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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

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FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.”

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up.

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?”

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.”

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months.

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor.

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself.

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending.

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning.

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times.

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages.

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame.

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice.

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.”

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk.

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor.

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it.

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first.

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything.

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week.

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat.

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew.

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?”

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear.

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely.

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.”

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch.

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed.

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder.

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further.

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone.

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat.

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close.

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now.

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.”

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision.

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back.

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat.

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you.

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest.

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp.

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.”

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure.

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body.

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you.

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further.

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees.

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching.

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle.

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats.

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt.

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold.

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly.

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.”

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face.

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing.

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex.

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt.

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt.

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before.

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!” then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you.

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter.

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack.

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride.

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in.

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further.

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure.

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close.

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch.

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response.

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity.

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors.

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.”

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #batman begins #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut

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tourettesdog · 1 year

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DPxDC Prompt where Jazz has known grief for a while now. The soulmark on her left arm has been faded and blackened for over a year. She’s had time to mourn, but nothing can scrub the reminder from Jazz’s arm or erase the choking memory of air escaping her lungs when it faded.

She never even got to meet them.

When Danny dies in the portal, Jazz thinks she might just be destined to a life of loss. Danny is still here, he’s still alive in some way, but Jazz can’t help but wonder what Danny’s own soulmate has gone through. Her brother’s soulmark is still there too, but it’s sickly green and scarred over by the fern-like patterns of his deathscar. She can only imagine a mark to match her own on his soulmate.

Danny hopes his soulmate will move on. Jazz tries not to think about it and she does her best not to press the issue, letting him grieve in his own way.

Fate is a strange thing, however, and their world is turned on its head when Jazz’s soulmark begins to blaze the same, sickly green as Danny’s.

Jazz becomes obsessed with finding out how, while Danny dares to wonder if he gave up too soon.

Tim hasn’t had a good night’s rest since his soulmark bled green. He’s done research, exhausted every outlet he has, but he can find no history of a mark like his.

He can only assume his soulmate is dead. Survival does not coexist with the excruciating pain he felt coursing through his veins, so much so that he thought he would die alongside them. The mark taunts him more than anything.

Though when Jason Todd resurfaces, clawing his way back into Gotham in the same way he clawed himself from the grave, Tim’s eyes are drawn to the sickly green mark on his forearm.

[I kind of went buckwild with this idea and wrote several different branching ideas attached to it, so they go under the readmore.]

Mental image of Jason just being in one hell of a funk, and Tim awkwardly approaching him like "Look, I know we have our issues but there was a day I felt like my entire body was on fire and being torn to pieces. My mark's been this sickly green since... I'm pretty sure they're gone. Like I don't know how they wouldn't be, even though it's still there-- in a way. So like, I get it."

I imagine something going wrong in Amity-- bad reveal-- and Jazz and Danny have to upend their lives over it. Jazz was trying to find out what her returned soulmark might mean within the ghost zone, following whatever information she could-- but now they have to leave everything behind and it feels like grieving again.

Danny's still trying not to get his hopes up that his partner's mark would have returned just cause Jazz's has. But he's frustrated, and now feels guilty that his slipup led to them having to leave their home.

Jazz keeps telling Danny it's not his fault, that they mightve never found anything out anyway, but it still eats at him.

They move to Gotham cause it's got enough ambient ectoplasm to help Danny.

But then Danny notices something ghostly about Red Hood and starts getting close to him. He doesnt bring up ghost's right away, but tries to slowly broach the topic. Eventually Red Hood shows Danny his odd soulmark and Danny just about passes out from the adrenaline rush of seeing Jazz's mark in that familiar sickly green.

Danny doesn't know how to approach the situation without compromising either of their identities.

He even shows Jason his own mark. Jason can't quite make it out with the deathscar through it. It kinda looks like the crow Tim has, but it could also be any kind of bird and Tim usually hides his. Birds are common-- he should know.

Seeing as Phantom's called himself a ghost, and it might not even be the same mark, Jason doesn't think it's a good idea to tell Tim and give him some false hope. (Though the coincidence of another strange green mark has his mind lingering on it). Phantom's said it himself that he's been dead for awhile and he's sure his soulmate has moved on.

But Danny can't stop looking for a man with Red Hood's build and Jazz's mark.

And the more Jason hangs around Phantom and gets hints that they're very alike (and that Phantom is more alive than he lets on), he starts trying to figure out how he can get another glance at Tim's (usually-covered) soulmark to see if they're as similar as he thinks. (For shenanigans too, maybe Jason doesn't even know that Tim's mark is green now; maybe he's only ever seen a photo of it from before he started covering it).

Bonus points if Jazz somehow becomes friends with Tim Jazz being like "Oh hey my friend Tim invited us over for dinner, wanna come?"

For one hell of a chaotic, maximum fuckery reveal:

Everyone's in long sleeves/jackets for one reason or another (temperature or comfort) at dinner Danny feels Jason's ghostly bullshit right away though and will not stop Staring at him. Jason can't feel it back since his senses aren't as strong and Danny's much more muted while he's human. Danny's trying to subtly spill shit on Jason or in some other way try to see his mark. It backfires on Danny and his mark gets shown instead Cue Tim freaking out and Danny, in his infinite wisdom, blurting out about Jason's mark

Then when they all realize they just accidentally all had their identities outed, AND now have to discuss the reality of two of them being halfdead/having died

- Alternative identity shenanigans:

Tim and Jazz being friends and he sees sees her mark and just gets thrown through the emotional ringer. But he doesn't think he can come out and tell Jazz about Jason because her finding out he died and somehow came back could have some serious ramifications and risk their identities.

But he also thinks Jason deserves some happiness and Jazz is a great person who Jason would get along with easily.

And Tim just can't stop thinking of his own mark now, for the first time in a long time. It just consumes his thoughts, and he eventually decides to introduce Jason to Jazz.

But Danny tags along and he and Jason immediately recognize each other's ghostly bullshit and Tim's plan of slowly introducing the two gets immediately sidelined

Tim shows Jazz his own mark, trying to gauge what her reaction will be if he lets her know they have the same situation going on with their marks-- only for Jazz to just like almost wrench his arm out of his socket to get a better look at it because she'd never forget Danny's mark, nevermind the color.

- Another scenario (cause I wasn't lying when I said I went Buckwild):

Danny tries to lay low in Gotham, but his obsession eventually has him sticking his neck out.

The bats are suspicious of Phantom and want answers. Jason is out of the loop a bit and independently starts befriending Phantom after Danny catches whiff of his ectoplasm

The bats eventually catch Danny with some acquired Fenton tech. The tech is more harmful than the bats expected and in his mad scramble to escape Danny's sleeve gets torn and Tim gets a glimpse of a familiar mark in that mess of green lichtenbergs. It's a sight that haunts him, marred by ectoplasm dripping from Phantom's wide-eyed face and down his shoulder.

Tim keeps trying to find Phantom to talk to him and apologize but he's gone off radar.

