#love like heroin hate like heaven

[jwowwsboobs]

i love when there is a boy & i can make him tortured n tormented by visions its like im god n hes jesus . my son i will put u thru so much just cuz i felt like it . luv u ! no i do not

#i do not feel even remotely bad 4 this guy or any of these guys ! #love like heroin hate like heaven #xoxo

[luveline]

What about Steve with a cry baby reader? Like she cries at everything and May be Steve is telling her about something hard but also not that deep like a fight with his parents or they r discussing exes and she starts crying bc Steve didn’t deserve heartbreak

thank you for your request! —steve tells you about his relationship with his parents and gets the comfort he deserves a few years late. fem!reader. hurt/comfort ♡ 1.7k CW mentioned child neglect

Steve indulges you every now and then with old movies. You're obsessed with those musical movies from the fifties, soft colours, cool cat leading men and blunt heroines. Your very favourite are the ones with love triangles, though Steve hasn't ever thought you'd like to be entangled in one yourself. 

Entangled in him, absolutely. "That is ridiculous," you say softly, sitting entirely in his lap, an arm around his neck and another his waist. "She loves him." 

"She does." When the heroine of Young At Heart realised one of her love interests didn't have a present for the birthday party they were going to attend together, she bought one for him so he wouldn't feel embarrassed —yet she's planning on marrying the other man. "Poor Frank. He looks shocked." 

"I'd be shocked. Lucky me, you've never sprung a sudden engagement on me," you say, your fingers rubbing mindlessly into his side. Your affection is often thoughtless. You care for him like another must-do, in time and rhythm with your breathing. 

"To another girl, you mean?" he asks warmly. 

You fluster and rub your cheek against the collar of his shirt, rolled and worn from an endless day on the couch together. He should go up and shower soon before bed, only you feel right in his lap, in no way light but a weight he's happy to bear.

You're skewed sideways, your legs laying across the rest of the couch, his legs kicked up on the coffee table. He keeps trying to force himself up for a shower and you keep leaning into his front or scratching your nails from his ribs to his hip, convincing him otherwise.

"If we ever… got engaged," you begin unsurely, eyes on the television to avoid his gaze, he's sure, "would we have a nice party like that?"

"When we get engaged we'll do whatever you want. We can have a party, send out ivory invitations with eleven point four Times New Roman font. All the trimmings." 

"Eleven point four." Your eyes soften with your smile. "What do you know about invitations?" 

"My mom had tons of stupid parties. She didn't always send out invitations, but when she did, she'd have them done right. I got to lick the envelopes." 

"Lucky Stevie." 

You shift backwards so your weight is on the couch rather than Steve, your back to the armrest and your thighs over his legs rather than on top of him. He can see your face better in this new position, and it's fitting: the love interest on TV starts spouting about how beautiful the heroine is, how her face is a tribute to the heavens if there ever were one. Smiling as you are, Steve has to agree. 

"What were they like, the parties?" 

Steve bites the tip of his tongue. "Fine," he says eventually. "They were fine. They'd set up buffet tables covered in hors d'oeuvres and everyone would walk around in their cocktail dresses and tailored suits drinking champagne and whiskey." His tone lightens toward the end, a put upon theatric for you to make it sound less snotty. 

"Did you wear a suit?" you ask. 

"Button down, usually."

"Nice! I bet you looked adorable. Do you have any photos?" 

"Honestly, baby?" Steve squeezes your leg. "I was miserable, then. You don't wanna see any photographs. I was never smiling."

"What?" 

"I hated my life. All my mom cared about was making us look like a perfect family, and all my dad cared about was work. I was happier when they started taking months-long business trips to Missouri."

"What do you mean?" you ask, putting your hand against his face. It's smaller than his but still big, still encompassing as you stroke his cheek and scratchy stubble. "You… what?"

He tells you because he knows you love him. It makes a hard thing easier, being loved. "Nothing, just, things were bad. My parents didn't even really like me, you know? They bounced me between little league and swim team and basketball when I was old enough. Track, cross country running, everything. Killer sun tan every summer." 

Any trace of a smile is gone from your face. "They didn't like you? What are you talking about?" 

"I was an annoying kid," he says. "You know how I was when we first met? Imagine that and worse." 

"There was nothing wrong with you when we first met." Your lip trembles. 

"Baby," he says quickly, on an exhale, the word half love and half apology, "don't be upset. I'm sorry, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I'm making it sound worse than it was." 

Your eyes turn glassy. It's awful, being so close he can see the tears well, collecting in the corners of your eyes. You stroke his cheek tentatively and ignore them. 

"It was fine, sweetheart, really, I had everything. They'd leave me a fucking credit card when they went away, I never had to ask for anything. They gave me a car for my fifteenth birthday… I think they thought it was my sweet sixteen." 

Your face crumples like a wet paper towel. You try to fight it but you're a heavy crier and you always have been. It shocked Steve when you first met, how quickly you can fall into tears, but it doesn't necessarily mean you're extremely upset. He can maybe fix it before you give yourself a headache if he tries. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, dotting a kiss on the meat of your thumb. "I didn't tell you so you'd feel sorry for me." 

"I do feel sorry. I feel so sorry," you say quietly. 

"Don't cry…" Steve shifts into a better sitting position as the first tear trips over your waterline. Your hand falls to his collar. Your fingertips rub his collarbone. "I was lucky, I had everything I needed." 

"You just told me your parents didn't like you, Stevie, I wouldn't call you lucky. That they went away for months– How old were you?" 

He winces. "Fifteen?" 

"You were still a kid." 

"I was old before my time." 

"No, you weren't." You sniffle. "I didn't know about that, Stevie. I didn't know about any of this, I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I never told you." 

You bring both hands up now, placed gently against his chest, talking to him with a tenderness that makes his body ache, "If you think that it didn't matter, I'm really sorry. Imagining you that young, sitting there thinking they didn't like you? That breaks my heart." You're not overly dramatic despite the tears, but you say it with conviction. "You're not supposed to feel that way." 

Steve laughs quietly. "I know that, dummy. Why're you this upset about this? It was years ago." 

"Because it happened to you," you say, pouting at him sympathetically. "I don't know. I guess I figure how heavy that must be carrying around this whole time, thinking they didn't like you and that it was your fault." 

Steve tries to say something, his mouth dry as sand, but he supposes he had said that, in a way. It is what he thought, what he thinks. If he were better, if he were more interesting, more attractive, more talented, they'd stick around. He pushed himself in every sport they'd let him play hoping he'd see his dad standing in the bleachers one day. 

"You're not annoying," you say, wiping your tears. You square your expression into a steadier set. "You're amazing. If they couldn't see it then and if they refuse to see it now, that isn't something you did, Stevie. Maybe they gave you a car and an Amex card, but what you deserved most was–" Your determination to calm down wanes as your voice turns airy and scratchy, like you're trying not to sob. "You deserved to feel cared about. 'N' I'm sorry you didn't, because I love you more than anything."

Steve pulls you in for a hug. Mostly because you need one, but it doesn't hurt to hide his face from you know. His eyes burn, his heart pounding in his throat and between his ears as his arms climb up the length of your back. He focuses on that, the feeling of his hands and his bare forearms against your soft shirt. His chin goes over your shoulder and he presses the side of his head to yours with more force than he intends. 

"Don't wind yourself up over it," he murmurs. "I know it sucks, I promise I get it, and I love that you're sorry, I love you, but it's not worth crying over. They're not worth it." 

You tuck your arms behind his shoulder. Steve indulges in your smell, the warmth of your closeness. Talking about his parents is like poking at a purple scar. It's healed for the most part, but it's far from invisible. He usually ignores it all. 

"Is it weird that I'm kind of vindicated by your, uh, reaction?" he asks under his breath, as though someone might hear him and call him out for it. "I don't want you to cry, but…" 

"I'm in your corner." You pull him impossibly closer. "I'll always be upset for you. Even if you don't think it matters anymore, that's the kind of stuff that stays with you, you know?" You kiss his hair. Twice. A third time. "Sorry, I know I always make stuff about me, crying 'n' all." 

"That's not true," he murmurs, rubbing your back. 

He hates that you're crying, but he's glad, too. Glad all that pain isn't made up. Your reaction is proof he didn't just imagine how much it hurt to always want something he couldn't quite grasp. 

"You didn't deserve that," you say. 

"I know." 

"I love you." 

He knows that too. "I love you. You gotta stop crying, okay? You need your tears for the end of the movie when he crashes his car. How are you gonna bawl your eyes out for Sinatra if you've wasted them all on me?" 

You laugh wetly. "I think I've made a wet patch in your hair." 

Steve relaxes, reassured at the sound of your laugh, precious as spun silver even doused in waterworks. "That's cool. I needed a shower anyway." 

—

thank you for reading!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[vivemonroi]

Okay, you know what I find truly baffling? The hate towards RadioBelle. People claim it's the most unrealistic and problematic pairing that will never become canon. Well, first off, let's talk about canonicity: yes, it's true, and I assure you, adult shippers are well aware. Lol, we've been through worse. Such pairings seldom become canon, and for good reason. The reason lies in the initial claim itself. These relationships are unhealthy, built on manipulation and deceit. They're hard to develop without stepping outside the confines of a single-episode show. That's where we, the fans, come in. Who doesn't like toying with the idea of complex relationships? After all, there are so many paths for development because we have conflict. And conflict is the foundation of any story.

As for realism, lol. The archetype of the all-knowing, confident antagonist and the naive, kind-hearted protagonist? Please, I can't think of a more overused trope. Hmm... Let's get more specific. A cannibalistic maniac who behaves like a gentleman and mentors the heroine, and a heroine fighting for a justice, whose worldview is constantly challenged? What if we put the maniac in a cell and arm the heroine with a gun and an FBI badge? There are plenty of such tropes. And the heroine doesn't necessarily have to be a woman (*coughs* I see you Will). Are you seriously accusing people of shipping one of the most obvious tropes? Is this your first fandom or what?

