#for it to work like her being vulnerable and easily manipulated into submission makes perfect sense especially with minerva there

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

#asks #twdg louis #twdg minerva #twdg clementine #twdg violet #twdg marlon #twdg tenn #honestly whenever i see someone say louis is the boring option i'm just like '.......that's your opinion but also how can you say that??' #then again i'm sure other people look at me saying violentine just isn't for me and they say the same thing so y'know... i can't talk haha #also time is such a weird thing because i look at the entire cell scene in louis' route and like... i'm not even mad about violet anymore #like yeah i still don't believe she was brainwashed like i'm sorry y'all only believe that because kent said something about it #not because there's all this evidence toward it in game like vi being pissed at clementine makes sense she doesn't need to be brainwashed #for it to work like her being vulnerable and easily manipulated into submission makes perfect sense especially with minerva there #it's like everyone was pissed that she attacked clementine and people needed a way to excuse it so it's not violet's fault when like... #that's literally what makes it interesting like calm down it's okay if violet is pissed and scared and behaves accordingly #also my controversial opinion of the day that i'll hide here in the tags so maybe people won't find it sksksk but #I personally find the concept of vinerva and the doomed tragedy of it more compelling than anything violentine did #like i'll defend violentine and i do believe it's an important and good ship it's just not my personal favorite #anyway but then the whole thing with lilly and minerva is so good and louis screaming FUCK YOU at minerva?? amazing love it so good #i love when the soft character who never chooses violence is so pissed off that all that anger they have boils to the surface and it's raw #like... he's SO mad he's SO furious he's SOOO UPSET like he wasn't even like this when marlon died or anything like he hit his limit #and then shooting dorian through the mouth while an accident is just well done i love it and i love his reaction of mortification #and apologizing and YET he still tries to go with clementine he's trembling and can barely string together a sentence but he wants to go #he wants to help her he wants to save aj THAT is the gut reaction he has after everything that just went down #'louis isn't loyal or good for clem because of the vote' babe tell me you don't understand any nuance of louis' character without telling m #it's fine IT'S FINE you don't have to agree and i just have to remind myself that it's fine not everyone likes louis we're okay #this drives me crazy in the best way like y'know what? i love the cells scene in louis' route all of it even the stuff i used to rant about #even the stuff that used to piss me off now i'm just like 'no wait past cj was dumb she wasn't looking at it this way aaaaaaaa' sksksks #that was my tag ted talk about the cell scene thank you

[sidemari]

• Obsession Unveiled •

A short collection of dark scenarios about being the object of their obsession.

Characters: Arlecchino, Dottore, Pantalone, Scaramouche [separately] x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not-healthy relationship dinamics, consensual sexual themes - contains descriptions of marking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, size difference, etc - , mentions of possessive, obessesive, controlling and toxic behaviors. Read responsibly.

Author's notes: This is a repost so I can understand Tumblr's weird algorithm. (Just let my work reach people already bro)

Similar post: here. (Also to justify the tags of the non-fatui characters of this post)

Arlecchino ♦️♠️

She was captivating in her presence.

Her words, like sweet poison, had the power to sway the hearts and minds of those around her.

One fateful day, as you strolled along a meandering path, lost in your thoughts, you first met Arlecchino.

She stood at the edge of a cliff, her gaze fixed on the surrounding landscape.

The air around her seemed electric and her aura was intimidating, almost frightening.

Intrigued and oddly attracted by her striking presence, you approached her cautiously.

Little did you know this encounter would forever alter the course of your life.

She turned her piercing gaze towards you.

Her voice, a velvet whisper, beckoned you closer.

Mesmerized by her charm, your innocence and curiosity made you unable to resist.

A few steps and you were pulled against her.

She absolutely loved how vulnerable you looked.

How easily corruptible and breakable you soul was.

She could barely wait for the time she'd ruin you.

Meanwhile, your only thought was how your soul seemed to intertwine with hers, almost like she had some diabolic power above your feelings.

She needed a pawn.

And you were the best one she could find.

But you just needed her love and approval.

Like a pure butterfly encaged by the artful spiderweb, you trusted her with your life as you slowly became the object of her obsession.

She became your confidant, your guiding light in a world filled with darkness. A darkness that she often overstated about.

As the days passed, Arlecchino's grip on you tightened. She gradually inhibiting you from engaging with the outside world.

Persuading you to abandon the few friendships you had left and alienating yourself from the world, she tried to brainwash you to believe she was the only one you needed.

There was some twisted love between Arlecchino and you, but possessiveness and control tainted it.

Even if her manipulation had ensnared your heart, a flicker of resistance was still there, ready to snap if Arlecchino's plans crossed more of your boundaries.

If you were supposed to be nothing but a pawn…

Why was Arlecchino longing to make you feel safe, loved and respected, even if her behavior in your relationship wasn't the healthiest one?

Perhaps her heart wasn't dead, afterall.

Or maybe your love had healed part of her soul.

Did she fell in love without noticing?

♡ […]

You met her in secret at the fatuis' lair.

The lodge's library…

With long and dusted bookshelves and thick walls.

A locus that the harbingers barely paid attention to.

The perfect place to surrender to the most raw desires.

"Did my girl missed me?" Arlecchino sang mischievously, quickly locking the door behind her before going towards you with such slow steps you wondered what she was up to that night.

Her hand lifted your chin to meet her gaze.

Red flaming eyes carrying so much lust you could feel the atmosphere around you both getting dense.

Her thumb caressed your bottom lip as you tried to not break the eye contact with her.

"Master…" You whispered when her long nails traced the contours of your neck, collarbone and breasts from above the thin fabric of your dress.

"You're so submissive it hurts, my pet" Her quiet laugh against your ear sent shivers down your spine. "Tell me what you want from me"

"I want you to-" But she claimed your lips in a lustful kiss. She always earned the control and dominance, obliging you to follow her pace as she savored every second of your kiss.

"You want me to claim you…" Her tongue traced a path from your collarbone to the base of your ear. "You want me to fuck you senselessly" She whispered against your ear as she guided your body to lay down on the soft couch of the library.

"You need me remembering you that you're mine"

You pathetically assented to her words.

She was right once again.

Her touches were fervent and demanding.

Her kisses were embraced with a fervor that spoke about her untold love for you.

She explored your body with urgency: her love was intense and insatiable.

Her hands, guided by her desires, traced every inch of your exposed flesh

Your vulnerability and devotion always managed to awake a carnal hunger within Arlecchino's body.

It was a matter of time before she worn you out completely that night.

[…]

The sounds of your love was all over the attic as you two pushed the boundaries of pleasure.

A mix of moans and other soft sounds filled the air of the night, marking in your subconscious the strength of your connection.

In that cozy library, Arlecchino proved her love.

Marks of her passion covered your sore body.

You were lost in the moment, almost melting into your sleepiness as her nails caressed your hips.

Your intertwined bodies brought you the warmth and safety you craved for so long.

"Tired, my girl?" She asked before kissing your forehead with gentleness.

A simple gesture that made your heart flutter.

You assented, hiding your face against her neck.

"You did so good for me, my doll"

"Thank you, master" You mumbled before falling asleep in her embrace.

Dottore 🧪🩺

You could sense he wasn't the most sane person out there since your gaze met his for the first time.

Yet, you were so naive.

So painfully innocent and pure.

So dearly corruptible it ignited the most sinful persona of his.

Your new life as a test subject of Dottore was nothing like you had ever wished, yet why were you so attached and obedient to him?

Perhaps some of his very own perversion had finally found its way into your being.

Dottore was controlling.

So controlling you felt overwhelmed, encaged.

Every single day he would spend hours checking upon you, reassuring himself you were still just like the way he left you before leaving his locus.

No one other himself could touch you.

No one other himself could have you as their own.

The doctor gaslighted you every day you only had him by your side.

Timr after time he made you believe that no one other than him loved or cared about you.

So how could you not trust him?

How could you not show devotion and obedience?

At least those virtues guaranteed you a softer personality of your master.

Trying to not be contaminated by his mad behavior or ideals would only make things worse.

He wasn't one to say he cherished you.

To him, serving as a pet whom he could use whenever he wanted or needed was the bare minimum you could do to the one who took you in.

Still, why did he hate the thought of losing you?

He despised the possibility of your permissive behavior was nothing more than falsehood.

But you were his.

You were there on the same spot for him every single time he came back.

You never tried escaping his hands.

You never disobeyed him, even if that obedience was fruit of fear and hopelessness.

You were finally his and that was the only thing that mattered.

♡ […]

You were still dizzy from sleep when the man slowly opened the door of the laboratory you were kept.

"My pet… Any discomforts from the last test?"

You blinked a few times, trying to make your blurry vision focus on his face.

He wasn't using any masks.

Nothing covered the weird smile he had on his lips.

"I'm… I'm okay" Was what you whispered, wanting to hide from him but staying still to not awake the worse of him.

You never knew what he was up to.

It could be him simply visiting you to share a few moments of kisses and soft touches or him using you as a toy in an almost insane research.

"Does your body hurt, my little angel?"

You shivered when his cold hand touched you thigh.

"Just a bit, but I'm okay"

His red eyes explored some of the marks he had left on your body the last time you had sex.

"You don't have to lie" His hand gripped your sore wrist tightly enough to gain a whimper from you. "Are you willing to be mine once again?"

You kept silent.

Sure, it would overwhelm your body.

But how could you deny anything to him?

You assented right before he stole a kiss from you.

[…]

"Dottore?" Your face was hid against his neck as you breathed the weak traces of cologne: the amber notes almost fading after hours of having you over and over again.

"Yes…?"

"Am I a good pet?"

His sharp teeth appeared on his smile.

"The best one someone could ever wish for"

Pantalone ♟️

His personality was captivating and his appearance was alluring.

His soft smiles and graceful aura made you feel sheltered after so many harsh years.

