#I've a good heart albeit insane
Text
Tally Hall fans when they're sentenced to the electric chair (it's a tally hall reference)
#tally hall#miracle musical#the mind electric#father your honor may i explain#my brain has claimed its glory over me#I've a good heart albeit insane#CONDEMNHIM to the infirmary#no way it's my url#condemnhim rambles
302 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I don't have you
Navigation
Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader
Mission Impossible (around MI3)
Word count: 6.6K
Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.
Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.
Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.
Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!
The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.
“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.
He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”
Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.
“That was fucking insane!” you burst.
“Are you ok?”
You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.
“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”
Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.
You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.
Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…
“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”
His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”
“A bullet graze!”
“It’s fine.”
You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”
“No promises,” he shrugged.
Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”
“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.
“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!
He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.
You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.
“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.
“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah.”
Another silence, though less tense.
“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.
In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.
“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.
He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.
“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”
“No, (Y/N)–”
“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.
Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.
“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.
In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”
You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.
“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”
No one’s coming.
“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”
He wasn’t looking at you anymore.
“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”
In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.
You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.
You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.
You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.
You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.
It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.
You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.
His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.
You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.
You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.
“(Y/N).”
You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.
He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.
“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .
The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”
“Yeah.”
“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.
Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”
You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”
He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.
You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.
“For yelling at me?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”
“All that matters. You said.”
You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.
“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”
The frown deepened. “Hm?”
“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.
But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.
He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”
Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.
The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.
He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.
“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.
“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.
You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”
“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.
He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.
Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.
“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.
You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.
“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.
“Huh?”
“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.
“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.
“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”
“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.
He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.
“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.
“Yeah.”
“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”
Again, “Yeah.”
You smiled. “What about me?”
“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”
“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.
“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.
“What else?” you asked.
He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”
Oh. Oh.
“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.
You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.
“Can–”
“Yes,” you answered.
He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.
“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.
“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.
He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”
You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.
“What you’d sound like.”
You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”
“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”
You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.
“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.
“Hm?”
“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”
Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”
You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.
A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.
“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”
Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.
“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”
Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.
He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.
You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.
You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.
“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.
You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”
He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.
“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.
And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.
“Say it again.”
“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”
Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”
“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Say it again.”
“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”
You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”
This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.
“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.
His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.
“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”
“Yeah?”
You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”
He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”
You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”
“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”
“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”
His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”
“Insane?”
“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”
Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”
“Here?”
“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”
“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.
“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.
“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”
“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.
“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”
He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.
Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”
“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.
“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.
“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”
Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.
“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”
“Hm?”
“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”
“(Y/N)–”
You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.
“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.
“Yeah? You gonna cum?”
“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”
“In me.”
“You sure?”
Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”
That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.
You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.
“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.
“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.
“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.
“What?” he asked.
“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.
“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”
“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”
He nodded.
“I still want to check them.”
“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.
You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.
“What?”
“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”
His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”
You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”
He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”
“Yeah.”
His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”
“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”
“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”
“Guess I’m just that special.”
“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.
