#i keep putting marina in situations

[scrunklyshinyguy]

fuck it here's some damerina angst hope y'all enjoy!!

Marina stares at the clock on Dame’s bedside drawer, the numbers reading 1:00 AM glaring at him in the dark. He’s been here for a week, he should be used to the timezone change. He IS used to the timezone change, but something’s keeping him up tonight.

Meeting Dame’s family was…ok. They were good people and it was plain to see that Dame loved them. Marina was briefed on who’s who and the recent news about the family on the ride to Dame’s family home. He was so excited to meet his boyfriend’s family and made sure to be on his best behavior, determined to make a good first impression.

He’s not sure what he did wrong, or if he even did anything wrong in the first place. He knew coming in that French people wouldn’t be as hospitable as Filipinos are or be completely welcoming and accepting of foreigners. But something about how they acted towards him, something in how they looked at him stung. Something in how they talked to him through Dame, or how they responded to his compliments with tight-lipped smiles.

Marina blinks back tears that he didn’t even know were coming, using the blanket to wipe most of it away. He tries to rationalize their behavior towards him, tries to come up with reasons that fall completely flat. The truth is, he knows why that is. He’s completely aware of the real reason why they acted like that but he tries to push it back down, tries to see the best in them.

But it’s no use, and the tears flow and he sobs into his pillow. He should have expected it, should have expected that what happened was going to happen. But Dame….his sweetheart, his love. He truly wanted to meet the people that raised such a kind, sweet, silly man. He wanted to meet the people that made such a good man and see if they were too. And they were, for the most part. 

They really were such kind and sweet people, just not to him. Not to somebody like him. More and more tears flow and he has to bite his fist to quiet himself, to keep Dame in his restful slumber. As much as he wants Dame to console him, to soothe him, he knows he has to deal with his sorrow himself.

So he decides to fall asleep, as difficult as it is. He hides his tear-stained face in the covers and lets sleep take him.

#writing tag #i keep putting marina in situations #sorry to her #but shes my chewtoy it seems #damerina #should i post this on ao3?

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

#nosebleed club #sorry stephen not ur fault #just like. thinking #writeblr #spilled ink #warm up #every time nat is like - oh let me get that for u #im like .... this is a trick right like ur gonna be mean now bc u did something nice rn #so obviously if ur being nice now either u did something mean and im about to learn about it #or you're going to BE mean #or ur gonna hold this over my head forever and i'll never get a nice thing ever again? #and every time nat is like .... babe i just actually like u #lesbian jesus story is 100% real btw. she also told me not to be an event planner #literally changed the shape of my life

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Fifteen - Rhythm of our hearts

♡♡♡

Daphne, the beautiful duchess, had spent her time in London wisely. She used what sorces she had to help Marina Thompson track down her far away love.

You still had not seen much of Daphne. She had been quite busy, and you were really starting to miss her presence. You had hoped to catch up with her at some point, but you would just have to wait for the next opportunity to present itself.

The concert. You were all dressed up to go. Your mother had been gushing about this. Lord Hardy was going to be in attendance, and according to your mother, he had asked about you only a few days prior. You put on your nicest gown and prettiest jewellery for the occasion.

Who knew? Perhaps something would spark.

There was also the fact that the queen would be in attendance tonight.

When you arrived, the atmosphere was wonderful. You arrived on your mother's arm, and you smile at some familiar faces. You spot the duke and duchess, and you wonder if tonight you may get the chance to talk to Daphne.

Benedict is stood by himself drinking champagne as he watches the gentleman talking to Cressida. He was at the studio. With Henry.

Then he spots Granville and approaches him. Henry turns toward Benedict. "Bridgerton."

The two excuse themselves from the others to talk elsewhere.

"I would simply like to understand your... situation." Benedict says.

Henry sighs softly.

"I would just like to understand."

"It is simple. I am in love with Lord Wetherby." Granville tells him.

"You're married." Benedict points out.

"And our marriage affords my wife her freedoms and protections," Henry explains. "It is a happier union than most of the people in this room have, I assure you."

"What is the advantage for the young ladies Lord Wetherby is courting?" Benedict asks. "Do they all share this understanding?"

Henry chuckles.

"What about honour? Romance?" Benedict continues.

"What would you know of either?" Henry asks in return. "We live under constant threat of danger. I risk my life every day for love. You have no idea what it is like to be in a room with someone you cannot live without... and yet still feel as though you are oceans apart. Stealing your glances, disguising your touches. We cannot so much as smile at each other... without first ensuring no one is watching."

Benedict is silent.

"It takes courage... to live outside the traditional expectations of society. You talk of doing the same... but perhaps it is merely just that... all talk."

Henry Granville walks away.

Benedict is left with his thoughts. As he lets all that sink in, he catches a glimpse of you across the room. For a moment, he feels his chest fill with warmth. He thinks about approaching you, but then he sees Lord Hardy.

You're smiling.

Benedict remains where he is stood and watches quietly. Alone.

A second son without a mark on the world, and now no companion to confide in. Nothing was coming up roses for Benedict Bridgerton.

Inside the concert hall, you take your seat beside Lord Hardy. Your mother sat on the other side of you, keeping her eyes focused on the crowds, allowing you time to talk to your companion.

You smile as he speaks to you. His voice is smooth, and you rather like the way he says your name.

Benedict is stood by the door watching you. It seems your evening is occupied, so much for stealing you away this evening. Then again, perhaps that is for the best. Benedict isn't sure his thoughts are put together tonight.

Eloise comes up beside him looking rather desperate. "How long is this concert?" She asks her brother.

"About three hours... Four?"

Eloise looks less than pleased.

"Though, uh, I certainly have already heard enough," Benedict says, glancing your way briefly.

"You are my favourite brother. Do you know that?" Eloise says, smiling at him.

He chuckles and takes his sister's arm. The two leave the concert hall.

You don't see him go.

♡♡♡

The two siblings sit in the carriage quietly, heading home. Eloise is caught up in her thoughts. She thought she was on a secret mission from the queen to discover Lady Whistledown's identity, but tonight, the queen had brushed Elosie off and stated she had hired people to do the job for her.

Benedict was lost in his own mind, too. He was thinking about you. He had hoped to pass the evening pleasantly by your side. The concert itself was nothing of any actual interest. You both could have talked quietly, enjoying each others company.

Yet it seemed you had made up your mind. Your pursuit to find a husband was possibly baring fruit. Lord Hardy seemed a nice enough man, he supposed. Benedict didn't know too well, but je certainly seemed to have your attention tonight.

So, Benedict should do something to enjoy his evening, too. A thought comes to his mind.

He reaches up and taps on the top of the carriage. "I woul like to make a stop and pick up a friend."

Eloise looks at her brother. "A friend?"

"Should I not have a friend?" He asks her.

Eloise chuckles.

"I'm not bound by the rules of society," he tells her. "Please do not tell mother."

Eloise scoffs softly in amusement.

The carriage pulls up outside the modiste. Eloise looks at the shop front with confusion. "Why are we here?"

Genevieve climbs in.

Eloise looks at her brother.

Genevieve looks at Eloise, surprised to see her.

"This is my sister, Eloise, and we will be dropping her at home," Benedict says.

The carriage moves again.

Silence fills the air.

"How was your night, ma chérie?" Genevieve asks.

"It was... everything I expected. Horrible and terribly boring."

"So this is why you do not wish to lower your hems?" Genevieve chuckles.

"The entire ton were there, and I did not have a single worthwhile exchange." Eloise tells her.

"The entire ton? You mean, everyone except for the Featheringtons?"

"Yes, everyone except... them." Eloise is struck with a thought.

Eloise falls silent.

"Is everything well, Eloise?" Benedict asks.

She looks up at him. "Hmm? Yeah."

Eloise looks at Genevieve again.

♡♡♡

The concert has begun. You and Lord Hardy look up at the stage as the music plays. Your arm rests next to his.

The and duchess have a box. Neither of them look at each other.

Violet sits in a box with Anthony. She looks across at her daughter. Anthony casts his eyes down to the people below. He sees a family face.

Tonight is filled with all kinds of feelings from everyone around the room.

The orchestra was rather good.

Lord Hardy keeps his head bowed low, close to you, so he may exchange words with you quietly. You smile as you respond to him.

Perhaps tonight will change things for you after all.

The duke reaches for his wife's hand. She smiles softly. The music continues to play, and then she looks down. The duke wat he's her. Her eyes meet his, and she looks at him. She flees the box.

Her courses have come.

Violet flees her box to go see Daphne.

Fingers curl around your gloved ones. You look down to see him holding your hand. You lift your eyes to Lord Hardy. He smiles at you and then turns his eyes back to the concert.

Your mother sits straighter in her seat.

Yes, tonight, there are many emotions being felt. Some hearts are breaking. Some are yearning. Yours is racing.

You are glad you came.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

[annabelle--cane]

im listening to mag again and damn do the archival crew HATE jon. listen i get it supposedly your lives would be normal if he hadn't brought you here... but he didn't? (minus og archive crew, jon requesting them and all) if anything he was just kinda there when you made decisions, bro wasn't EVEN THERE when melanie got hired like??? like how r u gonna wish him pain rn, he's ltrly sopping wet and on the verge of dying💀

like another anon I got a month or so ago, this is one of my sleeper agent trigger phrases, so this might be another marina monologue moment.

as I'm also in the middle of a (for my standards) incredibly slow relisten, I've been thinking about this topic, too, but I've been coming at it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. in tim's case, we don't get an actual look at the circumstances under which he transferred to the archives, it is theoretically possible that jon laid it on a bit thick in asking him to come with him to the department and tim wouldn't have even thought of it otherwise, but with melanie we have several scenes of her hiring and onboarding where jon is not present and she continually rebuffs people who tell her she's making a mistake, so the text very clearly sets up that her blaming jon for being trapped there doesn't make sense. and, even with tim having been requested by jon, he still had to make the ultimate decision to switch departments himself, so, yknow, what gives?

most people, I think, and myself in the past, have come at this question from a very jon-centric pov because he's the main character and it's a jon-centric show, but I think putting it down to "they lash out at him because he happens to be there and stops defending himself after a while" misses something, as does "they lash out at him because elias sets everyone up to think they have an adversarial relationship to jon." more than that, I think it's about the rejection of agency.

tma is a show that's very much About agency and choices, so it's important to keep track of where characters suddenly balk and try to offload their choices onto other agents. martin, despite being very proactive and efficient when he sets his mind to it, has a consistent habit of thinking of himself as fundamentally unimportant and unable to affect real change. jon, someone who is usually culpability_acceptor_4000, really tries to convince himself that the web made him pull statements out of strangers. and melanie and tim, on realizing that they've gotten themselves stuck in the archives, have similar reactions of trying to retroactively make those decisions jon's.

they hate being stuck there and they can't bear the idea that it might be their fault, and they don't know how to reconcile the choices they did make with the greater forces outside of their control that shape their lives. tim swings right from seeing jon as fully responsible to seeing everything as the result of cosmically inevitable bad luck, and this hits him so hard that it leads directly to his suicide. post-bullet melanie gets a better handle on it; accepting that she chose to fall further into the slaughter opens her up to accepting that she made other choices, like joining the archives, as well as accepting future choices, like quitting the archives.

and yes, in the moments where tim and melanie are most vulnerable and just starting to realize how deeply screwed they are, jon (at least from their pov) does something to make it worse. when jon tells tim that jane presntiss wasn't his fault, tim says "well you sure made me feel worse afterwards! and then everyone had to pay attention to how you were feeling to get you to stop stalking us!" when melanie goes in for a second assassination attempt on elias, elias makes jon talk her down instead of doing it himself, presumably to try and get the slaughter mark done with. neither of these are the inciting incidents for tim and melanie's situations, but they stand out. and because jon is culpability_acceptor_4000, a man who feels like the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders and is even right some of the time, the accusations stick. tim and melanie don't want anything to be their fault, jon thinks everything is his fault, and it's a bit of a vicious self-fulfilling cycle.

#tma #answered #anons #suicide ment

[lowkey-luxe]

Brigerton S1 Polin Rewatch

okay so I decided to rewatch Bridgerton bc I literally cannot get enough of polin, but I'm skipping most scenes that don't include pen or colin, this is S1. I'm just pointing out what catches my eye be it romantic or showing character. ❤️ will be something I think is related to polin. p.s. I have not read any of the books and I may put some speculation on meanings.

E1:

Pen calls her mother tasteless and tacless as LW, lmao

❤️when leaving the home, Eloise says hi to Pen across the st. and Colin looks over afterwards

❤️Colin stares at Penelope when she is presented to the Queen

LW says she doesn't like the alphabetical naming, and Portia calls LW out on writing a lot about the bridgertons

❤️Pen stares at Colin as he dances w/ another girl

Pen seems happy when Marina receives callers, I mean listen to LW dialogue about her

Portia tells them^ to bid farewell to "even Penelope" - she thinks of her at the bottom of her daughters

❤️Colin ignores Pen's sisters saying goodbye and goes straight to her to crack a joke, no nodding or curtsy or anything

❤️ Colin walks up to Pen at a ball, this time they do curtsy bc it's in society, she tries to get him to notice her dress but he says nothing (bc of Cressida)

❤️Colin denies Cressida a dance and takes Pen in front of her - Pen's first dance!

E2:

Colin is a jokesterrrr (first about Daphne's dress and then about "sticks")

Pen is the only one to go and check on Marina - she cares

Pen thought pregnancy came from cake, lmaooooo

Pen knows how to twist her words to please her mother

E3:

Pen is such a romanticccc and you can see it w/ Marina's situation

Pen goes to try to help Marina like Eloise tried w/ Daphne when Nigel was calling

E4:

Pen even offers to stay in for Marina

my boy Mr. Finch's first appearance! and later they flirt about cheese MY HEART - Pen seems to find it cute too

❤️again Colin goes to Penelope w/ no curtsy and make innapropriate jokes, I mean he sneaks behind her and says a joke w/ the intention to make her laugh - he looks for her reaction!!!!

❤️Colin looks at Pen, but she looks away!!! - who would look at someone like that, oh Colin you were bewitched before you even knew

❤️ Colin then talks about Marina to keep talking to Pen, he couldv'e walked away but decided to extend the convo!

❤️ poor Pen hearing about Marina hoping to entrap Colin, she tries to hard to softly disuade her

instead of saying anything about her feelings, Pen decides to pretend to try to sleep to kick Marina out of her room

Peneloise's first fight :(

Colin brings in his mother drunk lol - you can see how happy drunk she is w/ her little sensitive boy

Colin ends up helping Daphne - he is caring and sensitive towards her situation

E5:

❤️Pen meddles in Colin and Marina's convo, poor Pen seeing her crush courting someone else :(

❤️Pen keeps trying to disuade Marina from Colin and says it outloud

Peneloise angst

❤️Pen staresss at Marina and Colin

gentleman Colin - no kissing Marina, but proposes, he thinks he is so mature and doing the right/expected thing by society standards

E6:

Colin announces his engagement to Marina

❤️poor Pen being hurtful by said news

Anthony think Colin wants to get it on and thinks of him so young and immature with his actions and decisions

Colin says he is hurt in more ways than one when Anthony does not give him blessing - he cares so much of what others think of him

Violet and Colin have a heart to heart convo, and Colin says he is never taken seriously except by Marina - prob why he went to her bc he longs to be seen as such

Pen feels mocked and pitied by Marina? basically she cannot accept a compliment from her and is also mad w/ her by the whole Colin situation

Pen vs her sisters, never seem to have a moment of getting along or fitting in

Colin tries to sell Marina to his family, cracking a joke too

❤️Pen asks Colin for a word and he says "Pen, of course" - as if there is not even a need for her to ask bc he will always have a word w/ her, no hesitation

❤️unchaperoned and alone Pen tries to talk seriously but Colin cracks a joke and then sees her expression and apoligizes to let her talk

❤️Pen tells Colin that Marina is in love w/ someone else - not to her own benefit but to try to get Colin out of a marriage where he is not/ may not be loved

❤️Colin tells Pen she is good, while holding her hand??? - he sees how Pen tries to help him out but it's no matter to him bc he thinks he and Marina know each other so well, but knows Pen was just looking out for him

Colin aplogizes for his family's actions

Colin is such a romantic toooooooooo, he proposes getting eloped

Portia doesn't even care for Pen when she is supposedly sick, she probably has been disregarded most of her life

Pen proves Marina wasn't denied by George to try to end her engagement to Colin and for Marina's love?