Pantalone wasn't really an intimidating one as you once thought. Or was he only able to hide the darkness within him with efficiency?

Afterall, why such centered and polite man would align his ideals to such organization as the fatui?

Trusting devoting your life to someone you barely knew was perilous.

You weren't sure about what his true intentions were, after all.

But the confidence in his words whenever he whispered he would be enough for you…

The promises he made you after every kiss and night you spent together…

The reassurance and safety he brought to your shattered heart…

Those were more than enough for you to believe he was being sincere.

Time revealed a controlling facade of his.

Still, the love between you both was intense and passionate, even if that costed some freedom.

His will of protecting you from anyone or anything was his form of showing he truly cared about you.

Pantalone was always by your side, influencing your decisions and manipulating the consequences so his control over you was camouflaged as 'worry of losing you to someone or something'.

'Is true love controlling and almost suffocating?' Was a thought that crossed your mind every time your relationship became too much for you to handle. A thought that would always - oh so soon - fade away due your devotion towards the man who showed you deserved love.

♡ […]

"I couldn't imagine a life without your light" His gloves felt soft against your cheeks. "I'm grateful you're mine, my doll"

You pulled him to a kiss.

How else could you even answer such confession?

"I missed you" Those words left your lips as nothing more than a whisper while you straddled his lap. "I despise having you away for so long"

"I'm aware my services for the fatui don't have your approval" His hands were finally free from the gloves as you felt them against the skin of your back. "But leaving their side is out of question"

"Pantalone…" You sighed, frustrated.

"Forgive me for bringing the subject up. Perhaps you just need to be claimed as mine after all this time" Soon enough his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements so he could finally found his way inside you. A whimper left your lips as you grew familiar with the sensation you missed so much.

He made you aware of how deep inside of you he was by guiding one of your hands to feel the bulge formed against your belly.

"After all this months together you still struggle while taking me inside of you…" He smiled when you hid your face against his neck. "Oh I made you shy?"

You couldn't help but squirm when his cold fingers reached your clit, brushing circles against such sensitive spot with the ease only the man who knew your body with the back of his hands could have.

"Just make me forget everything as you make me yours time after time this night" You marked his neck with a hickey before finishing your line. "Remember me who I belong to until dawn"

"As you wish, my good girl"

Scaramouche 🎴

He despised the fact that a being like him - with such rage, resentment and hatred nurtured inside of him during ages - was capable of loving someone so dearly much he would sacrifice anything if that meant he could have the one he loved.

'Love is just a camouflage to what resembles rage' Was the thought that made him feel less vulnerable when it came to loving and needing you.

You first met him as Scaramouche, the 6th harbinger of the fatui. Not Wanderer, not Kunikuzushi or any other persona of his.

You found him in the heyday of his insanity.

Still, why did he suddenly felt the urge to give up on his revenge so he could call you his?

Were you any different from the people he had met in the past?

Would you love him regardless of his selfish acts and decisions?

Would he finally experience love after being betrayed and abandoned?

Scaramouche decided you were worth the effort.

His behavior was paranoic.

He wasn't so controlling as he wished.

Still, he influenced many of your steps.

He often thought you would leave anytime.

He couldn't support the possibility of losing you.

He needed stability: he just wanted to be sure you would be there for him any time, any day.

You both belonged together in every scenario of his.

♡ […]

His mind was driving him insane.

He shouldn't have let you go out for yourself.

Why did him even bother providing you some sense of freedom? It was perilous.

Would you even return to him after leaving for some days to visit those who love you?

He was almost sure you would abandon and betray him like they did before.

Would you prove him you weren't any different from the people he met in the past right in the first opportunity you had?

He felt so human like he never did.

Agony was all over him, mouth dry with discomfort and despair made him sick.

The thought of losing you was unbearable.

You were the only one he had.

How could life take you from him too?

Scaramouche was so lost in his own daydream he barely listened to your arrival.

"I'm home" You said softly, closing the door behind you. But no answer came from anywhere. "Scaramouche?"

You found him on the couch, soon enough noticing his state: dark eyebags, messy hair and an aloof gaze. Such a pale skin he looked sick and he had lost some weight for his clothes were loose.

You heart ached at that sight.

Was all of that fear of abandonment?

A heavy sigh left his lips when he heard your voice. It felt like a crushing weight had been taken away from his shoulders.

"You came back, afterall" He mumbled.

"Sure I did… Why wouldn't I, love?"

Those last four letters brought tears to his eyes.

You loved him.

You would never leave him.

You proved you truly cared about him.

"Hey, come here" You helped him get up from the couch before pulling him close. "I would never leave you, Scaramouche. I'm different from them"

His hug felt genuine for the first time.

"Please tell me you're still mine" He whispered.

"I'm yours" You kissed him shortly. "Till my last day"

[…]

Your hands roamed each other's bodies - clothes weren't a problem anymore for they had been taken away it's been a while - rediscovering the contours and curves that had once been so familiar.

You stood before him, vulnerable and exposed.

So ready to be claimed, so ready to be marked as his in the filthest ways possible.

He guided you towards the bed, laying you down gently as if you were a fragile work of art.

He traced a trail of kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone, earning a soft moan from deep within you.

Your fingers clawed at the sheets, shivering in anticipation as his lips made their way down, exploring every inch of your body with devotion.

You squirmed under him when his lips reached your clit, sucking it with the right amount of pressure so you could melt against the mattress.

His tongue savoured every inch of your sex, collecting some of your essence before he could swallow it with satisfaction.

Oh the taste he had craved for so long…

Having you all to himself after weeks without your presence was the closest thing to paradise he had ever experienced.

Your hands left the sheets so you could play with the soft indigo locks as your high approached.

"I missed you so much…" He whispered more to himself than to you as he stopped his ministrations.

The pillow he put under your hips was your clue that he would finally fuck you raw.

He craved more, and you were eager to oblige.

His hand found its way between your thighs once again, testing the wetness that had been pooling inside your core.

He positioned himself above you, his eyes meeting yours in a silent agreement before his first thrust.

Scaramouche could spend hours on end claiming you if that meant he'd reassurance himself you were completely his once again, under his vigilance.

#genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #dottore x reader #dottore #pantalone x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader #venti x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x y/n

[angelatsumu]

paramedic school! Matsun

this is a selfish fantasy that I've had since I've been increasing my practice with starting IV's. still, i think the concept is...*chef's kiss*

warnings: puppy!reader (kinda), mentions of subspace, dumbification if you squint, fingering, a kind of cocky Issei.

He watches you struggling to assemble your IV dummy, and you blush as you grow frustrated, hair falling into your face and glasses fogging up in frustration.

"Babe~" you glance up from under your eyelashes, locking eyes with him. The defeated and vulnerable look on your faces get him, but he contains himself. Still, he brews a master plan to take little hold on his vulnerable smart girl.

Leaning into your helpful boyfriend, he pet your cheek gently, caressing the warm skin under his thumb. You blushed even more, nuzzling into his hand as you let the frustration melt away. "How about you just do some on me, hm? I'll sit nice and still, and you can stick me as many times as you like." His words felt like honey, but you knew something else had clouded his mind. Issei absolutely adored helping you study, but this time there seemed to be an ulterior motive.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't start fantasizing when he saw you standing of the IV arm, clothed heat lingering at the fingertips. That combined with your huffing, whining and bashful features were driving him mad. He needed to feel the plushness of your cunny, to feel the vulnerability you so easily exuded around him. This vulnerability was almost unique to him; you never allowed anyone to see you so pliant and docile in the real world, but for your lover you'd be as small as you could. He adored that, the way you would melt only for him.

So here he sat, arm splayed out on the table as you assembled all of your equipment. As you started arranging needles and flush kits, his eyes traced your frame, admiring the cute little polka dot dress that made you look like his little housewife, the way your ankle socks made you so dainty, but his favorite part had to be the blush of your cheeks. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, dipping deep into the darker depth of his fantasies, wanting nothing more than to corrupt you. He lived for how shy you got the moment he touched you, how you withdrew out of bashfulness, never letting his touch linger unnoticed. He was dying to see your will wear thin.

After assembling all of your equipment, you stood over his hand, fingertips dangerously close to the hem of your lovely dress, and his eyes traced the length of his arms, stopping at their target. He hummed to himself, watching as your carefully maneuvered, pressing on the flesh of his forearm to search for a good vein. "So many good choices," you whispered cheerfully, eyebrows furrowed in intent to find the perfect one. He grins, his girl truly was incredible. Still, he ached deep down to see the less composed, more submissive angel he adored.

"Hmph," you huffed, manipulating his arm in a way that placed his fingertips just under the hem of your dress, inches away from your heat. He chuckled to himself at your innocence, the way you didn't notice how dangerously close he was to bringing you to a crumbling ball of submissiveness. He grinned, watching you intently as you leaned over once more, pressing on the sponginess of the vein. You leaned to grasp a cleansing pad, feeling his index finger grazed your clothed cunny. Your cheeks warmed in embarrasment, but you refused to make a big deal of it. Your boyfriend probably did it unintentionally, and for you to mention it would make this weird, right? Still, you couldn't deny the wetness pooling in your nether regions.

He noticed. He noticed the tenseness of your body, the slight gasp you tried to hide with a cough, and most importantly, the wetness that accompanied his featherlike touch. "Come on, smart girl. Stick me~" he grinned tauntingly, eyes glinting mischievously at you. You nodded, moving to clean the pre-determined spot of action. Just as you leaned to trace the vein once more, he pressed his fingertips directly between your clothed folds, gently running his fingers between them, spreading the wetness there. An involuntary whimper fled your lips, thighs immediately going to clamp his hand there. "Oh~?" You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, ashamed that you had allowed yourself to make such a lewd sound. "Open your eyes, puppy~" He knew what he was doing. The name made your knees weaker and along with them went your determined demeanor. He was able to reduce you to a pool of subspace, but you still had some fight in you.