#ethan hunt#ethan hunt x reader#mission impossible#shameless smut#smut#fanfiction#fanfic#fluff#tom cruise
587 notes
·
View notes
Text
"I've a good heart albeit insane"
#colors once again#slimecicle#slmccl#charlie slimecicle#slimecicle fanart#generation loss#genloss#generation loss slimecicle
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
third semester persona 5 royal is so the mind electric coded (some of these are my headcanons for akira's feelings) (also long post)
"resident minor, how do you plead? we'll need your testimony on the stand. solemnly swear to tell the whole truth; so help you, son, now raise your right hand." maruki's multiple ultimatums
"i've a good heart, albeit insane." if akira or akechi tried to explain the situation to anyone they would come across as bat shit crazy
"condemn him to the infirmary." 2/2 vibes. akira has to choose between letting akechi go out on his own terms or condemning him to maruki's reality
"all mine towers crumble down, the flowers gasping under rubble." akira wakes up to find everything he worked for had disappeared, and has a small mental breakdown as his world crumbles around him when he sees his friends
"shrieking in the hall of lull, thy genius sates a thirst for trouble." maruki seeing the engine room scene, akira screaming for akechi to still be alive
"scattering sparks of thought energy, deliver me and carry me away." maruki manipulating the phantom thieves' cognition to blind them to the truth, but he believes he is doing good, carrying them away from pain
"here in my kingdom, i am your lord; i order you to cower and pray." maruki's god complex, that he is somewhat unaware of / ignoring
"nuns commence encanting, as the lightning strikes my temples thus." akira going around, breaking the thieves from the illusion, clearing their minds
"spiralling down thy majesty, i beg of thee, have mercy on me. i was just a boy, you see; i plead of thee, have sympathy for me!" the thoughts going through akira's head in the seconds before the phantom thieves arrive
"see how the serfs work the ground. (see how they fall) and they give it all they've got (fall) - and they give it all they've got (fall) - and you give it all you've got, till you're down. (ha! ha! ha! ha!)" i imagined a cool scene about this part when just randomly listening to the song, and it's kinda what inspired this entire post: at some point before 2/2 (like maybe 1/30 or something) akira secretly goes to maruki's palace, and basically just asks 'why. why are you doing this, what's your game here.' and maruki brings him up to a balcony overlooking the city. he says the lyrics (i know cheesy, but imagine he's using it as a metaphor or something) and the parts in parentheses are his savior complex/azathoth/adam kadmon.
"see how the brain plays around; and you fall inside a hole you couldn't see. and you fall inside a hole, inside a-" maruki truly believing that he is in the right, as he sees how (for lack of a better word) damaged the thieves (especially the royal trio) are mentally
"SOMEONE HELP ME" once again, the royal trio and maruki. sumire needing help to be who she truly is, and it's interesting to imagine her just suddenly yelling it during her boss fight. akira needing help to be able to finish things, and a bit of a headcanon: he has so many personas that his original self (pre metaverse) is buried so deep that he can barely access it. akechi needing help to finally do something that he chooses to do for once, and go out on his own terms. maruki believing himself to be the help that they need, but in actuality he also needs help
"doctor, i can't tell if i'm not me." i think that each of the royal trio has identity issues. kasumi/sumire is obvious, akechi is split between his facades, and the previous headcanon that akira has so many personas that he doesn't know who he is anymore. also, if anyone wants to make an animatic or something, this line can be sumire and akira actually saying this to maruki back at shujin, and akechi pondering it to himself during the events of the game
"when it grows light, the particles start to marvel, having made it through the night. never they ponder, whether electric, calming if you look at it right." maruki lying on the platform after the fistfight, accepting that he was wrong and deciding not to try to stay alive when the platform collapses
#let them eat rakes#posted from a pile of leaves#persona 5#persona 5 akechi#persona 5 royal#the mind electric#p5r#p5r spoilers#akira kurusu#akechi goro#sumire yoshizawa#takuto maruki#royal trio
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 3 🦌
"Restless Nights"
Content: Paranoid whumpee, fear of being SAed, uhhh idk this is mostly setup for the next chapter which will be much more whumpy.
1,100 words
(Not) continuing on with my part-a-day challenge (to the fullest) but I'll try to get a part out on the regular! Congrats, you now know what I'm like as a content creator! Rule of thumb, if I ever say "I'll try to—" or "I will be—" you can count on me to never deliver!
However, in my own defense, I've been working my job a shit ton recently, and am also working on a 12 book series, and also working on the series for Valentine that I'll be posting here, and drawing a lot, so I'm pretty busy, lol. But as always, excuse my writing quality for this mini series, I just shit these out into Google Docs and then copy and paste them here.
With that said, I humbly bring you all part 3! The next part is where the whump is really gonna start coming through, so stay tuned for that (and the eventual off-the-rails plot I thought of at 3 am while trying to sleep)
Fawn was in a state of shock, and they knew it, too. They didn’t feel very much besides the anxiety that coursed through their veins. They should be frightened, and feel disgusted. They should be crying, and panicking, and trying to find a way out. Yet all they could do was sit up right on the old dirty mattress, hugging their knees to their chest as they stared into the pitch black darkness of Hunter’s basement.