❤️Pen worries about Colin being deceived, she knows Marina would be safe but she worries about Colin in the matter

Marina catches on and tells Pen that Colin does not even see Pen as a woman - which tbh is true at the moment bc Colin only sees her as "Pen" girl next door, sister's bestie, and someone he can joke with from childhood

Pen goes to Eloise and cries - now I read someone saying they thought this wasn't bc Colin was getting married or bc Marina called her out but bc she had used LW to hurt/expose someone she cared for, both Marina and Colin, Pen so thoughtful and knowing how harsh words can be just used LW to bring scandal to them in order to end the engagement, to prevent Colin being tricked into marriage

LW publishes Marina is with child and Colin was conned

E7:

❤️Colin's bedsheets are yellow? hmmm

Daphne checks on Colin, he thought he was in love and puts his heart before his brain, he also catches on something going on w/ Daphne - he is so observant on other's emotions and putting those first

Colin thought he was loved and is hurt that was a lie along w/ Marina's entire scam - Colin is emotional, and I don't mean in the way we think of but he shows emotions and is in tuned with his and with others, he again puts other's first as seen when if told the truth he would've married Marina

❤️even though her family is in scandal Pen asks about Colin

Pen finds Marina unconcious - still caring

E8:

Pen comes and checks on Marina, ready to care for her with water and a rag - still caring about her

❤️"one day he will see it" Marina to Pen about Colin

❤️Colin is singing and quiets when he sees Pen - was he just caught by surprise or shy of Pen seeing him in this state?

lol Philippa "did I lose it" - it being her dowry

❤️ Polin catching each others eye across the dance floor, he was ready and already marching to her and then she put her head down - my poor Pen, again no curtsy

❤️Colin acknowledges Pen was looking out for him in his best interests

❤️Pen was ready to declare her feelings for Colin

❤️Colin tells Pen he is leaving and tells it's bc of her bc she reminded him of who he is and what he wanted

❤️Colin asks her to dance, and she says no - he notices something in her saying no and stared at her leaving, whippppedddd before he knew

❤️Colin leaves but looks at Pen's home maybe???

❤️Pen ofc cries as Eloise comforts her about her father but she looks out the window to Colin - crying for both?

Pen is sad to see Marina leave too - someone who seemed to be closer to her than her sisters

#polin #pen x colin #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton season 1 #bridgerton s1

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; obligatory sugar baby Kon. ( + non-chrono link for mobile. )

“Um . . . right,” Suzie says quietly, and . . . well, he just thought it: she's a secret herself. 

Tim definitely needs to just take over whatever neighborhood he buys Kon a cul-de-sac in. Or maybe just, like, the entire tri-state area. Get Suzie a little place of her own, maybe, with an actual living space in it. She doesn't have physical needs like the rest of them do, no, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't have anything. Like–he doesn't know, whatever girls like. Stuffed animals and her own TV and a place to keep, uh . . . okay, Suzie doesn't need batarangs or a place to store smoke pellets and caltrops or grappling lines or work on her equipment or anything like that, but still. It's, he doesn't know–the principle of the thing, or something. 

He's gonna have to work on his trust fund budget a little, maybe. Ridiculous as it is, buying an entire tri-state area would definitely put a significant dent in it. 

“Suzie,” he says. “Are you . . . alright here? When the rest of us aren't around?” 

“Yes?” Suzie says, looking confused again. That was probably an unfair question on his part, Tim thinks. It's not like she really knows what he means by “alright”.  

Kon didn't either, after all. 

“I mean–it's not too lonely?” he asks. 

“Oh,” Suzie says, then bites her lip. “Um . . . I mean . . . I'm fine, yes! You don't need to worry about me!” 

Maybe this is a Bat thing, but absolutely nothing has ever worried Tim more than hearing “you don't need to worry about me” from someone. 

“Okay,” he lies, and smiles at her. “But you know you can call us if you want to make plans sometime, right? You don't always have to just wait for us to show up.” 

Suzie looks at him for a long moment, then–well, she doesn't turn pink, exactly, since that would require blood and veins and actual skin instead of smoke, smoke, and more smoke, but he's pretty sure she blushes all the same. 

“Oh,” she says. “Um–right! Yes. Yeah. Yes.” 

Tim smiles at her again, trying to be–he doesn’t know, reassuring, maybe. Something to the effect, at least. 

“Good,” he says. “It’s good for the team to spend time together outside of emergency situations, anyway. We can’t only hang out during crisises and expect to work well together, you know? So it’d be helpful to have an extra excuse to, really.” 

“Right!” Suzie says, beaming at him, which hopefully means that implying she’d be doing something good for the team by asking for attention when she feels isolated or lonely worked. 

Tim really doesn’t know why he didn’t think more about her living situation before this, but to be fair, he also thought about literally no one’s living situation before Kon just casually announced that he lived in an ethically-dubious cloning lab that wasn’t paying him, so . . . yeah.

Definite oversight. Definitely a thing to pay more attention to in the future. Just–definitely. 

Several kinds of definitely.

#marina #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[ataraxiaspainting]

Hier Encore II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

[Hier Encore I.]

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), forced tattooing, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, mentions of starvation, some minor Hunter x Hunter spoilers, violence, Hisoka showing up sorry about that in advance, minor character death, and stalking.

Word Count: 13.7k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez 

“She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

ii. “I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

You’re happy here.

You’re happy here, picking pumpkins and apples to make decorations and cook into pies. You’re happy here, harvesting sunflowers to put into glass vases around your cottage. You’re happy here, going into the farmer’s market and smelling freshly roasted corn and baked goods.

You’re happy here with Sebaste.

You’re happy here with Sebaste, who is always carrying gifts for you–lovingly ignoring your pleas to better learn how to budget his money–cookies, fried mushrooms, glazed yams, eggplant parmesan… your favorites. His too.

You hope he’s happy here with you too.

He says he does.

*~*~*~*

“Where do you want it? The neck, the leg? Lower, higher?” a voice, still trying to be cordial but exhaustion and annoyance overtook it halfway. 

The faux leather furniture squeaks slightly as it is pushed down a bit by you sitting on it. You try to adjust yourself as you lay on your stomach, the plastic beneath you crinkling. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me is playing from the small radio, the audio slightly too quiet for you to make out what part the song was at, and also because of how loud the tattoo artist was as she asked Chrollo a few questions.

“The lower back.” he touches it with his cold finger, almost making you jump and run out of that parlor. “Somewhere around here.”

You try to close your eyes and imagine you are anywhere else in the world. Even a sketchy bar would be better than this tattoo parlor because at least then you could leave with no pain in your body. 

“Okay.”

“Thirty thousand Jenny, along with a million for keeping silent about this.” You hear a large bag filled with coins being placed on the table. The same bag that made the owner of this place go on his knees and kept repeating that there was no appointment necessary anymore. While the sound of money jingling would make anyone feel happy, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. No one will ever know though, because you keep your mouth shut unless you have to say something sweet. “Feel free to count it if you wish. I will not stop you.”

“Nah. I’ll pass.”

“Alright then. Are you going to use a stencil first to show me what it would look like? I think that would be best.”

You hear a tired sigh. “If that’s what you want. I’ll take it out.”

Your legs want to run. Your heart wants to burst out of your chest. Your eyes want tears to come out in rivers. But you can’t.

You can’t because it’s useless and all of your progress would be ruined.

“Here we are.”

You feel thermal paper going on the spot just above where your butt is. 

“Looks good.” Chrollo hums, pleased. “Behave. I’ll be back soon.”

His voice is soft but still firm. He steps toward you and squeezes your hand lightly, his thumb rubbing circles around it. He hums again. You can only see his shoes from this angle, but you know he is smiling. You want to scream, but you can’t.

You nod, still not talking. You hear a praise leave his lips, but you’re too scared to pay attention. He thanks the tattoo artist and leaves. The door shuts behind him quietly. For a brief moment, you sigh with relief.

The tattoo artist also sighs. There is a nervous chuckle that escapes both of your mouths, the type where both of you know what would happen if either of you were to step out of line. You try to move your neck upwards to look at the posters on the wall. Most are Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, with a few of Audrey Hepburn. The largest poster is of the 1953 film Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, with Monroe and Russell dancing above the title in revealing magician outfits.

The tattoo artist turns the dial on the radio, putting on I Put A Spell On You instead, which you'd rather listen to. 

The tattoo artist leans in closer and talks to you in a whisper. "I'm so sorry about this. I had to do it."

Your eyes are wide, but you manage to keep your calm. Your fingers are shaking. Chrollo's voice is in your head, telling you to be still or he'll know. You do your best to ignore it as the tattoo needle stabs your back, sending shivers down your spine.

The entire process takes five hours, with you zoning out after about twenty minutes. 

The tattoo artist lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in her chair. "We're done, darling. I hope you're satisfied with your new tattoo."

You're exhausted. Your back feels numb. You have zero interest in looking at your new tattoo. You just want to leave.

Chrollo walks through the door with an even bigger smile on his face. "Ah, she's done, is she? Let me take a look."

He walks closer and sees the spider web tattoo, the number zero being on top of it.

"Beautiful. Your tattoo looks amazing, darling." Chrollo stares deeply into your eyes. "Now, would you mind standing up so I can see you in full?"

His eyes wander around your body. Your heart drops as you stand up.

Chrollo looks from your head to your feet as you stand. With every inch of your body, he smiles more deeply. "You look amazing, my dear. Stunning." He runs his smooth fingers across your skin, tracing the design of your tattoo. "Well, I'm satisfied with your new tattoo." He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the door. "Now, let's head back to the room. Don't you need to sleep? It's been a tiring day."

He stares at your tattoo one last time before reaching out and touching your back, tracing the black spiderweb pattern. You want to cry, but you can’t. You feel both the physical and mental pain silencing you. So, all you do is nod. 

Nothing is worth the risk.

The tattoo artist doesn’t look at either of you because of the intense guilt she feels.

The December weather outside only makes you want to shiver more.

Life is death. Death is a blessing that allows the weak to rest. Death is life. Life is a curse that allows only the strong to reap the rewards.

*~*~*~*

Even after all this time since the incident happened, your lower back still hurts. 

It burns whenever you touch it–like your skin is on fire–but it may be more mental than physical.

There is no scarring, thankfully, and because it is on your lower back, it can easily be hidden. Perhaps that was the point of the placement, for only if you do not have a long shirt or high-waisted pants would anyone see it; and only Chrollo was the only one you were allowed to be nude with, not that you had any choice.

It is the 21st of October, 1998. Sebaste now sleeps in the same bed as you. He talks in his sleep sometimes, about celebrating Halloween with you or his mother. It’s cute, you think. The photo frame beside the bed has a Polaroid photo of you and him, both smiling brightly. It’s a gift from his mother to you in more ways than one. Whenever your paranoia is set off, you hold it in your arms until you have calmed down. 

You loved Robin like you would your mother, and aside from Sebaste, she was the only one you would regularly talk to. She is kind to you, and once gave you hand-carved furniture as a gift when Sebaste first introduced you to her as his girlfriend. On colder days she brings you a pot of her homemade pumpkin soup and chatters away as soon as she sets foot in your home. She was talkative, very talkative, which funnily enough contrasts with Sebastian's introversion.

*~*~*~*

“What will you do to stop people from knowing I am still alive?” 

The question you asked, mere days into your kidnapping, came when you were lying down, restrained. You did not mean to sound aggressive, but you think you did by accident. Your nervousness is making you lose your touch, it seems. 

“If you would like to know, my dear, I shall tell you.” Your captor responds, sitting on a chair beside the bed. 

You want to scream for help. You want to demand him to take the silk binds off of you and run for the hills. But you can’t, because you know it would be useless. You have to wait for the right moment.

“I want to know.”

A book covers the lower part of his face, but his eyes still look down on you from your helpless position. The Brothers Karamazov. How fitting.

“We will request more money for your release.” Even though you cannot see half of his face, you know he is smiling from how pleased his voice sounds. “So much money that the authorities will simply give up on you, money that simply cannot be paid.”

Here you are, with a silk scarf tied around your wrists, not too tight but not too loose, and another binding your legs. He got rid of the handcuffs when he returned with you to a penthouse, wanting in some sense to make sure you were at least partially comfortable. Perhaps the handcuffs were just to ensure the public thought that you were a hostage taken for ransom. 

“Four million, sixteen million, perhaps twenty million for just a cut of your hair, maybe fifty million for a photo of you in your presumed last moments.” There is a pause, with you finally being able to hear your rapid heartbeat hidden behind a mask of calmness. “They will give up on you eventually, and the world will continue to go on as it always has.”

You silently wish that you could turn your hearing off like a light. There is such depravity, devotion, and greediness in his tone. 

“Maybe they won’t.” Your eyes keep moving around the room to avoid his intense stare from above. “Maybe they’ll know whatever body you plant is fake. Maybe they’ll locate me. Maybe they’ll… they’ll pay everything off.”

“That does not seem plausible, my sweet.”

You are holding back a sea of tears.

“Even though you think so, there is quite a small chance that will happen. That chance will only dwindle as the price increases, I am afraid. Money is far more important to governments than human lives in all cases. You know that, don’t you?” Chrollo says, his voice slightly teasing, turning a page of his book. “Perhaps it is for the best that they think you are dead though, angel, with all of the… dealings you have done when you thought no one was watching. You are quite resourceful. It’s something we have in common, you know.” 

You know that you’ll only make this situation worse if you try to fight back anymore.

You just look up at the ceiling and count the tiles, waiting for the moment he unties you.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

*~*~*~*

You liked gardening before your capture, and still do. As a hobby, you grow plants that are suitable for the fall setting. You cook with them when they have matured enough, or give them to Robin if you have too much of them. You especially like yams because they can be cooked into both sweet and savory dishes. A duplex trait you love.

It keeps your mind off of Chrollo.

You got yourself a new watering can recently. It can hold more water for your plants and it is prettier than your old one. It is a metal one, the spout rose freshly cleaned from rust by your gloved hands scrubbing for what felt like a millennium. It was worth it. The water compartment has purple lilies and white jasmine flowers on its bottom half. There are also a few butterflies, bees, and praying mantises among them. It’s cute and comforting to you.

This new life is also just as cute and comforting to you. You feel a sense of stability now that you aren’t forced to go from place to place by your captor or in fear of being caught by him. There is a sweetness and simplicity to it all. You get better sleep now that you share a bed with someone you love rather than someone you hate with all your being. You wear sweaters and sweatpants instead of those revealing shirts and short skirts, being free to dress warmly for once. Even when you were given tights as a reward for good behavior, they always were not nearly enough to make you stop shivering. Whenever you go to a clothing store in the town you avoid the section with clothes that are meant to show off collarbones or thighs. You’d rather die than wear them, even in the scorching heat of the summer months, bearing the rolls of sweat that appear on your face and your back.

*~*~*~*

The clothes are too tight. It’s hard to walk like this.

Everything itches. 

You would love nothing more than to take your clothes off right here.

One of your hands goes to the upper part of your back while the other goes near your spine, your arms almost hugging you from how odd their placements are. As much as you fidget, you cannot seem to get that one spot, until you feel someone else scratch it gently.

“Here?”

You sigh, relieved as Jean’s nails move up and down, subduing your discomfort. 

“The bodice is almost strangling me, and they gave me ballet slippers twice my size.” You groan as you sweep your bangs to the side so you can see what is in front of you. You start walking with Jean away from the stage and into the darkness of the hallway where the dressing rooms are.

“Don’t you think you can buy a new pair?” A well-meaning question, but their tone doesn’t stop you from dryly laughing.

“I’m not the one who had the lead role.” You walk to the door with the number four on it, twisting the handle and pushing it backward. “This is just a sideshow, anyway. As soon as I get that promotion, I’m getting out of here and moving to a different Yorknew district. One with a name that does not claim to be a saint.” Upon entering the dressing room, you raise your arms towards the ceiling and emit a low, discontented sound. “Hilland or Kingstown, hopefully. Those have the highest crime rates, after all.”

“Saintshore isn’t that bad.” Jean leans on the door and begins to take off their shoes, their quality much higher than yours. Your eyes go back between your vanity and theirs, both of which have bouquets piled on top of each other, along with other gifts. “The audience loves you, you know.”

“Then why was I the deuteragonist yet again?” Your hands shift through your mound, separating the flowers from everything else. Some chocolates, makeup, perfume, confessional love letters… nothing to pay much attention to, as usual. Frustration overtakes you, but you don’t let it show. 

“I mean it. Everyone loves you. You rival my popularity most of the time.”

Another dry laugh from you. “Then my dog days should be over by now.”

“Perhaps they will soon.” You don’t need to look in the mirror to know that Jean is smiling, trying to comfort you as they always do. “I think you’ll be okay. You have plenty of potential and you are admired by many here, from the patrons to the staff.”

“If those people loved me as much as they say they do, then I wouldn’t be in this dress and instead be living in a penthouse, living a life of luxury without working a single hour.”

“Maybe that will happen someday. You never know.” A hug from behind. “Maybe you’ll be swept off your feet tomorrow by some charming, tall stranger. Like those meet cutes from those movies you like watching.”

“If only, Jean. If only.”