Jason's heard about what happened but keeps quiet about what he knows when Phantom still comes to him to talk. He can tell Phantom is more hesitant to be around him, but is glad he's still willing to meet him.

But Jason does want to actually see the soulmark for himself. So he starts talking about his own and they show each other theirs

And while Danny likes being friends with Red Hood, he is aware he has connections to the bats and that getting too close to him could put him in danger. But he sees Jazz's mark on him and feels physically ill because how can he deny telling Jazz about it just because he's afraid?

And Jason could tell Phantom about Tim's mark, but how can he tell him after what happened between the bats and Phantom, and when it would compromise their identities?

Jazz, throughout all of this, has been stressed out worrying about how to keep her little brother safe and make sure the bats never hurt him again, while she keeps unknowingly befriending the bats, starting with her coworker Babs.

Nevermind Tim just thinking his soulmate is a full on ghost in this situation.

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc crossover #dogprompts #soulmates #as always feel free to pick for parts you like and don't like if you use the prompt #especially with the branching options

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petersbaby · 1 year

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I’m kinda fucked up rn, I’m posting this anyways because I know my Gareth girlies are out there and I love you guys

7 minutes to forever - Gareth Emerson x Reader

HE IS AGED UP TO 18

Warnings: Gareth is a virgin, boner talk, male masturbation, smut, first time sex, mutual pining, awkwardness, I don’t like talking about condoms they gross me out but I tried to use one for once

It was a small party of sorts at Steve’s house, and of course Eddie was going to be there because that’s his boyfriend.

Eddie tried to invite all the people from the club, so his friends can meet Steve and Steve’s friends, hoping everyone could kind of merge and coexist but you and Gareth were the only two to show up out of the group.

The rest were just a few of Steve and Eddie’s mutual friends, including Robin. Lately, Eddie’s been on your ass about a certain something and he sees it as some sort of sign that you and Gareth both came.

“It’s been way too long. Just go fucking tell him.” Eddie begs you.

“Tell him fucking what, exactly??”

“That you literally want to fuck him. Have you seen this dude? Zero chance he’ll reject you. He’s such a virgin he’d probably cream his pants just from you speaking to him.”

“Eddie, EW.”

“I’m just saying.”

“That’s just it, I don’t wanna like… fucking corrupt him.”

“He wants you to corrupt him.”

“What??”

“Yep.” He shrugs. “He wants you too, it’s so PAINFULLY obvious to everyone except you guys. We’re all tired of hearing about it.” He gestures to the rest of your shared friends.

“No, I- I don’t believe you. He doesn’t like me, that’s why I haven’t fucking said anything.” You whisper, now.

“Alright.” Eddie announces a little louder than he needs to be, and gets up. He grabs your wrist and starts pulling you.

“No, no, no. Eddie, stop, I’m so serious.”

And now you were standing in front of him.

“Gareth, here. Talk to her.”

You start to try and run the other way, away from this confrontational situation, but Eddie catches you.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like taking care of literal children. If you won’t say it, I will. Y/N, Gareth has a huge crush on you. Gareth, Y/N is practically obsessed with you, won’t shut up about how cute you are.”

You put your head in your hands.

“There, I said it, now be normal human beings.” He says, patting you both on the shoulder and walking away, leaving just the two of you standing near the kitchen while everyone else was in the living room, in another world.

“I’m sorry. About him, uh, yeah. I don’t know why he did that.” You say quietly, looking at the ground.

“Was that true?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a relief. I don’t think either of us were gonna say something.”

“Yeah, probably not.” You laugh.

“Okay, so we’re locked in here.” You sigh.

“Yeah..” he agrees.

Eddie basically shoved you two into a hall closet, yelling about “seven minutes in heaven,” which was a stupid game thing you thought only middle schoolers did. You protested, but he was very insistent, and you gave up. He was just fucking with you two, being extra mischievous tonight for some reason.

“You know you don’t have to listen to him, right? You don’t need to do anything, you know, sexually. It’s perfectly fine to not want to.”

“I- well, I want to.”

“Why don’t you then?”

“Don’t know. Nervous, I guess. Just really nervous.”

“Would it help if I made the first move?”

He nods.

You lean in quickly after that to press your lips against his. Even though he knew it was coming, it still shocked him, enough to jump a little a draw back.

“No? It’s okay.” You try to reassure him despite all the mixed signals you were getting from this boy.

“Yes. Please. I’m sorry about that.”

“You do it then. I know you can.” You smile.

This time he leans in, despite his anxiety screaming in his brain. It’s sweet, so sweet, and his lips are soft and gentle. You reach up to rest your hand on the side of his face, lightly rubbing your thumb against his cheek while you kiss him.

His hands find your waist and rest there while you try to let him lead so you don’t overwhelm him. But soon, he suddenly pushes you against the wall. Not too rough but not as gentle as he had been, but you liked it either way, draping your arms over his shoulders.

This was something you’d always wanted, to kiss him, and you never thought it would happen in a million years. You thought he probably thought of you as just one of the guys, but apparently he didn’t. He adored you, but he’d never say that to you out loud.

You make out with him to the point you almost can’t breathe but couldn’t bare breaking the kiss to get air. You fingers tangled in his soft, curly hair, accidentally pulling it a little forgetting that to some people that just hurts. He didn’t say anything, though, and you just continued running your fingers through his locks at the back of his head.

“Seven minutes are up!!” Eddie calls, walking towards the closet to free you.

“Shit, um..” Gareth looks down, which was a mistake because it made you look down too.

“Oh.”

He got a boner just from kissing you, but now that your time is up, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Sorry.” You whispered.

“It’s not your fault.” He laughed a little.

“So, what’d you two get up to in here?” Eddie asks, after swinging the door open. Gareth moves quickly past him and into the bathroom as swiftly as he can.

“You can’t just put people in closets, Eddie.”

“I did, though, so yeah. I can. Please tell me you at least kissed.”

“That is SO none of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Finally.” He exclaims the last word. You walk back with him to where everyone was gathered in the living room and once you sat down, you started daydreaming about what Gareth’s doing in there. You know what he’s doing, realistically, but you couldn’t stop imagining it.

In the bathroom, he stands in front of the sink with his dick in his hand, desperately fucking his fist just needing to get this out of his system. Instead of having to see his reflection in the mirror in front of him, he shut his eyes and thought of you.

God, all the things he wanted to do with you, to do to you. But just then, the way you kissed him deep, the way your fingers tangled in and pulled on his hair, the way he had you up against the wall. He finishes quickly thanks to these thoughts and mental images, release spurting out into the sink and the last bit of it dripping onto his hand.

He tries to catch his breath, washing his hands and cleaning up his mess, then looked at himself. He fixed his hair to look as normal as possible, cooled off, and went back to join everyone.

“Where the hell have you been?” Steve asks, only just noticing the boy’s absence.

“I had to use the bathroom, okay?” He answers defensively.

“Okay, jeez.” Steve said, raising his hands.

Gareth finds that his previous seat had been taken, and looks around nervously. You lock eyes with him and pat the place beside you on the couch. He smiles shyly and comes to sit.