Eventually they fell back against the mattress, hands over their chest as their heart beat wildly, yet they felt nothing. Not even tired. Sleep was nowhere near on their mind. All they could think about was their own stupidity. How they managed to walk right into a psychopath’s literal trap. Thoughts of the future wavered through their mind, and none of the scenarios were favorable.
Were they going to be killed? No, Hunter alluded to it, but said they were too pretty, whatever the hell that means. Was that really the only thing keeping them alive? What if they accidentally piss them off? What if they grow bored of them? But… What do they even want with them in the first place? Something nice to look at? A pretty pet? Where they going to be raped? They didn’t even want to consider the thought.
Fawn couldn’t hear a single sound other than the sound of their own breathing and heartbeat. They couldn't even see their own hands in front of them. There were no windows, no connections to the outside world. It was sensory deprived hell, and as the minutes ticked away they felt like they were going insane.
They couldn’t take it anymore, and sat up, slowly getting up to stand on their one good foot. They wobbled and felt weak, but once they got their footing they slowly hopped to where they saw the light string. Reaching out blindly in the darkness, they felt it in their hands, and pulled it. A click rang through the air, and the basement was illuminated, albeit dimly, but they could at least see.
The basement was full of all kinds of clutter, like tools, weapons, boxes, taxidermied animals, bones, fur rugs, and mounted animal heads. There were a bunch of spiders, cobwebs, and cockroaches scurrying around. Good thing they weren't afraid of bugs. At least they had some company.
The mattress was torn and covered in blood and dirt. Lots of dried blood, actually. How many others were here before them? How many others spent their last nights on this same, tattered bed? It all felt too surreal. It couldn't be real. This was a horror movie, or a true crime documentary in the making, and they were the next subject. Why them of all people? Life isn't fair.
They began to carefully and quietly sift through the various things Hunter kept down there. Looking through the boxes, opening drawers, peeking behind furniture. Inside a metal cabinet were multiple folders and papers. The papers being....
...Missing posters?
First came confusion, then came the wide eyed terror and the sinking of their heart. In shock their shaking hands dropped the papers, and when they got their bearings, picked them back up, examining them.
There were some from different places, but most of them came from the same nearby town that Fawn had just moved to. They could recall seeing some of them around town, or in newspaper ads. Even conversations with the locals about how people often go missing... The oldest one of the bunch was ten years ago. The most recent was only from 6 months ago.
Fawn felt sick to their stomach. Asking how many people were here before them was supposed to just be rhetorical.
Fawn grabbed a knife that was sitting on one of the tables, and turned out the lights. It was old and rusted, but just having a weapon in their hands at least gave them the illusion of safety. They clutched it tightly in both of their hands, sitting on the mattress. They were restless and anxious, with their wide eyes staring towards the door in darkness. They could hear the floorboards creak above them, and they hoped and prayed Hunter wouldn't come back down the stairs.
Especially if they thought they were asleep.
Though much like Fawn, Hunter wasn't able to rest their eyes, either. However, while Fawn's may have been from fear, Hunter was far too excited. They tossed and turned, but all they could think about was their latest victim. When they remembered they had a bag with them that they removed, they jumped out of bed immediately.
Moonlight was shining through the trees, seeping into the decrepit cabin through cracked and boarded up windows. Hunter went to the kitchen and picked Fawn's bag up off of the floor, curious to rummage through their things.
It was filled with snacks and water bottles. There was a change of clothes, a pocket knife, a book on plant identification, binoculars, and finally, they hit the jackpot. A phone with no passcode! Just who was their little Fawn, really?
Their lockscreen was a photo of two cats cuddling, looking like they took it themself at a shelter. Much to Hunter's dismay, it didn't seem like they had any social medias, but they did have lots of things in their gallery!… though they were mostly just photos of animals. They couldn't find a real name or anything that was truly personal.
It wouldn't matter much even if they did have socials, because there was no signal out here. It wouldn't connect to the internet. Maybe they had something in their calendar?... no, nothing. No birthdays or events, except for some things relating to the Animal shelter.
Their phone was so void of anything that it was almost frustrating. Either they didn't use technology much, or they had absolutely nothing going on in their life besides their volunteer work. I mean, they didn't even have a passcode, Hunter was disappointed, to say the least.
A weak knock coming from the basement door startled them out of their dissatisfaction.