*~*~*~*

Robin took you to the library today because you had mentioned that the few books you had were getting boring. She told you that she had never taken for an answer when you said you didn’t want to bother her. She then grabbed your hand and pulled you all the way here, repeating that you were never an inconvenience to her and that she loved you. She accompanied you to the horror section, remembering your fondness for the genre as you had mentioned a few days ago. That and Halloween were just around the corner.

You were glad to have someone to talk to while Sebaste was busy working in his office, at least.

Robin was chattering away, talking about random stuff that she remembered or events that happened when she was younger. A few weeks ago, she went on a tangent about the history of execution methods and how it related to racial segregation, and if you were being honest it was interesting to listen to. You learn a lot from Robin this way, even things like carving you learn more from her words and less from her movements. 

As much as her interests are varied and odd, you cannot deny that Robin is very knowledgeable. Whenever Robin is present, it's as if you're engaged in a conversation with an old buddy or a younger sibling passionately discussing their interests, even though Robin is significantly older than you. If it wasn’t for the fact that there are many small sections of white hair amongst her ginger locks and her wrinkles, a stranger would probably have assumed that she is your little sister.

You love her and trust her.

“What about this one?” Robin asks, holding out a book with the title We Have Always Lived In The Castle on its monochrome front. 

If you recall correctly, it’s a Shirley Jackson work. Someone recommended it to you a long time ago, you think. You can’t remember who exactly, though. It was not Chrollo as he was not the most interested in horror to begin with. All that was on his bookshelves were books relating to philosophy or something else in that vein.

At present, the library houses a mere handful of people. The librarian, the village teacher with two visibly tired children. A girl about your age with bright purple hair and a black leather jacket with tiny spikes on its cuffs and a white skull on the back of it. A man who looked a bit older than you was reading a book with his other hand on his chin looking zoned out in a way. 

*~*~*~*

There is a pleased, wanting moan coming from behind you on the bed. 

“We’re finally alone, baby…” 

Don Dario lays on his bed, large enough to be used by at least five people. The frame is made of agarwood, and the headboard is crested with what you assume is pure gold, considering how rich the Don is. The pillows are encased with wine red and medallion yellow silk. So are the curtains of the canopy. The blanket is doused in similar shades, but slightly darker than you think. If you choose to lie down, you could see the painted inside of the marquee, but you don’t want to. You do not want to sleep with this slimeball. So you simply sit at the corner hoping the Don would just give up and let you go.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” His knees are stabbing into the mattress and he is quickly unbuckling the belt of his crimson velvet robe, moaning and chuckling with excitement. “Come on, pussycat. Come to Daddy.” Even though you refuse to face him, you can envision how he is licking his lips as you hear his mantle being thrown to the floor. “No need to keep playing hard to get. Nobody’s here aside from you and me. I know you want me, darling.” 

Click, click, click.

He crawls on all fours to your backside and then to your right side, still cooing and cawing. You finally look at his eyes, and you see the direction they are facing; downwards. After a slight scoff from you, though, he looks upwards towards your face. “You’re so cute, you know. I feel like I will never get tired of looking at you.”

Click, click, click.

“You like me too, don’t you?” There is a smirk on his face, making his double chin even larger and making you in turn narrow your eyes. “You must, at least a little bit, right? Everyone wants a piece of me. But I don’t mind if such a pretty girl like you wants to get a bit more than you were told that you would get. You will, if you promise to come back, that is. For another round.”

There is a whisper of a glare in your eyes, and when Don Dario notices this he simply laughs haughtily. 

“Now, now, sweetie.” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I always keep my word. You just have to do your part and everything will be fine.”

“I never said I would do this, you forced me to be here.”

The grip tightens and you wince. “When I saw you on that stage, I knew I had to have you. I was feeling generous. I still am.” His voice is now cold and demanding, the opposite of how it was just a few seconds ago. “I’ll pay off your debts and have a word with your boss, I promise, if you do as you are told.”

“Asshole.”

Click, click, click.

There is a murmur of fondness from Don Dario’s mouth, but you don’t care enough to make out what he said. 

“You know no sane woman would sleep with you willingly, and so you order your lackeys to grab one by the hair and drag her to your room. Quite pathetic, wouldn’t you say?”

Don Dario rolls onto his back and cackles like he is being tickled. “This kitten is trying to use her claws to fight a lion! How adorable.” You want to throw up.

Click, click, click.

A flash.

“What was that?” You ask, irate. 

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Your neck turns to see him start to unbutton his shirt, the golden letters and medals of the many necklaces around his neck smashing against one another. “Just a few mementos, and also to make sure you don’t say anything… crummy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Call me whatever you like, but one way or another you’ll do what I want.” There is a sudden grab of your hair as you are forced to lay on the mattress roughly. The touch of the velvet beneath you, despite being soft, also feels like molasses on your skin and makes you feel slow and heavy. “Let us not wait a second longer, my bride for today. Be good for me and maybe I’ll even send more money your way in the future.”

You want to cry out for help, but his henchmen are right outside his bedroom door in case you try to run. It would be useless. You wouldn’t be let go and all that would result from it is you being pushed and shoved back into Don Dario’s arms eventually. He would find you if you ran. 

You decide not to fight anymore. You’re exhausted and there would be no point in the long run. You nod and the genuine smile that appears on Don Dario’s face is a terrifying sight to you. At least you would get that promotion and the money to pay off your debts, even if it hurts to walk in the morning.

“Give daddy some sugar, baby.”

Every hair on your body stands on end as you nod.

You are nothing now but a Mignonne who is forced to be swept off her feet.

“Lay all your love on me.”

*~*~*~*

The newspaper today had an odd headline, to say the least. Especially because this town is so far away from the Saintshore district of Yorknew. It would take forever to get to it, not that you would ever want to return to that place that should be categorized as a nuclear dump if anything. The food was greasy. There was always a whiff of smoke, either from the smokers or the many, many cars, and rusty needles on the ground below you if you set foot outside. Not that there would be a point in going for a walk as Saintshore was practically unwalkable except for a few suburban areas and a small portion of the poorly taken care of parks. 

Mobster Don Dario Niccolo Found Beheaded In Alleyway was not a title you had ever thought would be read or even seen by you or anyone for that matter, but it makes sense. Dario was not short of enemies who would do anything to kill him or at the very least sabotage his business affairs with other criminals. He always had the limelight on him, whether his deeds were good or bad. That gave him the nickname of the uncrowned king of Saintshore. You don’t feel bad for his family or his ‘friends’ in the slightest. That is one person who is part of your unwanted past gone, after all, and someone will be there to get the blood-soaked inheritance and probably continue the Niccolo legacy to take more money.

You’re happy to be far away from that district and from the Phantom Troupe, almost enough to get you on your knees and worship the stars above you. 

*~*~*~*

His movements are always silent, never betraying his presence with the sound of footsteps. You never hear them coming.

He does it on purpose, you think, to keep you on edge and to catch you in any act of escaping he suspects you will do.

He’s right if he does expect you will try something, though.

His earrings glimmer in the moonlight, hypnotizing you with their beauty. His eyes glimmer too, his irises reminding you of the pitch-black sky that is above you two and this picnic blanket. His teeth remind you of pearls sold in unpurchasable jewelry shops. At least you feel hypnotized, because you do nothing as he takes your hand, not even flinching. Like the devil, Chrollo is beautiful. But the beauty is only hiding what lurks beneath the surface; a monster.

“Open wide, dearest.” The chocolate-covered strawberry leans closer, pale fingertips holding onto its dark green leaves. “This is romantic, is it not?”

Maybe you can blur out his words for a bit longer to again remove the bitter taste in your mouth. Then only the sweetness of the scenery in front of you would remain, hypnotizing you yet again.

*~*~*~*

When you step out of your house’s door, it is like you are instantly transported back to four years ago; the last time you celebrated Halloween.

All the houses on every block have decorations of some kind, whether going all out with animatronics supposed to resemble monsters like the popular Bays’ house or a measly jack-o-lantern standing out amongst a poorly taken care of front yard like the lone Mr. Hyde’s house. Perhaps the weeds only increased the scariness for the children and were done on purpose. Ah, weeds. How horrifying. All of the houses also have candy to give out to the trick-or-treaters, from Ms. Alson’s house down the street to the unpopular Blissetts’, your neighbors. In Ms. Alson’s case, she is giving out handmade gift bags to everyone who passes by, even adults. However, the Blissetts only put out a smaller-than-life basket of candy corn with a ‘take one’ sign next to it. Terrifying.

“Trick or treat. Give me something good to eat!” The kids chanted, running around in circles as they all wore costumes.

*~*~*~*

As you ponder the origins of this situation, you diligently search for any missteps on your part. Chrollo, in his typical fashion, remains silent about the expression on your face as your mind races. He always waits for you to speak first, yet you are certain he is aware of your thoughts. Together on the balcony, he feigns interest in his book, his sunglasses serving as a disguise to conceal the gaze fixated upon you. What could you have possibly done to cause such a high-ranking criminal to be romantically interested in you? Did you meet somewhere before? Did he see you from afar and become obsessed with you that way?

“You look rather nice with only my shirt on.” A hand is placed on your bare thigh, squeezing the meaty flesh gently.

“When did you first start liking me?” Your vocal tone emerges with a softer and huskier quality than initially intended. You discreetly clear your throat, contemplating whether a repetition of your words is necessary. Chrollo's gaze is fixated upon you, yet you avoid meeting his eyes, instead directing your attention towards the captivating spectacle of the sunset. The hues of yellow seamlessly blend into orange, which seamlessly blends into red, the colors melding together without complete separation. He affectionately applies more pressure to your thigh, emitting a gentle hum. This shirt serves two purposes: to allure him, ultimately facilitating your escape, and to maintain a facade of modesty, despite it being the most conservative garment available in the hotel room. Your loathing for him burns fiercely within, yet you must never allow it to manifest outwardly.

When you fixate on the sunset, you wonder to yourself if you perhaps can distract yourself from the sensation of his hand caressing your thigh.

Placing his book on the table near the outdoor couch, he leans in your direction and gently draws you onto his lap. You make no resistance, acknowledging the potential advantage this holds for your scheme. After all, even if you tried, he wouldn't allow you to escape.

“I mean if you don’t mind. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t get mad.” You lean in, Chrollo’s hair slightly tickling your nostrils. “It’s your choice.”

“You’re right in that aspect. It is my choice.” He hums and you can picture his eyes behind his sunglasses shifting upwards in reminiscence. The arm around you pulls you in closer so that your nose is right next to his neck. “But I’ll tell you if that is what you want. I was in Saintshore and saw you dancing in a ballet.”

“Which one?” You mumble, not even surprised that he knew your side job before you were promoted. You can smell his cologne; musk, sandalwood, rum, and vanilla. He always sprays just a bit too much, not enough to make you cough but enough for you to smell it whenever he is close. Not that you would ever tell him that, as that would ruin your plan and he is self-aware enough to know what he is doing. 

“Swan Lake. You played an excellent Odile, beloved.” His hand brushes your arm while the other dances on your thigh still. The queen of the black swans.

“That’s it?” You ask, and Chrollo responds by having his hand over upward from your thigh to your bangs, brushing them to the side. 

“You were just so graceful. You still are just as beautiful, you know.” He kisses your forehead and you try your hardest to not flinch. As you gaze at the sunset, you make a conscious effort to divert your attention from the affectionate tone in his voice. He passionately shares his journey of falling in love with you, while his hand gently rests beneath your shirt, and you sense something hard beneath you. It’s best not to think about it too much, you tell yourself.

*~*~*~*

Two years, five months, twenty-two days, twenty-three hours, and five minutes.

That is the duration of time that had passed since your triumphant escape, about half the duration accounting for the time it took for you to reach a considerably distant location from the place where you were held prisoner.

Tickets to films, musical adaptations, ballets, stage adaptations, and operas. Piles upon piles of novels, fashionable clothes, and delicious food that were more expensive than anything you had ever bought before your capture. Everything was given to you in the blink of an eye, all aside from freedom. 

Memorabilia like heart-shaped sunglasses, flared sundresses, lingerie made with lace and silk, violas, violins, cellos, croissants, cream puffs, macaroons, rings, necklaces, chokers, thigh highs, garter belts, short skirts, sheer tights, and hotpants were all given to you without you even asking. You only wore them and played them and ate them when it would help you with your escape plan, which you guessed was all the time. You became the archetype known as the temptress, a symbol of lust and desirability. Unethical, a Queen Bee, mysterious, wanting, and seductive. But you also had to become Chrollo’s sweetheart at the same time. A princess from a fairytale, a coquette, gentle, sweet, and alluring. 

*~*~*~*

The bedroom is suffocating to you. It was too clean, too pristine, the walls having all furniture mounted on it tidy with not a speck of dust or dirt. There is a low hum of the air conditioner that is above hung paintings that were both stolen and bought legally. A pendulum clock above the bed with its hand swinging from side to side with a constant tick-tocking sound. The blanket restraining your wrists was tied to the headboard, the half that was all things considered a piece of your part of the bed. He doesn’t restrain your legs anymore, a reward you suppose for good behavior, for not trying to kick him whenever he touches you or at the very least within your range. Similarly, he doesn’t gag you anymore for not screaming and crying and demanding to be let go.

He sometimes feeds you and sometimes lets you feed yourself. He brings you whatever you want to eat whenever you want to eat. Pastries, cheese, bread, pasta, all of it you have access to, all you have to do is ask for it. If you don’t request anything, the meal will be something nutritious and balanced, like steamed rice and broccoli with tofu and miso soup. One time you refused to eat, clamping your mouth shut like a toddler as he gently tried to guide a metal spoon to your lips. 

You tired your neck out that way and gave in about an hour later, though the food was ice cold by then.

You don’t refuse to eat anymore. You don’t do a lot of things you want to do anymore. You are scheduled as to when you can and cannot walk within the penthouse like you are his dog. The only room you have privacy in is the bathroom, when the silk restraints come off and you can walk around freely, as small as the room is. Though it is windowless, and there would be nowhere to hide if Chrollo ever decided to open the lockless bathroom door. 

If you are good, he lets you watch movies or shows on the television, he’ll read to you, one time he even gave you some of your old things from your apartment, putting them on the table beside you. If you are bad… On days that you are bad, he ignores you, aside from when you ask to go to the bathroom, he describes the brutalness of the murders he has committed in great detail as you squirm, or he will tickle you for an hour straight until your face is red with tears and you can hardly breathe.

“I’m willing to wait.” 

He repeats this every time you try to tear the blanket off of your wrists and ankles, every time after you cry and scream your lungs out, every time you refuse to look at him and at yourself in a desperate attempt to control at least one thing; your imagination. He wants you to break and leave only your vulnerable, core self. You could never resist the pull of rebellion forever, your thread of patience always eventually snapping and forcing yourself to tie it back together. You could never resist what lays dormant in the deepest crevices of your heart; a chained-up beast. 

“With time, all pain fades.”

*~*~*~*

Maybe he is right in that aspect. As much as you want to deny it, with every passing month you were held captive, what Chrollo does then surprised you less and less. You sort of became comfortably numb to it all, only focusing on escape and not how much he touched you everywhere and told you sweet nothings both in and out of bed.

*~*~*~*

“The bathroom is well stocked with all sorts of soaps and shampoos and creams, as well as any other necessities you will need for this.” Chrollo says as he presses one of the mirrors above the sink, the mirror opening and revealing more products than are at the rim of the bathtub already. As always, his voice is calm. 

You have never heard him angry before, or sad before, and you don’t want to. You don’t know what he would do if you pushed him to that point. That is why when Chrollo had told you that he wanted you to bathe him as a reward for you being so good these past few weeks, you agreed. You had just graduated from being restrained from the bed to being able to walk around the penthouse freely, and you don’t want that taken away from you, especially so soon.

“And I expect you to do a good job.” He adds, bringing your focus back on him and not on the restraints he had tucked away in his closet a few days ago. “There might be other rewards for you if you do so.”

“I know.” You mutter and pull the handle above the bathtub. Water starts to flow and warm up. You want to ask him if those rewards would be for you or him, but you can’t bring yourself to. Rewards from Chrollo are always a gamble, ranging from making bread to him bringing you a spider lily plant home to gifting you clothes that showed off your collarbone to you sitting on his lap as he read. 

“Good girl,” Chrollo says, watching as the tub begins to fill with water and he closes the mirror with a soft click. “And if you’re a very good girl,” He pauses for a moment as the edges of his lips bend into a smirk from what you can see in the foggy mirror. “Who knows what kind of reward I might just give you.” He turns to you, his face still covered by a sly smile. “That is, of course, if you’re a very good girl.”

As much as you try to stop it, your eyebrows furrow slightly at his statement, unsure of what to think. All he does is chuckle.

“Why don’t I make this as fun for you as possible?” In his hands are narrow glass vials, each a different color. From the grainy appearance you can see from each bottle, you can safely assume that they are bath salts. You are right as Chrollo puts them each on the area around the sink one by one. “After all, you’re going to be taking a bath with me.” He pauses for a moment, allowing his words to hang in the air. “I hope you’re excited, darling.” He leans in close and presses a kiss on your forehead. “You’re going to enjoy this very, very much, I promise.”

