tsked at you. You shook your head. “Use your fucking words. Did I tell you that you could put it down?”

“No.”

“So pick it up.” You did, growing achier by the second at the way you were positioned under him, but too excited to care.

“C’mon,” he refocused your attention, “Open wide.” You did, letting your tongue poke out over your bottom lip, and he pushed into you. You gagged when he hit the back of your throat, and when you made eye contact with him, he was smiling. “Didn’t think I was going to be nice after your little performance today, did you?” You tried to shake your head, but he wasn’t impressed. “Words.”

Your muffled response sent vibrations up his spine, and he stroked your hair. “That’s it. Gonna let me fuck your face? Let me use you like a slut since you wanna act like one?” Again, your words were muted around his cock, and Damien growled at the image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him.

He pulled you back by the hair, intent on staying still and watching you put in the work. He let you take a deep breath before he pushed you back down. Tears sprung from your eyes when you choked on him. You squeezed the belt in your hands tighter as he held you down.

“Are you crying, princess?” He cooed, keeping his cock pressed deep down your throat. “I thought this is what you wanted, baby. Didn’t you want attention?” He pulled you off of him and watched intently at the way you gasped for air, drool coating your lips and chin.

“Want—want you to fuck me.” You pleaded, voice hoarse from the strain his cock had put on your throat.

“Yeah?” He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, bending down momentarily and bringing his voice to a low whisper. “I don’t care what you want.” It sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but whine at the words as they left his mouth.

He straightened back up to his full height, and you opened your mouth without being asked this time.

“You wanna be a good girl for me now?” He all but laughed when he saw what you were doing. You nodded, and he let you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before you took it back into your mouth. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” He smiled. “Belt,” he beckoned, and you handed it to him. He removed his hand from your hair, opting instead to keep you against his body with his belt by looping it behind your head and pulling with both hands. This time, he pushed you all the way down onto him. Your nose pressed against him, and you spluttered while he watched on.

“You can do it,” he moaned at the feeling of your mouth around the base of his cock, “Just a little longer baby, you can do it.” He reiterated. “Look at me—hey, look at me, princess. I’m counting down from ten.”

He started his countdown. Your face was wet with tears and spit, and you could feel your thighs growing sticky. You tried to shift your weight again, maybe offer yourself a little friction, a moment to appreciate how genuinely turned on you were by his actions, but the look he shot you as he reached six on the countdown made you stop dead, frozen under his gaze as you attempted to be good for him. 

When he got to one, he dropped the belt, and you heard the buckle clang against the floor. He pulled you off of him, hand once again wrapping around your jaw as he leaned down, meeting you half-way to kiss you. It was heated, passionate, and you loved how his tongue flicked into you as if he was trying to taste himself on your lips.

“Knew you could do it.” You keened under his praise, raising your arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. He let you stay on him this time, and you thought maybe you had proven yourself to be the good girl you said you were. He lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

When he put you down, you immediately started to undress; it didn’t take long, still only wearing his shirt, but once it was off you crawled across the mattress to him. You tugged at his clothes, trying to get him to strip along with you. Damien moved slowly, paying no mind to your whines as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. He stretched out on the bed, and you moved to straddle him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Please, Damien—want you to fuck me.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, hoping that your saccharine display would convince him of the fact that you were ready to be good.

“Didn’t I already tell you that I don’t care what you want?” He whispered, lips mere millimeters away from your ear when he pushed his cheek against your head where it rested against him.

You whimpered against his skin. “But I was good.”

“Show me again,” he beckoned you from your hiding spot, “Show me again how good you can be.”

You whined, pouting. “How?”

“Just stay like that,” he guided you so that you were sitting up, “Make yourself cum like this. Can you do that for me?” His cadence was softer now, and he pushed hair from your face in a parallel to his actions that morning. You leaned into his touch now as you had then, planting your hands on his chest.

“But I want you to fuck me." You pleaded in vain.

“Brats don’t get what they want,” Damien’s tone turned harsh again. He moved his hands up the length of your legs and stopped to grip your waist, “Brats get what they deserve.”

The angle was odd, and you struggled to find a pacing that suited your needs. Damien watched you squirm above him, the faintest smirk on his lips; his hands stayed on your hips but didn’t offer any assistance. He wanted to watch, nothing more.

You bent yourself forward, still supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, and rolled your hips over him. You could feel him under you, hard and warm, and it did nothing to ease the heat in your lower stomach. You continued grinding down onto him, trying to find the delicious friction you sought; the tip of his cock pressed against your clit when you bucked your hips, and you let out a quiet moan.

“There you go,” Damien murmured. He had moved one arm under his head, propping himself up to get a better view. You grabbed at his bicep, squeezing softly, trying to get as much of him as you could. “You gonna make yourself cum for me?”

“Can’t,” you whined, still sweeping your hips over him, now with more fervor, trying to find the position that would give your clit the pressure it needed to let you reach your high. “Please, Damien, let me cum on your cock.”

He tilted his head back, “Isn’t that what I’m letting you do now?”

“Inside.” You were begging.

“No.” He squeezed your hip with the hand still situated there. He seemed to relent slightly, beginning to guide you. “Cum like this.”

You felt like crying; pent up and desperate and not at all able to make yourself feel even half as good as he would be able to. You let him pull you back and forth, the sounds of your slick coating his cock creating an absolutely obscene backing score to your actions. You felt the pressure in your stomach rise when he bucked his hips into you, pulling you forward to let your clit rest directly on him while you moved, directed by his hand.