"Uhh… Hunter?" A meek, muffled voice called.
"What?"
"I… have to pee."
"Okay."
"I need a bathroom."
"No you don't. You have a change of clothes right here, you can change in the morning."
"What?!" Fawn was appalled, "But—"
"You should be happy you're alive and shut up. Piss on the floor and go to bed."
"But—"
"Piss on the floor and go to bed." Hunter repeated, much more stern. It was silent for a moment before quiet thumps could be heard limping down the stairs. Poor injured thing.
Hunter had a feeling this recent capture was going to be quite an interesting one. They listen well enough, but don't seem to really grasp the situation they've found themself in. It wasn't a worry, that just meant training them was going to be all the more enjoyable.
Hunter smiled.
They were going to have fun tomorrow.
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'VE A GOOD HEART ALBEIT INSANE
#myart#myocs#silas#unalloyed#whatever just posting him here for the sake of sharing art i know no one cares about my ocs on here but here is a post#this is silas he's one of the antagonists for the elden ring comic ro and i are working on#okay bye
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic Writer Interview
Thank you for the tag @mercurygray!
How many works do you have on AO3?
Currently 6, but hopefully that number will go up over spring break
What's your total AO3 word count?
119,136
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Like A Girl (Like A Man) - Band of Brothers
Just A Kid - The Outsiders
Bear The Burden Alone - The Chronicles of Narnia
For Whatever We Lose - Band of Brothers
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, absolutely! I share my writing because it allows me to connect with people who share my interests. If I'm not posting replies, it feels more like a one sided conversation, imo. Also, it seems the polite thing to do
What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?
It's about to be Like A Girl (Like A Man)! You'll see why soon >:)
What the fic you've written with the happiest ending?
On AO3, it's probably Bear The Burden Alone, but I try to keep the fics that I post here on Tumblr kinda upbeat with hopeful -- albeit open-ended -- endings.
Do you write crossovers?
Yeah! For Whatever We Lose is actually a crossover with The Pacific, and I'd love to do more crossovers in the future
Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Yep! I've deleted the comments, but some people were VERY ANGRY about the background Babe/Roe content in LAGLAM -- you know, despite the fact that the plot of the fic is driven by a queer woman's decision to cross-dress. Guess they had to draw the line somewhere, but the hypocrisy of it all makes me chuckle
Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Kinda? I deleted most of it from the original LAGLAM drafts and instead just alluded to it, but things are going to be different in FWWL. Get ready for crappy ocean metaphors and religious imagery, babes!
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
I hope not :( That would stink
Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not to my knowledge
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, but I think it would be fun!
What's your all-time favorite ship?
Everlark! (said while frothing at the mouth because they make me go insane) I've been obsessed with them since I first read The Hunger Games at age 9. I could write you a whole novel about why I think they're perfect together, but I'll spare you the ramble (unless anyone wants it?)
What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?
Tears in my eyes when I tell you that it's probably the requests in my inbox. I keep telling myself that I'll get to them, but I've just felt unmotivated with all the stuff I've had going on in my personal life/at school. I really really do hope to get to them someday, though, because some of them will be really fun to write
What are your writing strengths?
I have no clue, lol. I tend to get compliments about how I describe settings, so I'm gonna say that!
What are your writing weaknesses?
My abuse of commas and italics.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Personally, I love doing it. Especially in a fic like LAGLAM, where even though most people don't speak the language I'm using (Cherokee), I feel like they can still see the importance to the characters and to the story. And I like tricking people into caring about Indigenous language preservation. My teachers told me that anything can be a vessel for carrying language on, and by God, I took that to heart
What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Oh boy. I was in the fifth grade. I had won many writing competitions. Two classmates approached me and told me that they wished The Hunger Games had more post-Mockingjay Everlark content, and that since I was a good writer, they wanted me to write it. I was traded many cosmic brownies and other such snacks throughout the year for my services in providing my classmates with Everlark fics on pages of notebook paper that are probably crumpled up in a landfill by now. At the time, I had no idea I was writing fanfiction, but it was the start of my favorite hobby. Look at me now, baby!
What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?
I've always wanted to write for TURN: Washington's Spies but have never had the courage haha
What's your favorite fic you've written?