“I know.” You mutter again as you step forward toward the sink, and Chrollo steps back a bit for you to see the options of bath salts. As you expected, there is a wide variety of scents. Floral aromas such as lavender, rose, cherry blossom, and vanilla. There is also a selection of sweet scents, like strawberry and apple, while at the same time, there are some muskier, darker scents, like cinnamon and sandalwood.

You have no say in your hell. You don’t want a say in your hell.

You pick up the narrow periwinkle flask labeled as lavender with shaking hands. As the warm water in the tub fills your bathroom with the sweet smell of lavender, you hear Chrollo speak up from behind you. 

“Good choice, love.” He says, his voice filled with anticipation as he speaks. “Now then, I think it is about time for you to give me that bath.”

You hate how you automatically nod, and how Chorollo coos as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

*~*~*~*

You still have trouble having baths in the village bathhouse because of him. You have trouble doing a lot of things you had no problem doing before. You sometimes wake up and because of Sebaste’s dark hair and white skin, you mistake him for Chrollo for a few moments of drowsiness and almost cry and scream. When you are brushing your hair, you style it the way you like it but almost consider putting it in a style Chrollo likes, just in case you see him that day out of pure chance and bad luck. Whenever you see a book that used to be on Chrollo’s shelves, you almost buy it or borrow it so you can burn it later.

*~*~*~*

“What are you looking for, dollface? Treasure? Get rich quick schemes, history?” a voice, still trying to be cordial but curiosity and wandering eyes overtook it halfway. 

The faux leather furniture squeaks slightly as it is pushed down a bit by you sitting on it. You try to adjust yourself as you sit down on your butt, crossing your legs. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me is playing from the small radio, the audio is slightly too quiet for you to make out what part the song is at, and also because of how loud the construction is outside.

“You are a Hunter, aren’t you?” You lean in slightly and make direct eye contact with him, putting on a slight smile. “I would like to know more about a certain Spider if you catch what I am saying.”

You hate how the man looks at you, confusion clear on his face. You knew it would be risky coming here, but you have no other options.

“Why them?”

You place a large bag filled with coins on the table. “The thirty thousand Jenny fee to talk to you, along with a million for keeping silent about this.” You now see the man’s eyes glitter with greed as he smirks. Some people were just too easy. This feels like child’s play compared to Chrollo with the lengths you would have to go to manipulate him. “Feel free to count it if you wish. I will not stop you.”

“Nah. I want to get straight to business if you don’t mind.”

“Alright then. What do you know about them? Tell me everything.”

The man leans back and looks at the cracked ceiling. “Just be warned, pretty little lady, if they come after you it’s not my fault. You’re asking for trouble.”

You’re annoyed at him keep calling you pet names. You want to slap him. You want to say you would rather not be here at all. But you can’t.

You can’t because it’s useless and all of your progress would be ruined.

“Just one sec.”

He takes another drag of his cigar and exhales, the smoke erupting from his nose onto your face and almost making you loudly cough.

“I’ll tell you.” He smiles, the cigar still wedged between his two golden teeth. “You young ones are so dumb. You aren’t even a Hunter, dollface.”

His grimy voice is like nails on a chalkboard to you. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and his finger taps on it, making some of the burnt parts fall onto the ashtray. He hums again. You just want your information so you can go. You don’t want to do small talk, especially with this prick.

You nod, still not talking. His grin widens at that. He raises one of his hands and a man in a suit and sunglasses comes out of the shadows and hands him a folder, leaving straight afterward without making a sound. So you have unwanted company.

You almost let out a sigh then. The man whistles a tune unfamiliar to you as he looks through the file. He then throws it in an uncaring way towards your side of the table, the folder letting out a slight thump as the paper makes contact with the wood. He whistles a bit more and puts one of his legs over the other. He sighs and your disdain for him only increases by then.

He leans toward and taps on the document inside, some of his cigar ashes staining it.

He grabs the bottle of liqueur beside him and pours some into his shot glass, his many golden rings shining underneath the dimmed lights. "Here is all the information we have on them. It is troublesome how little we know about them."

Your eyes are full of annoyance, but you manage to keep your calm. You lean forward and read through the paper in front of you. You have to do this. You have to do this to make sure that your freedom is everlasting.

To read the entire page took only a few minutes at most, the man being truthful in the fact that no Hunter knows them very well despite the Phantom Troupe being much more than infamous.

The man lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in his chair. "Sorry, miss. We know hardly more than you do, but I’ll try to tell you anything else we found out recently."

You want to let out a sigh again. The paper is littered with stains and leaves residue on your fingertips. This is necessary, you tell yourself. Though you just want to leave.

The man clears his throat to get your attention and holds up one of his fingers. "According to my resources, the Spider has recently lost a leg. They quickly gained another to replace it, unfortunately."

It indeed should not be surprising considering how many enemies the Phantom Troupe has, but it is a bit to you.

"We don’t know which one. That’s the most we know of the situation." He stares deeply into your eyes. "I don’t have any other information to give you, I’m afraid."

His eyes wander around your body. Your heart drops slightly as he grabs the folder and closes it.

You don’t stand up, instead briefly gazing at the liqueur bottle. The man smiles more deeply then, and you feel like you are about to throw up. "You know, you’re very pretty, miss. Just beautiful." His hand moves toward you in one brief motion, to which you respond by leaning away, "I don’t bite, no need to be scared." You stand up. "Now, now, dollface. We should talk a bit more, don’t you think? Maybe I can even drive you back to your place later, or mine."

You scrunch your nose in disgust and begin to walk out of the room. He does not physically stop you, but he mumbles insults under his breath. Slut, whore, the more unoriginal ones. You just ignore them and leave.

That guy was an asshole, but at least you got something out of it.

You wonder which Spider has died.

You hope that it was Chrollo, but that would be near impossible.

Chrollo is hardly known about, after all. There was hardly any information about him anywhere; from the news to the people you question and bribe. You don’t know anything about him either, despite being previously a captive of his. Perhaps even Chrollo does not know much about himself, or at least that is what you theorize.

To entirely free oneself from his clutches, one would need to strike a pact with the devil.

*~*~*~*

Sometimes you think you are an escaped ballerina from her music box. You were always in the same position and only did what you were told.

All you have were the walls of the orchestrina and Chrollo. Without him with you in those many penthouses and hotel rooms, you had no one and could speak to no one. Even when you had escaped by shattering your silk-clad, bleeding feet, some small scattered porcelain pieces of you are left behind for him to find.

If you ever told Sebaste the truth, it would all be for nothing, wouldn’t it?

You would be back to being on the run, trying to pick up whatever ceramic drops from you to avoid leaving a path of breadcrumbs that would lead him directly to you. Just one mistake is all it takes, and it would all be over in a flash. You would try to fix it as quickly as you can, but it wouldn’t be enough, because one day his grabbing hands will grab the soles of your feet, and there you will stay forevermore, attached back onto them, never being able to leave his palms.

A few breaths would kick the door down. The windows would rattle. Weeds would sprout in your garden. You would smell cigarette smoke because the palm of your hand would be back to being used as his ashtray. Everything would burn to the ground. 

You don’t want that. God, you do not want that. More than anything in this world.

*~*~*~*

There is someone in your home.

There is someone in your home, and you don’t think they are here to kill you.

There is someone in your home, and although you don’t think they are here to kill you, they do not come with the best of intentions either, though.

You think they are in love with you. Love may not be the best to describe it, you think, maybe obsessed or infatuated instead.

Whoever breaks into your home regularly leaves you gifts; flowers, cards, clothes, and other things they know you like. They must have been stalking you for quite a while before doing this because hardly anyone you know knows what your favorite instrument or candle scent is.

Sometimes they go on rants in the letters they send to you once or twice a week. Sometimes they bring you trinkets, usually hairpins or porcelain figurines. One morning you woke to find a bag of coffee grounds, your favorite brand but also quite an expensive one. When you used them that very morning, they praised you greatly with a long note the next day. However, when you refused to eat the slice of strawberry shortcake that was put on your kitchen table and threw it away in your bin, there was no note whatsoever.

You don’t think they cared, or at least didn’t want to let you know they cared. The amount of gifts put in your apartment only increased every time you ignored the last present. They kept getting more and more expensive, too. Whoever is in your home is either filthy rich or does not know how to budget their money well. 

Sometimes you hear the lightest of breaths when your back is turned and you are sitting on the sofa, watching a comforting movie. They are fast and good at hiding because whenever you try to catch them in the act there is nothing behind you. 

Every time you try to tell someone, they say to just install more security, more locks, cameras, and invest in self-defense lessons and tasers and alarms. You have tried that, and nothing works, the gifts and trinkets keep coming.

No one believes you and your stalker knows it. Every time you try to report it and get shut down, there is a mocking chuckle from behind you when you come back home.

You aren’t alone, you’re with them, but you wish you were because then you would at least be able to rest. You wish you were alone in the dark.

…

There is someone in your home.

There is someone in your home, and you think they want you.

There is someone in your home, and you know you don’t want them.

…

You’re tired. You don’t know how to express it.

It’s nearly midnight and you just want to take out your resentment on something. You just want to be alright. You lock your apartment door behind you and walk from the entrance to your small sitting area. You sit on the couch, ignoring the large box on the table beside it. Instead, you grab the basket of VHS tapes on the floor, shuffling through them with both your hands.

Billy Madison. Perfect. You take it out.

Your fingers tap against the front of the tape, your other hand scratches the back of your head and rubs the back of your neck, and your feet shake.

Your stalker must have turned your lamp on when you were out working, maybe for you to see the gift, because you know you didn’t. You don’t care to address the box or them right now, as you are used to it by now.

You snap the VHS tape in half with both of your hands.

All this world does is hurt you, so who can blame you for wanting to hurt it back?

It was a shitty movie anyway. A horribly written plot. Horribly written characters. You were never really a fan of comedies, especially those with a spoiled rich kid as the protagonist. You were going to throw it out even if you didn’t break the tape. You want to demote that assistant who gave you that as a joke.

But that would be petty, and it was a joke. You just wish he got you Gone with the Wind or The Princess Bride or Romeo and Juliet or something like that instead. You could go for a romance movie right about now, especially one with a forehead kiss. You love forehead kisses.

You throw the smashed VHS tape in the garbage.

You could swear that you heard a chuckle as you did so.

…

There is someone in your home.

There is someone in your home, and they put a gift beside your bed as you sleep.

There is someone in your home, and they put an unused VHS tape with the title ‘Romeo and Juliet' on your bedside table before you could wake up.

There is someone in your home, and they give you a forehead kiss before slithering off again into the dark.

You know they won’t stay there for long, but you foolishly hope that they will.

Dark goldenrod, rich black, gray, baby powder, blood red.

*~*~*~*

There is someone in your home. You are sure of it.

The placement of everything is slightly off.

The perfume bottles and makeup products in your bedroom are slightly tilted, and your figurines are placed in places where you know you didn't put them, like finding your cat music box on your vanity when it is always by your bedside table, and your bed is slightly unmade. You feel a gaze whenever you are at home and when you are just about to fall asleep, you hear the soft clicking of a camera. You hear the floorboards creak, too loud to be your dog’s. You know Sebaste would never do those things because he is in his office all day working, even when you are in bed already.

Your kitchen is dirtier than usual. There are always some fallen, dried leaves on the floor even when neither you nor Sebaste had gone outside that day. Some of your food is missing, like the leftover pancakes you planned on eating. Sebaste claims to have not eaten them, and you know he is telling the truth. 

It is not just your paranoia. There is someone in your home, watching you.

That same person is most likely watching you outside your home too. You feel a gaze wherever you are.

Whenever you go to the library to read something, you always feel someone looking at you whenever you are paying attention to the books, turning their gaze away the moment you look around. Whenever you pick up takeout from the local saloon, you feel someone staring at you in the corner, blending in with the rest of the dancing, friendly villagers. Whenever you are at the farmer’s market, you feel a gawker behind you, hiding behind one of the stalls, one filled to the brim with boxes and boxes of produce. Whenever you turn your head as you are walking to your cottage, you hear quickening footsteps, running farther and farther away. Whenever you are in the town’s museum, you can sense someone near you in the same exhibit, pretending to pay attention to the artifacts and not you.

Their eyes feel intense like you are made of gold. Something sellable at an auction or something to be stuffed into a penthouse and never see the light of day again. Within your blood flows aureate brilliance to them. You are something to be used, to be fed to the wolves.

You found a few muddy footprints in the bathroom coming from the window above it a few days ago. They are too big and too misshapen to be your dog’s, and they don’t look like the footprints that Sebastian's sneakers leave behind. You clean it up with a mop and some spray. As much as you want to be, you cannot say you are exactly afraid, but a few tiers below that.

You are cautious, sure. You make sure your doors and windows are locked before going to sleep now as well as double checking them in the middle of the night. You cannot say you are afraid, though. You are plotting to catch them in the act, and you don’t think someone afraid would confront their stalker.

You keep doing your usual routine. Wake up, boil water for coffee, wash your face and brush your teeth, make coffee and breakfast, and eat said breakfast. You prefer this life to the one you ran away from by a landslide, still, even though your stalker is somewhat ruining it. Chrollo would treat you like a glorified dog.

Sit, stay, and roll over.

Good girl.

Here is a treat.

You think Sebaste is the only one keeping you from snapping and hunting down your gawker with a bow and ax. Ironically, he still doesn’t know about them. But that’s alright with you. You prefer it.

His routine mirrors yours. He makes coffee for you some days. He eats with you. He walks the dog with you. Then he goes to his office to work.

This is a life you are happy with. You aren’t going to let your stalker ruin that for you.

You are not going to tell Sebaste either. It is much better if you handle this problem on your own. Solving problems on your own is what you are used to, after all. Sebaste could be in danger if you tell him. You’re in danger, and you don’t want him to share your fate more than he already is.

Sebaste is the one person in this world you can trust wholeheartedly. You want to protect him, and you would give up everything if it meant he would be happy and safe. So, you buy a taser, some pepper spray, and a pullable alarm, and learn how to hold your keys in just the right way so you could be able to use them as weapons in case your confrontation with your stalker goes sour.

You have planned what to do with your stalker if things do go as you intended. An abandoned shed, a chair, zip ties, and some… equipment if they do not tell you everything they know right away. 

*~*~*~*

Once upon a time, there was a princess who had a terrible curse placed upon her by a witch when she was an infant. Everything she touched would die in but a few moments. One day, she got tired of living alone on the outskirts of her kingdom, banished when she was near adulthood, and set out into the woods to search for someone to be her first-ever friend. 

However, what she discovered was a malevolent man exuding an overwhelming aura of greed. 

She hated him. She hated him with all her being, from how he looked to how he spoke to how he treated her; everything he did she disliked. 

So, a few days after meeting him in the forest behind her cottage, the princess asked him to touch her face. He did, gently caressing her cheek with his palm and fingers. As his hand made contact with her delicate visage, the princess gently shut her eyes and silently counted to five. But when the princess opened her eyes, she was horrified by the sight in front of her. 

The stranger was still there, alive.

…

The unexpected visitor revealed himself as King Death, who is in relentless pursuit of a bride who embodies purity and possesses a power comparable to his own. 

"To discover an angel as calm and radiant as the morning doves and dew is an immense stroke of fortune." 

Uttering these words, he ensnared her with a gaze as binding as a wedding vow, his eyes devoid of light and depth, unlike anything the princess had witnessed in her secluded little forest. Without delay, he then accomplished his task with an air of satisfaction.

…

Princess Blossom bemoans her unfortunate circumstance, trapped in a desolate garden devoid of life and sunshine. “Do you have not an ounce of mercy for me or anyone?" 

Across from her, King Death relishes in the corpse beneath his feet, a lifeless dove's remains, its once pristine white feathers now drenched in crimson, reminiscent of cherry wine. “If you think a bird is beautiful, just wait until you find it dead, dearly beloved by life itself until its last breath.”

…

In the palm of King Death rests a delicate flower in bloom. In a casket adorned with white wisterias lies his cherished bride, eternally his. "A blossom as lovely as you, my rose, should not wither away so easily." Her eyes exude a captivating beauty, a reflection of innocence mingled with fear. "What troubles you, causing such tremors? It cannot be the chill in the air." Though she trembles with fear, he hungrily consumes her terror as the flowers around her wilt.

…

“The nearer you are, the more I break! Have you always been this cruel to us mortals?” Princess Blossom bangs on the wood above her, the coffin sealed shut and buried six feet underneath the beautiful grass, stars, and flowers. She hears someone coming to dig her out, but that hope is replaced with fear as soon as she realizes the sound is coming from beneath her. This is King Death’s reply to her question; to take her to the underworld where only his eyes will see his radiant queen forevermore.