Thirdly: we're oppressing other fans and hating on lesbians?? So, one can't even imagine, within fanon, a bi character (and Charlie is a bi) with a man if her official love interest is a woman? What about the countless instances where a heterosexual man (not bi) becomes gay in fanfics and everyone's fine with it? Talk about double standards, folks. I love Vaggie, I believe in their love with Charlie, truly. Those relationships are the healthiest and in real life, I'd wish all relationships could be like that. But here's a crucial detail. This isn't real life. Wake up, for heaven's sake. These aren't real people; you can't hurt their feelings. But you can hurt the feelings of real people, so I absolutely condemn fans of Charlastor who dump vitriol on others, and I equally despise people who write trash about the unreality and problematic nature.

Otherwise, I wish all Charlastor fans (and not only) a Happy Valentine's Day! Ship whatever pleases your twisted minds and hearts, as long as you're creating art and not harming anyone – you're awesome!

#charlastor #radiobelle #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel 2024 #happy valentine's day #opinion #alastor x charlie #charlie x alastor #hellaverse #alastor

[calisources]

NETFLIX'S   LUCIFER   SENTENCE   QUOTES.   all   sentences   on   this   meme   are   taken   through   all   of   the   seasons   of   the   hit   show,   lucifer.   mentions   of   angels,   demons,   morality,   god   and   more   can   be   seen   on   this   meme,   please   stray   away   if   any   of   these   make   you   uncomfortable.   change   pronouns   and   names,   locations   as   you   see   fit.

People don’t have power over us. We give it to them.

People sometimes kill the people with whom they’re in love. The heart’s mysterious.

What I hate more than anything is a liar, a charlatan, someone who doesn’t believe in what they say.

People don’t arrive broken. They start with passion and yearning till something comes along that disabuses them of those notions.

I’m like walking heroin. Very habit-forming. It never ends well.

If you desire something, just take it.

Sometimes we are what we are, and we should embrace that.

A deal’s a deal, especially one with the Devil.

Where do I begin? With the grandest fall in the history of time? Or perhaps the far more agonizing punishment that followed?

 To be blamed for every morsel of evil humanity’s endured, every atrocity committed in my name? 

 I’ve been shown how truly powerless I am. That even the people I trusted, the one person, you, could be used to hurt me.

When angels fall, they also… rise.

The best way to be first is to know it’ll happen beforehand.

I’ve met your type before, so desperate to control their lives, they forget to enjoy it.

We need the most love when we’re being most unlovable.

Never been thrown out of anywhere before in my life. Well, except for Heaven, of course.

We can’t control what happens to us, only how it affects us and the choices we make.

I find people who are rude usually feel powerless in their own lives. Terrified of not being in control.

Sometimes we get along best with the people we’re most different from.

Sometimes we need to lose something before we can understand its value.

For your penance, ten Bloody Marys and a good shag.

The good news is that whilst all dogs go to Heaven, you’d be surprised how many pigs are waiting for you in Hell.

Desire shouldn’t be contained, it’s unnatural.

You’re the devil. But you’re also an angel.

So you want to destroy me. Well, get in line.

I’m done trying to please someone who isn’t ever here.

If you go looking for loopholes, you’ll always find them.

This is a place built on lies where nothing is authentic or genuine. 

Why do humans think they can rectify one evil with another?

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. ) #rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

[oceanlipgloss]

VULTURE

MAMMON.

+ warnings: angst, grudges, implicit mentions of sex.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Each of the seven hung over her fate like a vulture.

To her, it seemed, they were but carnivorous birds, willing to tear rotten flesh off a corpse, off of her. They—no, he—had turned her into a dead body. A dead dove, a dead woman warm with love.

She loved them all—truly it was so; pacts may not have been carved into her skin, but was it not enough that they had barred her from doing as little as calling out before Heaven's gates? Now, how could she ever justify herself to the Lord? Would he ever forgive her?

It was no mystery that they had smudged her destiny. She was a painting marred. She was a palette, paints of individual colors smeared with tar.

The fallen ones she was forbidden to love, the angels she was forbidden to love, the demons she was forbidden to love. All of them. Especially him. The second one. He was too easy to love, too easy to adore. Falling for him was much too easy—even easier than tumbling down the stairs to the hall. That is why...it was a lapse she could not afford.

It wasn't about his lovely skin or his blue irises or his wild hair. It was the way his eyes were so loud they flashed with every single emotion that coursed through his heart. It was the way he talked to her, the way he spoke about her. It was how he wanted her, how he revered her.

He was always vying for her heart. Always. Did he not know? There was never any competition to begin with.

Damn it, damn him even more. She loathed him, scorned his pretty heart. Why was he making it so hard? It was hard to hate him, hard to resist his love. He was so perfect in how he belonged with her, as though she were the ocean and he the shore.

She didn't know how much longer her willpower would breathe, or when it would take its last breath. Sometimes, she compared it to how her body did so many things in secret—like it would if she were to drink some boxed juice, for instance. The sweet liquid would go down her esophagus, and from there her digestive system would work hard to greedily suck the sugars and starches, then poison itself with the colors and preservatives. All of that, yet she only had to lock a straw between her lips and sip. That delicate piece of striped plastic and one simple action from her was all it would take.

When the cluster of familiar organs—her own organs—functioned to betray her, how long would it be until that hungry body broke for him? How long until those soft hands pulled him to her? How long until those glossy lips chased his in a whim of passion? How long until his clothes were on the floor and she was pressed naked against his door?

Then again, there were moments when she thought that she had already sinned, so why not be with him? But...how could she, when he was the one whose golden shadow loomed over her the most? His symbol shouldn't have been a crow. He was a vulture through and through.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#obey me #obey me swd #shall we date? obey me! #shall we date mammon #mammon x mc #swd mammon #obey me mammon #mammon angst #om! mammon #obey me nightbringer #om! shall we date #om! swd #obmswd #obmnb #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #the story factory

[devieuls]

I've always been there for you. Part.III

𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆 (𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒂) 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ¡𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕!

Warning : Smut 18+ MDNI; Childe Dom! ; unprotected and rude sex; dirty talk; threats; slaps; spit; bites; hickeys; punishments; blood; voyeurism; power play; teasing; choking, jealousy and possessiveness; pseudo-toxic relationship; violent foreplay; BDSM.

Reader with Cryo vision.

Synopsis : You are the only daughter of the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya, heir to the throne and general of the nation. The diamond of that place characterized by the eternal winter, loved by the people and adored for the angelic but fierce facade that you show. The only person with whom this mask fell is your secret lover, the one who manages to make you forget your duties with a touch and takes you to heaven whenever you end up in bed together. Your relationship was reserved for the bedroom, although you liked to tease him in public, as the 11th Harbinger was also your personal guard.

Everything was great and perfect... until one day your game was pushed too far, breaking the thin thread that gave you so much stability. Appearances were deceiving, and everything you thought you had under control suddenly hit you, dropping that house of cards you built for fun.

Length : 4.3k

Notes: In the story there will be some slightly violent or excessively harsh parts from the reader or Childe himself, read the warnings to better, understand what it is. It’s a mini series, I hope you like it.

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 END

A few days passed from that night with Childe and the discussion with Regrator, you had almost completely taken over the reins of your public office, carefully keeping your distance from your bodyguard.

During the internal meetings, Fatui - General, Regrator couldn’t help but look at you with a mischievous smile, putting pressure on you and bothering you, as you fought with yourself so as not to collapse at the touch of red on your groin. The raven-haired man was pleased with your cold face, knowing there was a storm brewing inside you. In the field of manipulations there was no one better than him, so much so that he had come to advise the Tsaritsa to send a formal invitation to the Traveler, camouflaging that advice with the excuse of " having the heroine of Teyvat on good terms "Knowing perfectly well the petegotisms about Childe and the girl. The more time he spent, the dirtier he was, the price was going up, and it was getting weirdly steep in your life.

The coup de grâce came when your mother made official the invitation sent to the Traveler, with positive outcome. Therefore, this woman would come to Snezhnaya to meet the Archon and make connections with her, placing Childe as her guide, since she was the only one to have a friendship with her. Your annoyance was concealed by an icy smile and various positive words, you could not complain openly, because someone you did not know should dislike you? would have been strange... suspicious.

For the week of preparation for the arrival of this " Lumine ", you had to endure the excitement of the servants, the curiosity of the Harbingers and the Tsaritsa itself, the epic tales arrived from afar about her and other things, hating those days with all of yourself.

The only one who respected your silent dissent was your lover, not because you were pointing a dagger at his throat right after you finished having sex, but because for him there was no other woman besides you.

< I didn’t think you were the kind of girl who first makes you cum and then kills you, but if that’s what you like, who am I to oppose me > he said holding his head against your body, stuck by the blade on his neck.

< You dare only be a little more friendly than usual with that woman and I swear I will slit your throat and toast you with your warm blood before your eyes > your voice was cold and sharp like your blade, which brought the red to shudder and smile as he looked up at you.

< Blood and jealousy, two things that I love. I would not find anything better in Lumine > he replied with an adoring look at you.

< Lumine... what a horrible name if it comes out of your mouth > you said after a few seconds of silence.

Childe gently lowered the dagger and turned to you, sticking his face into your collarbones, kissing and biting them slightly. Your hand ended in her hair while you moaned, dropping the dagger between the sheets and smiling as you heard the boy climb up your neck with wet kisses.

< Mh, how bitter you are with a person you don’t even know, princess. > whispered against your skin grinning.

< I know you, and I know you’re a complete idiot with women, and that makes me sour. Especially if this " traveler" is the cause of your absences> you snorted by taking the red off your neck, and then get up from her bed and retrieve the royal dress that had been thrown on the ground a few hours ago.

< What are you doing? Are you leaving? No more respect for a poor lover, first you make him cum, threaten him with a dagger, be jealous and then run away?> He said sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you get dressed.

< Oh, come on. Don’t play the victim, you know I can’t stay much longer in the afternoon, especially after being mysteriously missing.> You went over to the boy and fixed your hair, then gently caressed his face. < Anyway, we’ll see you soon because of the preparations for the arrival of your friend, arrives today. Tsk. > You said by rolling your eyes, then feeling the boy’s arms around your body, nailing it and pulling it towards him, making you bend slightly.

Childe put his lips on your neck, making you sit on his legs, carrying a hand between your hair to tighten them and make you bend your head to the side, to have more skin to kiss and smell.

< How can I let you go if you still smell of sex? i don't care about Lumine. > he growled softly as he enjoyed your perfume, gripping your hair, making you groan slightly.