Your breath hitched, and Damien, clearly getting impatient and fueled by his own want to fuck you, repeated the motion. Something inside you snapped, and you were cumming; your nails left small crescent imprints on his skin, clawing lightly at his arm and chest. You cried out, and he pulled you against him, letting you calm your breathing while you lay on his chest.

“You ready to be good now?” He nosed the crown of your head.

“Mhm,” your sounds were somewhere between confident and moaned. “Gonna be good.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me cum—thank you for letting me cum.”

“You’re welcome, princess.” He kissed your forehead, and once he was certain you were ready, he flipped you off of him. He sat up, coaxing you onto your stomach before getting up to kneel behind you. You had never been happier to be on your hands and knees, the promise of what was to come made you dizzy with lust.

He positioned himself low on the mattress, and before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, you felt him lick a stripe up your cunt.

"Oh—" You shivered, bending yourself down further on your hands to give him complete access to you. Damien said nothing, continuing to lick slow circles around your hole. He spit, watching it trail over you and down to your clit where it fell off your skin in drops. You tried to reach back for him, to pull on his hair and encourage him to do more.

But then he was straightening up, situating himself on his knees and sliding his cock through your folds.

“What did we learn today?” His teasing words paired deliciously with the way his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your words were muffled by the pillow you pressed your face against.

“That’s right,” he swiped his cock through your folds, gathering your slick, and you moaned softly. “You going to say sorry?”

You made a noise that sounded halfhearted. He pulled you back by your hair, forcing your back to arch, your face centimeters from his own. You giggled, still mildly hell-bent on seeing just how much trouble you could cause. He swatted at your thigh to get your attention back.

“Try again. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being a brat—I’m so sorry, Damien, I’m sorry for being bad, I promise I’ll be so good for you, please.” Your words were rushed, eager to please him and get what you had been craving all day.

“Good,” he released your hair from his vice grip and let you reposition yourself properly in front of him. “One more time,” the tip of his cock nudged your entrance, so close to penetrating you but still not enough, “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, and you had hardly finished your sentence before he rammed into you; there was no time wasted on getting you used to the way he had you speared, none spent on familiarizing your cunt with the stretch of his cock—he was as desperate as you were, and entirely unforgiving.

“God, fuck. Yeah, take it all like that,” his mouth hung open as he watched your cunt swallow him. You made absolutely pathetic noises, squirming against him, wiggling your hips around the intrusion of his cock.

“Fucking wet,” he groaned, hands once again finding purchase on your waist and pulling you against him with every thrust. “Does it turn you on, baby? Does acting like a slut make you wet for me? Letting me fuck your face and use you? Is that what got you wet like this?”

All you could manage was a hoarse cry, a garbled moan of affirmation. You heard him laughing behind you before he cut himself off with a moan, seated deep inside of you. Your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moaned, the drag of his cock against your walls made your eyes roll back into your head.

“I know, baby, I know you’re so sorry,” he whispered, hands combing through your hair lovingly while he ravaged you, “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You smiled, pressing your face further into the pillow to muffle your sounds. “Yours, I’m yours—your good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he sped up his thrusts, and you couldn’t help the scream you let out into the pillow. He leaned forward, pulling it from you and throwing it to the side. “Let me hear your pretty sounds, princess—let me hear my good girl’s pretty sounds.”

You were certain that whatever complaint you might receive from the neighbors would be worth it; all you could do was cry out for Damien, telling him how good he felt, how you’d be nothing but obedient from now on, and he punctuated every one of your wails with a sharp snap of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him, and he took the opportunity to bask in you; he pushed himself deeper, tip of his cock kissing your cervix while you moaned quiet praises of the feeling.

“Feels so good,” you squeaked, and he bent down to kiss the back of your head. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock like you were begging to?” He whispered, cock pushed as far inside of you as your cunt would allow.

“Yeah—please, yes!” You pushed your ass back against him, daring him to fuck you deeper, and he obliged; you felt drunk off his cock, the way he forced the air from your lungs with every thrust and how at a certain point you could remember nothing but his name and how deeply you loved and trusted him.

Damien reveled in your calls for him, the noises you made sent vibrations through his fingertips from where they rested on your throat.

He wrapped his free arm around your midriff, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles in small bursts that synced with the motion of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut, chanting his name like a prayer—over and over and over again.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whispered down at you, and you were an absolute goner by the time the praise hit your ears; you felt your thighs shaking first, followed by the tightening in your stomach that, when it snapped and relaxed, spread pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body. Your moans of his name reached a crescendo and you collapsed under him, sore and tired and satisfied. You continued to murmur helplessly as he thrust into you, and when he came with a growl of your name and a string of curses, you felt a warm sensation in your lower stomach. You sighed happily at nothing in particular.

Damien immediately crowded you on the mattress, sweaty bodies intertwining, his arms wrapped around you in a desirous hug.

“You did so good, baby, you did such a good job for me.” He kissed whatever skin he could reach, peppering your cheek and shoulder with soft kisses. “My good girl, my perfect girl.”

You hummed into him, hand creeping up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I did good?” You asked for further validation, hazy from the pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he pulled you closer to him. “Do you feel good? Was that too much?”