I have a couple of one-shots that I'm pretty pleased with, but currently I'm going to say LAGLAM because it's been so special to me <3
Tagging (but no pressure!): @almost-a-class-act @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @liebgotts-lovergirl
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
My brain has claimed its glory over me
I've a good heart, albeit insane…
•
Here in my kingdom I am your Lord
I order you to cower and pray
•
See how the brain plays around
And you fall inside a hole inside a-
Someone help me
I can't tell if I'm not me
•
•
Happy birthday marble hornets
#cosplay#my photos#marble hornets#slenderverse#jay merrick#skully#brian thomas#hoody#hoodie#tim wright#masky
37 notes
·
View notes
Note
!thgir ti ta kool uoy fi gnimlaC
cirtcele rehtehw ,rednop yeht reveN
thgin eht hguorht ti edam gnivah levraM
ot trats selcitrap eht ,thgirb sworg ti nehW
em ton m'I fi llet t'nac I rotcoD
dnim ym edisni no gniog s'tahw dnatsrednU
em pleh enoemoS
-a edisni eloh a edisni llaf uoy dnA
ees t'ndluoc uoy eloh a edisni llaf uoy dnA
dnuora syalp niarb eht woh eeS
)llaf( nwod er'uoy lit' tog ev'uoy lla ti evig uoy dnA
)llaf( tog ev'yeht lla ti evig yeht dnA
)llaf( tog ev'yeht lla ti evig yeht dnA
)llaf yeht woh ees( dnuorg eht krow sfres eht woh eeS
em rof yhtapmys evah eeht fo daelp I
ees uoy yob a tsuj saw I
em no ycrem evah ,eeht fo geb I
ytsejam yht nwod gnilarips os-os-os-os-os-os-os-oS
ytngierevos eniht tuo gnihcrocs yllohw ,srebmahc enim gniyfirtcelE
suht selpmet enim sekirts gninthgil eht sa gnitnacni ecnemmoc snuN
yarp dna rewoc ot uoy redro I
droL ruoy ma I modgnik ym ni ereH
yawa em yrrac dna em revileD
ygrene thguoht fo skraps gnirettacS
elbuort rof tsriht a setas suineg yht ,llul fo llah eht ni gnikeirhS
elbbur rednu gnipsag srewolf eht nwod elbmurc srewot enim llA
yramrifni eht ot mih nmednoC
enasni tiebla traeh doog a ev'I
em revo yrolg sti demialc sah niarb yM
?nialpxe I yam ,ronoh ruoy rehtaF
dnah thgir ruoy esiar won ,nos uoy pleh oS
hturt elohw eht llet ot raews ylnmeloS
dnats eht no ynomitset ruoy deen ll'eW
?daelp uoy od woh ,ronim tnediseR
lamiced ni etunim htaed sA
htaerb siht gnidloh tnemom hcae fo knihT
thgirf fo yrtiucric gnisolc gnisopxE
thgil sseltimil sa sthguoht eseht fo knihT
Think of these thoughts as limitless light
Exposing closing circuitry of fright
Think of each moment holding this breath
As death minute in decimal
Resident minor, how do you plead?
We'll need your testimony on the stand
Solemnly swear to tell the whole truth
So help you son, now raise your right hand
Father your honor, may I explain?
My brain has claimed its glory over me
I've a good heart albeit insane
Condemn him to the infirmary
All mine towers crumble down the flowers gasping under rubble
Shrieking in the hall of lull, thy genius sates a thirst for trouble
Scattering sparks of thought energy
Deliver me and carry me away
Here in my kingdom I am your Lord
I order you to cower and pray
Nuns commence incanting as the lightning strikes mine temples thus
Electrifying mine chambers, wholly scorching out thine sovereignty
So-so-so-so-so-so-so-so spiraling down thy majesty
I beg of thee, have mercy on me
I was just a boy you see
I plead of thee have sympathy for me
See how the serfs work the ground (see how they fall)
And they give it all they've got (fall)
And they give it all they've got (fall)
And you give it all you've got 'til you're down (fall)
See how the brain plays around
And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see
And you fall inside a hole inside a-
Someone help me
Understand what's going on inside my mind
Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me
When it grows bright, the particles start to
Marvel having made it through the night
Never they ponder, whether electric
Calming if you look at it right!