Actually the room was full of sex in the air, you could still hear her panting and moaning mixed with yours and things done just before, creating in you a damn nostalgia for his touch and his skin against yours.

< But stop it. > You laughed slightly, then carried a hand through her red hair, playing with some locks. < I really have to go now, the guest of honor and the elite will be here any minute. And thanks to you, now I have to wash, change my clothes to welcome those people > you murmured in a low voice, making the boy who left his grip and leaned on the bed with his hands, unbalancing himself back.

< Don’t make yourself too pretty, I might kill someone tonight. It’s frustrating not to be able to touch you in public and not be able to have you whenever I want > he said suddenly, and then stretch towards the nightstand and take a cigarette, bringing it to his lips.

You tore the object from his lips and approached them, blowing on it. You said before you left a gentle kiss and got up from him.

He snorted when he saw you take away his last cigarette.

Yes, but I’m also a relief for you. I’ll make myself beautiful tonight, so nobody can take their eyes off me, so you’ll be a little jealous > you said laughing and then bring the cigarette between your lips. < Who knows what you find beautiful in these > you continued to then shrug and put the object inside the sleeve of the dress.

You’re my damnation, you know that, right? The red man’s voice was a little heavy as he passed his hand over his face, not stopping to smile.

And you, mine. I can’t wait to see how you dress tonight to keep that woman company. > You concluded before leaving his room carefully and returning to your room.

Meanwhile, the red had dropped completely on the bed, snorting and thinking about how to control himself from actually killing the first man who even tried to get close to you. He felt like a total idiot to think he had even the slightest right to be jealous of someone who did not belong to him, after all he was just the outlet of the princess, a secret lover, a nobody publicly.

But deep down, he knew you weren’t just a hobby, a game to let off steam with, he fucking loved you. She thought of you at every moment of the day, you were her first thought as soon as she opened her eyes and the last once closed, you also became her thought of comfort when she was sick or in danger and needed something to fight for. Perhaps you didn’t notice his eyes in love, his concerns for you, how he protected you with his sword and the fact that he has been close to you since childhood. His devotion to the Tsaritsa was because of you, only to stay closer to you and create a brighter future for your future kingdom, he only wanted the best for you, even if the cost had to be destroying himself for work or risking his life in missions.

< what’s wrong with me? > he said quietly, clenching his fists, trying to drive every thought of you out of her mind, even if his heart wasn’t helping at all, let alone the room full of your perfume and linens.

The hours passed quickly and you had time to wash yourself and put on the new dress you had sent to be made by the royal seamstress for the event that was to take place that night, the servants fixed your hair and dress to make you perfect.

The dress was on the blue night, fading into lighter tones as you go down, with small golden details and a belt for the sword impeccably hidden, comfortable for inconvenient surprises, just like the dress itself, regal but exploitable.

Once you're ready, you headed to the main hall, where many people were already gathered, including the Tsaritsa and some politicians of different rgango, the only person you could say that annoyed you was Regrator. His evil look followed you like a predator follows his prey, not losing an eye even when he seems distracted or busy doing something else. You strained a smile at everyone, once seen bowing to you, skipping all the pleasantries and immediately looking for your lover or the so-called Traveler.

You linger for several minutes gossiping with different politicians and their wives with attached sons and daughters, people who were secretly trying to sell you marriage proposals or friendships, things that you had rejected categorically for years.

You sighed frustratingly once you reached a point in the room where you could rest without being searched by social climbers, giving yourself a drink, thinking when you would see Ajax and who knows where it had gone. It bothered you to think of him shopping for a heroine as famous as your guest of honor, which you tried to keep at bay with a fake smile and even more false words.

Your eye fell on a tall and red-haired figure, immediately recognizing your beloved even if he was unusually dressed in white and gold, colors that were divinely and that enhanced his complexion and red hair that emerged from under the hair he was wearing. He had a formal appearance and also his bearing and look of superiority that addressed the various politicians were; therefore it was difficult for you to hold back a small smile in seeing him so professional, knowing that that was the same guy that a few hours earlier would give everything to have you a little more in bed.

Your smile disappeared as you saw behind him was a girl dressed in white with a strange being floating beside her. This woman, she had short blond hair like wheat, a small physique and a careful look in her eyes, not lowering her guard, mumbling something to be flying and holding the hand of your man.

The blood seeped in your veins as you saw him holding hands with some random slut, you already hated that woman and thought of ways to torture and tragically kill her just for daring to be so close to your lover.

You put the chalice in your hand to go towards the couple, but a steady hand kept you from walking, making you back a few steps towards the person who was holding you, discovering he was Regrator.

< Princess, it is not good to show jealous in public towards your personal guard, especially if it is in the company of the main guest > the voice was sharp and mocking as usual, He knew you didn’t know the host, and he didn’t waste his time building up anger by revealing his identity.

< Not that holding a princess like this is the nicest thing to do. > you growled softly, looking at him with resentment, tugging your wrist to free you from his grip.

< You’re right, my fault. I humbly apologize, Princess. But it seemed to me the right choice not to allow you to go before them furiously, it is our task to protect and serve the royal family. > he replied, coming back composed, watching you from above while he fixed his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

< What a spirit of duty. As if you did not enjoy playing with me and others as if we were pawns of your game > your tone had become colder, but remaining composed on the surface.

< You know, I like power games, and if I can have such an important pawn in my hand, nothing will stop me. So, princess. It’s been many days since my proposal, have you thought about what to do? > The man took a glass of wine and started sipping it, looking at you carefully.

Your gaze inevitably fell behind him, exactly where you could still see the image of Childe in the distance while smiling at that blondie.

< I don’t want to talk about it now, it’s an evening dedicated to all other political problems. You have already done a lot to make me nervous, I do not intend to go any further.> You take leave of him with speed.

You approached the two boys with a calmer look, clearing your voice to get the boy’s attention. Tartaglia gave you one of his most beautiful and sunny smiles, so much so that they managed to melt you internally, taking your hand and kissing your palm after making a bow.

< Lumine, allow me to introduce you to our princess and future queen, as well as state general, her royal highness y/n. Her Highness, she is Lumine, the renowned traveler and heroine of Teyvat, accompanied by her emergence food... friend Paimon > she said laughing slightly at Paimon’s expression, even making the blonde laugh, who was about to bow to you.

So you’re Lumine, I’ve heard a lot about you these past few days. I hope that the trip to come to Snezhnaya was the most pleasant, I know that it is not easy for foreigners to get here. > You said looking at the girl, who was wearing some clothes typical of the nation, certainly to keep away from the icy cold.

< It’s an honor to meet you, Your Royal Highness. The journey has been tiring but I’m happy to finally be here. Childe welcomed me to his parents' house, they wanted to thank me for helping Teucer a long time ago, I am really grateful to be able to visit this nation. > The girl smiled back and looked at Childe with doe-o.

You clenched your jaw, looking at how she looked at your lover, exactly as you once did, before you had your hidden relationship. You strained a smile, irritated by how that girl was coming after him. You entertained them for a good half hour, listening to how the blonde’s tone changed towards the boy and how she tried in every way to look pretty and kind.

Lucky for you, other Harbingers also joined the conversation, who began to "befriend" the girl, allowing you to walk away from them unnerved, followed by the boy in white. You stopped on the terrace of the castle, away from the party hall, dismissed the guards who were patrolling there and crossed your arms watching the boy.

< Do you think I didn’t notice how irritated you were in his presence? What? > The boy’s voice was sweet but serious, watching you waiting for an answer.

Shit, Childe. That girl wants to jump on your dick so clearly. Do not pretend that it is not so, keep looking for physical contact with you, the tone of your voice, movements. These are all things I did to get your attention, and now she’s doing it. > you responded more irritated than before, keeping your distance from the boy. If I think about the fact that you’ve been away from me for months to be with that... I don’t even know if I believe that you never slept together > you were disgusted even at the thought.

We never slept together. His tone was slightly broken as he said it. Don’t be jealous of someone who will never be on your level. > he said, approaching you and drawing you from life, moving to the side to end up closer to the wall.

Know that I won’t have a problem killing her if this continues. You belong to me, remember. > Your hand ended up on his chest, stroking him slightly and then looking up and meeting his. Childe came over to steal a kiss from you, but you stopped him, pushed him back slightly. No kisses for you, I’m still mad at you for that blonde. > You said crossing your hands over your chest and turning your back, looking at the lights of the night city.

The boy approached and put his arms around your waist, resting his lips on your neck, biting it slightly sometimes.

< Mh... are you angry with me, princess? > he said raucously laughing. < I know so many ways to make you pass it and make me forgive > his hand went down to your thigh, and then up along the slit and put his hand under the dress, pinching with his fingertips the inner thigh, making you sigh heavily and mumble quietly.

They could see us... Ajax. The castle is full of people and my mother will make her entrance soon > you said with a heavy voice, while the boy’s gloved fingers kept touching your intimacy and your already sensitive skin.

Childe moved to the back of your neck, smelling the sweet smell of your hair, and then left a wet kiss right there.

Let them see us, on the other hand, all this belongs to you and you do not mind... You would not be so wet if it were not so. > his voice was always deeper and made you shudder more than the icy wind of the night.

< Know that I will not forgive you easily... even if- oh! > A little scream came out of your lips because of the boy’s hands, which you found bent against the railing with extreme speed. < Ajax... not now. > You sighed heavily, biting your lip feeling his hands raising your dress. Your hands now clasped to the railing, seeking support, as the boy’s proud smile bloomed.

??? < Who goes there? > an unknown voice made its way into the corridor, followed by heavy steps. Childe walked away from you, arranging your dress to the fullest and recomposing himself, keeping his distance from you. You recompose yourself, gently leaning your hands against the railing and looking at the city, knowing that your face was still red and compromising. A man revealed himself to Childe, looking at you suspiciously, not recognizing you because of the low light.

< You two! You can’t stay here. It’s a reserved area for the royal family > The man’s voice was hard and decisive.

< We know the princess needed some fresh air, and as her personal guard, I had to pull her in, I hope that’s okay. > Childe mockingly said, completely showing himself to the man, who immediately stood at attention and bowed asking for forgiveness, going back in his footsteps. After all, Childe was a recognized authority to all, so the subordinates trusted him on his word.