"Issei, stop it." You huffed, but that attitude did not go over well. Once again, Issei dragged his fingers over your throbbing cunny, being sure to spread your wetness more. With one gentle flick of your covered clit, you had dropped the needle and given up on the practice scenario. Issei stared at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, watching you attempt to remain level-headed. He grinned cheekily, tisking at you for fighting so hard. "Aw puppy, come on now~" he teased, using stealth to slide your cotton panties aside and run his fingers through your slick. The caress of his fingers were turning your brain to mush, and without thinking your hips began rocking against his hand, quiet whimpers and huffs leaving your lips.

A groan left his lips as he watched his beautiful girl grow dumb for him, so needy for him. Your cheeks were blushed, eyes squeezed shut with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your hips rut against his hand, shame far gone from the scene. Matsun's pants grew tighter at the sight, but he held himself together, trying to draw out the scene for as long as he could. He lived for the slow melting that happened with you, for the way you slowly let him consume you. He was addicted to you, addicted to the warmth of your cunny.

"Please, Daddy~". There it was. This is what he had been dying to hear from the moment he saw your hovering over your IV hand. He knew he needed it, the beautiful subby baby he adored. He needed the baby that needed her daddy to soothe her aching cunny. A breathy whine fell from your lips, and he could tell he wasn't satisfying you as much as you needed. He poor pup needed the extra clit stimulation to cum, but he wasn't satisfied with your current mind state. He needed to break you.

"You look so pathetic grinding on your patient's hand, pup. Do you hump all your patients, hm?" he scoffed, chuckling sadisticly at the heated huff that left your lips. He looked up at you, watching as a scowl fell on your features and your hips stuttered in self-abhoration. "Well~" 'O-only, ~hmph, only y-you,' you whimpered, reaching out to touch him finally. You hands found his shoulders blindly, and he grinned once more at his clever girl. He adored the intimacy of your shyness, how it placed him front row of a show no one else ever got to see. He needed moments like these, moments where he could absolutely wreck you. Still, he took his time.

"Puppy, look at me." As your eyes fluttered open, Matsun allowed a two digits to grace your spongy walls, caressing them in a tantalizing motion, causing a gasp of defeat to leave your lips. "There's my pretty little puppy," he praised, using his free hand to gently pinch your clit, causing your hips to rock frantically. "If you cum, pup, you will owe me several more," he scolded, feeling the way your angelsoft cunny squeezed him. "B-but, please daddy~" you whimpered, tears from frustration flowing softly down your cheeks. He almost creamed right there, watching you writhe with the impending fucked out physique and teary eyes. He knew he was all you could see, all you could feel. He consumed you, and all from a few simple touches. Seeing his pretty baby crying, so needy, that was enough to make his pants unbearably tight and tip beyond swollen and sensitive.

He couldn't relent any further, he needed to make you cum right here, in the position he fantasized about since he laid eyes on you and that silly IV arm. Your orgasm hit you like a train, creaming and whining all over him, tears flowing with every convulsion. When you came down, he slowly withdrew his hand, but you weren't quite done. He'd pushed you so far into sub space, you needed your daddy to be with you, to be in you. With teary eyes, you clambered into his lap, begging him to fuck you, to let you feel him stretching you.

"I don't know baby, that sounds like too much~" he relented, not out of concern, out of his sadistic need to have you dumb for him. he lived for being needed, and with every beg his cock twitched. You were so dumb for him, so silly. The tears kept flowing, and he kept using his thumbs to gently wipe them away, but you pressed on. Your hips worked down on him, and he hissed with each movement, loving how desperate you got for him. After little convincing and several tears, he spreads you open on the table. He thanks the IV dummy.

#matsukawa x you #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa x reader #aoba josai x reader #matsun smut #issei smut #matsukawa fic #hq smut #hq headcanons #paramedic!au #hq au #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! smut #hq drabble #haikyuu!! drabble #matsukawa brain rot #matsukawa hcs #haikyuu!! headcanons #matsukawa issei #minors dni #dom!matsukawa #daddy!kink #pup's thots #mine #haikyuu!! timeskip #haikyuu au #matsukawa smut #matsukawa supremacy #puppy!reader

[auburnflight]

Jeanne, Vanitas and Agency

From the little I’ve dipped my toes into it, the VnC fandom seems pretty heated regarding Jeanne as a character. In drastic situations, I’ve seen accusations of misogyny based solely on someone’s comments on their feelings about Jeanne... a single character. And while yes, critiques can certainly be rooted in misogyny (must women be strong all the time? must they be submissive?), I think it’s important to consider not just the character herself, but how the story treats her and why we’re making the critiques we are.

Given that points of view in the fandom are so polarized, I’m going back to canon--to the text itself--to orient this essay. In particular, I’m going to focus on the point of agency--the freedom to make one’s own decisions about one’s self and one’s course of action. This goes beyond just Jeanne’s background as a borreau, trained to fight and follow orders. Agency is also consequential in her relationships with other characters and with the story as a whole.

(Content warning for discussion of abuse dynamics, and brief mentions of sexual assault.) 

--

It’s natural to start off with Jeanne’s first appearance in the story: alongside Luca, she’s introduced as a new agent of conflict with Noe and Vanitas’s budding alliance. In fact, she is the one who initiates the physical altercation with Noe and Vanitas, while Luca is still trying to talk them into giving him the Book of Vanitas:

Aesthetically and conceptually, she’s introduced as an active element of the story. At this point, the “forced kiss” scene during the initial fight seems more like a fluke, a comment on Vanitas’s personality (and willingness to do despicable things to get what he wants) rather than Jeanne’s.

That brings me to why I found it so jarring when colored art of her that was subsequently revealed: that agency fell away to portray a visually more passive air.

In the existing full-color art we have of Jeanne, she’s more static in her environment, looking towards the viewer but with a face that looks rather blank, even meek. Specifically I want to point out this wallpaper, which I obtained from the official site fairly early on in Vanitas’s serialization (December 2016), in contrast to another piece of official art that was released of Noe and Vanitas with Memoire 11, around the same time:

In both cases, the characters are posed intentionally, rather than actively doing something. And, they’re aware of the viewer’s gaze to some extent. However, Jeanne has her back turned to the viewer, and her expression is more idealized and ambiguous. Meanwhile, Noe and Vanitas are rather assertive: their expressions are more intentionally focused, and they seem to know their situation in the artwork. Jeanne is simply passive, very nearly objectified.

...Yeah, maybe this is just my art background speaking. But I also notice something similar happening in other official colored pieces of Jeanne, such as the cover of volume 4.

By this point in the story, lack of agency has become an even more significant element in Jeanne’s character arc: we learn that she’s been cursed. Not only is she unable to speak of the curse, it’s also in direct opposition to one of her primary character motivations, to protect Luca and those she cares about. Due to her uncontrollable urge to kill and drink blood, Jeanne fears that she’ll unintentionally hurt the very people she’s trying to protect. 

Jeanne’s involvement with Vanitas also unfortunately comes with a sacrifice of her own agency. Seeing that she’s been cursed, Vanitas demands that she drinks blood from no one but him in exchange for keeping her secret. He further establishes her sense of reliance on him by promising that if he ever does see her lose control, he’ll kill her (so that she doesn’t harm Luca). Whether he’s simply a smitten 18-year-old who doesn’t yet know how to conduct healthy relationships, or whether he’s crafty and intentionally drawing Jeanne in further--or even whether it’s a mix of both--this idea of Vanitas’s control over her is reflected in the cover art for volume 4.

At this point, considering the literal events of the story, Jeanne’s passiveness is not only visual, but symbolic. In this illustration, Vanitas’s hand is grabbing Jeanne by her bow, and functionally by her neck: she’s being dragged along against her will, with little means of escape. And she looks at the viewer with a surprisingly similar expression to the previous illustration: one that communicates little say in the situation.

This matches up with their literal relationship in the story itself. Knowing she’s cursed, Vanitas is establishing her exclusive reliance on him, in exchange for keeping important secrets from others with whom she’s close (i.e. threatening to drive a wedge into their relationship). He’s already pushed himself upon her physically with clearly no warning or enjoyment from her. Yes, he’s been kind. And when Dominique trails Vanitas and Jeanne on their date, she notes that Jeanne is “terribly weak against any sort of kindness.” But in spite of some more “cute” and candid moments, the overall dynamic between Jeanne and Vanitas is far from genuine kindness. Returning to how Vanitas garnered an edge over her in their initial fight--with taunting, carefully chosen words--I would phrase it more as that Jeanne, a borreau trained to kill and inexperienced with matters of feelings, is particularly susceptible to emotional manipulation. (There’s more than a little irony in this internal comment from Jeanne, at the beginning of her date with Vanitas:)

Jeanne’s relationship with Vanitas becoming important isn’t, in isolation, inherently an issue. In most cases, it’s fun to see how a character who usually appears unshakeable is rounded out when we see them at their more vulnerable times. What makes me feel squicked out and worried on Jeanne’s behalf is how it’s executed, considering how it works in opposition to how she was introduced as a character, and how Jeanne and Vanitas’s relationship harkens back to known dynamics of abuse. 

In other words, my discomfort is not at Jeanne herself for falling for Vanitas and his tactics. It’s at how she’s introduced with a promise of agency in her own story, and that agency is subsequently taken away in how she’s portrayed in official art, and in plot points as the story progresses. It’s at how their relationship begins to fall into a harmful template perpetuated by rape culture, where a man forces himself upon a woman at first, but she is shown to eventually enjoy those advances even when unwanted. I had high hopes for Jeanne as a character developed with her own agency, motives (and yes, for cool fight scenes that WLW like me can admire), and so far, Vanitas’s effect on her has threatened to overshadow these. This is where I think sections of the fandom throwing accusations back and forth of each other being misogynistic, on the grounds of criticizing Jeanne and her relationship with Vanitas, fail to see the wider issue.