*~*~*~*

It’s necessary, you tell yourself. If there was any other path you could follow, you would have taken it. At least, you think you would have.

Your stalker follows you everywhere. You know it, they know it, but Sebaste doesn’t know it. They probably have seen you in the abandoned shed preparing everything, and either are preparing themselves for confrontation or not taking you seriously. 

You hope, for their sake, that they are doing the former. You hope, for their sake, that they will simply tell you all they know without you even bringing them to the shed. You hope, for their sake, that they will simply do that. But you know it won’t be that easy. Either this person is obsessed with you or was paid to follow you.

If your stalker indeed fits into the latter category, they are certainly in for an unpleasant surprise. You won’t let them get away. You won’t let them do anything other than cry, say what they know, and beg for mercy. Eventually, they will have no voice box to scream with, and only blood will come out of their mouth instead of any sound. 

You will make sure of it.

You made a vow with yourself to make sure of it.

You have no choice other than to be cruel. You know that, and you hope your follower knows it too. It would be far less trouble for either of you that way.

You have to protect yourself and Sebaste, no matter the cost. You love him too much to lose him. He is in the house and you are outside, defending him. You will do anything to make sure he is alright.

So, you wait. You wait for hours.

There is someone outside your home. 

You are sure of it.

You are going to confront them here and now.

You aren’t afraid. You are merely cautious. You don’t want Sebaste to hear any struggling or cries.

Through the window, you smell warm, fresh coffee being brewed in the French press. Sebaste has always had a bad habit of drinking coffee late at night. But it’s alright, he most likely has to work a bit more anyway.

You wait until your thoughts go numb with a lack of sleep. You slap yourself in the face, hard, to keep yourself awake.

*~*~*~*

If one were to compare, this penthouse resembles a work of art in a museum.

It is untouched by dirt and if the small flames of the candles on the table where the television is placed didn’t move from side to side, you would forget anything aside from you and Chrollo could move. Everything shares the same color palette, and there are no warm hues aside from the roses on the vanity in the bedroom and modest fires. Rose ebony, gunmetal, reseda green, silver, periwinkle. Black. Black, black, black, like one day someone decided to cover the counters, walls, and chairs in soot or charcoal. 

It is like whoever designed this had won a lifetime supply of ink paint and decided to use it in different concentrations. Rich on the desks and the vanity, but lighter in some areas like the walls, showing designs of olive roses. The farthest you can go here is to the balcony or lean on the door of the entrance like you could pass through it like a portal if you wished hard enough. You cannot jump from the porch, if you remember correctly the room number is 20008. You are twenty floors off the ground, and you know that you cannot survive a plunge from that high up. 

You feel like a canary in a hanging birdcage. 

You can only tweet and look pretty. You cannot leave unless your captor is there with you every step of the way. You are only allowed to do what you are told to do and not what you want to do.

This is an impeccable, foolproof, ideal enclosure for any imprisoner.

All is flawlessly pristine, to the point of nausea for anyone trapped inside.

You can only chitter and peep like the baby bird you are forced to be. You can only be cradled within suffocatingly loving arms. Chrollo is like your shadow, following you to every part of this place, treating you like a porcelain doll or a pet. You don’t dare act outside of the role you were given because then you know your detainer won’t be pleased with you and your chances of escape will be even lower than they already are.

“Dearest?”

There is that sickeningly sweet voice again, from beside you. He does not know how to shut up, not that you would bother telling him such. You are here, in his domain and his clothes and eating his food. You have no say here, and he knows it.

“Yes?”

You try your best to replicate the tone of a doting, little lover. You don’t fiddle with the skirt of the short dress you were given. According to your kidnapper, your solitary pair of jeans and single hoodie has ‘vanished under enigmatic circumstances’ and thus gave you this attire as compensation. Asshole.

You are waltzing whether you like it or not.

It is how you act that chooses whether you are pulled with puppet strings or not, though.

“You look beautiful.” His tone is so sincere that it almost induces a nauseating urge to vomit directly onto him. “So beautiful.”

You feel like a statue only brought here to be gawked at. He is always touching you in some way, most of the time it is your thighs that are held captive by being caressed with hands akin to velvet. You let him because what else can you do? You would want nothing more than to push him away and run out the door but you simply cannot. You are trapped here, and using Chrollo with honeyed words and passionate kisses is your only key out. You cannot stay in this consolidated coop any longer or you will break.

If you falter, you will never get out of here.

If he catches you in the act of escaping, you will never be free. The silk restraints will be replaced with shackles. A mile of running only means an inch of a chance of escaping. You don’t want to die here. You don’t want to die with rotting, choking hands around your neck.

As you expected, Chrollo’s hand squeezes your inner thigh. ���Thank you, Chrollo.”

From the look in his eyes, you can tell he wants so much more than just those words.

*~*~*~*

Footsteps. Calm, poised ones. There is no sound of stray branches snapping or dead leaves crunching. Footsteps of one who knows what you plan to do. 

You do not recognize him. His eyes are as bright as gold yet as hungry as a wolf’s, unblinking. If he was a word, it would be dangerous, in bold, yellow, large, lit letters.

His hair is as pink as bubblegum. His nails are quite long, pointed, and painted black. He has a teal star on one of his cheeks and a yellow teardrop on the other. With his mere presence, he towers over you in height and strength and everything else possible. He is as odd-looking as a clown, you note to yourself. 

“I had heard the Spider had lost and gained a leg.” You say as the grip on your knife gets much stronger than before. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Correct, my dear.”

“Which one did you replace?”

“Fourth.”

“So Omokage then.”

“I think. Can’t recall right now.”

You scoff at that. “Can’t recall, huh?” The stranger’s grin stays on like a sticker of a smile that was placed on his face where his actual one would be.

“It doesn’t matter who died, I defeated them and that is all that matters. There is no use in remembering the name of a rotting corpse.” 

“I would thank you, but you have the same mission as he probably did.”

“Whether you like me or not does not matter either, I am here either way.” One, two steps closer. “I am here either way and there is nothing you can do about it, my dear.”

“I never liked Omokage, anyway. He always treated Luna so poorly.”

“Who?”

“The captive that was forced to be his doll of some sort. Though I assume she is dead by now, right?”

The man shrugs his shoulders and laughs. “Probably.”

“Was wherever you all buried her marked if somebody even buried her at all?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I do remember something about a body being put in a dug-out hole by Machi.”

At least she was given that, you guess. “How did she look?”

“There was hardly a body to bury if I remember correctly. It looked like someone took a skeleton and put leather over it.” Another amused chuckle.

“So she starved to death then. Slow and painful and probably chained up. He always restrained and gagged her before he left, after all.”

The man yawns, disinterested. He is not even paying attention, is he? 

“If you ever find out where her grave is, please put a jasmine flower on it for me. Jasmines were her favorite.”

“If I remember. Why are you asking so much about her anyway?”

*~*~*~*

Luna is kind to you, so kind. Despite being taken by such a monster that treats her so horribly, she still manages to smile whenever she talks to you, albeit how rare those times were. You remember one time she wore a turtleneck, the only one she was allowed to wear according to Chrollo, to cover the bruises on her neck, arms, and collarbone. Another time she wore a surgical mask, though because of how bright the teal color was it did the opposite of what Luna wanted it to do; not attract more attention to her face. Omokage only let her wear it because he thought it would “humble her”, whatever that fucking meant. Luna never hit him or at the very least tried not to, even when he broke two of her fingers in front of you. It was a punishment for asking for five more minutes to chat with you. 

“It will all be okay.” It is a repeated saying of hers.

“I know it will.” She would always answer that when you asked how she knew that things would get better. She repeats the saying and her answer both to you and to herself when the times get tougher than they usually are for her. She looked out for you and tried to make your situation better by telling Chrollo how good you were to her. Omokage only ignored and glared at you when you tried to do the same for her. You hate Omokage. You do, with all your being. You hated him more than you did all the other Troupe members.

You hated Omokage more than Chrollo even, which is quite the accomplishment if you say so yourself.

Chrollo thinks it is funny. At least you think he does. Maybe that is why you see Luna more than you do the other “Webs”, as you captives are named.

“It’s okay if he hurts me, I won’t hit him back. Violence is not the answer, it only creates more.” She grinned as she said that, one of her front teeth missing. “He’ll die one day and then I will be free.” It is clear to you that if she continues to think that way, she will break. “You’ll be there to tell Number Zero to free me, right? Then I can go home.” 

She is always such an optimist. It’s a trait you wish you had. You almost wish you could trade places with her because at least Chrollo does not treat you as his punching bag, though you suppose being his plaything isn’t much better. 

“I’ll do the same for you if Number Zero dies. At least then one of us would be free, either way, the ball rolls.” Her light is fading, you can tell by how she looks at you, how her blue eyes don’t shine as much as they used to. “I’ll do anything to make sure he listens.” She is going to break soon. You want so badly to stop it. You want to save her. But you can’t. “I mean it. I’ll do anything if it means you’ll be free.” 

You know she means it, and it brings you so much more pain than if she didn’t. She unintentionally twists her knife further into your heart

“It will all be okay. I want you all to be happy. You all deserve it.” You want to tell her that she does, more than you do. She deserves a good life, a normal life. “We are friends, aren’t we?” You can’t bear to tell her the truth of what will happen if either Omokage or Chrollo dies. “Friends look out for each other.” 

She placed a kiss on your forehead then, before Omokage could stop her. She was dragged back by him pulling on her long sable hair as she cried out in pain. He called her a whore and pulled her out of the room. Neither she nor Omokage came back to the room that day. 

*~*~*~*

“She was so sweet. She didn’t deserve to die like that at all.”

“I am Hisoka, by the way.” He bows, the smirk still being plastered on his face without faltering.

You take a few steps back as he approaches further, trying to remain some distance apart from him. “Stay back.” Hisoka hums and merely comes closer.

“If the description I was given and what you know checks out, you must be [First]. At least, I hope that’s who you are, for your sake.” He smiles and he moves forward. “You have certainly been going on a few little adventures, haven’t you?” 

“...Yes.” He stares down at you. You know that to him; you are a mere rubber toy to twist until your head pops off. 

His gaze shifts to your house, behind you. “You certainly are resourceful; I’ll give you that. The life you have built for yourself was made from nothing. Quite admirable.”

“Do you mean that?” You ask, your voice both cold and inquiring as to why one of the members of the Phantom Troupe is here, in front of you and your house. But you already knew the answer.

“I do.” His voice seems somewhat truthful, but you can tell he wants more.

“Why are you here, Number Four?”

“Now, now. No need to be so aggressive.” He puts his hands up in a mockery of surrendering as he goes back to looking down on you. With the dying trees and debris behind him, he sticks out like a sore thumb. “I have a favor to ask of you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The way he looks at you, a look of one that is about to skin a poor, defenseless doe.

“What kind?”

“Simple. Tell me all you know about the boss.”

“What would I get in exchange for telling you such information?”

“I will not tell the other Troupe members of your location.”

“Is that a threat, Number Four?”

“Oh, no, it is not a threat. It is a potential promise if you don’t listen. While you are at it, you can also tell me about yourself. I believe we haven’t had an actual conversation before if the boss told me the truth that you have been on the run from him for more than two years.”

“Don’t be greedy, Number Four.”

“Oh, no.” Hisoka grins with a proud smile. “I believe you are the one being greedy, my dear.”

“...you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“You ran away from a life of luxury and comfort. Surely you feel at least somewhat foolish for doing such a thing?”

“Perhaps.”

“The boss is quite displeased with you, though I assume you know that by now. He has been searching high and low all over for you.”

“I’m quite aware, Number Four. We both know I don’t intend to go back.”

He nods and hums. “I know. That is why if you still want to play house with your precious boy toy, you’ll do what I say.” 

You scoff and look to the side. “He is not… just a plaything. He is different.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He looks off to the woods. “Plus, I believe there is a rat in your midst. I am sure you have noticed. If you tell me what you know, I’ll trap him for you.”

“You mean you’re not…” Your posture slightly relaxes, but soon firms up once again when you realize that you have two people following you now; Hisoka and your mysterious stalker.

“No. I’m not. So, will you accept my offer, darling?”

“Why does such information matter to you?”

Hisoka shakes his head, still smiling. “That doesn’t concern you, my dear. Now, tell me what you know if you don’t want the rest of the Troupe being here in a matter of mere hours.”

You’re happy here.

You’re happy here, being independent once again. You’re happy here, having stability and not fearing a sudden, gruesome death where you die alone with no one but your captor. You’re happy here, being able to find some humanity within yourself.

You’re happy here with Sebaste.

You’re happy here with Sebaste, who is in the house, blissfully unaware of the laurel crown placed on your head, its thorns digging deep into your skull and dying the tips of it crimson red. He doesn’t know of the invisible scars that mark your body, a gift from the very pits of hell’s flames.

He will remain in that place, never knowing of anything you have buried underground.

He will stay, no matter the cost you will have to pay.

You’re happy here with Sebaste, and you’re not going to let anyone take it away from you.

“Do we have a deal?”

The moment your lips part, the words that escape your mouth are the ones Hisoka longs to hear.

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #hxh #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hier encore. #ultraviolet. #author aya

[melanieph321]

Dusan Vlahovic x Reader - Boss Me Around Part 1/6

I'm so excited for this one!🤭

Reader is a former yacht girl now newly moved to Turin, Italy for her job as a real-estate accountant. There she meets Dusan Vlahovic, a former client of hers, a client she never thought to see again. However, with Dusan being Readers new boss their past becomes a liability. Nevertheless the spark between them still lives. This story is a romcom with both His and Her POV!

Enjoy!

Miami did get a little crazy in the summer, thankfully it was your last year being a yacht girl. Yupp, you were keeping your promise. Once you were out of college you were putting your flip flops on a shelf and stuffing your bikini in the back of your pantie drawer. It was time to grow up and stop treating life like a circus. It was time to get a real job.

"But you'll still visit me when you move to Italy, won't you?" Izzy said, as the two of you shared a scooter on your way to the marina.

"Are you kidding? With my new salary I'm flying you out to visit me. We'll have so much fun together in Turin."

Although it was considered a job, you had formed many great friendships through yachting. Izzy was your best friend in the game, the one you never road without. If it hadn't been for Izzy teaching you the ways of the yachting game, you might as well have ended up in some really bad situations that a lot a girls do whilst seeking the fast way to earn some cash. It was important not to get too in awe of the experience. Izzy had tought you that. Izzy had also taught you that the biggest mistake girls in yachting did was fall in love with a client, a mistake you were thankful you had avoided throughout your career. Although college boys never realky gained your interest either.

"So who's this guy anyway?" You asked. "A nepo baby looking to party?"

"More like a self made billionaire. Raul says he owns like half of Serbia when it comes to real-estate."

"Impressive." You nodded. Your last job as as a yacht girl would be a breezer. It was easier to deal with rich entrepreneurs than spoiled nepo babies who believed to rule the world.

Or so you thought.

********************************************

"I think they're here." Alex said, looking over the boat deck, keeping an eye out for the girls. Once he spotted them Dusan rose from his taning bed, on his way to alert the crew to prepare the boat for departure.

"There's only two of them." Alex said, looking displeased as he returned from the deck, approaching his friend.

"Yes, one for you and one for me." Dusan said, pointing between the two of them.

"Man, you really have gone soft." Alex sighed. He was already suprised to be invited for a fun day out on his friend's new yacht, only to find the vessel empty of people if you excluded the crew members. "What happened to the old Dusan?" He said. "The one that likes to party. The one that taught me that the more the merrier, huh?"

Dusan chuckled. "I guess he's retired."

"At twenty four? How sad."

"Look, we can still have a good time. The girls said that they were up for anything."

"Yeah, but if I know you you're probably gonna ask them to watch you take a nap."

Dusan shook his head, a smile in his lips.

"When did you get so boring man, is that what a billion dollar empire does to you?"

Dusan opened his mouth to get back at his friend but that's when they heard voices below.

"Hello, anybody home?"

"Up hear!" Dusan shouted, a minute passing before they heard footsteps climbing the stairs. Two girls emerged, dressed in nothing but strips of fabric,  bikini's barley covering enough.

"Hi, I heard you guys were looking to party." The blond one said. Her hair was cut short with several tattoos covering her arms.

"Yeah, that's us." Alex grinned.

"Well, the party has arrived." She cheered.

Dusan had nothing against girls with short and bleached hair, but tattoos never did it for him.

"Great. How would you girls like your martinis?"

"Dry." The blond girl was quick to make clear. "And no olives."

"Got it, dry and no olives. How about your friend?"

All eyes turned to the second girl who's presence hadn't been as notisble as her friend. But now that he had his eyes in her, Dusan found it almost impossible to diverge his attention from her.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" The girl seemed distracted,  her gaze having stuck to a point below Dusan's chin. He wasn't wearing a shirt,  only swimming trunks. Perhaps she found it rude, him introducing himself half naked. Not that she was any better.