< If we keep this up, we’ll end up naked on this terrace > you said, laughing, and then getting your dress and hair better.

< You look so beautiful dressed like that, but you’d look even better without that dress, maybe on my bed while I- > You stopped him before he could finish what he meant, and then roll his eyes.

You returned to the main hall just in time for the arrival of the Tsaritsa and her thanks to the Traveler for her precious presence.

The evening took place quite peacefully, until you found yourself talking to Lumine alone, while her friend and your lover were serving drinks or damangiare, you took the moment to learn more about her relationship with Tartaglia.

< Oh, yes. He’s a wonderful man we spent many moments together, I can say to be intimate with him now. > she said smiling, while you were getting cold blood in your veins.

< Intimate? In what way " intimate " > you asked curiously, restraining yourself from pulling out the sword and slit it at that exact moment.

< I don’t know if you can say... especially if to his Princess > she continued timidly and embarrassed, lowering her eyes.

< Oh, don’t worry about me or my title. We’re friends now. > Fortunately, you had been manipulating her all night, winning her trust.

< I agree... well, we ended up in bed together sometimes... and since then I’ve liked it more and more, and we have become intimate in other ways, I mean friendship. That is why I hope that one day the two of us... > her voice became increasingly deaf to your ears, no longer following anything she was saying. Lumine wasn’t that foolish to open up to a stranger like that, she realized there was something going on between you and Childe, so she hit where she could hurt you to see if it was something covert or official.

Your mind had emptied out in seconds to make room for all the connections you made to Lumine and Childe’s account. He had lied to you, he had hidden from you what he had done with this slut without your knowledge; Regrator was right to tell you those things, he was not really faithful to you. I wonder how many times he fucked this little girl, who knows...

< I’d be his perfect woman, wouldn’t I? After all, he leaves so often to come to me, everyone now thinks that we are a couple > she said with a cheeky smile, obviously to provoke you. That girl was good at pretending to be a calm and kind person, but that mask fell in front of you and you knew she just wanted to take you to the limit, but her words were heartbreaking.

Besides, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Regrator, it’s a good thing we both have a common goal, me Childe and him you. Don’t misunderstand me, but I find your relationship ridiculous. A princess being threatened by her subordinate? other than power, fear... I see only a privileged little girl who enjoys fucking her guard without everyone knowing. Childe doesn’t know about Regrator’s proposal, does he? tsk. I’ll take it from you as easily as I took your mother’s favor... One like him is not fit to- > his voice broke in silence

A loud sound silenced the whole room, bringing the guests' gaze upon you. The reddened cheek of the blonde was hidden by her hand, later realizing the pain brought by the slap.

< Who do you think you are to turn to me in these tones? privileged child? I? cheeky brat, you don’t even know what it means to be me. You think you can take what’s mine? TSK > A sincere laugh came out of your mouth, while slowly the cryo power colored your veins blue until it reached your hand. < What a ridiculous thing. I knew you weren’t the saint you were showing, but I won’t let you offend me like this in my house. My mother may have invited you, the archon of Snezhnaya emblem of Cryo vision but I am not her, I will not turn the other cheek before bringing an offense. >

Childe rushed to you, followed by Paimon babbling gibberish. Lumine immediately acted like a poor abused victim, drawing all the attention of the man on himself, even managing to throw out some tear accompanied by hiccups.

< Lumine... all right? Are you hurt? > Ajax’s worried voice hurt you more than the girl’s words just before. Seeing him so worried about someone else, knowing he lay with her, stabbed you in silence.

< He’s fine. No need to worry so much, he defeated Dragons and Archons, it will not be a slap to kill her > Your smile died out, leaving room for a cold tone like your gaze, your royal posture and hands joined at the pelvis, observing the scene secretly disgusted.

The red-haired guy gave you a look you’d never seen in his eyes, not against you, disappointment, disgust (?), confusion, anger, maybe a mix of all that. Your face cold as the sun in the nation and hard as the rocks on which it was founded.

< Get away from her immediately, eleventh Harbinger Tartaglia. > You continued observing him, seeing him hesitate about the action to be taken.

Your Highness, our guest of honor was hurt, she was offended. As his- > You promptly stopped him, not allowing him to continue with the apology.

< As my subordinate, I order you to leave the guest of honor. She has offended your princess. > You did not hesitate to use your title, seeing more and more disappointment in his eyes. The man turned away from the girl and returned to his place.

From afar the Tsaritsa watched you, for the first time she saw you as a ruler, using your power to maintain order, and that made her proud within herself, even though you had used violence against a person you were to use.

< I invite you to keep calm and respect, continue with what you were all doing > You said and then smile at the guests. You were good at lying and pretending, so that smile had not aroused suspicion, even if it was pure facade to hide much more.

You walked away from the girl and went towards Pantalone, having finally made a decision, perhaps difficult but the most just.

#genshin childe lemon #childe x fem!reader #genshin childe smut #childe smut #childe x reader #childe x you #childe #genshin tartagalia #tartaglia smut #tartaglia genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x y/n #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you

[artist-issues]

I love your post detailing greta gerwig's changes in her adaptation of little women, but isn't Narnia definitely flavored with some universalism? In the Last Battle, a worshipper of Tash ends up in heaven because he's like "truly seeking the face of God" essentially even if he knew Aslan by the wrong name because his culture only exposed him to Tash. Also, I was raised protestant so I don't know if catholics have a different idea about what counts as universalism or not, but basically I'm not so sure if this will get in the way of her working on the films, especially if she does the Magicians Nephew. Unrelated, I wonder how they're going to go about adapting the Horse and his Boy without it being lambasted for racism etc lol

I think "flavored" with Universalism is a good way to describe The Last Battle--and only The Last Battle, and only that bite of the meal that deals with the young Calormene. Because my understanding of Universalism is that they believe all people, regardless of their beliefs contradicting Biblical Christianity, go to heaven and are not condemned for choosing to be god-of-their-own-life.

You can't quite look at C.S. Lewis' entirety of work and believe he was a Universalist in that sense. He certainly believed in the Biblical truth of Hell. Otherwise, specifically in Narnia, there would be no "Darkness on Aslan's Left Side" that all the creatures who fear and hate him disappear into at the end of the world. That seems like a pretty straightforward representation of Judgement.

I think the whole thing with Emeth the Calormene is interesting. From the language Lewis uses, it seems like he's trying to say something about the posture of a heart more than the name one swears by. Emeth is confused that he's been allowed into the True Narnia because "all my life I have served Tash." But Aslan basically looks at the heart; he says if Emeth had been serving Tash, his deeds and his heart would match Tash. It actually seems more like Emeth didn't know who Tash was at all, or he would have been performing vile works to please Tash. Aslan also says Emeth would never have kept "seeking" for so long if his heart had been serving Tash, which implies that Tash is easier to know than Aslan.

All of that is fascinating (I do think it is the theologically weakest, if not worst, part of the Chronicles of Narnia series.) But I don't think it has anything to do with Universalism as we know it today. Unitarian Universalism is just "Believe whatever you want as long as your belief system doesn't judge other people's belief systems, and you'll be fine with 'God.'" Lewis certainly didn't subscribe to that unbiblical worldview, even with the Calormene in the Last Battle.

I don't know what you mean about the Magician's Nephew.

The real problem with Greta Gerwig is not that she claims Unitarian Universalism. It's that she can't tell a story that is faithful to the original books; she has to transpose it into her own values. So, for example in what we're talking about, if she were doing "The Last Battle," she'd certainly cut out The Darkness on Aslan's Left Side scene, and maybe even reduce the whole conversation between Aslan and Emeth to "all are welcome!" But the main thing she'll do is elevate Susan, Lucy, Jill, Aravis, and Polly to a disproportionate degree.

Finally, I would just say, I'd love for somebody to explain to me what makes The Horse and His Boy racist. (With a reminder that nobody on this website knows my race, so nobody can claim that race-based unconscious bias is what's keeping me from seeing it.)

Lewis invented his own race that, yes, is heavily influenced by Western-Arabian-Nights-interpretations of Middle Eastern cultures. But the Calormenes don't serve Allah, they serve Tash and other gods. The Calormene characters are not all ugly. The Calormen food is not all disgusting. Aravis is a Calormene, and she is a heroine and a main character. Not even every Calormene is even evil, or the enemy of Narnia, though the nation is. What, just because a non-white nation is depicted in Narnia and you can see what culture their fantasy culture is based on, that makes it racist? How? Because Lewis doesn't even write all Calormenes as good or evil, he writes them as humans. Explain to me how that's racist.

(I mean, not you, @childlessoldcatlady, I'm enjoying answering this question. I just meant, someone explain it, now that I'm on the subject. Thanks for the question. I'm Protestant, too.)

#Christianity #The Chronicles of Narnia: The Last Battle #Emeth #Calormen #The Horse and His Boy #Aravis #C.S. Lewis #asked #answered #Greta Gerwig #Unitarian Universalism

[burningvelvet]

Messages from Lake Geneva, July 29th, 1816…

Mary Shelley’s Journal Entry from July 29th, 1816:

“Monday, July 29. — Write; read Voltaire and Quintus Curtius. A rainy day, with thunder and lightning. Shelley finishes Lucretius, and reads Pliny’s Letters.”

Lord Byron writes his friend, the poet Samuel Rodgers, informing him of his travels and asking about their friends in England:

“July 29th. 1816 —

Diodati — Geneva

Dear Rogers —

Do you recollect a book? Mathison's letters — which you lent me — which I have still — & yet hope to return to your library? — well — I have encountered at Copet and elsewhere Gray's Correspondent (in its’ Appendix) that same Bonstetten - (to whom I lent ye. translation of his Correspondent's epistles for a few days) — but all he could remember of Gray amounts to little — except that he was the most ‘melancholy and gentlemanlike’ of all possible poets. —

Bonstetten himself is a fine & very lively old man - and much esteemed by his Compatriots — he is also a litterateur of good repute — and all his friends have a mania of addressing to him volumes of letters — Mathison — Muller the historian &c. &c. He is a good deal at Copet — where I have met him a few times. — All there are well — except Rocca — who I am sorry to say — looks in a very bad state of health the Duchess seems grown taller — but — as yet — no rounder since her marriage — Schlegel is in high force — and Madame as brilliant as ever. —

I came here by the Netherlands — and the Rhine Route — & Bale — Berne — Morat — & Lausanne — I have circumnavigated the lake — and shall go to Chamouni — with the first fair weather — but really we have had lately such stupid mists — fogs — rains — and perpetual density — that one would think Castlereagh had the foreign affairs of the kingdom of Heaven also — upon his hands. —— I need say nothing to you of these parts - you having traversed them already —— I do not think of Italy before September.