Of course, eliciting this sort of discomfort may even be the whole point. Jun Mochizuki is known for putting her characters through tragic and painful situations, and her previous work Pandora Hearts is rife with unstable, imbalanced, and otherwise less-than-perfect relationships. But even without this background knowledge, a decisive scene that convinces me of the intentionality of this purpose is one I’ve written about before: Jeanne’s internal fantasy as she’s left unattended by Luca and loses herself in a storybook.

Here, Jeanne fantasizes about being the agent in her own story, a position that, the art reminds us, is often occupied by a male character such as a prince. Ultimately, this progression looks innocent and could serve to remind us of Jeanne’s more vulnerable, innocuous side. But including it here in the story could also serve as foreshadowing, a contrast to what Jeanne’s situation is like for her in reality. (If you want to read more on this panel specifically, my analysis is in the source link of this post!)

Essentially, critiquing Jeanne as a character requires more nuance than simply judging her individual characteristics. It’s necessary to also take into account the way that the story treats her and her relationships with others and other forces in the story. Not just is she allowed to be soft and emotional, but what consequences does this have for her, and how do the story elements lead the reader to feel about her being soft?

Personally, I think she’s very likeable as a character--her situation just seems unfair, and I feel like she deserves so much better than Vanitas and his schemes. I mean, she could easily destroy him with her gauntlet, and he knows it! But, then, it’s Jun Mochizuki. We should probably expect to be feeling pain and pity for her characters. Still, the relationship between Jeanne and Vanitas has always kinda rubbed me the wrong way, and I think this pretty much sums up why.

#vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no shuki #aki likes analyzing things

[dxxtruction]

Tyrell Wellick - Character profile - (sorta an unprofessional psych analysis) 

NOTE: I’m not an expert and this is also non-exhaustive of everything I could write about Tyrell. Can’t observe every little thing. This is also super unorganized below the cut I’m sorry. 

Words I’d describe Tyrell by: Ambitious, Boastful, Selfish, Controlling, Violent, Impulsive, Emotional, Loyal, Strategist, Enthusiastic, Extroverted, Adaptable, Vain, Desperate, Observant, Insightful, Driven, Fearful, Intelligent, Cunning, Technical, Prepared, Outwardly Friendly, Resourceful, Loathing, Self Loathing, Sometimes Cooperative, Caring, Vulnerable, Fearful, and Influenced.

Psyche: Erratic behavior, attaches own goals into a special person, delusions of grandeur, looks down on and has disregard for many others, has a certain lack of guilt or regard for breaking ethical or personal boundaries, adapts self in order to achieve goals, wearing masks over the more vulnerable and perceived weaker sides of himself, perhaps hiding various amounts of self loathing, maladaptive perfectionism, strong desire for control.

 I’ll avoid anything official and say he likely has some form of personality disorder and/or perhaps an attachment disorder.

Tyrell seems to be driven almost entirely by his own ambitions and goals for his life. Those goals change but he continues on doing anything possible to meet those ends. Believing he is destined to have them over others who seek similar ends. 

He care’s a lot about his appearance, both in how he looks and in how others perceive him suggesting a need to garner their respect and control perceptions. Perhaps fearing rejection and public humiliation. Feels it necessary to hide himself behind the best of outward appearances. Feeling equally deserving of respect and deeply afraid of losing it. The latter suggesting a point in time where he saw himself associated with certain perceived inferiorities (perhaps his family being poor, his accent, a lack of knowledge or skill, a lack of restraint), that still lingers in him even though he’s tried (relentlessly) to escape them.

Tyrell tries to maintain a look of control and professionalism, something he’s well developed in order to get to where he is. With control, having the upper hand, he believe’s he can not lose. He however cracks under the pressure of perhaps not having control by lashing out and acting on impulse, often violent impulse. Regaining a sense of power over the situation in destructive ways that run counter to what he’s trying to achieve. 

There’s hints at a fear of showing weakness and vulnerability suggesting perhaps toxic masculinity and could also be the same fears of rejection and public humiliation. The amount of effort he seems to put into this suggests he fears in some way that he could very well be exposed as a fraud. Tyrells mask is there for a reason and I think that reason is to avoid his fears, of which there are many.

He is aware of many of the masks he wears (but maybe not all of them), and seems to practice and perfect them. He’s a perfectionist: self defeating, even self harming, towards unrealistic goals and expectations of himself, causing undue stress. Tyrell has a hyper-fixation upon inadequacies he sees in both himself and others. This causes quite a lot of black and white, narrow ways of thinking.  

Tyrell can also crack and shed off his mask, showing his vulnerable side when alone or when he is feeling weak or defeated. He cries. I think he feels his emotions fairly intensely at all times. Which may contribute to why he tries so hard on maintaining a different sense of himself which is far more collected. Creating distance from how he feels things in order to see himself as more in control. And as always in order to meet his goals. I get a sense of self hatred, a certain level of shame from Tyrell in the ways he seems to cover up who he is from the world. Perhaps from the amount of things he has bottled up. 

Despite feeling deserving of his goals, he knows you must work to get the things you want, and so he will resort to ANY means necessary. Boundaries mean nothing when it works towards his goals. Conventionality and reason can be sacrificed if needed. Breaking conventions seems (to me) a last resort measure as Tyrell is proven to be sufficient at getting to where he is through his social and technical skills along with keen professional insights and overall intelligence within his field. He is very eager even without the more harmful ways of getting what he wants. These are all factors which make him appear desirable for high ranking positions within his field, and probably prove to him a sense of higher worth and tangible achievement. 

I do want to point out that he is observant of things most people tend to not notice or have foresight on. This quick internal observations lead him towards quick assumptions, making for keen awareness of how others will act, yet he holds strong to the initial judgements he has of people. The skill of reading people seems fairly important if you are to strategize with or against them and Tyrell is always following some type of plan and agenda. While not always in complete control of how he may act or feel he can control and manipulate the direction of his life to the ends he needs. He needs have it planned out for him to feel secure. 

While at first glance Tyrell may seem like only self concerning. He seems to have a pattern of attaching his goals in with a loyalty/contract to a specific person who he does them for. This leans towards delusions of grandeur especially with Elliot. 

In these relationships there is perhaps also seeking consistent validation from them. Going out of his way to make sure they notice what he’s willing to do for them. Idolizing them and desiring these relationships to succeed in the ways he envisions them to. Likely has fears of his own inadequacy to succeed within the relationships goals, and fears that he could ruin the relationship by not succeeding. Leading to a suppressed but present low self esteem and easy influence over his actions.

He feels a strong need to provide for them, and they provide him with something as well or he wouldn’t show such loyalty. (Ie: Ability to seek the highest ideal of the American dream/Ability to rule the fate of the world). In other words they seem to offer a boosted ego or chance towards something he finds valuable to his personal ambitions. He cares about them but can’t ever shake what drives him.

In a world where he can get anything and impress anyone those who subvert that are incredibly intriguing to him, and it also must be incredibly painful when he starts to develop strong feelings of attachment and they reject him. These people (Joanna and Elliot) are withholding and inconsistent in showing Tyrell that validation he wants. Making him have to chase their approval and respect. Which keeps him interested in continuing to succeed for them, to show off and get their attention. (Ex: Joanna’s gifts, Tyrells insistence on appearing good for Elliot). Winning their approval becomes a part of his core driving ambitions to succeed. 

Joanna is the perfect partner to fuel his more worldly ambitions. He wants to provide for her everything and anything which proves they are both successful and victorious in their dreams in life. While Elliot seems more to fuel his delusions of grandeur - he can have ultimate control and power via Elliot’s perceived ultimate power and control. In both instances he wants to share in success, feels this sharing as very intertwined with his life and the direction it needs to go. This intertwining can lead him to accept certain approaches he shouldn’t, but again he’s easy to influence in this position. 

I feel Tyrell fears most of all not having control (like many in this show), when feeling this way he tends to act out in anger. Tyrell uses violence often as a means of control, an outlet for his own anger and rage when he senses a lacking of power in a situation. He is also impulsive when angered showing a instinctive pull towards violence when he feels this way. He lacks a certain control over these emotions, making him erratic. I sense Tyrell does a great deal of work to mask this side of himself from others, at the very least to keep up appearances. (keep in mind I never said he ever did handle himself well.) 

The root causes of all of this is likely some combination of genetics, upbringing, and stress from the crushing weight of his goals. He has pointed out a strong desire to be unlike his father, who he sees as weak and pathetic for not trying hard at anything in his life. This seems to be near the root of his pathos as Tyrell shows he must be strong and in control while always doing anything to succeed. He isn’t afraid of the taboo either and almost seems to seek out what is most ambitious, risky, and rebellious in order to prove himself. Especially when it achieves some greater end. 

Tyrell has two side really, the conquerer and the meek. He is selfishly driven, but easily influenced. Prone to violent behavior, but passionately submissive to those he loves. Willing to do anything to get what he wants, but can be equally vulnerable and saddened by loss and failure. He suppresses himself but is easily emotional and erratic. Driven by success but also ruled by fear. Insightful but also delusional and narrow minded. 

Tyrell may have precarious ways of dealing with situations and getting at his ambitions but ultimately his concerns are always fairly human and usually seem reasonably achievable for him at face value. He wants to provide for his family, make sure they’re safe, he wants to get the position he’s worked hard for (things get ... confused when it comes to Elliot but I think it starts with noticing how Elliot could be a good potential hire to boost his reputation then things just continue to escalate as they seem to toy with one another to his mind). He reacts perhaps with probably just too much passion, and I don’t think he can help it. What I’m getting at it is Tyrell has a very human side to him that’s fairly normal and awkward even, he’s kinda just a huge techie nerd and loves that he is, we see a lot of the normality of Tyrell in 404. 