"What drink do you want?" Her friend asked, in a bit if a rush to get the party started. The crew was heard above their heads,  the yacht would set sail at any minute now.

"S...ame as you." The girl stuttered. Her voice was unique. It was quite deep but in a very feminine way.

"No olives?" Her friend confirmed.

"No olives." The girl nodded. Her friend then followed Alex downstairs to the bar, leaving Dusan with no trail of thought in the presence of the girl which his eyes had yet diverge from.

"You have a very nice boat." She said,  trying to somther the rise of an awkward silence.

"Um, thank you." Dusan said, clearing his throat. "It's new actually."

"I can see that." She seemed fairly fascinated, as she dared approach the boats railing, admiring the view of Miami Beach.

"Yeah, how so?" Dusan asked, joining her side. But instead of admiring the view, he couldn't help but to admire her. She had eyes that sparked something within him, a sudden thrill.

"What do you mean?" A frown ruined her face.

Dusan felt the need to make himself clear. "You said that you could tell that my yacht is brand new,  how so?"

"Oh." She turned for her back to rest against the railing, her eyes now wandering across the newly swiped deck. "Well, it's every billionaires dream to own a boat and put it on display in Miami, or am I wrong?"

"I don't know." Dusan smiled. He was quite entertained. "I've never heard of this fenomenon. Surley the expert is you considering your experience with billionaires and boats."

The girl's eyebrow rose with interest, however Dusan's slik comment did not seem to have insulted her.

"Perhaps it's not every billionaires dream." She said, turning her head to face him. Again, her eyes sparked a thrill within Dusan, a thrill he was more than excited to explore. "But it sure is every newly crowned billionaires dream."

He wrinkled his nose.

The girl had a twinkle in her eyes. "My friend googled your net worth on our way here."

"I see." Dusan nodded. "Fair enough. I may or might not have bought this yacht in honor of my business flourishing this past year. However I'm not planning on docking it in Miami for display."

"Your gonna sail it across the seven seas?"

Dusan snorted, unintentionally of course. How did she make him do that? Her comment caught him of gaurd. "Not really." He said, collecting himself. "I'll have a friend of mine bring it home for me. He's more of a professional."

"Yeah, that's probably a better idea. Sailing a boat through pirate infested waters can be tricky without experience."

Again, the girl made him chuckled. It was pathetic how tipsy he came across. The girl must smell the glass of champagne he had earlier on his breath and think he's one of those creeps to invite yacht girls on their boats just to get them drunk. He had to assure her that he wasn't like that. He had to assure her that she could feel safe with him.

"We got martinis!"

Just as he was about to ensure her safety, the girl's friend showed up, followed by Alex who carried a tray of filled glasses. "Let's get this party started!" He said, handing out the drinks, making sure everyone had a glass in their hand for a toast. "To a lovely day, spent with two lovely girls." He said, as cheesy as ever.

"Cheers to that!" The blond girl said, rasing her glass.

Before downing his drink Dusan turned to her friend, making sure that she looked to be having a good time as well. He was suprised to find her smiling at him, an empty martini glass in her hand. "Drink up." She winked.

Dusan did exactly that. He would do whatever she asked him to, whatever.

#fanfiction #football imagine #dusan vlahovic imagine #dusan vlahovic x reader #dusan vlahovic #juventus #italy #italia #turin

[cheolsfae]

Hi could u do Soulmates as Songs?

If u do,pls do one for Enhypen🌈

shuffling through my liked songs!

*Disclaimer: For giggles!*

Jungwon's: Firefly - BANNERS

"world's apart, when it went dark, you were always on my mind. Illuminate, set ablaze, you make me light up like a firefly."

He's down bad for this person. This person is the light in the darkness for him. They really are his personal sunshine!

Jay's: To be human - Marina

"All the people living in, living in the world today, we're united by our lover, we're untied by our pain"

Getting the vibe that this person is someone who is very compassionate similar to how he is but maybe a little bit more than he is. Very cute!

Jake's: Carousel - 5 Seconds of Summer

"I's feeling like a dreamer don't you try and wake me now, my life's just a carousel spinning around, I'd pay again just to keep from stopping it now."

One, ironic that it's an aussie band for the aussie member. Two, when they get together the whole thing is going to feel kind of magical. All the hardship is going to be worth it to them in their eyes.

Sunghoon's: Holy Water - Freya Ridings

"I shouldn't love you, Vulture circle above you, and you keep me holding on to the devil that I love in you"

This feels like a little bit of a toxic situation. But they do deeply care about one another. It might start out as a friends with benefits situation.

Ni-ki's: I do adore - Mindy Gledhill

"Twinkle in your eye that strikes a match that lights my heart on fire when you're near, I hide my blushing face and trip on my shoelace... Puppy love is hard to ignore when everything you do I do adore!"

Y'all he might already know this person! He might be already down bad for this person Could have a bit of a crush on them at the moment or something. This is so cute!

Heeseung's: True - Marina

"Always said we're gonna be true, we will never change, they could never do it better than we are together."

This person doesn't care one bit about what someone else thinks of them. They are going to stand in their power and be who they are and not feel bad for it one bit!

Seonwoo's: Bite - Troye Sivan

"You can coax the cold right out of me, drape me in your warmth. The rapture in the dark puts me at ease. The blind eye of the storm, where you can be reborn and kiss me on the mouth and set me free. but please don't bite."

This could start out like Sunghoon and just be a situation-ship. It'll kind of go from there. I feel like the his future spouse is going to be the one to catch feeling first!

#—faes readings #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #jake sim #jay park #park sunghoon #yang jungwon #kim seonwoo #nishimura riki #lee heesung

[rainybraindays]

I don't like making posts like this, I don't like opening my blog up for people to come and harrass me but oh my god, why does the fandom allow posts like this to get away unscathed?

You don’t have to like Marina. I'll never claim that. You can like or dislike whoever you want.

But I do wonder, if Marina was played by a white woman would we get nearly as many posts like this? Would everyone be as okay with it? Would we have been so quiet about the fact that Ruby Barker was harrassed for this role? Or would there be way more people defending her? Would she suddenly be sympathetic when now shes not?

Why are we all so okay with taking this character with a nuanced story, put in a horrible situation with almost no options and turning her into a villian?

Like did we watch the same show? Did you miss the bit where she doesn't want to find a husband at all and only starts when she thinks shes been abandoned, which she only believes because she gets a forged letter saying she was? Did you not see Portia slap her? Did you not also watch a man old enough to be her grandfather being forced on her?

Lying to Colin wasn't okay, I'm not defending that, but literally tell me what her options were?

The man she loves is dead, but she doesn't even know that she thinks he abandoned her, so she can't reasonably assume Phillip will take responsibility when his brother won't. The only people Portias interested in introducing to her are those she wouldn't introduce to her own daughters. She can't reasonably think Colin will be open to her as a wife since shes pregnant becausethats not the norm. But Colin is, he says he would have married her even knowing. And Colin also doesn't view Marina as a villian, in season two hes sad yeah, but he’s also guilty because he doesn't think she deserved what happened.

This is a nuanced messy situation but no one wants to look at that.

Like you all make it very clear you view her as a whore, because she did a very normal thing and had sex. You all view her as a manipulative snake of a person, when if she was even the Whistledown article wouldn't have been a stop for her because she would have tried to get out of it. You conveniently forget that she almost killed herself in an attempt to abort her children because of her mistreatment post Whistledown article because that takes away from the idea you've concocted that shes some villainous bitch.

But then you turn around and want Penelope to have sexual knowledge that she realistically wouldn't and canonically doesn’t. You praise her for her Whistledown work even though it keeps hurting people she loves and shes lying about doing it.

This is weird, posting about how you can't wait for a character to die, and how you hope the death is - lets be honest here- humiliating, is a bizarre thing to do.

Its even more bizarre to do that, tag the character, and then also tag two ships that really the post really isn't about.

Like why is Polin tagged? Because they're both mentioned? This isn't a polin moment. You don’t talk about them at all in the meat of the post. Why is Philoise tagged? Because she's an 'obstacle' for them? They haven't even met, they aren't mentioned at all, they have nothing to do with this.

And on top of tagging these things you say "don't try and defend her to me" which why would we you clearly wouldn't listen. You follow that with saying "If you like her you probably suck" and claim to have tagged this as anti marina when you didn't. You put this in her main tag and then added "death to marina".

Theres no respect to your peers in the fandom, and clear disrespect to people who do like this character and are actually willing to engage with the character beyond fanon portrayal. Because thats what this is its not even taking her at face value anymore.

You wonder why people dislike this fandom, specifically the polin side of it, and do things like this. We as a community need to improve because stuff like this isn't uncommon, this is just one of the most blatant I've seen.

I'm going to be entirely honest if you follow quotegirl19, or don't see the issues with Marinas portrayal and treatment by the fandom this is not the blog for you.

#rainy talks #yeah I bit the bullet but i feel abit better #bridgerton #marina thompson #colin bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #I'm only tagging them because they're metioned rather prominently (which is how you actually use tags) #polin #for the same reason as stated above #I'm not tagging philoise though I don't think its important enough #marinas treatment in this fandom reeks of racism and misogyny

[thedigitalvalkerie]

SONIC OC BARRAGE GO

Introducing a bunch of my sonic ocs that no one really asked for, but I felt like drawing!

The "Squad of the Future" redux because the squad got bigger

Each character and a little bit about themselve's under the readmore!

Angel Robotnik-Cemerald the Cat

The oldest of the squad, being a few hundred years old now, though she lost track a long time ago. She is a clone created by Eggman, using both His and Vick's Dna, made to be the perfect heir to share his eventual kingdom with. ... Well she got his smarts and his love for building, but thats about it. She has to keep her little half brother, Draco, out of trouble.

Draco Johnathan Cemerald-Robotnik the Hedgecat

The "brains" of the group, 12 year old Draco is the son of Vick Cemerald and Shadow Robotnik. He has a problem with his arrogance, but doesn't hesitate to put himself between his friends and danger. He's constantly bugging his big sisters, both his half sister Angel as well as his full sister Raven. Demetre is his very best friend.

Demetre the Porcupine

Demetre is Draco's keeper, aka the one to always humble the dumbest smart person he knows. With his ability to fire his quills at a rapid rate, he's more of a long range attacker. He enjoys science, like Draco, though isn't quite on his level.

Henry the Bearded Dragon

Henry is a quiet kind of guy, usually having his nose in a book or drawing sick comics. He's a tad self conscious about his looks, so he tries to look the part of "bad boy". But with his big heart and stupendous healing abilities, he's a great ally to have.

Kevin the Armadillo and Mesmer the Hedgehog

Kevin is the literal big brother of the group, with his little Sibling Mesmer always by his side. They may not be the strongest of the squad, but their experiences in life make them invaluable. Mesmer is always reminding everyone that theres time to smile, while Kevin reminds them of responsibility that they all share.

Lexis the Sloth

Lexis is the powerhouse, with an explosive power to gather potential energy and turn it into kinetic energy. To prevent herself from making a destructive mistake, Lexis prefers to spend her free time sleeping, either in a bed or where ever she can get cozy.

Prince Kappa of the Kingdom of Shells and Princess Marina of the Kingdom of Urchins

Prince Kappa and Princess Marina are two royals from the same continent, one madly in love with the other. I'll give you three guesses as to which is which. Marina's father, King Marin, wants the two to be wed in order to combine the two kingdoms. Kappa, however, as a single heir to a kingless kingdom, does not want this. He does not like Marina in that way and just wants to be friends who hang out.

Jaque the Hedgehog

The Dream Walker, Jaque has the ability to enter the astral plane in his sleep as well as the dreamscapes of others. He is incapable of having dreams of his own. Usually he's the therapist of the friend group, unable to help himself on coming upon nightmares when called out to.

Piper the Retriever

Although not the oldest, Piper has big Mom friend energy, scolding the more irresponsible of the group often. While having no powers to speak of, she has a great sense of leadership though claims that shes no leader. She loves to take care of her friends, especially when they forget to eat, sleep, or sometimes breathe.

Axel the Meerkat

The strongman, loving to casually show off his strength, Axel has, you guessed it, strength class abilities. He is a mute sort, never seeming to utter a word, though no one really knows why. His best friend Gou seems to understand him regardless.

Gou the Porcupine

Gou is a Speedster, only able to launch a single quill at a time but with great precision and speed. His best friend Axel tends to keep his class clown attitude in check, but with his big mouth its hard to get out of the tricky situations they get into. He uses a cyber sleeve on his right arm to gather intel, and to also sometimes watch videos on TuYube.

Dr. Nikolia Moore the Tigeress

Nikolia is the team's Medic, being the only one of them certified with a doctorate in medicine as well as nutritional health. Her deadpan face can be intimidating to most, but her heart is that of a mother. A mother who will rip off the head of something hurting an innocent, a friend, or worse, a child. She is a strong believer in Doctor/Patient Confidentiality, and would never out someone for anything with out asking if it was okay to speak on the matter. She and Angel are Colleagues.

And that's all for now! Thank you for reading thus far.

#sonic oc #sonic fc #ocs #Sonic the hedgehog #ownart #Draco the Hedgecat #Angel the cat #Demetre the Porcupine #Henry the bearded dragon #Kevin the armadillo #Mesmer the hedgehog #Lexis the sloth #Marina the turtle #Kappa the turtle #Jaque the hedgehog #Piper the Retriever #Axel the Meerkat #Gou the Porcupine #Nikolia the Tigress #Doctor Nikolia Moore the Tigress

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Glue (Part 1)

Summary: JJ is living a nightmare when his best friend, Reader, is kidnapped and held for ransom by his father.

TW/CW: Routledge!Reader x JJ Maybank, Reader is held at gunpoint by Luke, JJ is beating himself up about it as well as the tree.

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,822

A/N: omg this took so long to write... Requests are Open! Much love to all!

That’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Routledge. My sister is a jack of all trades. Surfing, mischief, singing, boating, fishing, you name it, she’s probably good at it. Her favorite place to be is on the surf. She’s a feisty little firecracker and I often find myself dragging her out of a sticky situation. Love her to death. She’s a hoot. 

(Y/N)'s POV

“(Y/N)!” my best friend yells.  

I throw my arm over my eyes and yell back, “What JJ? What could you possibly be yelling about this early in the morning?” 

No response. I throw my arm down and poke my head up over the side of the hammock. Looking around I see no one and assume he’s just screwing with me. I close my eyes and throw my arm back over them. “(Y/N)!” This time I shoot up glaring around. Finally, I see the hood of the HMS Pogue up. Grumbling, I stumble out of my comfy spot and shuffle toward the dock. I can’t stop a large yawn as I spot JJ with his head buried under the hood.  

I sigh rubbing the bridge of my nose, “What the fuck are you doin’, JJ?” 

“Damn engine is clankin’ again,” comes his muffled reply as he fidgets with the engine.  

I grab the back of his shirt and tug, “Get out of there, will ya? Before you screw something up.” 

“I’m not gonna fuck it up. Hand me that wrench?” He responds pointing with his free hand. I roll my eyes and pick up the wrench, handing it to him before plopping down on the side of the boat. He fiddles around inside the engine compartment for a few moments before asking, “Where’s John B?” 

“How should I know? I just woke up,” I answer, annoyance evident in my tone. 

“Chill Princess. Was just askin’” he laughs. 

A few moments go by of silence aside from the bumps and knocks of JJ’s tools and the soft splashing of the waves. Suddenly JJ yells, yanking his hand out of the boat’s insides and looking at it in frustration. “What’d you do?” I ask. 

“Uhhhh,” he quickly hides his hand in his shirt, “Nothing just banged my hand.” 

I get up from my seat and shuffle toward him. I gently tug his hand into view and spot a large gash across the back of his hand. He hisses as I wipe the blood away with my shirt. “I’ll go get the first aid kit.” 

I clamber off the boat and make my way to the rebuilt Chateau. The first thing my brother did after the whole gold mess died down was rebuild our childhood home. Making my way to the bathroom I fish the first aid kit out of the cabinet and grab a towel from the hook. As I exit the bathroom, I bump into someone, “You’re usually not too excited to get bandaged up,” I comment, assuming it’s just JJ. The person places a gun to my stomach and puts their other hand over my mouth. I drop the supplies as I realize who it is.  

“Make a single sound and I’ll shoot you,” Luke growls and I can’t help the wave of fear that rolls through me. “You’re coming with me, darlin’,” my stomach rolls. I debate my options mentally. I could try to fight him, but I have no real chance considering he’ll put a bullet in me before I can make it out the door. Before I can come up with any kind of exit strategy, he drags me out of the house and to a truck parked a good way from the house. He shoves me in the passenger seat and takes off, keeping the gun trained on me the entire time. It’s not long before we pull into a marina and he’s yanking me around again. He drags me inside a houseboat and shoves me into a small room, tying my hands before leaving. 