I have read ‘Glenarvon’

‘From furious Sappho scarce a milder fate

—— by her love — or libelled by her hate.’

& have also seen Ben. Constant's Adolphe — and his preface denying the real people — it is a work which leaves an unpleasant impression — but very consistent with the consequences of not being in love — which is perhaps as disagreeable as any thing — except being so — I doubt however whether all such ‘liens’ (as he calls them) terminate so wretchedly as his hero & heroine's. ——

There is a third Canto (a longer than either of the former of Ch[il]de. Har[ol]d. finished — and some smaller things — among them a story on the ‘Chateau de. Chillon’ — I only wait a good opportunity to transmit them to the Grand Murray — who — I hope — flourishes. — Where is Moore? — why an't he out? — my love to him - and my perfect consideration & remembrances to all - particularly to Lord & Lady

Holland - & to your Duchess of Somerst.

ever yrs. very truly

BN

P.S.

I send you a fac simile - a. note of Bonstetten's thinking you might like to see the hand of Gray's Correspondent.”

#mary shelley’s 1816 journal #english literature #romanticism #literature #lake geneva 1816 #lake geneva #lord byron #mary shelley #samuel rodgers #percy shelley #poetry #aesthetic #dark academia #history #writing #moodboard #letters #journals #books #gothic literature #frankenstein

[ladytanithia]

WIP Wednesday

Toying with an idea for Miranja's future... not sure if I want to go this route, and not sure whether Faendal would react this way after a long friendship, lots of adventures together, and serving as her steward for a few years, but my mind likes to fixate on horribly sad things sometimes. Working title is Losing Faendal.

@dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @thechaosdragoness @gwilin-stay-winnin @skyrim-forever @mareenavee

The sight that met Miranja's eyes was distressing. Camilla lay in a heap on the floor, and Faendal hung by his wrists, locked in shackles on the wall, dull-eyed and despondent.

Pulling out the key she'd taken from the bandit chief, she rushed to Faendal. "I came as fast as I could, as soon as I got Endur's message." She unlocked the shackles and let him down, then she turned to Camilla to check her.

"Don't bother; she's dead," Faendal spat bitterly, sitting on his knees, rubbing life back into his arms. "She's been lying there for hours."

An invisible fist clenched around Miranja's heart. "Oh, Faendal... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was too late to save both of you." Her throat clenched up along with her heart, and she fell to her knees next to him, sobbing, reaching for his arm to help him massage the blood back into the numb limb.

But Faendal pulled away with a hateful grimace, and Miranja retracted her hand as if he'd slapped it, her mouth an O of surprise. Her heart stopped altogether for a moment in her bewilderment. She took a breath to ask him why, but he spoke before she could, his tone venomous.

"Don't touch me. You want to do something for me? Then go to the nearest town and send a cart for Camilla. And don't come back. I don't want to see you again. I'm going back to Riverwood, and you can find yourself another steward."

"Faendal..." she squeaked out weakly, choking on her sobs.

"I'm sorry I ever got involved with you. This only happened because some sick Blood Horker bastards wanted revenge against you. My wife is a casualty because of what you've done. My son is motherless." His voice cracked on the last word, and he crawled over to Camilla's body, bending over her with his back to Miranja and sobbing.

All Miranja wanted to do was throw herself on the floor and weep and beg Faendal to have mercy, but she knew all that would do was antagonize him. She got to her feet and ran, blind with tears, back to the cave entrance. Back outside, she screamed her despair to the heavens until her voice was ragged.

She staggered, exhausted, into Rorikstead, heading straight to Sissel's farm, where she pressed a coin purse into Sissel's hand without counting the gold, begging her to take a produce cart to Orotheim as soon as possible, telling her that a woman had been killed and needed the appropriate preparation for burial. She knew that under Bosmer beliefs, Faendal was supposed to consume his dead wife, take her essence into himself, but Camilla's brother was still nearby and would want to inter her in Imperial fashion. Faendal would be sick with the thought of Camilla's body rotting in a grave, but they weren't in Valenwood, and he had to abide by the law of the land.

Throughout everything, she'd never stopped loving him. She had been both happy for him and sick for herself when he and Camilla had married, when they had announced Camilla's pregnancy, when they had announced the birth of their son. She had showered them with gifts, made sure they had everything they needed. They had all loved each other, and Miranja had loved Faendal's son as if he was her own. She was beside herself with disbelief that it could have all gone up in smoke with one horrific event.

Faendal had married Camilla because she was "safe" and he'd never have to worry about her - yet because they were associated with Miranja, neither he nor Camilla had ever really been safe. It was her fault. Never before had she so resented being the "heroine" everyone had made her out to be.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #miranja #fanfic #ao3 #tesblr #bosmer #faendal #tanithia writes

[fictionturnedherbrain]

Controversial, but the more I think about the 1982 Scarlet Pimpernel adaptation, the more I hate what they did to Marguerite. The love triangle with Chauvelin annoys me anyway, but to take away the little agency Orczy gives her heroine in the books and make the St Cyr denunciation all about a man being dumped by his girlfriend really grinds my gears. Instead of Marguerite's anger, pride, impulsive nature and love for her brother driving her to betray a traitor St Cyr to the Republic, we get 'I have lost my husband's love and I don't know why' - and what's worse, her confusion is real because she hasn't done anything! Chauvelin set her up! Even Merle Oberon's Marguerite gets the 'ever glorious fourteenth of July' speech, where she's like, 'Yes, I did denounce him, and do you want to know why?'

And this also means that Percy doesn't accept that his wife is human and that they have both made mistakes, he realises that she is 'innocent' instead and learns precisely nothing. 1982 Percy will never reach the level of this awesome speech from I Will Repay:

"And 'twill be when you understand that your idol has feet of clay that you'll learn the real lesson of love," said Blakeney earnestly.

"Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom you dare not touch, who hovers above you like a cloud, which floats away from you even as you gaze? To love is to feel one being in the world at one with us, our equal in sin as well as in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at the feet of your idol an you wish, but drag her down to your level after that—the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart."

[/rant]

#the scarlet pimpernel #the scarlet pimpernel 1982 #marguerite st just #sir percy blakeney #i love jane seymour but no

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hello, as a lesbian I would like to request some horny sapphic hero x villain content :) happy pride

“You look in dire need of love,” the villainess whispered. She pressed the heroine against the nearest wall, her eyes forcing her to maintain eye contact.

“Let me guess. You’re the only one who can fix that,” the heroine answered.

The villainess grinned which was almost too hot for the heroine to process.

“Exactly.”

“I’ve already told you. I won’t join you,” the heroine answered. It took everything the heroine’s willpower had to offer to prevent her gaze from dropping.

“Why not, darling?”

“I’m not a villain,” the heroine answered. “I actually have morals.”

“Hm,” the villainess said. “Your pupils are dilated.”

“That’s irrelevant.” It was. This had nothing to do with the villainess and how her hair was tied today.

“You like me. And you hate your morals.” She pressed the heroine fully against the wall, both of them touching in all the right places. But the heroine couldn’t admit that. It meant the villainess was right.

And she couldn’t be right. Never. She was a villainess. Villains weren’t right.

“It’s almost funny how wrong you are.” The heroine tried to sound threatening, to give her voice some kind of strength that would help her.

However, the villainess just started playing with the heroine’s hair lazily and the heroine couldn’t think straight.

“You keep finding excuses to fight me.”

“That’s not true.” (It was.)

“Oh, it isn’t, princess?” The villainess grabbed the heroine’s jaw gently and turned her face from one side to the other, scrutinising ever single detail. Her lips were so close, every time she turned the heroine’s face, they both were close enough to kiss. “I have an intel. I would know. You want to fight me specifically. Someone’s been obsessed lately.”

Her tone was low and the fact that her hips were pressed against the heroine’s wasn’t helping. The heroine didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even care about the intel. She felt as if her whole body was on fire. She couldn’t concentrate. There was only the villainess. Nothing more.

“I want to stop you,” she said weakly.

“And yet, I’m not in prison.” The villainess’s hand let go of her jaw and dropped to her shoulder where it drew lazy circles into her suit. “Look, sweetheart. I can make you feel like you’re in heaven. Right here, right now. I can make you mine. Just tell me that you want it. I know you do.”

“I…” Her hand followed a path unknown to the heroine down her body. The heroine thought her heart might burst as the villainess brushed over her chest.

“Yeah?”

“…fine.” The heroine heard the zipper of her suit open.

“Good. You’re mine now.”

#fuck out my way when you see me #i’m rolling with the lgbt #happy slay month #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #lesbian hero #lesbian villain #suggestive #wlw

[jwowwsboobs]

Gimme Yer Love, Angel in the Night

The thing about LA is, it's fucking weird. I mean, Los Angeles, city of angels, full of people lookin' to rip you off, rob you dead, take yer boots. And the sun is always fuckin' shining. It never fucking rains. It's like heaven for people with big dreams, but they all come and die. It's the home of the rich, the famous, the megastars. And there are broke people, homeless people, hookers and their pimps, winos and wash-outs fuckin' everywhere.

And me. I guess I'm broke people. I work at a shit job, washing plates, trying not to fuck up my hands or hair, so when I get off, I can kick out the jams in half empty clubs with guys I don't really like or party with people I know well enough to know they don't lace their shit, and then come back home, chick or two on my arm, crash on the couch and get woken up by my roommate, Tripp, AKA the nicest guy on earth, so I get to work on time. Rinse and repeat.