You shook your head, smiling at the way he checked in on you; his prioritization of your comfort never ceased to make your heart feel full. “Just what I wanted.” You reassured him.

“Me too,” he sighed, tracing shapes on your back. The room went quiet, and your breathing fell in sync with his. “Do you wanna clean up?” He nudged you finally, "I can get you a towel—or, or run the shower?"

“Not yet,” you had closed your eyes, content to rest on him, “Comfy.”

He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, and leaning back. “Y'know...I do like that shirt on you.” He mused.

“Yeah?” You perked up, suddenly wide awake again.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I mean—I like everything on you—and off you—but I especially enjoy seeing you in my clothes.”

You laughed quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind next time I decide to act out.”

He grasped your face with both hands, covering your face with kisses and laughing, “Was that the lesson you learned today?”

“Learned not to be bratty,” you laughed at the way his stubble tickled your neck when he dipped down to kiss your pulse points, “Learned that when I am bratty you still give me what I want.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, letting go of your face and wrapping his arms around your waist again. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think so,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling your face against his chest, “Y’big softy.”

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy On Tumblr part 8

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

:) I think some of you guys are gonna like this one.

You'd been afraid working with Chilchuck would be difficult, if not impossible, but you soon settled into an easy rhythm with him. With the both of you working together, you could cover more ground. Soon you worked out an almost code to signal to each other, quiet warnings and quick clicks of the tongue. 

The traps were sporadic and sometimes difficult to find and prepare for. Sometimes they were triggered by movement, sometimes by pressure. You weren't sure if you would have been able to get through them all alone. 

The labyrinth changed around you as you moved, doors clicking into place or disappearing. Soon you'd been unwillingly shunted off what you'd thought was the main corridor into who knows where. 

Eventually you came to a dead end. Chilchuck huffed in exasperation. "Damnit I'll have to either find some way through this or we'll need to backtrack, which would lose us a lot of time."

"Well if it's going to be a minute until we can move on we might as well stop for a meal now." Senshi said cheerfully. 

He stopped and made a move to unpack. You held up a hand. "hold on! Let me check this area for traps." 

You quickly combed the area. Surprisingly, it was completely clean for about ten feet away from the dead end. Definitely enough to set up a quick camp site. 

Once finished, Senshi began happily unpacking and then slicing up the walking mushroom. You joined Chilchuck in poking around the walls for hidden passageways. 

"There's no traps right around here. Not for another ten feet back" You said. 

"Yup, that's why I'm thinking it's not actually a dead end. Something's gotta move"

You nodded, and continued combing over the wall, poking and prodding at the bricks. 

"That was a really dumb thing you did back there."

You glanced up, affronted. Did you somehow miss a trap? "What? What did I do?"

"You know what I mean!" Chilchuck quietly hissed. "Tackling Izutzumi! There was a solid chance that wouldn't have worked and you haven't built up nearly enough body mass for resurrection to work again! We could have resurrected Izutzumi, I don't know if we could have resurrected you. It's not our job to put ourselves in danger unnecessarily! It's not brave, it's just stupid." 

You bristled and hissed back. "It wasn't like I planned that! I saw someone in danger and reacted. If I'd stopped to make a thought out plan Izutzumi would have died, and I don't know if you noticed but she's not exactly over abundant in body mass herself."

"Yes but she has more than you do! We *have* to keep expectations consistent across all halffoot workers, that's how this works and how the union continues to function. Yeah maybe you're okay with putting your life at risk for a stupid fucking reason but no halffoot should be forced into that!" 

"I'm not part of the union." You shot back. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Izutzumi watching you with a bored expression. Ah. Cat ears.

You switched seamlessly into your native tongue, your voice rising a bit from anger. "When I went into the dungeon there were no regulations and you had to do whatever it took to prove you deserved to be here! Yeah we're both halffoots, but you're a man and you're tall for a halffoot, do you have any idea what it's like to be a tiny halffoot *woman* trying to get people to take her seriously? I learned how to fight and how to do stuff like that out of *necessity* because otherwise I would have been dropped by the wayside! And I don't have a contract with this party, and it might be nice to have another trap guy but they don't actually *need* me, and I'm telling you right now I will NOT be left behind and I WILL do WHATEVER it takes to be a part of this party. I don't give a shit about your fucking union. Let me take my own risks and stop treating me like a goddamn child, I have enough of that from the other races." 

You were half yelling by the end of that and your face was flushed and hot.  How dare he try and sit there and talk you through how halffoots were exploited like you hadn't gone through it too? Preaching on his fucking high horse. 

Chilchuck scowled, but he looked just slightly taken aback. He'd glanced at Izutzumi when you did and probably had picked up what you had, because he answered in the same language. "You don't have... Fuck you're right. I can probably negotiate one for you, you really don't have to do stuff like that just to be in this party. Why does it even matter to you so much? You don't need to stay here, you don't need to be doing this, we can just send you back. Marcilles all shy about it but they can learn the home spell from their book I bet. She picks stuff up real fast." 

You grit your teeth and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Tell me. ONE. personal fact. About yourself." 

He blinked, mouth hanging open before he snapped it shut. "What?" 

"I've heard Marcille referencing her school, Laois talks about his sister and a bit about his village, Senshi won't shut up about the stuff he's into, and Izutzumi is Izutzumi, but YOU don't share SHIT. so if you want ME to start sharing you better fucking open up too buddy."