#tyrell wellick #mr robot #read me to filth on this #I always feel bad tagging these long posts in the fandom ags #Anyway this is wha I wrote in order to actually be able to write tyrell for like one thing lol

[beclynn-herondale]

"Love can destroy just as much as hate"

"Happy can hurt just as much as sad"

"Words can hurt like a million stabs to the heart"

"The light can be just as scary as the dark"

"Blood doesn't mean family"

"Sometimes being broken is the only choice you have"

"I could say so much about you and it still wouldn't be enough, there's to much you're the the rock to my land, you're the sea to my beach, you're the gold to my silver, you're the book I could never read enough times"

"Those who say words can't hurt are foolish in their own way, because they do hurt it's true you can let them hurt you and you can stop them from hurting you too but it doesn't mean you should say the things you do and think it's okay. If you're words hurt others and you think they're just words you are foolish for they can hurt more then anything else"

"You know I needed you and you weren't there, I needed you more then anyone and you failed to he there and the worst part is I still want you here and I still want to be here and that's not okay but.. I can't seem to leave even though there's no reason to stay"

"What you thought meant the world to me and then you said cruel things about me and I took it to heart and that shouldn't have been how it was, what you think shouldn't have meant everything and shaped my thinking, it shouldn't have made me question myself and think I was horrible and disgusting. You know why because that's not me! I know now who I am and what I contribute and my worth, you are nothing compared to it and the manipulation you had over me is gone for now I am stronger then I was before and you could never have a hold on me again"

"It's not our choice necessarily to go back to our abusers, I mean yes they hurt us and broke us and made us feel worthless, they destroyed us yes. But a part of us still loves/loved them because even in their cruelness they had moments when they were nice. And that's the thing we think that it's us because if they are nice sometimes maybe we're just overreacting and imagining things right? Even when we aren't and they are bad people we still feel it is our fault why? I do not know the answer perhaps it's because over the time of our abuse we grew to hate ourselves and feel and think it's our fault but it's not, It was never our fault that they choose that path and choose to be cruel and destroy us, it's there's but for some reason even though some know this we still go back sometimes and I do not know why. Except that maybe we feel as if they are the only ones who truly love us because who else could love someone so broken and scary, so hurtful and destructive, so fragile and chaotic, so painful and scarred, so traumatized and tragic, so strong but so weak, so lonely and done, so sharp but so dull, so bright but so dark, so kind but so mean, so serious but so uncommitted, so loose but so tight, so vulnerable but so much mystery, so full yet so empty, so empathetic yet so not understanding, so childish yet so mature, so rebellious yet so submissive, so much like a soldier yet so scared, so beautiful yet so terrifying, so firery yet so calm, so wild yet so tamed, so fake yet so sincere, so honest yet so deceiving, angry yet so happy, so sad and dark yet full of life and sweetness, full of flaws yet seeming to not have mant. Who could love someone who is so much to handle and who doesn't deserve it because they have done wrong and so has their abusers".

"You know I grew up having to be perfect maybe they didn't think they were raising me like that but they were if I did a perfect job o was good and amazing and they were so proud, If i made a mistake well there was anger and disappointment and they would never let it go. And perfection is not easy to be be because as humans we imperfect and have so many flaws but we're still expected to be perfect. Why? You may ask because we put unrealistic expectations on others and ourselves."

"You know they say love is unconditional but I don't think for some it is, for instance they say a parents love is but what about abusers they don't have unconditional love for their children, or people who say they do but when the person they claim to have unconditional love for mess up they don't have mercy and forgiveness for and all of a sudden they are less? So no I don't believe all parents and people have unconditional love I think for a lot love is conditional."

"You claim to love me but you break me so often and hurt me, if you love me so much why is it so east for you to hurt, break and destroy me?"

"I believe happiness is like sadness it comes and goes and there's nothing you can do about, they say it can be achieved but that is a way of thinking that will pound you in the end. It is best to accept that feelings and emotions come and go even happiness, it doesn't mean that we are never going to be happy it simply means that we are human and humans can never keep something forever, it's not in our nature to."

"At the end of the stroy everyone leaves right?"

"Everything leaves a scar they say and sometimes those scars are physical"

"Parents huh I wouldn't know what loving and kind, non manipulative and unconditional loving parents are like hell I don't know if I even know what parents are really like"

"What broke you? she asked, my Hope's, my loyalty, my kindness, How deeply I love, my gentleness, my forgiveness, my compassion, my empathy, my expectations. the other girl replied, oh.... but I thought those were good? She said, They are but not when you give them away as freely as you breathe. The other girl replied, is....that what you did? She asked, Yes I loved to hard and to deeply, I forgave to easily, and in return I was broken so many times that eventually you aren't left with enough pieces to put yourself back together again, I mean sure you put yourself back together a million times and more but eventually my dear there isn't enough left anymore to put back together the other girl replied."

"How many times? How many times? Do I have to play this game? This game of manipulation and hate and pain and hurt how many times do I have to get broken before it's over? I barely have enough left."

"Have you always been this way? He asked what do you mean? She replied, I mean I see it in your eyes the pain, the rage, the loneliness, the hurt, the brokenness, I see a girl who has cried so much that she wonders if the next time she cries will she even have tears to shed, I see a girl who's gentle and kind but has been used and misunderstood so many times that she has stopped trying to get close to people, a girl who has gone through something that has changed her entirely and she's not sure who she was before, i see a girl who just wanted to be picked for once, who wanted to be first choice not second or third or fourth or tenth, I see a girl who wants to desperately to be touched and held and kissed and taken cared of but is to afraid to let someone do it because what if it's fake? What if they use me?, I see a girl who wants to be held through the entire night for someone to wrap their arms around her and not let her go, I see a girl who wants to love and be loved but doesn't know how and is terrified to let anyone in and love, I see a girl who has so much trauma and sadness, I see a lack of love that has been there for so long, I see a heart that has been broken and put back together so many times but every time it is broken you lose a piece and you don't know if it will go back together again, but I also see a beautiful girl who has a kind heart and has the deepest love I have ever seen, a girl who has so much to give, a girl who saves others and stands up for them, a girl who gives herself to make others better but who does that for you? Who stands up for you? Who loves you? At the end of the day who gives you back your pieces? You know what? I think you are one of the most beautiful and unique beings I have ever met. How....how? She asked her voice shaking and her throat feeling tight and her eyes wanting to relapse those tears and her heart aching and hurting how do you know all that? She asked because your eyes say everything, if you look at them hard enough they tell a story one that has been tragic but is not over yet. He replied *and she broke down, how dare he she thought how dare he make her want someone so bad and how dare he see through everything, see through all her walls and act like it's okay and now she fears it's over that's it the last piece is going he's gonna walk away and take it with him* and she let the tears fall and started sobbing but something happened for the first time someone wrapped their arms around her and kissed her forehead and she realized not someone it was him, he was holding her and wasn't walking away and she wanted to fight him because now she was sure after this year of working together she is starting to love him and it's not fair because she told herself she wouldn't let this happen, she wouldn't let anyone in but here she is holding on tight to him and not wanting him to ever let go and he let her cry on his shirt and cry for so long she couldn't tell how long and he never left and didn't say anything just let her and when she hit him a couple times he took it like he didn't care even when she tried to pull away he held her and she thought he isn't going anywhere is he? And once she looked up at him after being there for a long time he finally said something he said would you like to stay with me tonight? Or me stay with you?, I wou..ld like that...can I? Her voice breaking, Of course I offered didn't I he said, and took her hand and led her to his apartment, and held her all night and told her I am here now if you'll let me be here by your side until the end, and she looked at him and he was dead serious, yes she said stay please..... she said, I will stay. He replied."

"You know they say that the loneliest things are the most beautiful, but loneliness can be ugly to can't it?"

"They call your scars ugly and tell you to get rid of them, but for me they aren't just scars they are a story and every scar has a reason behind it, they tell a story of someone with things she can never change or take back, but they also remind her of her strength and struggles and she loves her scars, but they say to get rid of them."

"I am but made if moon and stars and people call them beautiful but they are in a dark sky and there is darkness and it's not as bright as the sun or the day, so can it truly be as beautiful as they claim if it's not what they want."

"You have a heart of gold they said, I don't feel that way she told herself, o feel as if I am always in the wrong and a disappointment, I feel as if I am a terrible person and an ass, I feel as if I no one could love me ever, I feel as if I am darkened with a black heart, I feel as if I have lost so much hope, but they say I have a heart of gold."

"Maybe I'm not good maybe i have been lied to, maybe i am a monster, a dark thing, a demon who deserves all the pain in the world, but they say you're kind and good and don't deserve all this, then why do people tell me I am wrong all the time? and say I want to destroy? Maybe I really am a demon?"

"You're an outcast the woman said you'll never be anything else if you don't change, who said I want to change? Replied the girl, No one will like you or love you if you don't change. The woman said, Perhaps it's better to be an outcast then what others want me to be yeah I would rather be an outcast then betray myself and be what I am not the girl replied."

"I have never been what anyone wanted not even what my own mother wanted in a daughter, so I can't blame anyone for not wanting me and perhaps it's better that way because they won't be destroyed by the hands of a girl from hell."

"She keeps her heart behind a wall, a wall of thick stone and covered with thorns and danger so you won't try to approach her or get close or love her, because every time she opens up it hurts, every time she gets close they leave and leave her broken on the ground, every time she loves they never love as much or as deeply but she can't be mad she knows she isn't good enough for any of it and that's okay, she'll never make anyone do that so she'll push them away before they try."

"You scare me she said, why the other girl asked I have never tried to do anything that should scare you? The beautiful girl said, not because of the reasons you think my dear you scare me because you see through me, you see my darkness and brokenness and all the bad and you still stay, you scare me with how I need you, how you can tell when I am not okay and you love me no one has done that and it scares me. She said, oh the beautiful girl said I don't just see the bad and darkness I see the beautiful and the good and a heart of gold, I see someone has been made to believe they are bad and evil because they are as bright as the stars and as mysterious as the moon, I see someone who I want to love and give everything to but only if she'll let me do so. The beautiful girl said, why? She asked, because I Love you. The beautiful girl said, I Love you to she said."