I was headed to the club that night, paycheck in cash in my pocket and brand new leather pants on my ass. Maybe to meet a chick. More likely to have a few and pick one up. I shoved my way through the crowd of people to a guy I knew on door duty, who let me in for free, much to the annoyance of the lame-ass and his girlfriend I'd cut in-front of. Sucks to suck! The club was dark, the air was thick and hot with smoke, sweat, spilled beer, shrieking guitars and thudding drums and bass. The stage was like a setting sun, people crowded around it, almost blocking out the band. You could still see them, but barely. I shoved my way to the bar, squeezing in next to two beautiful blondes, perfect butts, tall as trees, hair as big as the sun, two feet from the smokers corner and the bathroom doors. They side eyed me and rolled their twelve pounds of eyelashes and eyeliner at each other, pouting their big red lips and twirling their hair around their perfectly manicured fingers. Tough crowd, but I always like a challenge. I flagged down the bartender, asked for a beer. As the bartender went to grab a glass and fill it up, I turned to the girls.

"Y'all want anything?" I shouted at them.

The one next to me looked at me like I was a new species of sidewalk slime that she'd just found on the bottom of her brand fuckin' new 500 dollar heels, but her friend smiled and pointed at their glasses.

"Refill for these ladies," I gestured to the girls, and the bartender took their glasses away to make whatever overpriced, fruity shit they'd been drinking. I turned to the stage, drank my beer, waited for the right moment to grease them up. Turns out they had me beat.

When their drinks came, they split before I could say "You're welcome."

Tough break.

I knocked the rest of the beer back, and was about to flag for a refill, when I felt cold breath on my neck.

"Some people have no fuckin' manners, huh, sunshine?"

I looked over my shoulder into cold, dark eyes peering over mirrored sunglasses, almost covered by shaggy black hair. He slipped into the open space next to me. Stage lights dimmed.

"Uh-"

He held up his hand, sliver and black rings sparkling in the club's flashing lights. "Another beer?"

"Shit, sure man," I said, digging in my pockets for some cash. He snorted.

"On me."

"Hey, thanks man! I'm Lani."

"Ryan." We shook hands, his hands like ice against my sweaty and damp palm.

"You new to town?" I asked, as we waited.

"Hardly." He blew his bangs out of his face. "Are you?"

"Not really. Been here a coupla months. Where are ya from?"

"Far away. Why'd you come here, farm boy?"

I blinked. "How'dja know I grew up on a farm?"

Ryan glanced up and down at me. "You've still got a farmers tan. And you just told me."

I rubbed my bare shoulders, suddenly cold in my cut off. "I coulda gotten that here, man, that doesn't mean anything!"

Ryan laughed at me. I couldn't tell if it was a mean laugh or not. It sounded mean. But it really didn't matter. He was hot. I could take a little denigration from a guy like that. "But you didn't."

I huffed. "Yeah alright, whatever, man. At least I look like I've seen the sun. Haven't you seen any movies recently, man? Pasty is out, tanned is in. Gotta look like yer livin'!"

He rolled his eyes. "So you wanna be a movie star."

"Hardly." I shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind! Can't act for shit though. I'm gonna be a rockstar. Bigger than Morrison and twice as hot."

Ryan looked intrigued. "Morrison, huh?"

"Fuck yeah man, great fuckin' poet, rock STAR to a T, heartthrob...all that shit."

His eyes flicked up and down my outfit. "Where's the concho belt?"

I laughed. "I don't needa be carbon copy, that'd be boring and lame as fuck. Anyway, what are you here for?"

He shrugged, playing with his rings. "Just lookin' to have a good time for the rest of time. Figured what better place than LA."

I grinned and slapped him on the back. "Hell yeah man! Party never fuckin' stops here, it's like heaven."

Ryan half smiled and raised his glass. I hadn't noticed the beers had come. "Cheers."

We clinked glasses, and I drank.

I woke up with a roaring, pounding headache and a mouth drier than a 40-something in a loveless marriage looking at her fat, ugly husband. Which wasn't that weird, until I realized I was in my bed, and it was late afternoon, almost evening. I fumbled around, looking for some shades, trying to block out the too-bright sunlight, and fell out of my bed onto a pile of clothes and shoes. I groaned, and Tripp's footsteps came down the hallway and into my room.

"Jesus, dude, are you okay?"

I tried to say something that would have been, "Yeah man, I'm cool! Just need sunglasses and an Advil and possibly the greasiest cheeseburger known to man," but what came out sounded more like "Urugggggghhhhurnr."

"Man, you look like friggin' hell, lemme call yer boss 'n' tell him yer sicker than a dog and would probably die if you went in." He started out of the room.

"Sunglasses." I finally managed to croak out.

He didn't hear me. I groaned, and crawled back into my bed, pulling the blanket over my head and sending me into mostly darkness. It musta been a hell of a night, since I could barely fuckin' remember it. Except for that guy. Long, dark, messy hair. Dark eyes, perfect lips set in a slight sneer. Tarnished silver rings and piles of necklaces. White open button shirt and black jeans. Black and blue cowboy boots. Heaven's fallen angel, all in black. Ryan. I hadn't gotten his FUCKING number. I buried my face in my pillow. Maybe I'd smother to death and never have to worry about not ever seeing the world's hottest guy ever again.

"Good news man!" Tripp said loudly, walking back into my room. "Yer boss says you don't gotta go in t'day!"

I groaned.

"Bad news is, he says ya can't go in ever again."

Figures.

"It's all cool though man! I can get'cha another job, don't even worry about it. I'm goin' to work 'n' then to Michelle's birthday party. Left some money on the counter if you wanna order yerself something hot like pizza or Chinese food. Noodles are probably yer best bet. I'll be back like, tomorrow morning. Feel better man!"

Tripp left, and I stayed wrapped up in my blanket. Ryan's dark eyes swum in my head. His mean little laugh. I wanted to know that guy. Needed to love him. I was already in love, and it'd only been like 12ish hours.

I dragged myself out of bed as the sun finally sank behind the buildings, the streetlights and corner stores' neon lights flickering on. I shuffled into the bathroom, no shirt, still wearing my pants from the night before. I stared into the mirror. My hair was matted and tangled from the teasing and hairspray and sleeping in it. My skin looked much paler than the day before, but I didn't think much of it, cuz of how fucking SHITTY I felt. Hickies covered my neck, but there were none on my chest. Which struck me as weird, cuz usually when I'm with someone who's gonna give me hickies, they give 'em all over. Not stingy with the lovin'. I turned to look at my back. Covered in scratches.

"Guess we had fuckin' fun." I said to myself.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, pulling out all my money from yesterday (All of it? Hadn't I spent some of it?) and a crumpled up piece of paper. My hands shook as I unfolded it.

268-7886‬. R ☆

Of course he'd have fancy handwriting, perfectly formed cursive letters. I carefully folded it back up and stuck it back in my pocket, along with my cash, and stripped to shower.

The whole time, Ryan's face floated infront of me, his laugh echoing through my head.

I dried my hair, and wrapped the towel around my waist. I didn't feel hungover, but I felt this deep, gnawing hunger itching at my insides. Like when you've had sex for the first time and you want it again. I snatched my pants off the ground and went back to my room, pulling on clean (probably) boxers and grabbing the phone number. I took a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch in the living room, staring down the phone. I cracked it, chugged it, and before I could psych myself out of it, I picked up the phone and dialed.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ryan, it's Lani, you gave me this number yesterday night."

"Oh yeah," Ryan laughed breathily into the phone. "You wanna meet tonight?"

"Sure, where? The club?"

"No." Ryan paused. "Evergreen."

"Evergreen? The cemetery?"

"Mhm. Listen, ah...Lani. I've got to go. I'll see you there tonight. Midnight?"

"I-"

He hung up. I groaned, bashing the receiver into my damp hair.

"FUUUUUCK." I dropped the receiver back on the hook and buried my head in my hands. I had no choice.

It was eleven by the time I finally got the balls to get dressed and go out. I'd left my hair to air dry. Well, mostly air-dry. I blow-dried and hairsprayed my roots for a little of whatever the girls called volume when they did my hair. Found a loose, colorful button up that I half buttoned and didn't tuck in, tight jeans, cowboy boots. Smudged eyeliner that a girl had left behind in the bathroom across my lower lash line. And drank.

The taxi driver dropped me off half a block from the cemetery, like I asked him to. He watched me in the rearview, clearly trying to figure out why I wanted to go to a fuckin' cemetery this time of night, dressed like that. I tipped him extra for keeping his mouth shut. He took off, fast.

I waited til the street was empty and jumped the fence. And prayed it wouldn't take too long to find him.

As heaven would have it, it didn't.

Ryan sat on the steps of the mausoleum overlooking the chapel, wrapped in a tiger-striped fur jacket, cigarette hanging from his long, ringed fingers. He watched me approach like a hunting dog watching a bird. I could have sworn his eyes were yellow.

"Hey," I called.

"Hi." He dragged on his cigarette. "Thought you wouldn't show."

I shrugged and sat next to him. "If I didn't, what would you have done?"

Ryan shrugged and put the cigarette out on the sole of his star-covered platform boots. I studied the stars, red and sliver on black leather. "Dunno. Wanna go in?"

"What, in the mausoleum?"

He smiled at me, teeth glittering like stars in the dark. "Why not? The dead are good at keeping secrets, sunshine."

He stood up and slipped in. I looked up at the starless, black sky, and followed him. It was dark, and the side walls were lined by barred doors, leading to crypts. He turned around, fast, and pushed me up against the marble wall, breath cold against my neck.

"You want this?"

"Yeah."

Ryan licked my neck, and I winced from the pressure on the still sore hickies. His fingers slipped up my half-buttoned shirt, hand pressing against my rapidly beating heart.

"Feel good?"

"Mmhm." I moaned as he kissed my neck, gently, softly. I reached to grab his hip, to pull him closer. He grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the wall above my head. I squirmed a little, not liking the gap he kept between him and me, the cold air on my slightly exposed chest.

"Don't like that, huh?" He teased, tightening his grip on my wrist. His other hand slipped down my shirt, pressing against my hip.

"Man," I whined. "C'mon-"

"Shhh." Ryan pressed his hand against my mouth, muffling my whines. I squirmed, wanting him up against me. He laughed, pulling his hand from my mouth, but letting his index and middle fingers brush against my lower lip. "Suck."

I tentatively licked the tips of his fingers. His teeth and eyes glittered in the dark and I felt my dick twitch. I grabbed his hand, and pushed his fingers into my mouth, licking, sucking, moaning, working them the way I would have worked his dick, lost in it.