"I- that's not- what- I keep my personal and professional life very separate!"

You grinned. "Then don't expect me to be any different." 

Chilchuck opened his mouth to retort, before shutting it again. Then he shrugged. "Yeah that's fair, keep your reasons to yourself, I'll negotiate you a contract anyway, just forms sake." 

You put your hand down, the wind a bit let out of your sails. You hadn't expected him to back down so easy and you felt oddly...disappointed. it'd been a bit since you'd had a really good knock down drag out argument. 

"Food is ready!" Senshi said "Come and eat while it's hot!" 

Taglist, ask to tag:

@hopefully-not

@night-shadowblood-writes2

@thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

@dunmeshimeshi

@leguink 

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[rei-ismyname]

X-MEN #7 From The Ashes

Possibly the biggest downside to the circular, repetitive nature of X-Men comics is that real life is awful enough. Jettisoning the hope of the Krakoan age for the misery porn of From The Ashes feels kinda callous and depressing in a world where there are multiple ongoing genocides and the USA just said yes to fascism again. Nevertheless, join me in some light escapism - a little Magneto goes a long way. Spoilers for X-Men #7.

I've also been spelling Jed Mackay's name wrong. Sorry

Running throughout this issue is Magneto's flashback to The Iron Night. The 'this is Logan behaviour' exchange from the previews has been all over my dash and it's great to get more of this dynamic. It's fantastic to see someone in universe say it out loud - Logan is a whiny little bitch, often a hypocrite, and can be blind to his immortality privilege. Scott knows that better than anyone - his wife's boyfriend throws a tanty like no other. They love him, but it's another reason why he's not the best Wolverine. I hope 'Logan behaviour' sticks around in the fandom.

This is Logan behaviour, Idie

I appreciate the informal nature of the Piper discussion. For one, you don't want to scare the kid or make her feel unwelcome. Idie said that she 'couldn't wait for you (Cyclops) and Magneto' re: Idie - having Psylocke be the one to spell it out for her is effective. The X-Men IS a team and the stakes are incredibly high. Besides, as Beast said in my first screenshot they have a Cerebro. This test could have been done from afar without the risk, and it's implied that it was.

I'm enjoying seeing Idie behaving compassionately, but it looks like she's got some serious anger and mistrust of authority (both justified) from Krakoa. It's great she's getting this kind of character focus and I hope it's followed up on. So many threads and beats have been setup that are likely to be disrupted by the Raid on Graymalkin event kicking off next week, but I'll reserve my judgement on that for when this first arc is concluded.

This is Logan behaviour, wild sentinel.

Gotta love Max and Scott's friendship being shown as they drink crappy beers and bask in Magneto rhetoric. I don't want to question the expert, but is this sentinel Wild or wild? It's clearly not an ORCHIS Iron Man model, but Wild Sentinel has a very specific meaning.

Okay, clearly Wild. It's not attacking either of them, though. Kind of Cyclops to spell out the Star Trek Borg adaptive schtick they've got going on. This is the action scene of the issue, the mandated violence.

'Why is that leopard eating our faces?'

I don't mean that entirely pejoratively either. I'm just as susceptible to the Magneto and Cyclops power fantasy as the next person, though it's a bit of a dirty trick to wait until issue 7 to show it.

This is NOT Logan behaviour, Magneto.

Sigh. I love your sense of drama Magneto. Play to the crowd, old man. I hope your monologue doesn't become ironic. Oh wait, we already know it has. This could have been a clever moment.

Uh oh, looks like his knees are weak and arms are heavy. Vomit on his sweater already...

So we see the moment Mags' powers start to shit the bed, right after a Wild Sentinel attack. I'd be suspecting Cassandra Nova's involvement just off these two data points tbh. Which idiot resurrected her anyway?

Oh, fuck off. Logan behaviour, Mackay.

R-LDS sounds like horse shit to me. Scott says 'we don't know that for sure' so how does this speculative condition have an acronym already? Mags is speaking as if it's a fact, but he doesn't even have the same body The Five resurrected. Maybe he has Umari-Key-Waiting Room-Brashear Portal Syndrome. Obviously he's scared but this feels like an idiot ball moment, and a cynical jab at Krakoa. The Five was something they got right, even with Sinister in the mix. The implications would be insane. 16 million Genoshans were resurrected, 250k Krakoans (give or take), a whole bunch of vulnerable human children via The Phoenix Foundation, Captain America, and 1000 fucking years of Sinisterized clones etc that had nothing of the sort.

No, there's way too many data points that apply to Magneto alone to make seriously considering The Five's resurrections as the source of patient zero's malady. It would be scientifically irresponsible to get to the point of naming it and then an acronym for that. Mags is good enough at science to know this, and Beast is too. I'm no scientist, but it manifested during a fight with a Wild Sentinel. I assume they have better resources than the Marvel wiki I'm using, but that robot/Cassandra Nova is my prime suspect - the lady they know for certain to be involved in ongoing genetic fuckery - activating X-Genes. Though not Piper Cobb...

Or yes Piper Cobb? Smash cut cliffhangers aside, this would be a great time to retcon Homo Sapiens Superior right the fuck out of existence. It's never made sense, and not just the 'Superior' part. Again, I'm not a scientist but I'm certain that's not how phylogeny works. They're mutated humans, but I don't live in 616 which canonically operates on impossible physics, so idk. My fingers are crossed but my expectations are nil.