As you all watched the movie, and no one was paying attention, you grabbed his hand and held it in yours, scooting closer. You leaned your head to rest on his shoulder, and he smiled secretly.

He made you feel all warm and happy on the inside, just like the perfect boy. That night really solidified your feelings for him, and you hope it did to him too. You thought about him a lot. Were you on his mind too?

Well, maybe tonight you could find out. DND was done and a couple of people were going back to Eddie’s for some beers or whatever alcohol his uncle had around. It was a Friday, after all.

When you got dropped off, it looked like everyone was already there. That meant he was too. He didn’t have a car, so he had to have ridden with somebody. Why did you have butterflies in your stomach at the thought of going into Eddie’s trailer? Since when is that a big deal?

You pushed it aside, the nervousness, and stepped in anyway.

“HEY, look who’s here. Thought you weren’t coming for a while there.” Eddie says.

“Sorry, I had to go home and change and everything, you know..”

“Alright, so… drinks. We’ve got two options. You ready?”

“So excited.” You say sarcastically.

“Beer or vodka.”

“Oh, god. Terrible. They’re both terrible. A beer, I guess.”

He laughs and gets you one. You head into the living room again where everyone is, taking a sip of the shitty and not very cold beer.

The couch is full so you take a seat on the floor, it looked like they were all passing a joint around. When it comes to you, you decline, giving it to the next person. The next person was Gareth, who also declined.

“You guys are total losers.” Eddie said, calling you out for not participating.

“I’m not a loser, I just don’t wanna be high.” Gareth says defensively.

“Yeah, me neither. Realistically, I don’t even want this beer. It’s gross, Eddie.”

“Well when none of us are 21 yet, you take what you can get.”

“I’m tired of sitting on the floor. Can me and Gare go hang out in your room?”

“Go have fun, you crazy kids. We’ll be in here, watching TV and talking VERY loudly.” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes, walking back to Eddie’s bedroom while Gareth follows and shuts the door behind him.

“Listen, I’m not trying to push anything on you. I didn’t want time alone to do that stuff, I just wanted to spend time with you.” You say, sitting down on the bed.

“Yeah, okay. I wanna spend time with you too.” He laughs. So cute.

“Cuddle?”

He laughs, blushing a little. “Sure.”

You lay down together, becoming intertwined, resting your head on his chest. You stay that way for a while, you could’ve stayed that way forever.

“Hey,” he says after about 15 minutes, and you lift up, resting on your elbow.

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Of course.”

His lips come to meet yours and they melt together, and suddenly so do your bodies. They press against each other, radiating heat and warmth. He wants more, he wants more so bad, but he doesn’t want to push it and he also just doesn’t know how to ask. His hand is on your waist again, hovering slightly.

“Could I- would it be okay if-“ he starts.

“Gareth?”

“Yeah?” He asks anxiously.

“You can do literally whatever you want to me.” You assure him.

“Jesus Christ.”

Immediately hard as a rock, immediately entranced. It was true, in your defense, you liked him *so* much,

“I mean it.” You whisper.

His hand starts to move, ending up on your ass, squeezing tightly. It also pulled you impossibly closer to him, bodies pressed together. You put your hand on his face again, holding it sweetly but firmly while you kiss.

Your tongues explored each other’s mouths again, more familiar this time, and his hand moves up to squeeze one of your tits while the other arm props him up on his side. He needed more than this, he needed to feel your skin.

He slipped his hand into your sweater from the bottom, moving up until he felt your bare breast which he wasn’t fully expecting. He thought you were wearing something, anything underneath but you weren’t.

His cool fingers run over your hard nipples, making you gasp a bit, and so he goes farther and pinches one of them which makes you squeak in surprise. He just continued to feel your torso, hands running all over your stomach and chest and hips and tits.

You reached for the bottom hem of the sweater and pulled it off over your head, letting him be able to see what he’s doing, and his eyes grew wide as saucers. His eyes wandered shamelessly, curiously, all over, nearly burning a hole in you.

“You… you like them?” You ask, giggling a little bit. He was so beyond fascinated and you could see that.

“Yes, holy shit, yes.” He responds almost under his breath.

“Gare?”

“Hm?”

You take some of his soft locks in your hand and guide him down, wanting him to try sucking on or licking your nipples. He does, latching on quickly, expertly.

You start to melt now, holding onto his hair while you moan quietly. He climbs on top of you and brings his mouth to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. He gets the idea to move up to your neck, and starts kissing there.

This is where you totally fall apart, your weakness. Your noises encourage him to kiss your neck with more passion and fervor and you can feel his erection pressed against your thigh.

You reach down to grab onto it, palm it, and he sucks a particularly harsh mark onto your neck in the sweet spot when you do. You’ll definitely have a bruise, but you don’t mind at all.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your shoulder, stopped for a moment.

“You okay?” You check in, pushing him up so you can look him in the eyes.

“Think I’m just… god, I’m nervous. That’s so embarrassing.”

“No, that’s okay.” You reassure. “What do you want?”

He burns red. He’s not gonna be able to say it out loud himself.

“Do you want to have sex? Be honest.”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I do too. But Gare, we can stop at any moment. Just tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” He breathes.

You reach down to untie the strings on the waistband of your sweatpants and pull them off your body, leaving you in pink panties in front of him.

You feel him staring again, at the sight of you anxiously squeezing your legs together and waiting for him to make the next move.

You were so turned on it was unbelievable, with him have not even touched you there yet. You were sure you were soaking. He fumbles with his button and zipper, looking behind him.

“Yes, the door’s locked.”

“Oh. Good.” He half-laughed, because that is indeed what he was checking for. He takes his pants off and climbs back on top of you, only in his t shirt and boxers now.

He slots himself between your legs after you happily spread them for him. You could feel his cock so much better now, rock solid and a really nice size. He ruts his hips up against you, only the barriers of your respective underwear blocking the way.

He buries his face between your shoulder and neck, kissing on it again, and his hard cock continually presses against your cunt. You accidentally moan, a moan too loud for the situation, but you just have to hope no one heard it because you couldn’t help it.

“Shh,” he soothes, covering your mouth with his.

“Sorry,” you whisper, into the kiss, smiling. You can feel him smiling too.

“Should- can- what should we…”

“It’s up to you, remember? Whatever you want, however you wanna do it.” You remind him, trying to give him some confidence.

“Right. Can I take these off, then?” He asks, slipping his finger into the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, please do.”

You didn’t want to come off as desperate and impatient, but you were growing to be. It wasn’t his fault, though, you had to remind yourself he’s never done this before. He does, pulling the fabric down your legs and leaving you bare. Quickly after that, he pulls his own underwear off.

“I’m really wet, so whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“Oh, shit, okay. Wait, don’t we need a condom?”

“Eddie should have some, if you want.”

You didn’t need one, being on birth control, but you wanted to do whatever made him more comfortable. He digs around in the nightstand and quickly finds some, taking one and putting it on.