JJ’s POV 

I pause my one-handed work and drop the wrench to wipe blood away from my cut again. I look toward the house and see no sign of (Y/N. I check my phone and realize she’s been gone for a good fifteen minutes. She should’ve been back by now. I hear a truck rumble in the distance but think nothing of it as I make my way inside. “(Y/N)?” I walk through the house and finally see the first aid kit and a towel on the floor outside the bathroom, “(Y/N)!?” I yell, starting to panic. Ripping my phone out of my pocket I run outside as I dial John B’s number. It rings and rings and finally goes to voicemail. I dial again, still searching everywhere for any sign of (Y/N).  

Finally he picks up, “Yo, what’s up? Got that rust bucket running yet?” 

“(Y/N)’s gone,” I say, too worried to beat around the bush. 

“What? What do you mean she’s gone?” 

“I mean she’s gone, man. She went inside to get the first aid kit because I cut my hand up and when she didn’t come back, I went looking for her,” my voice shakes as I hurriedly explain, “I found the first aid kit and a towel on the floor but no (Y/N).” 

“We’re on our way now. Sit tight, don’t do anything stupid,” John B answers, sounding panicked himself, as the line clicks dead. I throw my phone at the ground and my fist at a tree. I was right outside. What the hell happened? I should’ve gone in with her. I throw another punch at the tree as countless similar thoughts run through my head. 

By the time the Twinkie turns into the driveway, I’ve beat my knuckles bloody and am sitting on the porch steps with my head in my hands. After coming to a screeching halt, John B and Sarah jump out of the van. Sarah runs over to me, checking me over and taking note of my destroyed knuckles. John B on the other hand rushes inside and starts yelling for his sister. When he emerges from the Chateau, he’s frantic. Sarah stands and places her hand on his shoulder, “Just sit down and call Shoop.” She walks inside and returns soon after with a first aid kit.  

“I need to file a missing person's report,” John B states as Sarah takes a seat beside me and holds her hand out to me, expecting me to give her mine. “(Y/N) Routledge. She was last seen wearing,” he pauses and looks at me as he whispers, “What was she wearing?” I don’t have time to answer, “She was last seen like thirty minutes ago.” Having cleaned them of blood, Sarah wraps my hands in gauze as John B stands abruptly, “What do you mean I can’t file yet? She’s my sister!” He listens for a second as Sarah finishes with my bandages. “I don’t give a damn if it hasn’t been twenty-four hours. You know what? Put Shoop on. Let me talk to Shoop.” He removes his phone from his ear and glares at it, “They hung up.” His phone joins mine in the grass as he plops down beside me, dropping his head into his hands. 

“You both just need to breathe for a sec, okay? We’ll find her. We’ll round everyone up and we’ll get her back,” Sarah states trying to calm us down. She pulls out her phone and types out a short message before returning her attention to us, “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Feeling defeated I mumble, “‘Preciate the positivity but we don’t even know who took her.” 

“We can’t just sit here,” John B firmly states, standing to return inside, probably in search of clues. 

I drop my head back into my hands, yanking on my hair, “Fuck!” Sarah places her hand on my shoulder. “If I had gone inside with her instead of being focused on that damn boat- “  

Sarah doesn’t let me finish, “Don’t you dare. Don’t start blaming yourself. You had no idea.” 

John B returns, plopping back into his seat and assuming a position that copies mine. The three of us sit in silence for a while. Kie, Pope, and Cleo arrive and make their way to us. “What’s going on? Where’s (Y/N)?” Pope asks. 

John B and I don’t bother to look up, so Sarah responds, “She’s missing.” Pope throws his hands up to his head and takes a few steps back  

“Are you sure? Sure she’s not just out doing (Y/N) stuff?” Cleo questions, fiddling with her knife. 

“We’re sure. She went inside to get a first aid kit for JJ and didn’t come back out,” Sarah answers. 

“Did you call the police?” Kie inquires, taking a seat beside Sarah. 

“Of course, I called the cops Kie. They said we can’t file a report until she’s been missing 24 hours and wouldn’t let me talk to Shoop,” John B shoots back, sounding a bit harsh. 

Before anyone else can say a word, my phone starts ringing from the weeds. I jump up and run over, “It could be her.” I pick it up and my hope falters. An unknown number is there where it should say Pogue Princess. I answer it anyway, “He-hello?” 

“I want $100,000 in cash or you’ll never see your little girlfriend again,” comes a voice I hoped to never hear again, Luke. 

I quickly run back over to the others and put my phone on speaker, “If you hurt her, I swear- “ 

Sarah pulls her phone out to record as soon as he starts to respond, “You swear? Swear what? What are you gonna do boy?” Shock plasters everyone’s features but he’s not done, “$100k in cash for your girl. You know what? Tell that Routledge boy he owes $100k too. And don’t even think about running to Shoop, soon as I catch wind of him, I’m putting a bullet between her pretty little eyes.” As he hangs up, Sarah ends the video and starts toward the van. 

“Where’re you going?” John B inquires as I stand there frozen in shock and fear. 

“We can take this video to Shoop and then he has no choice than to help us find her,” she answers. 

This shakes me back to reality, “No! He’ll kill her.” 

“He won’t if he has no clue. The police are trained for this sort of thing.” 

“Sarah, we’ll find her and then send Shoop after him. I’m not risking my sister’s life,” John B interjects. 

Sarah looks at us, silently begging us to do what she thinks is the right thing. Having no such luck, she looks to the other three hoping for backup. 

Cleo nods her head as Pope speaks up, “I’m kind of with Sarah here.” 

Kie shrugs, “She’s right They’re trained for this. We’re not.” John B and I look at each other knowing we’re outnumbered and we all head for the Twinkie. 

Part 2 Here

Masterlist

More JJ Maybank Imagines

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #obx imagine #obx imagines #jj maybank angst #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks imagines

[raisin-shell]

The Blindfold

TMNT Bayverse x fem reader

18+ language/SMUT

Warnings: ⚠️ all situations are presented in a consensual form. The boys would in no way shape or form force themselves upon another against their will. That said, read at your own risk.

Chapter One:

Leonardo breathed in deeply as he looked on into the night’s skyline, the docks were always his favorite to patrol. He loved the smell of the salt in the air but particularly for the last couple of days, a new scent had presented itself.

“She’s close.”

He says this in a hushed tone, almost stupidly as if his own brothers couldn’t pick up the smell of a mature human female in close proximity. His brother Mikey let’s him know this by loudly whispering a ‘duh’ into the wind no doubt startling the curious woman which was the last thing they needed.

You could remember the exact day you first heard rumor of these vigilantes. It was the day the so called Vern The Falcon took down the Shredder. You were there, a news reporter from Channel 3 Eye Witness News. Channel 6’s biggest competitor and you had several eye witnesses tell the same story. Stories of these… creatures that saved the city. Despite your best efforts, April O’Niel’s story made headlines and your story? Well… you started going a tad bit over board. You went back to witnesses, asking them every little detail they remembered. What they looked like, where they went and finally one day you discovered your first clue. The old man who owned the market on 3rd claimed they disappeared underground through the manhole cover just across from his shop. Bingo.

✅ ✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

You started mapping out foot attacks, noticing a sort of pattern as if these creatures as the witnesses put it, had a routine. And while their pattern was certainly different and much more difficult to decipher, the foot’s on the other hand was not. Your eyes widened as your finger busily tapped right above the location of the docks on your map tacked neatly upon your bulletin board. According to your calculations that’s where they would hit next. A sudden shudder of danger, the realization of it at least fluttered through your body. You knew the risks but should the foot show up you also knew these protectors would be there. You were hell bent on it. You grabbed your keys and cellphone and bolted towards the exit of the 25th floor of the building. Your destination… the docks.

“Keep it down. She’ll hear us!”

Raph’s burly voice somehow boomed even louder than Mikey’s hush. Leonardo could do nothing but shake his head. They were supposed to be ninjas yet every time a woman entered the picture they acted like a cluster of numb skulls. Still his brow arched to the slightest of movement coming from the woman’s direction. All four brothers fell still and silent, four sets of eyes honed in on their target as the view of the top of her head slowly rose over the air vent. Leo lifted his finger to a point then dropped it sharply, a silent que for them to scatter. Limber muscles encased in hard shells vanished in thin air or so it seemed. For now they had this woman confused and now even more curious, eyes glaring at her from the comfortable hide of the shadows. She was walking right into their trap.

The Docks

You had barely parked your car along an adjacent street a couple blocks away, hearing gun shots and loud crashes inside what appeared to be an old abandoned marina you quickly ran towards the commotion.

“It’s gotta be them. I fucking know it’s them!”

You pant as your sneakers bounce against the pavement, running stalled by a bared up door with chains and locks wrapped around it to boot.

“Shit!”

Your head darted back and fourth frantically, looking for any possible way in when the sudden sound of silence sent a frightening chill down your spine. Head pressed against the bared up doors, you listened. You could hear the sound of voices. It sounded as if they were celebrating, possibly gloating about something. In this moment of slow motion your eyes happened to fall upon a small broken window to which you could easily crawl through so you took full advantage of the opportunity. Lights barely flicked inside the building. Old rickety boats left stalled and forgotten to rot were all that remained it seemed until you turned the flash light on on you phone and saw several foot soldiers badly beaten, tied together…. Some lifeless and lying on the ground in pools of blood.

🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟🪟

It took every fiber within your being not to scream but you were on a mission. You knew the foot would be here, now it was time to find out who these vigilantes really were. Your head flicked upward as the voices continued to echo throughout the decrepit building. They were on the roof. You started scanning the walls with your phone light, searching for a ladder or a garbage shaft. You did happen to find the maintenance ladder for the boat lift that led up to a long set of glass windows.

“That could lead to the roof.”

You stirred towards the ladder, hoping over a body or two along the way before you reached the first rung and started making your way up. The closer you got to the windows, the louder the voices would get. Your heart began to race in excitement, phone in hand and camera at the ready. Once you were finally at the top you slipped up against the windows, unlatching one and pushing it through as you peered out into the darkness. This did give you access to another roof to another building but the voices seemed to be coming from there so you followed.

“Dude, you’re just mad because you don’t got my skills!”

One voice rang out.

“Skills? Skills? And who got the most kills? I rest my fuckin’ case.”

Another Brooklyn accent boomed.

“You know Raph, there is this new thing. It’s called restraint. Breaking every neck of every opponent is not it.”

Another scolded as you slowly continued to make your way towards the humongous forms still hidden by the darkness. You couldn’t make out exactly what they were. They spoke English. From the way they spoke they seemed to be in their early 30’s. Your hands began to tremble and you swallowed hard as you overheard one of them say “she’s close”. Shit.

You ducked down swiftly, back against the air vent making a deep pop and you could have swore you felt your soul leave your body. They had to of heard that. Your chest heaved as your breathing shuddered in sheer fear. You waited in silence. Trying to hear anything else but there was nothing. You could only hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as your back slid upwards and you tilted your head up and over the air vent to take a peek. They were gone.

💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨

“Fuck”

You whispered breathlessly, slowly slipping your way from behind the air vent and making your way into the open. Only the light of a very pale moon guided you across the clearing surrounded by darkness. You decided to be brave. They couldn’t have went far so you called out to them.

“Hello? I… I mean you no harm. I just… I just wanted to know more. More about the true saviors and protectors of this city.”

You pause in the silence, turning slowly to check your surroundings when suddenly a swift push from behind hand you on all fours and a blindfold was quickly draped over your eyes. You froze, all intentions were to struggle but if these were indeed the massive forms you had spotted from earlier, you wouldn’t dare try to fight. Slowly with your hands held high and spread you rose. A signal to them hopefully that you meant no harm.

“Well well well would ya looky here. Ha! Seems we got a stalker boys.”

The Brooklyn accent boomed close from behind you, vibrating your entire body and sending a slight tingle to your core. Your thighs rubbed together tightly, you more in shock that this was turning you on more than scaring the ever loving shit out of you.

“Hmm… yes. It seems miss that we have taken your fancy here of late.”

A smooth, calm and deep voice patted against your ear as your jaw dropped in a soft pant.

“What should we do with her?”

A charismatic yet friendly voice chirped up through the rugged two.

“Well, seeing as she’s so interested in finding out more about us, I say we take her to my lab… for testing.”

💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉💉

A highly intelligent voice rang through with a dark chuckle. It took all you could to not weaken in the knees. You knew what you were in for when you signed up for this. Well, maybe not exactly being blind folded and kid napped but who’s to say you wouldn’t ensnare a stalker should you have one? Right? You nodded obediently no sooner than you felt the grip of two large strong arms wrap around you, lifting you up over one massive shoulder and scampering of with the elegance of a deer. Each movement beneath you was precise, smooth and surprisingly gentle despite the massive muscles laid beneath your body.

After about twenty or so minutes of feeling the wind in your hair as this creature pounced along with your body in tow, you came to a complete stop. You could hear the sound of heavy metal scraping against the street beneath you when the being began to move forward again and with one swift movement you both dropped down only to meet the bottom with a loud splash. There was this stench. All too familiar. You knew you were beneath ground in the sewers. Where at exactly was a complete mystery to you.

#let me know in the comments if you want me to keep going with this story, each encounter with each turtle will be it’s own chapter#

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2016 #tmnt michelangelo

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Lies; Don't Wanna Know

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: masturbation (f), kinda voyeurism, oral (f receiving), slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, a little praise kink Matty, unprotected sex (wrap them joysticks okay), creampie, implied cockwarming I think

Genre: smut & Angst

Summary: "Only in the evening could you give yourself to me, cause the night is your woman, and she'll set you free" - Lies by MARINA

Part 2

***

The first time you found him in your apartment you thought for sure someone was on their way to kill you. You'd just walked back in from letting your friend out and your heart leapt from your throat when you saw the red suited man by your window.

"Daredevil?" You gasp in disbelief.

"Do you live here?" He glances at you over his shoulder.

"Yes. Why are you here?" You whisper.

"Just- waiting."

"For me?"

"No."

"But you're in my apartment?"

"Shh!" He snaps.

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking and entering."

"If you're going to call the cops I'll be gone long before they get here."

"I wasn't planning on calling the cops. You're a good guy- I think."

"It's not black and white. Some people wouldn't call me good."

"From what I've read you've helped a lot of people. Is someone coming here? Am I in danger or something?"

"What? No. I'm here because nobody would look for me here."

"You're hiding?"

"I'm regrouping."

"Will you be here for long?"

"No. Probably not."

"Do you need anything? Water or- something?" You ask unsure of how to handle the situation and you watch his head tilt before he's looking over his shoulder again.

"Are you offering me refreshments?" He asks with underlying amusement in his voice.

"Look this is weird but I'm good host. Even to unexpected guests I guess." You say. Daredevil moves away from the window finally and walks directly to you, leaning in close enough to feel your breathing change.

"You should be careful offering that kind of hospitality. There are some dangerous people in Hell's Kitchen." He says lowly.

"I'm offering it to you." You reply, trying hard to keep your voice steady.

"I don't need anything no. Thanks for offering I guess. I'll be out of your hair soon." He says stepping back over to your window. You let out a shaky breath once he's out of your face. His ears prickle at the sound as he tries to ignore it along with the way your heartbeat is thrumming unusually fast while you try to ignore the way his closeness put your body on high alert.

"Uh- have you- been here before?" You ask him.

"No. I don't make a habit of going into people's apartments. It's dangerous. I just- I didn't have another choice this time." He says.

"Okay." You mutter. It's very interesting to see Daredevil up close this way. To most of Hell's Kitchen, he's hardly more than a shadow. Showing up out of nowhere to save people and disappearing just as fast. He's tall and you'd bet money that his suit hides one hell of a physique based on the tricks he pulls. It's maybe ten minutes later that he climbs onto the ledge of your window.

"Sorry for the inconvenience miss. Have a good night." He nods to you.

"If you- decide to make it a habit of going into apartments, you're welcome here." You rush out before he can jump.

"You should really be more careful with who you invite to your home." He says with that underlying tone of amusement again but before you can think of a reply he's gone. Out the window and into the night. You're tempted to see if you can spot him but you decide against it, closing your window and getting yourself ready for bed. That night your hand made its way between your legs with the vigilante's moniker falling recklessly from your lips in breathy cries, sandwiched between expletives as you try to relieve the ache left by his low voice and quiet confidence. Even though you offered, you don't really expect to see Daredevil again, that didn't stop the rumbling of his words from continuing to plague your mind. You find yourself trying to alleviate the feeling he stirred that night more often than not, his name on your tongue practically becoming part of your nightly routine while Daredevil struggles to ignore your moans and whimpers all over town. You have no place in the mess that is his life, he shouldn't see you, shouldn't get you tangled up with him. He tells himself this over and over again yet each night the sounds of your pleasure are distractingly easy for him to find no matter what he's doing that shouldhave his attention. It takes a couple of weeks for him to finally cave and visit you again. Daredevil prides himself on his control but one too many beers after a particularly busy night has him retracing the path he's used at least a dozen times without ever going where he wants to be. When he climbs through your living room window you're walking back to your room after a shower and fear seizes your heart when you hear noise. You creep as quietly as you can down the hall, peaking around the corner to see the masked man once again standing in your home.