With a pop, he pulled his hand out of my mouth, and grabbed my face, smearing my spit all over my cheek.

"You like that, huh? Little slut."

I groaned, and he laughed softly, and kissed up my neck to my mouth. He was barely touching me, and I felt like I was burning up. I could barely think. He kissed me, working his tongue into my mouth, dropping my wrist to grab my hips, pushing me against the wall, and him against me. I moaned into it, twisting one hand into his hair, one around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He pulled away, and I gasped as the cold mausoleum air hit my face and my chest. He watched me breathe heavily. I knew my face was flushed, but I couldn't tell if his was.

"Ditch the shirt."

I licked my lips, wanting to push his buttons. "If you want it gone so bad, you take it off."

"Yeah?" He said softly, with a hint of amusement.

"Yeah."

He moved close to me, hands barely brushing against me, unbuttoning the shirt. "Gonna regret that, sunshine."

"Make me."

He laughed softly, sliding the shirt off my shoulders. I pulled it off the rest of the way and he trailed his fingers down my chest. I breathed heavily.

"Take off my belt."

I knelt on the floor, fumbling with the cold metal and leather of his belt. I found the end of the tongue as his hand tangled in my hair. I looked up at him. His face was obscured by his dark hair and shadows. I pulled it out of his belt loops and felt the buckle open and smiled. He traced circles in my hair. I pulled his belt off, laying it on the ground.

"Keep going," he said.

I undid the top button, trying to keep my touch light. His grip on my hair tightened. I looked up at him.

"Keep going?"

He sucked his breath in quickly. "Yes."

I slowly unzipped his jeans, and he huffed impatiently. I grinned in the dark.

"Don't like that, huh?"

Ryan pulled his hands out of my hair roughly and pulled his dick out of his boxers. I could barely make out the shape in the dark.

"Open." He said, grabbing my hair again.

I did, wrapping one hand over his as he pushed into my mouth. He sighed, tangled his hand deeper in my hair, moaning, pulling on it with every movement. I moved up and down slowly, and he pushed his hips forward into my mouth. My dick twitched in my jeans, but I couldn't think about anything but him.

He groaned, gripping my hair tighter, sliding in and out of my mouth. I moaned as he hit the back of my throat and his hips bucked.

"Oh god. Do that again," He said, breathless.

I moaned again as he hit the back of my throat. He groaned, pounding into my mouth harder and faster.

The tightness in my jeans, him fucking my face, his heavy breathing, the random pretty little moans, was driving me crazy. I gripped his thighs and looked up at him. His hair, shaggy and long, mostly covered his face.

I couldn't think. I closed my eyes again, relaxing my throat as he fucked me. My throat. Whatever. I felt my spit dripping down my chin, falling on my bare chest. He pulled on my hair. I felt him tensing up.

"Lani," He moaned breathlessly. "Lani, I'm close."

I groaned, my dick uncomfortably hard.

"Lani," he whined. "Oh god, Lani, I-"

He moaned, and his dick twitched as he came. I swallowed, and pulled away, wiping my mouth. My knees hurt. He panted above me, one hand on his dick and the other on my chin.

"You looks so good like that," he said. "C'mere."

I stood up slowly, knees hurting, and he pushed against me. He bit my bottom lip, slid his hand up my ribs, resting on my heart.

I moaned as he situated his thigh between my legs, rubbing it against my crotch. I pulled on the front of his jacket, wanting him closer. He smiled against my mouth, rocking his hips against me, and I closed my eyes, moaning into his mouth. I pulled on his hair, wrapped my arm around his neck, grabbed his bare hip.

He pulled away just before I came, and I whined in frustration.

"Shhh, baby," he whispered in my ear, fumbling with my jeans button and zipper. "I'm not gonna let you go that easy."

I panted, squirming as he trailed his fingers over my stomach. "Ryan, please, I need, I-,"

"What'dya need, sunshine?"

I moaned and he scoffed.

"C'mon, use yr words."

"Fuck me," I whined. "Fuck me!"

He kissed me. "Anything you want."

I squirmed as he pulled my jeans and boxers down, the cold air hitting my aching dick.

"Turn around, grab those bars right there and relax."

I did as told, breathing slowly and deeply. He rubbed some lube onto my ass and started to prep me. I moaned as he worked his finger in and out and in and out, adding another, stretching me out. He rubbed my back, telling me how good I was doing, how well I was taking it, how good it was gonna feel. I closed my eyes, letting him, his smell, his voice, his touch, wash over me. I was in heaven in that dark cemetery, about to get fucked by an angel of the night.

I heard a condom wrapper crinkle.  

"I'm gonna take it slow, baby." He kissed my neck as he pushed in slowly.

I moaned.

He grabbed my hip with one hand and jacked me off with the other. While fucking me slowly. I couldn't think, much less comprehend exactly how good his touch felt. The minutes became one continuous moment, nothing existing except for him. His voice. His hips against my ass. His mouth on my neck. His hands on me. Him. Heaven-sent.

He kissed my neck, licked it, moaned into it. His thrusts got more and more rough and uneven, his moans increasing in frequency against my neck. I whined, feeling my orgasm close in on me, unable to keep my eyes open. He bit me as I came, and I screamed. He let go of my dick to grab my throat, keeping me from squirming, my cum warm on his hand, still pounding into my ass as he sucked blood from my neck. And darkness ate away at my vision.

I woke up to a cop shining his flashlight in my eye and a dog's head on my chest. A brindle pitbull. Like home. It was still dark out as the cop roughly escorted me out of the cemetery, grumbling something about the city's "fuckin' bum problem." The dog followed. I flagged a cab, half to prove that I was not a "fuckin' bum" despite missing my shirt, shoes, and my pants being half unbuttoned and half to get home fast. Ryan had disappeared completely, and I felt like hell. Worse than yesterday. Everything about me fuckin' hurt. The dog clambered in the taxi with me, and the cabby didn't bother trying to kick either of us out.

It took forever, but the dog and I got home before Tripp. The dog almost didn't follow me in, but I shoo'ed it inside. No need to get my fuckin' neighbors pissed, they already hated me and Tripp. I didn't bother turning any lights on. The clock said 2:39, and I abandoned my pants on my bedroom floor, practically clawing them off my legs, and curled up on my bed, sweating and shaking. I felt sicker than I ever had and the pain was nearly unbearable.

The dog sat in my doorway, watching me.

"What'chu lookin' at," I groaned. An intense wave of nausea hit me, and I gagged. I stumbled to the bathroom, nearly tripping on the dog's tail on my way, and threw up in the toilet. Lucky shot. Sort of. It was all over my chest too. I groaned and gently banged my head against the wall.

I waited a couple of minutes to make sure nothing more was gonna make a cameo on the bathroom floor, and stripped to shower and rinse my mouth out in one shot. And maybe hurt less.

When I got out, my neck hurt real bad. I touched it. My hand came away red-ish. What the fuck? I patted it with my towel, and the towel came away red too. I stared at it, not comprehending what this meant. Somewhere in the apartment, someone was playing my guitar. I reached to the mirror, to wipe the condensation off, and the realization hit me.

I was home alone and someone was playing my guitar. Incredibly well, but someone was playing it.

I hastily wrapped my towel around my waist and found Ryan, sitting on my bed, playing guitar.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ryan did not look up, continuing to play. "I came home with you, stupid."

"No you didn't," I said. "You ditched me in the cemetery. I woke up with this dog on my chest 'n' it followed me home. You just showed up. Stupid."

"Where's the dog then?"

That was a good question. I stuck my head out of my room and looked around. Tripp's door was locked like it always was, the bathroom was empty, the living room-slash-dining room-slash-kitchen was empty. No dog.

"I don't know." I said, head pounding. "I just wanna go to bed. I feel sick."

Ryan stopped playing and looked at me, raising his eyebrows. "Wonder why."

"What?"

"Nothin'," Ryan rolled his perfect eyes and went back to playing. "Put clothes on 'n' c'mere."

"Weirdo." I grumbled, grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt from my dresser. "Barely fuckin' know you, 'n' you come into my house, play my fuckin' guitar-"

"You came to my house first, sunshine."

"What? When?" I said, dropping my towel and pulling my boxers on and the shirt over my head.

He rolled his eyes. I stood there, headache beating my brains, trying to piece it all together. Black clothes. Irresistible charm. Midnight. Cemetery. Dog that was there and then gone. Biting my neck.

"Vampires aren't real?" The room was swaying.

Ryan laughed at me. "You sound sure."

I groaned, crawling into my bed and curling up. The world was spinning. Everything hurt, my head most of all.

"It should be really kicking in right now, the venom." Ryan said, playing the most beautiful, melancholic, entrancing melody I'd ever heard. "Your body's trying to reject it, which is why everything hurts so bad right now. Eventually you'll die, probably within the next 4 hours. At around, I dunno, hour 5 of the venom being in your system, you become paralyzed. But you're still awake. You get to feel everything. Your lungs slowly stop working, your blood slowly stop moving, your heart slowly stop beating. It's incredible honestly. Very fascinating to watch."

"Make it stop," I groaned.

"Turn you into a vampire? I don't think so. I'd rather watch you die." He started playing a new song.

"Please, Ryan. Please."

Ryan sighed. "Why should I?"

"I love you," I groaned. "I barely know you but I love you. You're gonna be alone forever. Don't you want someone by your side?"

"You'll stop loving me."

"I won't." I said, struggling to pull myself up so I could sit against the wall. "I never stop loving someone. I love forever. I'll never leave you."

Ryan looked at me in the eye. For the first time, I could see the depth of the darkness in his dark brown eyes.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." I said. "Let me love you. Give me a chance."

He put the guitar down and crawled next to me.

"Why?"

I turned my head to look at him. It hurt. "I think you're holy."

"No you don't."

"I do. I see heaven in you. I feel it in you. You're an angel."

Ryan didn't say anything.

"Ryan. Please. Let me love you. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not angel."

"You are to me."

"That would change."

I closed my eyes. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. "No. It won't."

I heard him sign pointedly. "Wouldn't you rather go to heaven?"

"Heaven doesn't mean anything to me if you're not there."

He inhaled sharply.

"You don't know what you're saying."

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. "Ryan, look at me."

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Please, look at me." I was desperate, about to cry. "Please, Ryan. Look at me."

He wouldn't.