“Okay.” He repeats, finally ready. You smile as if to tell him ‘go ahead’. You immediately learn that he isn’t familiar with easing into it, as he fills you up completely right away. This made you gasp, but luckily not too loud.

“Ohh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groans.

“So good, you feel so good. Start moving, baby boy.”

That slipped out. That did slip out but he did not seem to mind the pet name at all, only listening to what you said and starting to thrust in and out.

You bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet, only letting whimpers and soft moans out every now and then. You looked him in the eyes longingly, even though he was right there, and you felt yourself starting to love him in that moment.

He lets his dominant hand roam up to your throat, only to rest there. Thinking. You nod, reading his mind, answering his silent question and he squeezes gently. Soft but intoxicating. He continues to choke you with his big hand wrapped around your neck and leans down to kiss you again.

He finds a rhythm he likes, and starts to fuck you with more confidence. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he still stretched you out and reached pretty deep inside.

Amazingly full of him, you still keep your noises quiet as much as you can. You couldn’t believe it, Gareth, you and Gareth were having sex. If the you from a month ago heard that, she would say “no fucking way.” But here you were. He wasn’t being super vocal, so you only hoped he felt good too. Damn, it would be nice to hear him though.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“The best.” He replies, and you smile.

He moves his hand from your throat back to fondling your breast, other one holding up his body weight over you.

He ends up getting quite aggressive while chasing his high, slamming into you quickly and filling the room with the sounds of sex. You think back to what Eddie said about watching TV and talking loudly and you stop worrying about that.

You were close, walls fluttering around him, but you knew you most likely wouldn’t get to finish. You’d just do it yourself later when you got home. The memory of this will be more than enough to masturbate to for a really long time, you think.

Coincidentally, he starts getting sloppy, thrusting haphazardly and clearly searching for something. Determined, he soon found it, cock twitching inside of you as he filled the condom and let out a long string of curse words and groans when he came.

He once again leant forward, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment. Neither of you wanted to move, and the pressure of him on top of you was so comforting, but eventually he had to.

Once all was done, you lay together, just as you had started out.

“Do you… like, actually like me?” He asks, head turning to you.

“No shit, Gareth. Yes, I like you.” You say sarcastically. You hope it didn’t come out mean. Thankfully it didn’t, because he laughed.

“So, you can totally tell me to fuck off if this is stupid, but… do you want to be together? You and me? Or is that stupid-“

You shut him up with a kiss, because he would’ve rambled on forever and you already had the answer.

“Yes. I’d like that.” You smile.

“Oh, okay. Cool, cool.” He laughs, feeling a huge weight off his shoulders. You melt into his arms, but you get interrupted when he suddenly realizes something.

“Oh, shit. I’m terrible.” He says, out of nowhere.

“You are not. Why?”

“You were supposed to… finish….too. You didn’t- I did something wrong.” He says, covering his face with his hands.

“I don’t care about that. It’s okay, I promise. If it bothers you that much, you can next time. I’ll help you.”

“Next time…” he repeats idly.

“Yeah? I just kinda assumed there’d be a next time..”

“Yes. No, you’re right, there will be. I just liked the sound of that.”

#gareth emerson x reader #gareth x reader #gareth smut #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson smut #gareth the great #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth emerson fanfic #stranger things smut

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markantonys · 8 months

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episode 5 thoughts!

heartbroken by no mat, but i was expecting it since min wasn't credited for this episode on imdb, and there was so much other amazing stuff going on, so i can cope. i do think they must be gearing up for a mat-heavy episode soon because his content has been so sparse thus far! we also didn't have lan this episode, which i'm good with since he got so much last week.

(minor imdb casting spoiler: ayoola isn't listed for ep6, so i'm guessing we may have no perrin next week. they definitely do have a lot of different groups to juggle! but IF mat & lan soon join the cairhien crew, we could condense things)

also sad at not much elayne, but again, the remaining episodes will probably be pretty big for her! same with egwene, that storyline didn't progress as fast as i'd thought it would in this episode, but OOF the preview for next week looks like A Lot!!

back to the beginning! falme looks SO COOL!!! and the opening scene with the seanchan was fantastic, it showed off so many different aspects of their culture in just a few minutes (namely their various Ceremonial Things and ideas of who's allowed to speak to whom)

lanfear just whispering "bitch" the second she revives killed me djkfjg what an icon. and we get confirmation that it is indeed the True Power that she used to revive herself.

Lanfear Unleashed is SO much fun oh my god, i love seeing her in full forsaken mode

moiraine telling rand that he can't sleep because lanfear will get him, girl don't tell him that he's going to internalize it and not sleep for the next 6 seasons. this season is really Wheel Of Time Origins: Rand's Various Emotional, Mental, and Physical Health Problems

elyas saying the ef5 aren't perrin's pack HOW DARE!!! i feel like they're making elyas even more standoffish/human-averse than he was in the books, which makes for an interesting dynamic and contributes to perrin's sense that his human & wolf sides can't coexist.

but hopper follows perrin!!!! the goodest boy!!!!!

AVIENDHA IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE'S EVERYTHING!!!!! although ngl her fake accent does sound a bit Fake to me lmao but i'm sure i'll get used to it after a few more scenes

hot dain bornhald is also here! he kinda compels me and i'm furious about it. if whitecloak why hot? in all seriousness, i can see already from his intro episode + the basics of his book story that he has the potential to be quite an interesting character if fleshed out more and given more screentime compared to what he had in the books, sort of a liandrin-and-alanna-like Main Secondary Whitecloak for us to follow

also he totally wants to fuck perrin you can't change my mind. buying him drinks and giving him a Cute Nickname, boy you ain't subtle! and then aviendha briefly hits on perrin later and also perrin stops her from killing dain. wake up babe, insane new WOT polycule just dropped djkfjfg

OB!!!! FREAKING!!!! SESSED!!!!!!!! with verin's detective subplot!!!! it is SO much fun, it delivers a ton of great exposition (namely about the black ajah), and it gives us a bigger peek into the brown ajah than the books ever did. i love this squad!! also katie leung was probably my first Girl Crush (not that i was aware of it) when i was like 8 so i was thrilled to see her show up here, god bless

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, IT GAVE US CONFIRMATION THAT GAWYN EXISTS IN SHOWVERSE!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH when i tell you i came extremely close both to screaming and to falling off my bed!!!! i'd been hoping for a gawyn namedrop all season but having it here was SO unexpected! my current theory is that he'll be introduced in caemlyn next season along with elaida and galad, and all 3 of them will head to tar valon to look for elayne because they're worried after not hearing from her for a long time.

also now i want a fic where the wondergirls actually do get special permission from mommy morgase to leave the tower just so that they can attend gawyn's birthday party

anyway, someday gawyn and egwene are going to kiss with tongue onscreen and haters can die mad about it <3 oooh now i have a brand-new meetcute for them to look forward to since they didn't meet at the tower!