( my writing and quotes so don't steal )

( I write how I feel sometimes or what I want )

#me #personal #my writing #bec writes #bec #story #writer #quote #quotes #becs personal life

[queerchoicesblog]

The Courage of Our Hearts (BB, a Kamilah Sayeed fanfic)

This fanfic is my last entry for the @choicesjulychallenge : thank you so much my dear friend and brand new graduate @kinda-iconic for hosting this! It was a lot of fun!

I’m not gonna lie: writing this was tough because it got deeper than I first expected. But I kept wondering about such a crucial - and brave - moment in Kamilah’s story: her decision to betray Gaius. We get to know more about their toxic relationship but we only got a glimpse of the deep suffering and turmoil Kamilah went through before stabbing him. I’m not sure I truly made her justice, Kamilah is so complex and guarded that as a writer I always feel like walking on thin ice when I try to catch her voice...I did my best though. Hope you enjoy this fic and the past reference I included!

Sense8 fans will probably recognize the quotation that inspired this work: “In the end, we will all be judged by the courage of our hearts”. I also quoted the lyrics of the song Yes Girl by Bea Miller because to me it portrayed Kamilah’s feelings perfectly.

Disclaimer: the present fanfic deals with themes like an abusive relationship and psychological manipulation; if you’re not comfortable with this kind of content, by all means, SKIP this work

Prompt: Endings

Word Count: 2245

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @bhavf @melodyofgraves @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @begging-for-kamilah @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood @crazypeanat @desiree-0816 @universallypizzataco

___________________________

I never wanna live in fear...

So time had come at last. Time to make a decision. The decision that would change everything.

As Kamilah put on the finishing touches to her makeup she stared to her reflection in the mirror of her vanity. Who was that woman? Did she know anymore?. She grimaced at the thought and put down her lipstick, unable to continue. There was still time to get to the meeting summoned for that night. But that reunion wouldn't have been just a meeting. The future of all of them, of humanity and vampires as well, depended on it.

Adrian came to find her earlier that day. She found him in her office waiting for her just as she arrived. The secretaries weren't there yet: Kamilah always took great pride in being the first to arrive and the last to leave the skyscraper of Ahmanet Financial. The look on his face was grim and tensed: no good news was to be expected. Without thinking, she locked the door of her office despite the fact that no one else was around. Then he told her. He told her what was going to happen that night: mutiny, rebellion. Murder, if necessary: Gaius would have never gone down without one hell of a fight. Their own lives would have been on the line, knowing how easily the wrath of their King lead to bloodsheds.

"Kamilah, I know I'm asking you so much but...we need you. Believe me, I wish we didn't have to go this far but he's out of control. We must stop him." he said, wincing.

The words were painful to him too and left her shaken. She had had a bad feeling about that unexpected meeting and now she understood why her sixth sense warned her. She stood frozen in place in front of her library, unable to find words to translate the turmoil inside her. The shock, the fear...a most aching hope. Adrian sighed forlornly and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek before wearing his hat and leaving.

Now his words echoed in her head again and wouldn't go away. Revolting against Gaius, killing Gaius...it sounded risky. Scary. Just as scary as Gaius' plan. Kamilah was frightened and she hated felt this way: fear was an uncomfortable thing. A most uncomfortable thing.

She remembered that a long time ago she cheered and raised a chalice when one of her spies informed her of the fate of Julius Caesar: the man who seduced and clouded her cousin's judgment only to put his greedy hands over their land had been hopelessly grasping for air in a pool of his own blood. Twenty-three stabs pierced his flesh as he walked into the Senate: people were now feasting over his dead body singing "the tyrant is gone in the end, freedom to Rome".

Since Gaius announced his grand secret plan to "finally get rid of humans" that involved mass murder, torture and exploitation of mortals, she found herself comparing him with his old enemy. As much as she had a thousand reasons to hold a grudge to humans and vampire butchers cult that called themselves The Order, she couldn't help but think that after all this was what a scumbag like Caesar had in mind for her people, the ones she made an oath to protect at all cost as a nomarch. A much uncomfortable thought crossed her mind as she considered Gaius' words: the Order was an army of brutal fanatics beyond repentance as she had experienced first hand...but what would have she done if she were in their place, full knowing that the other side waned no less than your annihilation? Exactly what Gaius was doing: protect your people and destroy the enemy. She knew well that their King was inclined to violence and how strong his hatred for mortals was...but so far he had only claimed that all he did was to protect them, to offer vampires a well-deserved safe haven after the persecutions and suffering they went through in Europe. This new plan was different though: this was murder, mass murder of both actual enemies and innocent people, not mere defence. Kamilah's lips twisted in displease: Gaius was a Roman, after all. Back in her mortal days, she once asked her spymaster her opinion on the Roman. Her face hardened as she said: "Never trust Romans, under no circumstances. Their honeyed words always hid the most potent poison".

Her spymaster was right. Gaius' words were smooth before every assault and raid. He hardly shouted orders and was quick to punish whoever crossed him.

When they dragged him into her tent, he was extremely calm and even conciliatory. Reminiscing her loyal spymaster's warning she kept her distance and didn't fall for his act, even though he didn't seem a threat. Then he suddenly changed. He broke the chains, murdered the guards and transformed in front of her eyes. He laughed as he effortlessly held her in place and plunged his fangs deep into her neck, satisfying his thirst of blood and taking her life. Kamilah had been a vampire for so long and sometimes removed that moment. Not now: now she remembered that she didn't ask for any of this. None did Adrian and almost every vampire she knew turned by Gaius.

Yet "her King" kept reminding her how lucky their encounter was: he found a Queen and finally unleashed the immense potential dormant inside her. That consideration generally came after praises for successful - and brutal- raids and slaughters when he was still high for the mix of adrenaline and blood overdose. But it wasn't potential what he saw. It took centuries to Kamilah to realize something that probably she always knew, deep inside her: all Gaius saw was the amount of grief and anger that was tearing her troubled soul apart after the loss of her family and the hurtful certainty of a defeat, the concern for her people and her own future as she could barely find the will not to walk into the Nile and let all the pain disappear. He used her sorrow, her vulnerability as leverage to fuel her darkest instincts and called them power.

"I sensed the power inside you, my Queen, you know? Yes, since the first moment I saw you. I had to free you from what was holding you back" he would comment, a dreamy look in his eyes.

A few times Kamilah tried to contradict him. He would shake his head and move closer, taking her hands into his despite her resistance. He would look at her right in the eye and note as if she was a child throwing a silly tantrum to a caring father:

"As I said you had potential. You have potential, my Queen. But you should clear your mind from thoughts like this. Because you know what happens when you let them get under your skin, right? People you care about die. Your brother, your friends, that Italian painter you grew so fond of. You lower your guard, you act as one of those humans" -his mouth twisted in displease when he pronounced that word- "again, you regress and this is what happens. You know, I'm right. You're no longer one of those weaklings, you're superior: you're so close to perfection, to be truly invincible...embrace the power inside you, don't fight it"

Then he would grab her wrists and held them so firmly Kamilah would wince in pain as his tone turned more coercive.

"Aren't you grateful for the power, my Queen?"

He wouldn't release without an answer so Kamilah would just nod to avoid facing his mind control which was extremely hurtful. She hated herself for how meek and submissive she became: she wasn't like this before him. She was the one giving orders and speaking her mind. Now she took orders and hid certain thoughts afraid of what he could do if he heard her questioning him.

A wave of growing anger filled her chest as she collected all the words she had buried inside her: why couldn't he call her Kamilah more instead of "my Queen"? "His Queen" was Rehya, he confessed it once...so that made her a mere projection of a long lost love of him. Of someone who was gone and whose mask she was now wearing against her will. Again. Why Gaius was so repelled by mortals to seek the company of vampires only? True, he wouldn't object to Kamilah indulging in a human lover's company...a fact that surprised her at first: knowing how possessive he was, she would have expected some jealousy. "Jealous of a mortal? And what for?" he laughed "Their lifespan lasts a blink of an eye, I am forever".

That's why he couldn't hide his resentment when he heard the news of the turning of the Italian painter: an immortal rival was a threat. Kamilah caught herself wondering if he was the one who informed the vampire hunter who murdered Artemisia. The only one offering her shelter and a shoulder to cry on as she left Italy was Serafine. Good old quirky Serafine. Kamilah enjoyed her company: she always knew how to make you laugh and was the life of the ball. She also proved to care for her...whenever Gaius allowed the two of them to spend more than a bunch of minutes together. God knows where Serafine was now: she heard that she returned to Europe against her warnings. She missed her: she was the closest she had to a true friend in centuries after Gaius alienated her to most of the people she used to know. They only attend parties together and she couldn't blame Priya for calling her "the master's puppet".

"You know you're not his possession, right?" Serafine once whispered into her ear pretending to kiss her cheek on a ball.

But Gaius was already marching towards the two of them, a honeyed dashing smile on his face. Instead, the joy the sight of Serafine gave Kamilah immediately faded away.

No, Kamilah wasn't a master's puppet. I played the part for too long, she thought, throwing a raging look at her reflection.

I got you figured out You need to have control You think that I don't know you, I know you, I know

Tryna tell you now, I've been doin' what you want But I won't be your yes girl, No, not anymore

All of a sudden another image, another memory from the past appeared. It was the last time she saw Lysimachus. They were at the docks over Nile, her little brother was securing his armor before leaving for the war. Kamilah was standing in front of him, following his moves full of concern.

"Here, let me help you" she sighed, as Lysimachus struggled to reach a string on his back.