Also hi eve :D
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
"I've a good heart, albeit insane"
god damn I have never heard a sentence that i feel describes me better (i'm not literally insane, but i feel like i am sometimes)
thank you, ミラクルミュージカル.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
i've a good heart albeit insane
condemn him to the infirmary
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! <3
I finally took some time this winter break to read Prism and it was absolutely incredible. I really appreciate the obvious amounts of time and effort that must've gone into creating such an intricate and heavy story. I think there's sometimes a tendency to portray victims of almost anything as blank slates and perfect, empty vessels of whatever trauma they've experienced. This never sits right with me so I really apreciate your dedication to creating such well rounded and devastatingly real characters.
It has been so so fascinating to spend some time in Steve's head and get to know some of his darker and more intense desires. They're kinda like snakes too sometimes, for Steve, I think. There's something almost equally serpentine to the things he wants and the things that make him feel good and safe. I just wanted to thank you both for taking things so deep and far with his character. Getting through those darkest days with him and ending up on the other side of it was a catharsis I've rarely experienced with fiction. All my love <3
I have a question, though! It's something I've been thinking about since reading that specific chapter and I can't get it out of my head. It seems that Eddie was very deliberate in getting Steve's fingerprints all over the drugs he later planted in Billy's car. I still can't quite figure out why this was so important to him. Hopper even mentions later that they're not persuing any drug related charges because he wants to keep Steve out of it. Wouldn't it have been much easier to get Billy out of the way if the cops could've pinned all the drug charges on him alone? I think Eddie must've known that Hopper would jump in to save Steve like that. Was he trying to clean his own hands from the drug related stuff as well? Was he worried that he would be implicated otherwise? I may have missed this explanation since there were some small parts I've skimmed for mental health reasons, but I was still very curious about this.
Looking forward to the new chapter!
I hope you have a lovely weekend <333
Oh, what an amazing and wonderful thing to share, thank you SO much!! We are so happy that people are resonating with parts of the story and I really do believe in and will always fight for the importance of catharsis through a controlled narrative frame.
To answer you Q, yes! This was very deliberate and Eddie's motives here are somewhat sneaky beyond "involving Steve", so at surface level, Steve's fingerprints being on the drugs means that firstly, Hopper would feel insanely protective of Steve (something Eddie anticipated way in advance, he knows more about Hopper than we realise at this point) and he would interfere to ensure Steve was kept out of it, and that Billy's whole thing was expedited under the table.
Secondly, it keeps Eddie's drug business untouched by official law. People would have asked where all that cocaine came from and Billy would have LOVED telling them, but to protect Steve, Eddie knew he would probably keep his mouth shut and go along.
Thirdly, and this I can only allude to vaguely, but Eddie doesn't really want Billy's case "air tight". He also wanted Hopper to bend the rules if not outright break them because a bent cop (albeit a good hearted one) is potentially useful to him down the road.
The thing here is that Eddie didn't really want Billy out of the way, he could have dispatched of him a long time ago much easier. It had to be Steve's choice (so Eddie thinks of it) and Steve's involvement and Steve's path. Eddie thinks of that whole encounter as having minimal interference from him, he's that delulu. It's also worth noting that Eddie, in somewhat terrifying fashion, has actual feelings for Billy, in a way a shark might have feelings for a human it sees swimming above on a surfboard. As we see in the previous chapter, he likes to set things up and have them ready (the order to kill Billy) but ultimately he can be quite mercurial. Eddie is not done with Billy and he's good at leaving doors half open, little opportunities to return to later if he so desires because he knows himself and anticipates his own desires way, way in advance.
I hope this was helpful! Prism is LONG and complex and if a small thing is mentioned and seems strange, it's usually done on purpose and will later be important so well done for noticing!
All my love, Az.
💜💜💜
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Think of these thoughts as limitless light
Exposing closing circuitry of fright
Think of each moment holding this breath
As death minute in decimal
Resident minor, how do you plead?
We'll need your testimony on the stand
Solemnly swear to tell the whole truth
So help you son, now raise your right hand
Father your honor, may I explain?