liandrin & nynaeve's convo in the ways was so good! they continue to do amazing work with that relationship and liandrin's character. AND WHEN SHE SUBTLY FREED THE GIRLS RIGHT BEFORE LEAVING HOLY SHIT i gasped!!!!! the LAYERS they have given this character!!! because yes she serves the dark BUT she still feels loyalty to her sisters (as seen in s1 too when she appeared genuinely upset over kerene's death) and can't stomach the thought of any of them, even the light-serving ones, being collared!

suroth saying with her whole chest "oh sure you're a forsaken but you're not even of the blood soooooo" god grant me her confidence. also another great illustration of the insane heights to which seanchan high blood take their superiority complexes. good god, what's tuon gonna be like?!

avi's fight scene was just as amazing as i'd been hoping and expecting!! 10/10 no notes. can't wait to see what she can do when she has weapons at her disposal!

and later avi tells us that she is out in the wetlands Looking For Her Man (that she doesn't yet know is Her Man) <33

moiraine saying "get rand some nice new clothes" and barthanes immediately offering to dress him, Sugar Baby Rand lives on! also, anvaere and barthanes definitely thought rand was moiraine's sugar baby after they cleared the warder possibility, you can't change my mind

also also, barthanes is so surprisingly sweet! i wonder if he'll still be a darkfriend, or if anvaere will be instead

lanfear making ishy dream about caressing rand's face in bed is something i will go insane thinking about every day until i die. like oh my god i don't even know where to START with unpacking that, so i won't even try djfkjg

like for real, they ALL BUT made it explicitly canon that ishy had/has a crush on LTT/rand LMAO it's what we deserve

and we get forsaken namedrops! moghedien, graendal, and "the boys." it could be that semirhage did still make it and lanfear just chose not to go on and on listing every single one (slash the writers wanted to give themselves some leeway in specifically naming forsaken in case they don't get enough seasons to deal with all of them), or it could be that one of the statues from last season was actually a man and/or stepin's statues aren't accurate, and we've got 5 men instead of 4 (in which case i'd imagine ishy, asmodean, sammael, demandred, and rahvin)

i'm gonna have to watch this ishy & lanfear scene again to pick up more because i was FAR too distracted by the initial homoeroticism to keep focusing lmao

aww i'm kinda sad not to get elayne & nynaeve hiding out in falme completely on their own, but for their sakes it's nice they've found (been found by) some Real Adults to help!

LANFEAR'S OUTFIT IN THE END SCENE LMAO this season really just went off the WALLS with horniness and kinkiness, and i am here for it. it's what rj would've wanted

now that moiraine and rand are indeed staying in cairhien after all, i really think we might get a cauthor reunion next episode!!!! fingers crossed!!!!

#wot #wot on prime #wot show spoilers #wot book spoilers #the wheel of time

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peachkkuma · 1 month

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📓. DIARY ENTRY 01 ︴MARCH 27, 2024

dear loass diary…

I think one of my biggest problems when it comes to manifesting is that I think it’s all above me. I’ve been in this community for so long— despite manifestation actually clicking for me 8 months ago —and so I’ve put it all on a pedestal. now it just seems like I’ll never be able to even feel like I’ll have my desires, let alone have them. I see people talking about how they feel satisfied imagining or how they get into the sowf and I just have never been able to do that. But at the same time, I’ve never actually stuck around long enough, never persisted for long enough, to actually feel good when manifesting. It’s like I use manifesting as instant gratification. I’ll satisfy myself for a while and then go back to my unwanted state. the worst part is, I see the sowf as something temporary. It’s almost like I subconsciously intend on not staying persistent in my desired state.

to switch gears for a second, there’s something else on my mind. I wonder why I feel like I haven’t manifested. Like I haven’t made any progress. I know, really know, that the 3D isn’t confirmation. So why am I treating it like it is? is it out of habit? I feel like I’ve over consumed so much loa content that I don’t even know anything anymore. everytime something makes sense my brain goes “well that loablogger actually said so and so about that☝️🤓” anyways back to my main point, who said I didn’t have what I wanted? that I wasn’t in the end? That the manifestation isn’t complete? no one, so why is every thought in my head “I haven’t manifested yet” “I’ve been slacking with manifestation”. and don’t even get me started on how I treat manifestation like it’s a verb, like it’s simply just conscious repetition.

creation is finished point blank period. as soon as I desired my desire way back when, it was already made. the state where I live everyday like I want to already exists. There’s nothing I have to create. The state where every little desire I have coexists with each other and is in my posession already exists!!! all I have to do is be conscious of it! embody it! so why is that so hard? Me not having my desire is also a state, I’m not even experience the 3D I’m just experiencing my state. and that state, my current one, the one where I don’t have what I want, the one I identify with— is just a state. And I feel that to be real, despite it being unfavorable I unintentionally fulfilled it. This is what I am conscious of and is what I am assuming, that’s all. It’s just a state. Favorable states are no different.

feels like I kinda had a full circle moment here 😭😭

kisses, peachkkuma

#loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loassblog #loa diary #manifesting #manifestation #manifestation diary #shiftinconsciousness #pure consciousness #peachkkumas diary

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akiras-wolf · 7 months

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CHAPTER 236, Y/N GOJO.

SYNOPSIS: you’re Y/N Gojo, the second heir to the six eyes. Satoru is your older brother. You look just like him. (kinda bad synopsis but give it a chance)

WARNINGS: manga chapter 236 SPOILERS, mentions of the after life, sucky writing?, gege’s bad decisions, female pronouns

A/N: wrote this in class because i literally cannot get chapter 236 out of my head. do NOT read if you haven’t/don’t want to see the manga leaks because this takes place in that chapter.

I also kind of wanna write a fic where reader is a gojo who impossibly has the six eyes among her brother, bc it’s something i’ve been daydreaming of FOREVER. if i do write that, it’ll probably have better writing than this lollll. anyways, spoilers below :)

“I will win.”

He didn’t win.

Gojo Satoru had sought out to fight Ryomen Sukuna knowing he wouldn’t win. Knowing he wasn’t truly the strongest. He thought Sukuna shared the same loneliness as him; that of a person who has transcended their own mortality, but Satoru was wrong. He was so wrong.

Ryomen Sukuna, the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer; victor of the battle.

Y/N stood there.

Her brother was in two halves, a smile resting on his cold, deceased body.

She stood there.

Her eyes were dazed. Was this her awakening?

She almost didn’t hear it at first, but there was Sukuna’s voice.

“I will never forget Satoru Gojo.”

Her head turned. He spoke. He spoke. He spoke.

Awakening was supposed to feel calm; but calmness was the last thing she could possibly feel. Akira was filled with rage. It was evident in her face. In the way the crook where the eyebrows met the nose crinkled. In the way her pupils were constricted, showing the six eyes that once resembled her brothers. In the way she had to physically stop her body from shaking.

Y/N’s eyes burned into Megumi, but she didn’t see Megumi. She saw Sukuna. And unlike her brother, Megumi’s body was none of her concern.

It took less than a second for her to be gone from her original position. It took less than a second for her to appear behind Sukuna, her eyes feral. It took a second for Sukuna to slash her down the way he had her brother.