That is Logan behaviour, masked kidnapper

Okay, we'd known from solicits that Beast would be getting beat down in captivity at Graymalkin. I had speculated he'd give himself up to get inside, but the ol' bag over the head works too. I dig his outfit.

X-Men #7 is worth reading IMO, and it's one of the better ones based off Magneto content alone. Last issue I wrote that the formula was becoming easier to spot, and I stand by that. A handful of character moments, some new information about one of the ongoing mysteries but it piles more questions on top of half answers and speculation. For example, we get to see Scott and Max fight a sentinel and be friends. There's new information there but a LOT more questions. The characters are at the point of absurd speculation which raises tension but doesn't make them look very competent. To kick off the event 'Raid on Graymalkin' they went with a final page bag over the head instead of any choice and comic book events notoriously derail everything so friends can argue and punch each other.

All that said, it's only *just* acceptable in my opinion - and that's the best I can say for the rest of the line too. We know that there's been ongoing issues with writers simply not knowing major Krakoan plot points, though they probably have the excuse that they were writing before FOTHOX/ROTPOX ended. Surely there's someone in charge of overseeing all this, like Hickman was as Head of X. *Looks at the credits* Tom Brevoort - Conductor of X... That's a fancy way to say 'line editor/hatchet man.' I'll stop there and save it for the From The Ashes piece I'm doing, but spoilers: I'm not impressed with how this guy keeps failing upwards.

What did you think? Thanks for reading.

[bullet-prooflove]

‘Cause sometimes you just gotta get a little outta hand

Tagging: @kmc1989 @star017 @withakindheartx  @motorcitygem @kishie8

Companion piece to:

Trust - There is one person that Bill trusts and that's you.

Whiskey Business - Your relationship with Bill changes during a whiskey tasting event.

Scars - Bill decides to take care a problem when a face from your past shows up.

You’re waiting for Bill when he gets out of the shower, dressed in one of his button up shirts, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The fingertip bruising on your arms is starting to disappear, the black fading into browns. The damage to your face however is still vivid,  an artist’s canvas of blues, blacks and purples. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen so many shades mar a person’s skin.

“Did you kill him?” You ask as your gaze strays down to the split knuckles on his right hand, the one holding the white towel in place around his hips.

He knows you’re talking about Bobby D’Amico, the man who attacked you a few days ago on the way to your car, that beat the shit out of you because you refused to hand over your business. He’d disappeared back to Tulsa when he realised who you were affiliated with, thinking he was out of Bill’s reach. He hadn’t realised that Bill had friends there, an ex-wife who adores you, a business partner that despises any form of violence against women.

The asshole had been practically gift wrapped when Dwight’s driver had dropped him off at the barn, hogtied in the back of the Escalade.

“It got out of hand.” He concedes, flexing his fist and feeling the tight stretch of skin across his knuckles. “He wouldn’t stop running his mouth, so I shut him up."

Its as much of a confession as you’re going to get. You don’t need to know that Bill’s guys are currently feeding D’Amico’s body through a woodchipper because he beat the other man to death. That he wishes he could resurrect the bastard and do it all over again because when he looks at the marks on your face, he still has that anger, that rage that burns deep inside of him.

“He doesn’t get to hurt you Julia.” He tells you as he sits down on the end of the bed, his head tilted up to meet your gaze. “As long as I’m alive no one does.”

“Bill.” You murmur as you climb into his lap, cradling his your face between his hands. “I’m not mad because you killed him, I’m mad because you didn’t let me do it myself.”

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[jellofish-plant]

Shadows and Smoke

Jason Todd X Reader

Master List || Chapter 1

summary: On a cold December night, you and Jason Todd share a quiet moment above Gotham’s chaos. As shadows and smoke swirl between you, your bond feels as steady as the city’s heartbeat. But the peace is short-lived as Red Hood is called back to action, leaving you with only the promise of his return.

pairing/mentions: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

!Warnings! - Mentions of past trauma and death (Jason’s resurrection hinted at), Mild language, Gotham’s usual dose of crime and violence, brief gunshot sound in the story, Smoking habits referenced (Jason playing with an unlit cigarette).

The quiet hum of Gotham City settled like a blanket of static over the rooftop, its neon signs and flickering street lights casting fractured shadows against the brick walls. You leaned against the edge, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as the December wind nipped at your face. A faint wisp of smoke curled in the air beside you, and you turned your head just in time to catch Jason Todd lowering his helmet under his arm.

"You know," he started, voice rough yet laced with a teasing warmth, "if you keep standing there like that, someone's gonna think you're brooding."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Funny. I learned from the best."

Jason snorted, slipping the helmet onto the ground before pulling out a cigarette. He didn’t light it, just toyed with it between his fingers a habit he'd picked up when he quit smoking. "Touché."

Silence wrapped around the two of you as you both looked out over the city. For all its chaos and corruption, Gotham had a way of looking almost peaceful from above, as if it were simply waiting for someone to pull its pieces together.

"You didn’t have to come tonight," Jason said finally, his voice quieter now. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes locked on the streets below.

You shrugged, leaning back against the railing. "And miss seeing Red Hood in action? Please. You might be good, but you're not invincible, Jason."

He laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Guess that’s why you stick around, huh? To make sure I don’t get myself killed again."

The weight of his words hung in the air, but you didn’t flinch. You knew Jason well enough to understand the shadows he carried and the walls he put up to keep everyone else out.