My brain has claimed its glory over me
I've a good heart albeit insane
Condemn him to the infirmary
All mine towers crumble down the flowers gasping under rubble
Shrieking in the hall of lull, thy genius saves a thirst for trouble
Scattering sparks of thought energy
Deliver me and carry me away
Here in my kingdom I am your Lord
I order you to cower and pray
Nuns commence incanting as the lightning strikes mine temples thus
Electrifying mine chambers, wholly scorching out thine sovereignty
So-so-so-so-so-so-so-so spiraling down thy majesty
I beg of thee, have mercy on me
I was just a boy you see
I plead of thee have sympathy for me
See how the serfs work the ground (see how they fall)
And they give it all they've got (fall)
And they give it all they've got (fall)
And you give it all you've got 'til you're down (fall)
See how the brain plays around
And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see
And you fall inside a hole inside a-
Someone help me
Understand what's going on inside my mind
Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me
When it grows bright, the particles start to
Marvel having made it through the night
Never they ponder, weather electric
Calming if you look at it right!
(Lyric prank :3)
Losing my mind because of the missing details
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Man if this guy actually tries to kill deepdark I hope he gets STOMPED ON
this issue man,,, I know I probably always say they’re so good but IT WAS SO GOOD!!! Again!!! A banger!!! We finally get some cormorant lore,, albeit it’s not. good.
I love how you wrote Thrasher, he feels like an actual threat rather than a silly fun villain. He gives me like insane cult leader vibes, like thinking Jim Jones vibes honestly. I hate him already! What a guy. How can you turn to a literal baby and be like alright dude time to KILL. Like look at heeeeem he’s just a little guy!!!
(Also I am not saying I like thrasher, I just like how you wrote him! Feels a lot different than your typical villains you have already between TDS and then deepdark, this guy has no dramatic flair or anything redeeming. He is just literal garbage and it makes him a very formidable threat. He doesn’t deserve to have redemption lol. I think it definitely helps add to the nitty gritty aspect you’re trying to hit too!)
Drawing baby Cormorant in the cover broke my freaking heart. HE IS JUST A BABY....
Yeah I totally get it! I've definitely been channeling some of that energy for Thrasher, and it's good to have him as a more grounded villain to play off the drama queens like Deepdark. Just a real trash horrible nasty man. And some people are just like that.
I've been thinking of a basic description of Defiance as being "death cult + mafia", so that description works well for Thrasher.
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Think of these thoughts as limitless light
Exposing closing circuitry of fright
Think of each moment holding this breath
As death minute in decimal
Resident minor, how do you plead?
We'll need your testimony on the stand
Solemnly swear to tell the whole truth
So help you son, now raise your right hand
Father your honor, may I explain?
My brain has claimed its glory over me
I've a good heart albeit insane
Condemn him to the infirmary
All mine towers crumble down the flowers gasping under rubble
Shrieking in the hall of lull, thy genius saves a thirst for trouble
Scattering sparks of thought energy
Deliver me and carry me away
Here in my kingdom I am your Lord
I order you to cower and pray
Nuns commence incanting as the lightning strikes mine temples thus
Electrifying mine chambers, wholly scorching out thine sovereignty
So-so-so-so-so-so-so-so spiraling down thy majesty
I beg of thee, have mercy on me
I was just a boy you see
I plead of thee have sympathy for me
See how the serfs work the ground (see how they fall)
And they give it all they've got (fall)
And they give it all they've got (fall)
And you give it all you've got 'til you're down (fall)
See how the brain plays around
And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see
And you fall inside a hole inside a-
Someone help me
Understand what's going on inside my mind
Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me
When it grows bright, the particles start to
Marvel having made it through the night
Never they ponder, weather electric
Calming if you look at it right!
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey btw. father your honor may i explain my brain has claimed it's glory over me I've a good heart albeit insane
CONDEMN HIM TO THE INFIRMARY !!!!!!!!!!!! 👆👆👆
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
p4patyagibisin
Yüzümün hâline bak Papatya.
masteryaddleisagilf
Women fear me, Fish desire me.
3333sa4
さささ子一覧
wetsand
Just Trying To Form
dancingwiththedevilontheback
I dance with the devil on my back