She saw a bright flash of white, forcing her to close her eyes. When they reopened she saw Satoru. And Geto. And Nanamin. And Haibara. They were all dead.

They were all dead, yet here they were, standing in front of her, in a cafe of sorts. It was a peaceful atmosphere. Quiet. Completely contradictory to the chaos and destruction in the living world.

Her eyes darted between the group. They were all younger versions of themselves. Satoru was the first to speak.

“Y/N? Was it Sukuna?”

Y/N nodded. Was she dead. Did she fall the same way her brother did?

“Did you give it your all?”

No. She didn’t give it her all. The fight had just started and she was already dead?

“I shouldn’t be here. I-” Y/N struggled to take this all in.

She couldn’t have died. She couldn’t have let Sukuna win.

“Satoru, I need to go.” Y/N still had her cursed technique reversal.

Unlike her brother, she had spent more time focusing on honing that. One day she’d be the sole wielder of the six eyes and limitless. That day had painstakingly come.

The last thing Akira had seen before returning to her body was Satoru smiling at her. The same way he had smiled in his death.

She was back in her body, in the same position before she had “died.”

The look on Sukuna’s face would’ve made a great picture to hang on a wall. To look at it when you’re feeling down, and to remember how Ryomen Sukuna had been shocked for once in his life.

Satoru Gojo was not the only enigma of the cursed world. Y/N was a curse herself, as two six eyes cannot coexist.

“Domain expansion.”

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kcdodger · 1 year

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Ásatrú, Gender, Polyamory, and more.

A friend in Port Callahan asked about these things, prompted by the following image, and well. I suppose I can catalogue my journey with heathenry up to this point here, you know?

So, as you probably know, I am a practicing - and learning - Ásatraur. What is an Ásatraur, though? Well, colloquially we're known as Norse Pagans. We worship the Gods known as Odin, Thor, Tyr, Freyja, lots of Gods. Like there are a lot. Also, Loki! Loki gets a bad rep, but he's... Kinda' just a force of change? Like you can't really say "Odin bad Loki good" it does not work that way, that's a Christian-influence simplification. Loki does make for a great antagonist in narratives based on the Eddas though, haha. Anyway, let's get back to it. We mostly just vibe! We don't really actively recruit, we just let people pick up the phone, so to speak. That's what I did. I felt a pull to the Norse Gods as early as 11 years old. That was a... Jam packed time in my life, let me tell you. The first real piece of it was this funny little emblem from Halo 2.

"Valkyrie" This has been my go-to emblem for a looooong long time. The emblem isn't significant in its own way to my religion I don't think, but it stuck with me. What was another piece? Well, any number of things - growing up a curious young boy, curious about the world. The idea of pagans was interesting - and even as a young non-denominational christian, I didn't want to discount folks' religions. I didn't see any reason they couldn't coexist. My dad called me a Pagan for believing that, but, well he would be right eventually.

This is Van. Vanessa Thrace. She was my first attempt at a Truesona, back when I was dating a friend - wanted someone that was closer to me. Both of those things changed at some point, but keyword - changed! They didn't end! Because when I moved here to my dear wife @opashoo, I suddenly was in a Filipino household - a proudly Filipino household. These were second generation immigrants born here from a first generation immigrant. They'd brought back quite a bit from the homeland, culturally. The kids were raised American but the mother is anything but. And I... sort of felt out of place. Over the last few years I'd become immensely disenfranchised with how I was raised - simply American. No heritage. No traditions. Just American. What was my heritage? War, apartheid, glorification of war, consumerism, food, whiteness and an overbearing reliance on Christianity. Fuck that. Fuck all of that dude.

So I asked myself, what do I have? Can't just take any old culture, that's appropriation. But, then I remembered... "Hey, wait. My dad did a genealogy test. He came up mostly Scandinavian. We already knew this but we thought it was scottish ancestry - no, turns out it was Vikings. Huh."

And theeen a loooot of things clicked.

Now in this moment I need to detail something I skipped over.

Oh Kara Thrace, you crazy cunt. You crazy crazy bitch. Definitely one of my biggest fictional crushes ever - Kara Thrace was the baddest bitch on TV when I was a young boy. I'd had a handful of pilot idols, sometimes they were women and all that mattered to me was, "Were they good pilots?" - and Hel the fuck yeah they were. Especially her. Kara's the best pilot. The best fucking pilot ever. Luke Skywalker? Please. Wedge Antilles? As if. Darth Vader? IDK they're pretty supernaturally gifted both of them. Fox McCloud, Han Solo, Spike Spiegel, Hoban Washburn?

All great, but none of 'em are Kara Frakking "Starbuck" Thrace. After all, who could be? Well, that was a worthwhile question to answer. So... I took the name, Kara. I decided it would be my promise to myself. "Live up to the name. Be the best pilot you can be." Even if my Deuteranopia had other plans. For a little while there I was, actually, extremely good and known to be, extremely fucking good.

Oh boy was I ever. Firaxa-1 "Dodger". A name that's gonna' live in a lot of heads for a loooooooong time to come. But that's a story for another day. Well you see, choosing Kara was accidentally... prescient. You see, Kara, really Kára, is a name of Scandinavian origin. It is the name of one of the Valkyries - a particularly tempestuous one. I can relate. They say that it's Italian but... Nah, it's not solely Italian. Well, this was the name I picked. It pretty accidentally lined up with my faith-to-be, so that was really fucking cool. I think I sort of knew though, having played God of War 4 recently and beating every Valkyrie that wasn't named Sigrun. Anyway. With my love's permission - because... Well, we have a lot of loud racists in the Asatru community - I had to make sure sure trusted her new girlfriend with this exploration, and not to get weird and crazy with it. And she did - I got her permission and abandoned Christianity after many years of disillusionment, feeling unwelcome, unwanted, and uncared for by the faith. There's still so much I'm learning. I still haven't read the Eddas. I REALLY need to. But I've celebrated Midsommar, Yule, a couple of times, a couple of Blots, and I personally got my mother in law into Mead - she LOVES the stuff and she doesn't even drink. Anyway. That's how I ended up an outspoken queer heathen. So... What about the subject? Well, here's where Van comes back in.

Van was the one I targeted for heathening up - as, at the time, Sal was in a different kind of slot. So I used Van - who had been a somewhat cynical truesona (Unemployed, played gigs at bars, lived out of a Van, etc.), into something a lot more aspirational. Van stopped being just a Shark, and ended up a Ru, which are the shark folk of my own setting, Beacon.

It was certainly a choice to prominently feature Heathen imagery in Beacon as I continued to develop it, but it was, I think, the right choice. Through Van I explored Ru identity - and now they're Shark Orc Vikings who are kinda' fuzzy, in space. They're also huge. Like, 7 feet tall. (Hilariously, not huge by furry shark standards, but I'm not talking about my gripes with Furry Shark Twitter HERE... Not yet... Not today!) And out comes the chief representative of the people to the audience thus far, as a character. Van had become something more solid in my setting and was a... "Fully realized" me. She's loud, she's boisterous, she's hot as fuck, she's heavy but tough, she's a badass and she's a Valkyrie! She's just cool. And yeah, that's Van. But my relationship to heathenry does not stop there. Because, for you see, I am transgender. I am very very transgender.