"Someone's gotta keep you alive," you said lightly, bumping your shoulder against his. "Besides, it's not like you make it easy for me."

That earned you a real grin, his blue eyes flicking to yours. "Yeah, well, I like keeping you on your toes."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at your lips. Jason had a way of slipping under your skin, his sharp edges and dark humor somehow fitting perfectly with your own.

The city below erupted in a brief burst of noise, a gunshot, distant yet sharp. Jason tensed, his hand instinctively moving to his holster before he stopped himself. He shot you a look, the question unspoken but clear.

"Go," you said, already stepping back to give him space.

Jason hesitated for a fraction of a second, his brows knitting together. "You sure?"

"I'm not the one who keeps dying," you teased, but your voice softened as you added, "I’ll be here when you’re done."

Something flickered in his expression of gratitude, maybe, or something deeper. He gave a quick nod, slipping the helmet back over his head and pulling the Red Hood persona back into place.

"Don’t go anywhere," he said, his voice distorted now, deeper and more mechanical.

"Wouldn't dream of it," you replied, watching as he disappeared into the shadows with a fluid grace.

The rooftop felt colder without him, but you didn’t mind. Jason Todd wasn’t perfect far from it but he was yours. And in a city like Gotham, that was more than enough.

next chapter ->

[atinylittlepain]

Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze. 

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers. 

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?” 

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.” 

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him. 

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.” 

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips. 

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at. 

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.” 

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped. 

“You ever used lube before?” 

“No, never needed to, I guess.” 

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?” 

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation. 

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?” 

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.” 

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock. 

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan. 

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand. 

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself. 

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer. 

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets. 

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.” 

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.” 

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth. 

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw. 

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him. 

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while. 

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy. 

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him. 

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack. 

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both. 

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number. 

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her. 

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care. 

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

I didn't really wanna talk ahead of the Dungeon Meshi anime but I had this thought bugging me as I was skimming the manga. So, spoilers for what's to come.

I don't think it's any coincidence that Laios' party, out of a cast of infinitely more capable people, makes it to the final floor of the Dungeon. Why? Cause they aren't heroes.

Look at Kabru, he's the poster boy for anime protagonists. He has a tragic backstory, a personal beef with the dungeon, skills trained by a master of the crafts, and a large party who seems genuinely friendly together. He has everything going for him to one day dive to the bottom and gain closure for his story but he just can't. He never will, because the dungeon does not work on his logic. It turns out that there is no plot armor against hearing a siren sing for the first time.

What about Mithrun then? Personally wronged by the Demon, he's the paradigm of vengeance. A tragic hero who will do anything it takes to get to his goal and probably die achieving it. He has a party full of dark history and interesting dynamics, really laden with moral greyness. Not Berserk but a step closer to it than Kabru's story. But he is, unfortunately, also a classic hero archetype, and although his skills are impressive they aren't fit for the ecosystem around him, singleminded vengeance will see you killed by changelings, the cold, or starvation.

Shuro, it's gotta be Shuro right? A man from a distant land but a familiar one to the primary readerbase. He goes back to train, hone his mind, collect a party, and save the love interest from a cruel fate. Perhaps he will learn there is no saving her, and tragically be forced to slay the monster she's become. His journey ends the second Faligon dies, so he has no chance, ever, of becoming the Dungeon Lord. There doesn't need to be any extra traps to deter him, he'll get what he wants at the fourth level and be gone, his desire simply isn't pointed that way.

Laios, on the other hand. None of his party are heroes, they're all here for selfish reasons and have absolutely zero illusions about heroics and greater goods. Laios is here to save Falin, he only wants his sister to be safe. And to eat and document monsters. Marcille is here for forbidden magic and Falin, and her two desires coincide with her resurrection. Chilchuck is here because he got paid up front and can't leave without rumors spreading. Senshi was always here and he just wants to live in peace with nature. None of them have heroic intent, broadly. But it also means they don't have heroic conceit either.

Laios' party will eat anything. They'll run from battle, take shortcuts. They treat monsters not as grand challenges to overcome but something to fight for their lives with. With their teeth if need be. There is no honor here there is only living. Honor gets you strangled by treasure bugs. Revenge will see you abandon your party to giant spiders for the mere shot at your target. Duty sees you skipping meals because your goal is so important. It is striking how different the dungeon is between Laios and the others. They all treat the dungeon as their personal hell to be striven against and conquered, only Laios sees it as an extension of the living world and understands his place in it. And I think that is so fucking cool, it's so multifaceted. Like, their exact skill set is perfect for getting through the dungeon because of how they all treat it. But also because the dungeon wants them there, because they have very personal, strong desires. Desires that shape their skills, and desires shaped by their skills in a kind of Ouroboros.

And it's an interesting question of how much of both factors into their progress in the story.

[brw]

It baffles the mind to me how people will insist Ben Percy's Beast is right and correct and is the natural end version of Hank and that since day one he was always going to end up like that, not just because it implies absolutely nobody has actually read Hank in any pre-Bendis comic ever, but also because Evil Hank as Percy writes him makes everyone look massively incompetent, and I'm not even talking about just X-Force, I mean the entire larger X-Men community.