"Oh thank you, sis"

When she was done, she patted his back and he spun to face her.

"Thanks...what would I do without you sis, huh?" he flashed her a quick smile that quite didn't reach his eyes as his jaw tensed.

"You don't have to do this, you know that? I could find you another position away to the battlefield where you can still fight against the Roman. You could work with me, you could-" her voice was a plea but he shook his head and interrupted her.

"No, I have to do this. This is our land, they can't set foot her and say that our fields, our streets, our rivers now belong to Rome. I told you already: I can't just stand there and do nothing about it. I'm not as smart or wise as you, sis, but I know how to fight. And I'm ready to do my part to prevent them from taking away what's ours, who we are..."

"I know but you're so young..." Kamilah winced.

At that very moment, the sound of military trumpets announced that their time was running out. As a man started shouting orders, Lysimachus reached for his sack and searched for something as if his whole life depended on it.

"Lys, you're still in time to step back, please" Kamilah begged, stroking his arm.

The news she had gotten over the past few months about the area his brother was about to sail to were discomforting: the enemy army was advancing fast and defeating all the troops they sent there. Their best soldiers, their boys filled with anger and foolish braveness. But Lysimachus wasn't listening to her anymore.

Instead, he threw his sack over his shoulder and pulled her into a tight hug.

"In the end, we will all be judged by the courage in our hearts" he whispered and a tear wetted Kamilah's tunic.

As he parted, he let his old toy horse slip into her hand and gave her one last smile.

"Goodbye, sis. I'll come back, I promise"

A lump formed in her throat reminiscing that broken promise but his words, his determination hardened her own. You were right, Lys, we can't let anyone take away who we are, she said to herself, opening the secret dresser where she hid her daggers. If blood has to be shed tonight, I should be the one making the cut. No one else.

Her fingers hovered over her weapons, almost grazing them.

In the end, we will all be judged by the courage of our hearts.

I promise you, Lys. My heart will be brave, just like you taught me...

#choices july challenge #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #gaius augustine #playchoices

[lxcxndatlkalct]

The flash of cameras was nothing new to her. The flickering of lights that might have blinded someone less certain of where they’d come from. Lucinda had long since understood it best to look above them, than directly at them. So often before, she’d been on the other side of the lens, with the lingering familiarity of a camera in her hand, she found it near impossible to ignore a sliver of envy flicker at the tips of her fingers. She’d given Kingsley and the myriad of aurors time, as he’d asked, but the facts remained that the people of their world deserved to know the truth; not the half arsed attempt at it that the ministry could so often offer them before now.

Their world built on secrets, founded on lies that were warped and twisted to suit those in power, and while she wasn’t completely against that for the greater good and the magical legacy of their world, she was neither opposed to the truth. Especially if it would further satisfy the belief she shared with so many. The ministry was as corrupt as it claimed their enemy to be.

True, that she’d bent the will of those that came before the shatter in their hierarchy that he’d left in his wake, twisted words to suit her her own goal, one entwined so deeply with that of the Dark Lord that it was often difficult to decipher where one thought began and another ended. As she neared the dias, the makings of a certain manic happiness burst within her chest while the stoic features of Lucinda Talkalot showed everything but to the public as she had many times since her appointment in public relations. While the Ministry spared the face of the minister himself unless the time truly called for it, she’d become a waypoint, a public figure over night despite her timely discomfort. Like the second skin she wore with the mask and hood adorned by those deemed the enemy, she slipped all too easily into a facade that she’d upheld for far too long and that perfectly placed veil had rendered Lucinda as Tom’s first choice in infiltrating with so much risk.

Right beneath the nose of all those who might have known better, she’d been on the receiving end of every detail, every slip of information that would never reach the public and while she’d been sworn to secrecy on all things that would never move beyond the walls of the ministry’s most private spaces, there were now far more people that knew than those she’d sworn herself to, were aware of.

This, however, wasn’t a ply for more information. The cracks had shattered the earth beneath them, the death of the minister at the hand of her Lord were just a stepping stone in ripping the ministry apart from the inside out. He’d been clear. Crystal. She was not to leave a single detail out. And so, with the blinding flash of cameras, a blur of voices that soon dulled to nothing but white noise as the protective detail she’d been given quietened the growing plethora of media vultures. A momentary pause, a memory that wasn’t her own, placing Rodolphus Lestrange right where she stood, moments before he was executed. While she certainly had no intentions of setting a grenade off at her own feet the way he had just to open the eyes of those too scared to look willingly, she certainly wasn’t shielding any single person willing to listen. Her poison was much less blinding, a subtle sting that would reverberate slowly through the veins of the wizarding community and with any luck and favor on her side, she’d play her part in tearing the foundations of this world down to start anew.

“Three days ago, we released a general statement alerting you all to the untimely, tragic death of our beloved minister, Harold Minchum. The passing of our leader, ---” She paused, the corner of painted lips drawing in a near impeccable smile filled with a sadness that didn’t belong in her heart, “-- and to some, our friend, --- has without doubt shocked us all.” Like a wave, the somber reminder that the fact they were there at all stemmed from a tragedy that those too naive to see was without a doubt a necessary evil in the minds eye of those willing to fight for the betterment of their world. One that didn’t allow the lessening of power through the continued allowance for those muggle born to share in any of it. A disservice to themselves, to their ancestors. “Perhaps it’s now that we need to remember that it is in times of great sorrow and change that we must consider our choices more than ever. Some believe that you do not need to understand what happened, just that it has. That the Ministry has it under control, that we’re mending out defenses, that we’re working to find a way to give you the government that you so greatly deserve. That is what Minister Minchum would have wanted you to know and believe in his stead. In a strong front, unwilling to break or bend to loss and confusion, a community that begs for the betterment and development of those that need it the most and perhaps that is what you will believe, regardless of what you’re told.”

She cast hues that echoed the sentiment of every word she spoke out across the growing mass of people. For years she’d remained silent, in the background of all that she could. Once an observer more than one to take action, however, the long continuous study of the people around her gave her more leeway to bend her own features, to replicate those she’d seen, the sounds she’d heard in the depths of voices she knew all too well. A mockingbird with wings clipped as her orders to speak slivers of the truth embedded themselves in fingertips that traced the wooden dias with a slow tenderness that might have been one detail too perfect for one such grievance as reporting the death of one they’d thought so mighty, now only temporarily replaced by an even mightier coward. “Barely a week has passed, and it is already becoming alarmingly clear..--” Hues traversed the crowd, some barely listening while others clung to every word she spoke as if it were already law. “That for so long now, you have all been fooled by the blinded trust you held in those deemed to protect our very real right for justice, for the truth, and I have been no better informed than you. Beaten into submission by a government that would not have you hold the ability to question us in return. For so long you have been made to believe that our democracy was just that; while slowly but surely they took your ability to live well from you, in any which way they could. Your right to the truth was torn from your very fingertips as Rodolphus Lestrange was murdered before your very eyes without an offer of explanation like so many before him --- and like so many that came after, dusting every truthful word he spoke under the rug even when it screamed to high heavens the depths of corruption behind closed doors. Your very right to your own truth, to justice and your own health and well-being has been unknowingly compromised by a government that refuses to accept that you’re owed as much.”

Luce wasn’t a fool, the shock that would come with even the mention of one so many deemed a traitor would ripple through the crowd and likely paint a target on her back that none knew she already held. She wasn’t here to start an uprising, she wasn’t here to erupt chaos amongst them; but the seeds of doubt could run deeper than most imagined, rooted miles below the surface and near impossible to later remove. All she needed was this moment to plant them. “I will not keep the truth from you.” But she would twist and manipulate it in a way not unlike the ministry at all; though her hand would turn the tables and place every misconception their society might have had about the stability of their own government, foundations must be broken to rebuild.

“Three days ago,” The breath in her lungs seemed to catch with the facade of breaking such an oath to the now fallen minister, darkened lips pursed and after a few long passing moments of near silence, she lifted her shoulders and caught the reflective effects of every camera head on. “The Dark Lord walked past our every defense, slipped right in through those doors,” emphasized only be her willingness to gesture to the grand Ministry building, “Attacked dozens of people and murdered your minister without anyone knowing what how how it was happening, much less who it was, until it was much too late to do what we promised we would. He was not forced to claw his way in, we did not fight to stop him. Our confidence became our greatest weakness, our pride in a world that couldn’t possibly be so threatened became a gaping vulnerability that he was able to manipulate to an advantage that we will feel the weight of for longer than we will ever realize. The safety that we were so sure of failed because we were too blinded to see the faults that etched cracks in our system by our inability to see what was really going on.” The unsettled shift of the crowd before her was more than enough indication that Lucinda had already hit her own target, the smallest seeds of doubt already burying themselves in the ground. “This happened, because we have spent far too long clinging to the idea that this was as good as we were ever going to get. We cannot be fooled into thinking that we will never be more that we are through the timeless act of refusing to hear the truth when it is right there in front of us, hidden and manipulated into more lies by those who have deemed you, our public, our community, unworthy of hearing it simply because it paints us in a less than flattering light. If we want to be better, if we want to protect what is ours, what we love the most, the truth is the only way we will ever be able to do this. As your government, how can we expect you to protect one another without knowing every detail we know too? We are only as strong and as knowledgeable as you allow us to be.” It was near impossible not to feel the weight of those clinging to her every word, a somber speech turned to something build of revolution and yet brought to them in the confidence that she willed no uprising, just another chance. One chance, it was all they needed to rot the system from the inside out. “We failed you, but it will not happen again. This will not happen again. The Dark Lord will not succeed in flooding fear into our veins, neither will he tear us apart so easily without a fight.” The heaviness in such a statement brought her to a pause, a long trying moment for it to sink in, to stick with those teetering the edge of loyalties. It mattered little to her in which way they showed their favor, but failure did not deem favorable with Voldemort himself, and she’d yet to truly fail at all. “The minister is gone, and though he may now be at rest, we have a chance to change how we fight a war most of you didn’t know was here purely out of the cowardice of those now perished. You deserve the opportunity to make your mind up for yourselves, to fight and protect our world with everything we have, of which you can only do through knowing everything. You all deserve the truth.” Each word enunciated to near perfection as she lifted her head a little higher, dark tresses shifting to fall down her back as the every intense hue with an ever familiar regality to it that only few could truly manage. “And I will make sure you get it.”