And I make no effort to hide that I am a Heathen. I tell people, when relevant, that I'm transgender. At least when it feels safe to. I do not hide that I am MADLY in love with my beautiful wife who is very much not white. I do all these things in opposition to the bastards who try to steal my ancestors' symbols and use them for eugenics, bigotry, hatred, segregation - evil shit. Evil shit that they should NOT be safe for advocating.

There will come a day where someone gets the wrong idea. Maybe they'll think I'm a horrid bigot for wearing these symbols - I wouldn't blame them. I'm over six feet tall, pale as shit, blonde and blue eyed- I'm like, the PICTURE of what weirdos think Viking women should be. lol, too bad for those types, I'm transgender. But, also, like... There'll come a day where some other heathen who wants to stir shit up will figure out I'm not like them, and want to get into a scuffle. I'm ready for both of those things. One can be handled by talking, the other needs some fists. But, yeah. It's part of why I'm so outwardly, loudly, a heathen. Why I wear every single thing proudly. Because if I don't all we collectively are gonna' be known for is hate. We can't have that. Not when we're gaining more members every day, not when we can set good examples, not when we can CHOOSE to oust fascists, bigots, and other bad faith actors. We have to. We cannot let them own what is ours and use it for hate, when our own ancestors didn't give a single shit about genes, about where you were from, what you did - just who you were. And - when I say ancestors, I don't mean blood, I do mean ideological ancestors. I may have blood roots but Ásatrú is for all races, sexuality, genders. But not all politics or beliefs. No sir. Be whatever gender you want, date whoever you want, have as many partners as you want and it's completely fine for beating the shit out of someone who calls you a slur. That's what I, what we, believe in. The original post refers to Ergi, by the way - and it is not a term used lightly. It was a pretty grave insult and saying it made you fair game for getting an axe to the face, so if you did you... pretty much had to be ready to bite the dust. Dunno' about the polyamory, but I'm pretty sure our Gods aren't pearl clutchy about several partners. The Aesir and Vanir got busy wildly in the Eddas. Anyway, hope this is clarity enough. Glory to the Allfather - and that's ALL father, not SOME father.

#Ásatrú #KCDodger #Heathenry #Transgender #Queer #Lesbian #Polyamory #Political #No Frith With Fascists.

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forestshadow-wolf · 1 year

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I.S.B.T.P.K.F.T.S moments (chapter 3)

fic link written by @tavtarnish. this is gonna be a long one so buckle up beeches (affectionately) or don't, I can't tell you what to do.

Ok I missed one (1) very important thing from last chapter. Ghost touching him/his hair

~ like COME ON, soap, my boy, suds, shampoo... you are so oblivious to ghost's pining. WHO else does that man touch?! Hmm? I'll wait... no I won't, because it's NOBODY! And here he is with his grubby (affectionate) little fingers in YOUR hair. And you're so BLIND to it. Like !!!!! Please !!!!

Anyway thank you for coming to my tedtalk. I'm so normal about them as you can see.. no I'm not. I'm so down bad for them being down bad for eachother. It's not even funny

chapter 2 chapter 3

"Soap never claimed he was a saint"

~ there's so much in the first paragraph but this stood out way too much for me to not mention it first. like of course he isn't a saint, nobody is... but the way it's said. it's a completely factual statement, nothing emotional about it. it's then followed by "nor did he pretend to be one." which is simply another factual statement. just words, but then again it's not exactly rare that facts can hurt more than some lies. /but/ on the flip side if you took those words and gave them to someone, "soap, you were never a saint." well those words are emotional. they're meant to hurt, meant to strike a nerve. and then you take that second half and make it a response, "and I never claimed to be one." then that turns into a deflection. like jerking your arm when you hit your funny-bone. a sort of desperate attempt to fix...something. maybe that's why it stands out to me. because it hurts but... i don't think he meant for it to hurt him. maybe it was just a fact but then the hurt kinda came as an afterthought like, 'oh that made me feel kind of not good slightly and idk why'

~ yes I'm giving this point two parts. because i have two thoughts on it that kind of connect but only vaugely. this is also the RSD, and again logically of course he isn't. I think it also does or could lead in 2 different directions. 1) of course he isn't, so why even try to be. right? or 2) well yeah maybe he isn't, but maybe he could have tried harder to be like one or a little less unsaintly. i need to emphasize that these two points can coexist at the same time (tbh im like 70% sure this would be a form of executive dysfunction. where you know that you can/should do something, but you can't make yourself) im also swinging back to those self-esteem issues, because those go hand in hand. like even just the comparison in it of itself. a saint, a holy figure, compared to a 'selfish' military man. there is no comparison if you are weighing guilt. it's a stone vs a feather, the feather is by nature lighter than the stone. and it'd take a lot more feathers to make one kg (I kinda wish america would just switch to metric) than it would stones. anyway im 100% sure I read too far into this

Soaps want (need) to be near ghost almost constantly

~ i honestly don't know why this happens but anytime I become really attached to someone I just want to touch them. not in a weird way, just gotta make that clear. but more like slinging an arm across their shoulders, or using them as a foot/head rest, or playing footsies. im very aware that this often can read as flirtations but thoes really aren't my intentions. I feel like this is the same way for soap. I know that their relationship is romantic but I feel like this definitely is not soap flirting or anthing like that. I think this is just soaps brain being like 'yes this is a good person, must touch, be close'.

soap's subsequent need to be far away from ghost right now

~ it's so damaging to himself that it reached through he screen and punched me in the face. placing price and/or gaz between him and ghost? ugh that hurts. and then on top of that he feels like it's selfish? like baby no. please be nice to yourself, ghost cares about you. he cares about /you/ not Sergent Mactavish.

him just wanting that feeling to stop

~ that tightness in his chest that he feels, almost like shame or disgust at himself. the way that it squeezes tighter whenever he sees ghost. and the way that he gaslights himself into thinking that pulling away will make that feeling go away, even tho he knows it won't.

~ adding this as a separate thing under the same point bc idk how to label it. metaphors and emotions don't mix with logic and physics. because they're not tangable. they're harder to grasp, harder to understand. they're slippery, and hard to explain. and somehow you just know that you can't fix them the same way you fix a broken vase. how usually the most logical way to fix and heal them is not glue, or gold, or tape, or anything else like that. you can't just stick them together and hope that it fixes itself. you can't even simply scrap them and get another. sometimes the best way to fix them is to not do anything at all. and sometimes it's to run away. and sometimes you can't fix them. and maybe this was poorly explained but the point is: logic and emotions are opposites, you cannot fix one the same way you do another. maybe that's why Soap is running away 'pulling the knot tighter' hoping that it'll unravel itself.