Emma Frost. World class telepath. Repeatedly is shown to not have that many qualms about digging into people's minds if they're hiding something from her. Confronts Hank at least once directly, and yet did not actually care enough to do anything other than act huffy when confronted with his actions. At most, she was pissed at him ruining her party. You can torture whoever you want, old buddy, but causing an inconvenience at my party? Now I'm mad.

Jean Grey. Even greater telepath. Was on X-Force herself, even, and also does not have many holdups about tearing down people's walls if the needs be. We even see her do just that, but her problem is him keeping things from her, and not the actual content of most of his actions. And after she leaves, she just seems to plug her fingers in her ears and go lalalala? The stuff at the Hellfire Gala, keeping Wolverine as clones, she doesn't care, she's too busy X-Mening.

Wolverine. Epic cool warrior guy who is supposed to be the best there is, whose talents Hank clearly admires enough to clone repeatedly to do his bidding, who is simultaneously a lone wolf and also the guy everyone wants to have on their team, who is the only guy who can see through Hank or whatever. Not competent enough to kill one big blue furry man who has spent the last 5 years at a desk job. That completely alludes him.

Domino has luck based powers that are supposed to help her in any situation, but I guess getting rid of evil blue man is too much to ask. Couldn't even get a bucket propped up under an open door. "He was always like this, he was always evil" she insists, but after learning he's controlling a small nation with plant people at the Hellfire Gala she still busts out the Cha Cha Slide with him on the dance floor.

I guess neither Jean nor Logan bothered to tell Scott his old friend was committing war crimes, because he doesn't seem to know or to give a fuck.

Kitty and Kurt know enough to joke about it, but do they actually confront him? Does anyone care enough to actually try to put a stop to it directly, if they're all seemingly convinced he's beyond help and fundamentally evil? No, they've got other shit going on. No time to care about Hank making a future where he is God-King, we gotta stop Sinister doing that same thing, but I guess when Hank does it, who gives a shit.

Quinten Quire is an omega level telepath who apparently nobody thought to say "hey man, can you use those Phoenix-level abilities to get Beast to stop killing people?". He was too busy giving himself a bigger dick in resurrection protocols, I guess.

I could go on, but point is, I genuinely don't know how you insist that era made so much sense and was the perfect version of Hank and everyone was simply too naive to see that this was who he always was, because it makes everyone look like an incompetent moron! They can't kill one fat blue furry man??? He hasn't done field work in years! And yet that's too much to ask! The only reason he died was because he was in gay love with some fuckass actor from New Jersey. It's deeply embarrassing for everyone involved if that's the reality of things, and I have no idea why you want all of your favourite characters to be incompetent dipshits who think "Wow, isn't Hank evil?" and then refuse to actually do anything about it.

And all this could have been averted if Hank was, you know, Hank. Hank isn't charming and cultured and well-read and funny and polite because he's a good person, those are his innate traits, and as we see with Dark Beast, they can twist in the opposite direction. That would literally be all it would take. I mean a lot of things would still suck, but at the very least, it would make everyone's inability to do anything a little more understandable, and allow things to feel tragic, like that Hank becoming increasingly evil and separated from his ethics is a loss and one we all mourn, instead of the insistence that he was always going to turn out that way.

Emma walks in to try and set things right with Hank, but gets distracted by good conversation and jokes and the same man who treated her as a member of the X-Men when she first joined and not as a heartless monster, who built her piece by piece back together when people were joking that finding out her murderer would be too much work, because everyone wanted her dead. It's hard to connect the evil actions she's heard Hank doing with the kind and charming and personable man in front of her, who matches her intellectually and well and truly respects her, and so she accepts that things are either exaggerated or that Hank will ultimately come back into himself, and that she can trust him not to disrupt her party.

Just a few little moments like that would have gone so far. An evil Hank McCoy is ultimately still Hank, and should still be funny and dropping Aristotle quotes and Shakespeare and being a good friend, because those are not traits exclusively to moral people, and it would make everyone's seeming incompetence a little easier to swallow. It's harder to see the evil actions that Hank is doing for what they are, when he's making you laugh so hard your belly aches or pondering intellectual questions with you, rather than just repeatedly saying "I'M THE BASTARD YOU NEED" before making a torture station in outer space.

There's so many ways this entire arc could have, at the very least, had some intrigue and actual character work to explore, the ways Hank has always used a larger than life persona to deflect and hide, and how that could become increasingly warped if you're dead set on having him be evil, and make the whole thing feel less like a character assassination and more of a tragedy. Hank McCoy becoming evil should hurt. It should feel like a great loss that someone who had been so kind and empathetic and nurturing became increasingly amoral and evil and even sadistic, and all the characters involved should feel that loss, and that even could be why they struggle to actually do anything for so long; they're so loyal to the Hank that once was, they can't see the Hank that is.

But all that is lost when the only character suggesting that something else might be to blame is Colossus, who immediately gets shut down as being ridiculous and silly, and everyone else stands and nods that Hank is really evil now, and isn't that a shame, and maybe he was always like this, but are we actually gonna do anything about it? Nah, we got a party to throw, we gotta get our fancy dresses on.

The entire thing is so unbelievably infuriating, because all it would have taken for someone to actually not even like Hank, but just want to be consistent with prior characterisation and have him be fun. A villainous Hank should ultimately be fun. That's probably the main reason why Dark Beast has endured for so long; he is fun to see and be around. He's a fun character to see on your page. That's what Hank needed. But I guess Sinister was taking that place so instead we got blue Kissinger and it is genuinely such a travesty that this dogshit is celebrated by comic fans who throw up in their mouths if you suggest reading an Avengers comic to broaden their horizons.