"Daredevil?"

"You gotta stop sounding so surprised every time I'm here." He chuckles walking over to you.

"What are you doing here? I thought this wasn't a habit of yours." You say clutching your towel tightly against your chest as he closes the distance between you.

"I'm thinking I might make it one. How does that sound?" He asks, your faces are centimeters apart and you swear you've forgotten how to breathe. "Did I lose you sweetheart?" He asks with a smile that sets your chest on fire.

"N-no. Not lost." You manage.

"Good. I'd like to kiss you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You whisper with a nod. He closes the small space between your lips and his, kissing you softly at first but the longer it goes on the more desperate it feels.

"Your room?" He pants out when you eventually pull away. You kiss him again, with your hands on his biceps, leading him down the hall and through your bedroom door where he's quick to toss you onto your bed. You gasp when he tugs your towel from you and pulls you to the edge of your mattress. He kisses you again but quickly this time, marking a trail down your neck and to your chest. He stops long enough to tongue at your nipples, nipping and suckling at the hardened buds until your back is arching high off your bed. His hands grab onto your hips as he continues kissing down your body and when his tongue dips between your folds the whimper that leaves your mouth makes his head spin. His mouth is eager against you and loud with it, groaning and making slurping noises as he laps up your juices.

"Fuck you're good." You breathe out, tightly gripping your sheets. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves and his hold on your hips tightens when you start to squirm under his ministrations. He's determined to pull as many noises from you as he can while he's here, for once being able to directly cause them is an opportunity he will not waste. One hand joins his head between your legs, two fingers thrusting into you.

"You gonna cum for me sweetheart?" He mutters against you curling his fingers inside you.

"God, yes." You moan as you grind against his fingers and mouth.

"Go ahead baby let go for me." He says before sucking on your clit hard enough to coax your orgasm from you immediately. You let out a scream as pleasure washes over you, body bowing while he works you through it, pulling away only once you sink back into your sheets. "You sound so pretty when you cum." He says crawling back up your body to kiss you.

"You sound pretty when you're making me cum." You say against his lips and he groans at your words.

"Let's see if I can do it again." He says nipping at your neck as he stands to shove his pants just far enough to free his dick from its confines.

"Doubting your own skills mister vigilante?" You smirk.

"Not even close. Just don't pass out before I'm done with you." He smiles and for the first time you realize he has the cutest dimple.

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You joke as he lines himself up with your entrance. He huffs out a laugh,

"Shit- condom?" He asks stepping back.

"I don't have any but- I'm on birth control and I'm clean. You?" You ask.

"Clean as a whistle. You sure you're okay with it?"

"Yes now are you going to fuck me or not?" He chuckles at your boldness but doesn't reply as he sinks into you with a groan.

"Fuck you're tight." He grunts as he starts up a rhythm. His thrusts are easy at first but with each quiet whimper you let out his hips seem to move quicker, harsher, deeper as he works to draw more noises from you.

"S-shit don't stop babe." You whine, writhing underneath him, his hands on your waist minimizing your movements.

"Don't plan on it. Not until you cum on my dick." He huffs, chest heaving as he focuses on the way his hips collide with yours.

"Please! Please make me cum." You moan, grinding up to meet his thrusts as best you can. He plows into you unrelentingly, holding you tight enough to bruise in the best way possible. His fingers slip between your bodies and find your clit with ease. He rubs tight circles against the sensitive bud, pulling more moans from you as you feel your orgasm approaching fast.

"You're close aren't you? That's it sweetheart. Take that dick. Cum on it." His words set you off like a bomb, your body quaking with the force of your release as you practically scream. "Fuck yeah." He smirks, mostly to himself as he focuses now on chasing his own end within your walls. His thrusts are becoming erratic and you're sure he's close.

"Come on Daredevil. I know you wanna cum. Do it baby. Let me feel it, fuck." You coax him towards his end, wrapping your legs around him. A few more sloppy thrusts have him stilling inside you and you feel ropes of his cum paint your insides.

"Fuck. That was good." He breathes against your skin, his head buried in your neck as he comes down. His helmet feels cold against your cheek but you welcome the coolness with your elevated body temperature.

"Agreed." You chuckle. He stays like that with you until he feels your heartrate settle and he's sure you're asleep. He's quick to collect himself and disappear the way he came, but he leaves a, for some reason, printed note. Who the hell prints these kinds of notes in advance?

Best night out I've had in a while. X

At first, you assume it was a one time thing and you won't see him again unless your life is in danger, but that night starts a routine for you both. After a night of patrolling Hell's Kitchen he'd sneak into your apartment through your window and take what he wants from you. Some nights, he just eats you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and finding respite in the sounds of your pleasure that fill the night but more often than not he'd find his comfort with his dick buried inside you, fucking you open until you ache and leak with him. The first month of this unspoken arrangement he only visits once a week, sure that it was best not to come more frequently. Soon once a week turns to twice and three times, until he's visiting almost every night. Climbing in through your window that you'd started to simply leave open for him and spending hours in your sheets, always disappearing before the sun begins to peak out from beyond the horizon. Sometimes he waits for you to fall asleep, other times you chat with him as he redresses and sleep only once he's gone. For several months this is the extent of your relationship. You don't ask his name, as you're sure he can't or won't tell you, since you're sure that's why he doesn't ask yours. He's shrouded in mystery and for a while it works for you both. He has an outlet for whatever stresses him at night and you get good consistent sex with someone you feel safe with. You don't even consider asking for more until one night when something different happens.

Your vigilante fuck buddy is railing you like usual, pulling whimpers and whines from you with ease. Your third, or maybe fourth orgasm is approaching, and quickly.

"F-fuck, I'm close babe." You moan out, head dropping to the bed as Daredevil takes you from behind.

"Yeah? You wanna cum again for me?" He huffs out.

"Yes! Please, yes." You whine pushing back against his thrusts.

"Say my name. It's Matthew. You wanna cum, say it." He grunts, leaning over to toy with your clit. Caught up in your pleasure, you don't even think about the request before complying, in that moment you'd have done anything he asked.

"Matthew- please Matthew please make me cum." You mewl desperately.

"That's it sweetheart. Cum for me." He says upping the pressure against your clit and forcing you over the edge with a final cry. "Say it again. Say my name again." He commands as he thrusts into you, trying to reach his own high.

"M-Matthew- Matt, fuck, feels so good Matt. Want you to cum. Please. Please, wanna feel it in me." You pant out, knowing how worked up he gets when you beg him for his release. It seems the addition of his name sets him off even quicker than usual because before you know it he's spilling into you with a groan.

"Fuck, you always know just what to say." Daredevil, or Matthew, it seems, says kissing the top of your head sweetly as he pulls out of you. He quickly tucks himself back into the pants of his suit and then grabs a wet towel to clean you up a bit. "I gotta go but, I'll be back later."

"Yeah- see ya." You mutter. That night you don't manage to get any sleep after he leaves. He gave you his name and he doesn't even seem to realize it. You know next to nothing about him, except the way his voice drops when he's drunk off your taste, how he grunts and groans when he's near release, the way he bites his lip when he's struggling to control himself- you could write a book on the way he is in the bedroom and you don't even know what he looks like. Honestly you were fine with all that, except now you have his name and you can't help but wonder more about your mystery dick appointment. What does he do during the day? Where does he live? What does he look like? As much as you want to ignore these questions you just can't. One piece of information was apparently the key to a doorway you wanted to keep locked. Now all you can think about is all the things you don't know.

When he climbs through your window the next night it's easy to put the questions out of your mind the minute his lips are on yours and to your credit, you manage to go two orgasms without getting in your head about the whole thing but by the time he's spilling into you, you're focused on the questions you want to ask him so, when he starts getting himself together to leave you bite the bullet.

"Hey D?" You call before he can get out of your room.

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Why don't you ever stay?" You ask. You figure this question is a safe place to start.

"I have a day job and- this suit doesn't exactly work for inconspicuous travel during the day. So I need to be out of here before sun up."

"You have a day job?"

"Of course I do. Vigilante work doesn't exactly pay."

"Well what do you do?" You ask and he lets out a short chuckle.

"What's with all the questions doll you haven't asked me this many things since the night we met."

"I just realized I know nothing about you." You shrug.

"That's kind of the whole point of a secret identity sweetheart."

"Right except, last night you asked me to call you by name, Matthew. Why would you do that?"

"We've been hooking up for months now and you think it's weird that I gave you my first name?"

"It was my understanding that I shouldn't know anything about you that's how we've operated for months. Why change the rules now?" You ask and he sighs.

"I like the way things sound when you say them in throes of passion. Wanted to hear if my name sounded just as nice." His voice is low. "Didn't realize it'd eat you up so badly. Would've kept it to myself." He adds after a moment.

"I'm not being eaten up by it don't get ahead of yourself."

"Harsh." He chuckles. "Why is this such a big issue for you?"

"I was fine when you were an anonymous guy in a mask but you've given me an inch and I know I'm only going to want more."

"I don't have more to give you I thought you understood that."

"I do, that's why I'm telling you this Matthew."

"We've been doing this for months with no problem sweetheart come on." He huffs.

"Yeah when you were a faceless vigilante who I knew absolutely nothing about. Telling me your name just- it reminded me of howlittlethisis. There is so much more and- call me a primadonna I guess but I want it all."

"I can't do that. I can't give you that." He grits out.

"I know that! I know you can't! I'm not asking you to but I can't keep taking bits and pieces. It's not enough. Not for me. It's easy for you, you put on a mask to come see me and during the day you're a whole other person- this vigilante shit is obviously a very little part of who you are and even then I barely know anything about it. I don't want bits and pieces of who you are."

"Then what do you want from me? Where do we go from here?"

"You go home. What I want you can't give me." You tell him.

"Goodnight sweetheart." He says.

"And Matthew?" You call out once again making him pause. "Please, don't come over again." You say quietly. He lets your words hang in the air for a moment before he says anything.

"If you ever need me, just shout." He manages to croak out.

"Shout?" You frown.

"Shout. I'll hear. I swear." He says quietly before he leaves your room, presumably disappearing like he has every night before this for months and you feel a part of you leave with him. You didn't want to admit it but you and Matt are no longer a good fit. It was a casual thing but it hurts to let him go even if it's for the best. He's never going to love you. So what's the use?

***

Check Out Part 2

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil smut #daredevil angst

[mekizte500]

One of the things I love most about Bridgerton is that, because of circumstance, most female characters make terrible decisions, and I kind of love them because of it? And I also love how female characters make each other better all the time.

Eloise is pretentious, unaware of her own privilege, very incapable of self reflection.

Cressida is just awful 😂😂 UNTIL she started hanging out with Eloise. And she herself held a mirror to Eloise.

This last season they have both improved so much! It was so beautiful to see how their friendship made them better more caring and empathetic women.

Penelope (my wife) wants power in a time when women are only valued by their beauty and charm, 2 things she is not considered to have. So in amassing and keeping that power she does horrible things, to her friends, family and even herself.

Miss Fetherington is one the best examples of this. Everything she does seem so vapid and powerhungry and cruel, but she has very real motivations for everything she does. They only SEEM wrong but considering the situation back then? She does what she needs to do, for herself and for her daughters.

Edwina and Kate's relationship is incredible. Their bond is so good. And while I wouldn't call Edwina a terrible person by any means, that is only the case because of Kate's questionable decisions.

Violet Bridgerton is the perfect example of "you didn't make good decisions you had good options"

She doesn't need to worry about money, or status, or protecting her daughters, which allows her to care about a love match for her daughters in a way other mother's don't need to.

Marina Thompson's entire story is also a great example of decisions that are made due to need and circumstance by someone who is good but put in a difficult situation.

These characters are complex and flawed, they make mistakes, they make bad decisions, they make each other better in mostly impossible situations. But time and time again the narrative and the characters around them don't doom them because of it.

I am not usually a romance period piece type of person. But I am just so amazed at how much I love this show.

(like most of us season 1 is not my favourite, my issues with consent regarding Daphne and Simon are complex and contrary and hard to put into words which is why I've left her out of it)

#Bridgerton #female characters #female friendships #complex female characters #analysis

[alex51324]

Eclipse Trip Report, Part 2

Sunday was an even more perfectly gorgeous day! We spent it exploring our home park. Here's the lake and swimming beach area:

Like most of the Pennsylvania state parks, the lake was formed by adding a little dam:

In addition to being eclipse weekend, it was also the opening weekend of trout season, so the park was pretty busy:

All the exploring made Sophie sleepy:

The campground was completely full Sunday night, and mostly full Saturday and Monday nights. Most of the people were in campers, but there were a few hardy souls braving it in tents. (The daytime weather was pleasant, but it got very cold at night!) We had people from all the neighboring states, and I also saw cars from Kentucky and Michigan.

Back at the campsite, I used my new cast-iron pot to make stew over the fire:

It's the kind with little legs so you can sit it right in the coals, but my fire ring had a big rock right in the middle, so I had to sit it on the rock and piled the fuel up around it.

The stew came out pretty well, though:

I made some of the flour-and-yogurt bread, too--I was going to try to do that over the fire, but with the rock situation, I ended up doing it over my bottle-gas camping stove instead, and then just put it over the fire to keep warm.

My dad showed up just in time for dinner, and then pretty much fell asleep right after. We hung extra blankets from the top bunks to provide some semblance of privacy, which is what my sister and I used to do growing up:

Eclipse day, we drove out to the park on Chautaqua. The weather was like this:

And pretty much stayed that way until about 15 minutes after totality. We got to the park pretty early--about 11, for totality at 3:17. I'd allowed plenty of time for traffic, which turned out to be completely unnecessary; there was less traffic than when I did my scouting trip on Saturday. There were maybe 3 or 4 cars already parked at the marina when we got there, so we went and got breakfast and then came back.

By the time the partiality started, the row of prime parking spaces right on the water had filled up:

(The orange cooler and chairs are our spot.) The sun occasionally peeked out, during partiality, which you could tell because of how everybody shouted and scrambled for their eclipse glasses. This band of clear sky toward the southeast steadily widened as we got closer to totality:

Which prompted lots of hopeful remarks on the theme of how the clear bit just might make it to where the sun was, in time. (Spoiler: it did not.)

During totality, I got one fraction of a second glimpse of about half of the sun's corona; other than that, the main thing to see was the 360 sunset effect, where the light from outside the path of totality was reflecting off the clouds. It was fairly neat:

We also heard some nighttime calls from birds on the lake. It was not as spectacular as a clear-sky eclipse would have been, but it was interesting and somewhat eerie.

As totality ended, you could see it getting lighter by the second, and the band at the street party on the opposite side of the lake started playing "Here Comes the Sun."

They could, perhaps, have tried playing it a little earlier, because about 15 minutes later, the sky started to clear, and we had an excellent view of the second half of partiality.

And there was still no traffic, and my dad had never seen Lake Erie, so we drove up there afterwards--we just did the Barcelona beach, because he was driving back that night. You could tell by the state of the trash cans and port-a-potties that they'd had a bit of a crowd, but by the time we got there--with totality not even entirely over--we had it nearly to ourselves:

And I found this piece of slate that I think might possibly be a fossil imprint of something:

A different angle of it:

I have no idea how you tell, but none of the other pieces of slate on the beach has a texture like that, so there must be something unusual about it. (Just in case anyone is wondering, rock collecting is listed on the beach's website as one of the activities you can do there. It is a licitly-obtained free-range rock.)

And that was about it for the trip! My dad went home that night, and Sophie and I followed the next morning. We did encounter some traffic on the way home, but it wasn't anything too drastic--about like how it gets in that area on Penn State football weekends.

Here are a few more cottage photos. This is the upper bunks and ceiling:

The view from my bunk:

The standing fan was provided; I've never had one of those in park lodgings before. The trash can is also fairly unusual.

Here's the bunks without all my stuff in the way:

The little ledge with the lamp is a nice touch, too--a lot of the time, all you get is a ceiling light.

Sophie says, this was fun, but it's time to go home now!

Exterior view in the sun:

And here's one of the park yurts:

I stayed in one of these once; they're kind of neat. The walls are made of several layers of tarpaulin-type material, on a wooden frame. There's a wooden floor inside, and they have electricity. The top of the roof is a see-through dome, which you can also raise up if you want ventilation.

Anyway, that was our eclipse trip! It was a good time and I'm glad I went, even though I didn't have the totality experience that I hoped for. (Now I'm trying to convince my dad we should try again in Iceland in 2026. His turn to pay, since I got this one!)

#eclipse trip #camping #cabins #lake erie #lighthouses #fossil #maybe