Hot tears fell onto my shirt. "Ryan, please. I love you."

It hung in the air like a suicide.

"Stop crying." He finally whispered, wiping my tears away. I closed my eyes and leaned against him. Melting into him. Trying to relax.

"Lani, look at me."

I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. I felt him press something warm and wet against my lips.

"Drink," he said. And I did.

And heaven could never compare.

#xoxo #333 #soooooooooooooooooo much i can say abt this. first of all thank u frank 4 being the inspiration thank u mel 4 offering tips n thank u both #4 assuring me it didnt suck when i thought it did. love u guys! #2ndly ryans phone number is the one from lanas honeymoon cover cuz i think im clever. 3rdly i am very scared 2 post this 4 reasons i cant f #fully understand or explain but im doing it anyway. hashtag girlboss or something. im gonna go cry into my girl dinner now. mop night! #love like heroin hate like heaven

[stheresya]

recently i was watching an youtuber react to a right-wing conservative complain about evil being too normalized in hollywood nowadays. he was upset that villains always have sad backstories that, in his mind, were an attempt to justify their evilness. and one of the examples he cited was kylo ren from star wars. he thought the idea of rey (the heroine) and kylo (the villain) falling in love was absurd, because kylo was evil and thus did not deserve love nor sympathy from any of the good guys. isn't this familiar? only i'm used to hearing this from people who claim to be in the opposite side of the political spectrum.

this also reminded me of another time i witnessed another right-wing influencer call grrm "sick-minded" for including incest in his work. mind you that this person was a fan of asoiaf and did not have any issue with all the other violences in the series. only the incest was just too much. this made me think of antis who occupy horror/gothic fiction spaces who looove spooky aesthetics and gore but lose their minds if someone holds special interest in a problematic character or relationship or, heaven forbid, if someone eroticizes the grotesque.

i'm from a country where the death penalty is outlawed. my country also has one of the highest crime rates in the world. of course, this could be explained by the fact that we have a lot of social inequality as a result of centuries of colonization + some imperialism because we're America's backyard. but some politicians and influencers try to get it all that this is a morality problem, that some people are just born rotten, all to justify them enforcing harsher security policies (re: killing people), which obviously affects poor the most. they hate the idea of morally reprehensible characters being humanized in media because it puts to question their black and white worldview, a view that is only possible through the dehumanization of 'the other' (usually poor and bipoc). the idea that people resort to crime because they are led to by the harsh conditions they live in infuriates them because, in some way, it puts these people as victims of their circumstances, victims of a harmful system that they keep enforcing. and so they need pop culture to keep reinforcing the good vs evil mentality, because nothing is more threatening to the authoritarian worldview than nuance.

anyway, this made me come to the realization that we're too obliging with antis. we treat them like misguided teenagers who just need to live a little more and understand that fiction isn't reality, that fiction exists as a safe space to allow our imagination to venture in the wildest and darkest places. but this is a case of a harmful ideology infiltrating spaces that should be celebrating freedom of creativity. everyone knows (or should know) that believing the main role of art and fiction is to promote good morals is borderline fascist rhetoric. certain "progressives" are parroting that idea by turning it into rainbow puritanism. but it's still conservatism nonetheless. just because they don't use god's name to justify their stances doesn't make their goals any less conservative.

#mine.txt #mucho texto

[dollanganger-in-the-attic]

Could you rank the (actual) VC Andrews heroines? Cathy, Audrina and Heaven, based on how much you like them.

Absolutely!!

Cathy is my number one, i relate to her the most and i love how flawed she is while still feeling real. She’s honestly my muse ❤️

Audrina would be my second because I found her to be very interesting, and her reaction after the twist is revealed really resonated with me. I hate the choice she made at the end, but i still think of her as a fighter.

Heaven is my least favorite because I just found her to be a perpetual victim who makes only bad decisions. Its been a while since i read the Casteel series but my favorite book is the one she isnt in lol

[sailforvalinor]

10, 21, and 33 for Gerda; 4-7 for Kay; 16, 17, and 20 for Joker; 3, 19, and 36 for Ace; and 35 for all four, if you please?

(I’m so sorry this took so long, my weekend was a bit insane)

Gerda:

10. What Middle-Earth race would they be?

Most definitely a hobbit—being comfy and cozy in a little hobbit hole in an idyllic countryside where she could visit her friends and relations on the regular would be like heaven to her.

21. What is their love language?

Probably quality time, although I think acts of service would be up there for her too.

33. Who are they most likely to confide in?

Her grandmother—she raised her, but also she’s the type that inspires confidences.

Kay:

4. What musical theatre ballad fits them?

“Corner of the Sky” from Pippin, or perhaps “Monster” from Frozen. (Yes, very different songs 😂😂)

5. If this OC has a love interest, what musical theatre duet suits them?

(Yes of course, it’s Gerda!) “A Million Miles Away” from Aladdin. There’s a song from Les Miserables that I think fits them better, but I think it edges a little too far into spoiler territory, hehe.

6. Which song off of your most recently played playlist are they?

“We’re Going to Be Friends” by The White Stripes.

7. What fictional character do you think most influenced them, or is most like them (intentionally or not)?

Well, he is of course the most inspired by his counterpart in the original Snow Queen, but other than that, maybe Jim Hawkins from Treasure Planet? There’s also definitely a bit of both Sora and Riku from Kingdom Hearts in there.

Joker:

16. What are they NOT afraid of?

The unknown. In most cases, it’s only a chance to discover new and beautiful things to her!

17. How healthy are their familial relationships?

Nonexistent, unfortunately—being an amnesiac Time Lord makes that sort of thing a bit difficult, though whether or not she had any family is something she’s desperate to know. Strangely enough, she never made those sorts of connections over her past 400+ years of wandering, despite her seeming extroversion. Ace is her first companion, actually.

20. Are they a romantic?

Absolutely, 100%. Refers to Ace as “darling” on a regular basis, even when they’ve only just met.

Ace:

3. If your OC were an instrument, what would they be?

I think I’m going to go with a cello, but I can’t really justify it in any other way than by saying that the vibes fit. Very classical and capable of dramatics if necessary, but can also be very understated.

19. Which Austen hero/heroine are they most like?

I hate to say it, because it sounds so cliche, but I think it’s Darcy—the introversion, the strong sense of justice, etc etc. There’s also probably a bit of George Knightley in there.

36. Which of their parents are they most like?

Much to his own chagrin, it’s probably his father—they both are very calculated, and have a bit of a ruthless streak. The difference is that Ace has a conscience. But Ace doesn’t remember his mother well enough to be able to compare himself to her, and his father and siblings were loath to talk about her.

For all:

35. They are stranded on an island. In front of them is a box, and inside that box is one item of their choice. What is in that box? (Yes, I stole this from Agents of Shield.)

Gerda: A responsible adult

Kay: A boat

Joker: Her TARDIS

Ace: Either a) Joker, b) a gun, or c) Joker holding a gun

#thank you so much for all the questions!!! #joker and Ace #how to spell eternity #Val’s ocs

[oceanlipgloss]

OUT OF THE BLUE

MEPHISTOPHELES.

+ no warnings.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

There was something beautiful about being in love with such a man—a bewitching romance, as hypnotic as watching smoke coil out of cracked lips and expand, but not at all dark like that.

So once more in this room she sat, quietly admiring the handsome noble as he drank tea sickeningly sweet and courted literature in bouts of utter silence and whispered musings. His skin glowed golden under the heated kisses of blonde light, dreamy.

She was ensnared, but within her chanted no desire to be free. For very long a time she had dreamt of being a prisoner in his arms. Again and again she had willed it, but it had not yet become.

His frown was twisted with exasperation, for he had once again caught her in a shameless act of admiration. How truly idiotic. Did she in all seriousness believe that he—a demon whose veins sang with the blood of nobles—would ever even think about considering her human heart?

An irritated sigh, lured out of his lips—and a lecture on propriety. In his suave voice, even annoyance sounded pretty.

Emotion lay its colorful body down on her warm tongue. A soft voice spoke his name—a melody hushed and sweet, lulling a child to sleep.

At the touch of her pink lips, a familiar spark tingled within his veins. He had been drinking more sugar than tea. With innocent lips she tasted the delightful crystals on his. Love sings electric. She had dared interrupt him mid-complaint and swallowed his facade. Her tongue had gently pressed itself against soft ripples of candied skin. Could innocence still find their kiss when she had just licked the sugary waves on his lips?

Overwhelming emotion again gripped his throbbing heart and caught the butterflies of breath that fluttered in his lungs. The roses that had bloomed under his skin were impossible to miss. His mind was desperate to break apart the haze that glazed it—for had they just shared yet another dizzying kiss? Had she once more claimed his lips out of the blue, without his permission?

Her manners may have been ill, but he wanted her still. When she was close to him like that—her shallow breath brushing ghostly fingers against his swollen lips—his heart flipped. How much longer could he resist?

Looking into her eyes was like gazing into the clearest tea. He could have sworn that he was able to see straight into her soul—a star shimmering with color and energy. He always told her that her tea was of a flavour bland—a concoction lacking and sad—yet, every time he made each syrupy drop his nonetheless.

In moments such as these, his body felt warmer than it should have been. Hers burned with love. At the look in her eyes, fragility roamed his knees. Without a care in the world, her fingers caressed his luscious hair.

Out of the blue, her love had spread in his heart, a blessing, a rot. There were times when strange desires—indulgent fires—impaled him. There were times when the temptation to fall passionately in love became too much to bear. And were there not times when he found himself swaying on the edges of heaven?

Perhaps he would forget for a mere while. Perhaps he would turn pride and nobility into strangers, then befriend the sweet sensations—so that maybe someday, the fairy tales masquerading as dark mysteries within his mind would come undone and swirl into a truth he no longer had to fear.

Until then, those questions would continue to gleam; what if she kept herself by his side, a mortal beauty? What if their bodies continued to burn, candles in the dark? What if they never forgot to kiss, addicts in love?

+note: the first piece I've written for him. I love Mephistopheles so much—most of all—and I think that the hate he gets is really unfair, so I put together a post on the subject.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#obey me mephisto #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #shall we date? obey me! #om! shall we date #om! swd #obmswd #obmnb #obey me fanfic #obey me shall we date #the story factory