[danishphoner]

Alex Turner talks ditching the 'naiveté' of the previous Last Shadow Puppets album

Alex Turner has made a name for himself in recent years as the slick frontman of British alt-rockers Arctic Monkeys. Though he looks the part when he strides in to meet with EW — perfectly coiffed hair, a bright turquoise suit, and a pristine white linen shirt unbuttoned to the chest — Turner isn’t promoting new music from his most popular project.

Instead, he’s joined by Miles Kane, the former frontman of the Rascals, who created the Last Shadow Puppets with Turner back in 2007, well before the Arctic Monkeys were rocking stadiums and Olympic stages. Kane and Turner have reconvened the group — which also includes super producer James Ford (Florence + the Machine, Haim) and string mastermind Owen Pallett (Arcade Fire, Beirut) — for the follow-up to 2008’s The Age of Understatement.

Where Understatement was a syrupy homage to the likes of Scott Walker, Kane and Turner introduce a more worldly sensibility on Everything You’ve Come to Expect, which includes raucous jams (“Bad Habits”), sly Brit-pop (“Dracula Teeth”), and serene ballads (the title track). Turner attributes the shift on the new album, which dropped earlier this month, to newfound maturity: “That naiveté we shared has long since gone the way of old flesh.”

Kane and Turner sat down with EW to discuss why they chose to resurrect the Last Shadow Puppets, recording at Rick Rubin’s studio, and whether they’ll release a third album.

Written by Eric Renner Brown Photography by Zackery Michael

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: The Last Shadow Puppets haven’t released a record for nearly a decade. Why now? How’d you get the band back together? ALEX TURNER: In the last eight years, Miles and I have seen each other a lot, James and I have seen each other, those two probably bumped into each other now and again, but the three of us being together was quite rare. We talked occasionally, like, “Maybe we’ll do another [record]” but it started to seem like it wasn’t going to happen. Then there was this one night and we were all back in Miles’s flat. Some other people got talking about it and we were like, “Oh f–k, yeah, we could give it another roll of the dice.” We woke up the next day and were like “Oh god, we’re going to have to follow this through now.”

And so then, was it just immediately writing and recording demos? AT: Me and Miles had already been writing a little bit for what was possibly going to be next. We always thought “Aviation,” which ended up being the first track on the album, had the properties of a Shadow Puppets song, if there is such a thing. Then it became, “Alright, but it’s not enough to stay there. We’ve gotta try and explore other things.” I guess that’s what the next ten songs do. [Laughs]

Are there themes on the album that you’re exploring? Or did you guys just want to play together again? AT: The lyrical side of things was not discussed that much. But the musical side of it was like, yeah, we should definitely explore.

How did working with James Ford contribute to that? AT: Having him agree to do it again was integral. The moment you start discussing the reference material for too long, it becomes stifling to the creative process. One thing that working with [Ford] allows you is you don’t get stuck in that. He says, “OK, we’re going to push you in this direction as far as we can” but [knows] when to stop. That’s what you want.

What did Owen Pallett bring to the table? AT: Last time, we brought [Pallett] in after we [finished recording]. We met up with him once in a hotel room in Manchester — just the fact that we had anything [from him] on [the album] was blowing our minds. When we recorded that, it blossomed into something that we could never envisage before. This time we thought, “Let’s get Owen to do the strings again, but this time let’s get him to come down to the studio. If he’s there, we’ll be able to communicate better.” There was a piano in the other room and he’d kind of — MILES KANE: Whisk in. AT: Yeah, float in and out and then have an idea and shoot off there. Every time we’d be in the control room and the song would end you’d just hear [Pallett] shredding the grand [piano]. It was wicked.

How do you guys plan to take these songs on the road? AT: Last time, we had the orchestra every time. It’s difficult to do that and it’s f–king really expensive. And some rooms you play in, you stick an orchestra in there and it’s not even built for it. This time we’ll have a smaller [group] and adapt the arrangements accordingly. I won’t be doing that, but…

How have you guys changed since the last album? MK: My singing has changed — [becoming] not afraid to sing stuff, which is something Alex would help. Before doing this record, [I’d be] singing in a certain style thinking “Oh, it sounds too weak” or “It sounds too thin.” That door opened up for me [on this record]. AT: This, in the first place, was a chance to try something else. The first Shadow Puppets record was the first time that either of us had tried to really sing like that. The fact that we didn’t quite make the mark is almost one of the things that’s good about it. This time we’re more equipped to sing like that.

I saw that you guys recorded at Rick Rubin’s studio. Did he stop by to provide his wisdom from the couch? AT: He didn’t, no. There’s a machine in the control room where you can bring him up like a hologram, if you’re really stuck. But we resisted turning that knob. It would’ve been embarrassing for James, more than anything else.

It would hurt his cred. AT: How’s he going to take that?

You’ve said this is like the second in a trilogy of Last Shadow Puppets records: How do you see it fitting in with the context of your last one? Do you think you’ll do another? AT: That’s the dream: We’ve got this third one and we’ll tie up all the loose ends. This one, maybe there’s a few loose ends left and next time, sonically, we need resolution. And, you know, so does the world. [Laughs] Some Shadow Puppets resolution.