#( x . self ) #( x . death of a king ) #idk ok i needed to do it

[xonceinadream]

With Trickery | Valki One-Shot

Valkyrie's training when Loki comes to her, tricking her into revealing her feelings. She might give him a chance. If she doesn't kill him first. { 1,873 words } | { ao3 | ff.net }

Her eyes are closed while she trains herself, trying to tune her senses back into shape. They’ve been dulled by so many years of pushing her past behind her. But she wants to be able to defend Asgard as it deserves, especially since Thor and Loki are actually working together to re-build it. At least for now. Valkyrie doesn’t know how much she should believe Thor’s secret words that she’s part of the reason Loki is still there.

A jab into the air and then she breathes out, sensing his presence. It’s not hard. He’s spent so much time with her lately that the air seems to shift around him. She doesn’t falter as her hand connects with solid flesh, his arm that’s come up to meet hers. They spar often. Valkyrie does with almost everybody, teaching and being taught in turn.

It’s different with him. Even the mighty Thor holds back when confronted with her simply out of some hero’s loyalty. Loki doesn’t hold back at all. When she blocks, it hurts and when he connects it hurts even worse. His blows are vicious but she’s right there to meet him every time, relishing in the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. It’s what she was born to do.

Being a Valkyrie is something special, protecting the crown is something she swore she’d do. Protecting him involves hitting him as hard as she can to make sure he’s ready when the next person does. At least, that’s what she tells herself.

Loki is somebody complicated. She doesn’t understand him. Banner, she’s starting to understand. Scientist who turns mean when angry, that she gets. Thor, she can pretend to know. King who does what’s best for his citizens but sometimes is misguided. Every citizen has their story that she tries to hear. But Loki is somebody that she can never quite get a handle on. Perhaps because he’s somebody different every occurrence.

She can never tell whether she’s seeing the real him or not, whether he’s going to be cruel or nice this instance. This time, he doesn’t speak but neither does she. It’s too complicated trying to block his hits, trying to get him back into submission. Until Loki laughs.

“You’re distracted.”

Valkyrie huffs out an annoyed breath, crooking her eyebrows as she spins around, trying to catch him by surprise. “Excuse me?”

Loki blocks her easily, sidestepping and grabbing her wrist to try to overturn her. She wrenches away, smacking him across the face and jumping back. “You’re thinking hard about something. You’re not usually so docile.”

That strikes a nerve and Valkyrie hisses, coming at him with renewed strength, backing him nearly into the corner. It doesn’t last long, Loki kicks hard with a foot to her stomach and she barely regains her balance as he cuffs her cheek, making it sting. “I am not docile.”

“Sorry, I meant you’re not usually so easy to beat,” Loki says and Valkyrie gasps as he flips suddenly, knocking her to the ground and pressing a hand tight to her throat.

Valkyrie stares at him because he was right. She doesn’t think she’s ever been beaten in combat the same way. “How did you-?”

“I’ve been watching you,” Loki tells her, his thumb running lightly along the side of her throat. He doesn’t get up, doesn’t pull his hand away from her neck, and she feels her heart skip a beat. “You were doing the same move over and over again. An obvious sign of distraction.”

A moment of time and then Valkyrie pushes herself up, obviously surprising Loki when his back hits the floor and she holds him down by his shoulders. “I wasn’t distracted. I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

Loki smirks. “I’m not an idiot.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

Loki stares up at her and Valkyrie waits for him to attempt to regain control but he doesn’t. It disconcerts her more than an escape attempt would. “You were thinking of me.”

The bold statement surprises her and he takes advantage, although he simply pushes her off and stands up, looking down at her on the floor. Her eyes are wide as she looks back up at him. “What a bold statement,” she snaps.

“But not an untrue one,” Loki says, sounding more confident this time than he had been. Valkyrie wonders whether he’d been guessing before and she curses herself for not denying it. “Just the other day, Thor was telling me about how much you talk about me.”

Valkyrie shoots up at that, her cheeks flushing. “I do not!” she says through clenched teeth. She vows that she’s going to seriously hurt the king of Asgard next time that she spars with him. She had perhaps spent time discussing Loki with Thor but purely out of concern about the God of Mischief’s ideas and ideals. It’s hard to believe the man genuinely wants Asgard to succeed.

“I tell him that I don’t trust you.”

It’s possible that Loki’s smirk grows wider. “Yes, he’s told me that. But that’s not all, I know.”

Injuring isn’t good enough for Thor, Valkyrie decides. She’s going to have to kill him. Although, she still doesn’t believe that Loki will be good for Asgard as the king. She had been drinking when she had talked to Thor about how much she felt connected to Loki. She had been severely drunk when she’d told Thor how much she cared for Loki. And she had been on the verge of blacking out when she’d raved about how attracted that she was to Loki. Damn him.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?” Loki asks in what could almost be a sing-song voice.

Valkyrie audibly grinds her teeth as she jumps at him. He’s prepared, though, blocking every hit that she tries until he’s backed against the wall and he grabs both of her wrists.

“Didn’t mean what?” Loki asks, harder this time.

“Didn’t mean that I cared about you or how attracted I am to you,” Valkyrie snaps, anger filling her and in it, she can’t even pull away.

She gasps as he moves, pushing her back against the wall and pinning her arms above her head. It occurs to her that she should move. Every instinct is screaming at her to make sure she’s not in a vulnerable position. But the other parts of her scream that he’s not going to hurt her, at least not physically.

“I see. Thor didn’t tell me any of that, you know. He does keep your secrets. But you’re very informative,” Loki tells her with a grin.

Valkyrie’s eyes go wide as she attempts to push out of his hold but Loki reaffirms his strength and, for the first time, she feels how powerful that he really is. “You- you-”

“God of mischief? King of trickery? Dashing, debonair, prince of Asgard?”

“I was going to say bastard,” Valkyrie says, her teeth bared, her fingers itching to wrap around his throat.

It makes her even madder that Loki seems to be amused by her anger. “As long as you don’t begin to speak ill of my mother,” he tells her, manipulating her hands to hold them with one of his own, his other coming down to cup her chin. Valkyrie feels her body growing hot, a feeling that she’s only felt with one person before. The memory hurts and she pushes it aside, as she always does when she thinks of the massacre. “So you desire me?”

With only one of Loki’s hands holding her own, Valkyrie thinks it’s the perfect time to get away. It’s beyond her why she doesn’t take the opportunity. “I’m busy training.”

“Dear, dear, dear. You really are the queen of running away from your problems.”

Before Valkyrie can pull away, Loki lets her hand go, cupping her hips and pushing her back against the wall with his body. The heat is getting worse in Valkyrie’s chest. “I’m not getting involved with you. You’re a liar and undoubtedly you’ll be leaving soon.”

Loki nods and Valkyrie reaches down to move his hands. Somehow, she finds her fingers tangled with his. She has no idea how it happens. “You seem to have so little faith in me.”

“Thor’s talked about how he’s had faith in you for so long.”

Loki raises his eyebrow. “Thor doesn’t quite have the charms that you do.”

“You need to go,” Valkyrie tells him, her body tense. His hands are warm in her own, his grip firm. She can’t help but think about the fact that he’s powerful, nearly as powerful as she is. Nearly.

A gentle squeeze of her hands and Valkyrie really should pull away. She should pull her hands away but Loki’s hands feel so good holding hers. “Or you can stop running for once and confront your feelings head on. You don’t see me running, do you?”

“Why would you? I’m a catch. You’re a bastard,” Valkyrie says but there’s no heat in her words. The only heat is the fire that’s inside of her, a fire that she had thought she’d permanently extinguished when she’d lost her lover.

Loki laughs and he leans in, pressing his lips to hers. She untangles her hands to push him away but somehow her hands rest on his chest, nails curving into the tight material. It’s not something she would have ever done but it’s suddenly everything. There’s no blur of alcohol right now, it’s still early and she hasn’t had time to drink much yet. His lips are soft against hers, his arms looping around her waist to pull her closer and she feels like she can’t breathe.

When he pulls away, she keeps her eyes closed, feels his warm breath against her lips. Her mind is screaming ‘bad idea’ but how can she listen to it?

“You need to prove you’re not going to leave.”

Although she can’t see it, she can feel Loki nod. “I know. But I’ll prove to you all that I’m worthy of the title of Prince of Asgard,” he tells her. There’s something deeper in there. It’s not just her he’s going to prove himself to.

Valkyrie lets out a slow breath that she thinks he can feel against his own lips. He hasn’t moved back from her yet and she doesn’t think she’s in any mood to. It feels good to be against him although she won’t admit that out loud.

She doesn’t understand Loki. She doesn’t know if she ever will. His eyes are gazing into hers, looking every bit a man she thinks she could rely on. Until tomorrow when he’s back to simply causing mischief again.

“You’re thinking again.”

“That’s what intelligent people do,” she tells him, pushing him away this time but he lets her, stepping backwards. “I’m trying to train.”

Loki nods, gazing into her eyes in a way that makes her feel raw. “I’ll watch you.”

Valkyrie laughs, moving to the side of the room to grab her flask and taking a sharp drink. The heat of the alcohol doesn’t burn as much as the heat in her chest from Loki. “Or you could train with me.”

“I could do that too,” he agrees and steps towards her.

#valki #idk what this is #just a word vomit mostly #written in like an hour earlier so meh on characterization and editing lmao #but i liked it on my reread #my fics