HE SAID IT!!!!! HE SAID THE THING!! HFJDHFJDKSJ

~ "god forbid he disappointed his superior" he said thought that. he's acknowledging the RSD without even realizing it. and he doen't even knwo why. he wonders what changed, where his opposition for authority went. where that idgaf attitude went. it didn't go anywhere. it's that this time it's Ghost. not any other lieutenant, it's /GHOST/. and it matters because ghost is important. ghost matters to him. he cares about ghost. about what ghost thinks.

can we just talk about this man punching an MP officer for a second?

~ like the SoapGhost shipper in me wants to think that it was because the officer was talking smack about Ghost (logically that I know that it isn't true in canon or this fic, but still, I can dream right?). a part of me thinks it'd be funny if the officer was insulting his (fabulous) hair, even though I don't really think it fits his character. a very hopeful part of my brain says he did it because the officer was saying something sexist or racist or homophobic or something of that nature. because I fully believe that he would have a reaction like that to that kind of situation.

~ also just casually locking said MP officer in his own car?? first of all, I guess what else would you do in that situation. second of all, i just know he had such an adrenaline rush from that, i'd pay to see a video of that. him maybe with a bunch of buddies, all running from the scene of the crime, the camera angle is shaky and bouncing up and down cus the camera-man/woman/person is running away too.

the way he's acutely aware of the fact that he's treating Ghost differently

~ back to the sads now. his relationship with ghost is unique to anything else he has with anyone else. he's so finely attuned to ghost himself, it's crazy, INSANE even. I just know that he /loves/ his dynamic with the man. and yet it makes it /that/ much harder for him to act 'normal' around him.

~ also the way he is vehemently denying his feelings for Ghost. and when i say denying I don't mean the kinda "no I'm not interested in my superior, bla bla bla". I mean the kind where he knows and accepts his feelings, but at the same time won't allow himself to feel those feelings.

soap doing the bare minimum of not overworking himself, and ghost watching him

~ that burning urge need to do something, anything that keeps his mind occupied. the way he has to find a proper balance between pushing himself, and not getting sat on his ass in medical. i can feel in my bones that he feels like what he is allowed to is not enough, that's why he goes back to that nervous tic of scratching at his fingers. you could argue he could do something like paperwork or whatever (what do military people do? idk) but it's just... different. it /has/ to be physical work.

~ the way ghost is so worried about him, is watching him. but the way it feels like he's being scrutinized. like he thinks ghost thinks he's incapable of his job. the way he just wants ghost to stop looking at him. the way it sparks an irrational rage in soap, even though he know he shouldn't have any reason for the irritation. (hint hint im like 99.9% sure that this means he's irritated with himself... if my own experiance is anything like this)

it was. it was at himself...

~ the feelings of inadequacy. that's all I have to say. and the anger at himself. all those things he did wrong...

the way he has to rationalize with himself

~ he definitely feels like a PoS. he is not, let's just make that clear (yes I refer to myself in the plural... im actually just several rats). logically he knows that he is a fantastic soldier, but everybody has those days where you just don't feel like it. where you have to force yourself out of that mentality with cold hard facts, to ease your mind.

AGAIN WITH THE REFUSAL TO BANTER

~ yes im making a big deal of this. because its basically the foundation of their relationship. so to see that not happening, is like watching the house from disney's encanto start to show cracks and not be fixed. JEBUS CRIMMNEY SHAMPOO!! YOUR BOYFEE IS NOT MAD AT YOU!!!

the way ghost interacts with soap, and also the hurt

~ the way ghost pulls his hands apart, to stop him from scratching his hands raw. the way he's so gentle with soap makes me just wanna gahjhafgrryhujnfhg. and the uncomfortable silence bc soap doesn't know how to act around ghost anymore. and then the way ghost checks up on him? because he cares about him. but- but- but the way soap hears ghost use his rank instead of his name. it's so normal and yet it still hurt for some reason. and i think it's because he was more or less prepared for himself to change or act different. but he wasn't prepared for ghost to change how he acts around soap (even though he wasn't /really/ acting differently, it just felt like it). and i think maybe soap wasn't fully prepared for the consequences of how changing himself would also make ghost react differently. idk if i worded that in a confusing way, but i don't know how else to say it.

~ the way he knows in a logical sense that ghost wasn't treating him any differently. he's able to push the hurt down, to compartmentalize it.

the way his responses are short and clipped

~ he's trying to get away from the conversation, away from ghost, as fast as he can. the way he clams up, giving only 1-2 word answers.

the way ghost makes an effort to keep conversation with him

~ soap obviously thrives on social interaction, especially with ghost. and now he's all of the sudden just refusing to speak to him? suspicious...

the way he also hates how ghost calls him johnny

~ like he can't decide weather he wants ghost to treat him the same or not. because it just makes it so much harder for him to control himself. because now ghost obviously isn't mad at him, and that makes it /so/ hard for him to be different. if ghost was mad at him, then that gives him a very obvious motivation to change.

using his injury as an excuse for acting different

~ he knows that they are both very aware of the fact that it was a shit excuse. he feels guilty lying to ghost and it just- ugh- gfujadhskuhagfh

the way he doesn't really remember what happened but ghost clearly does

~ ghost was/is so worried about him. but because he's so emotionally repressed (relatable) it comes off as anger or some other negative emotion (attitude?). it especially does with soap's current mindset, which only makes it worse.

soap getting lost in ghost's eyes

~ because even if he's supposed to be sergent mactavish, that doesn't mean he isn't still johnny or john 'soap' mactavish. which means he's still got thoes feelings for ghost, and he can indulge himself for a moment.

the last paragraph (idk how to describe it accurately)

~ the way the entire situation has him confused, at ghost's actions towards him, how he's supposed to be around price and gaz vs ghost. and the frustration at himself to just act how he wants to, and to feel how he's supposed to. and ghost's refusal to tell him anything about what happened, and why ghost won't just act like a lieutenant towards him. and how he can't manage to act right no matter who he's with.

sorry if this last bit feels rushed, this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for... *checks notes* THREE WEEKS?!? oops... well it's here now :]

#El rambles #El over analyzes #I.S.B.T.P.K.F.T.S #call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap

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niccerooniererer · 7 months

Note

quincy for the give me a character thing

How I feel about this character

He is such like... like look I love him so much, 2nd favourite (after Etienne) guy in this series, I really did love him almost at first sight like... he is so so silly, I'm sad when someone doesn't like him

All the people I ship romantically with this character

uh well uh well well uh well uh well uh well well well uh well uh [explodes because there's too much information in my head with a specific character I ship him with]

anyways the fandom does have some pretty nice stuff too, though it feels a little odd when Gwen loves him back, like I just think she's too much of a woman lover for me

it's nothing I hate on though, especially if the way they examine their dynamic together is interesting

My non-romantic OTP for this character

him and Gwen honestly, also like- he's kinda friends with the heroes too, he even gets along with my characters sldksdlds even if getting grabbed like a vermin (lovingly at that) isn't something he's always ready for

My unpopular opinion about this character

he may be babygirl but he can absolutely stand on his own, even if he's a little bit of a failboy. those things can and should be able to coexist

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I wanna see his backstory.... even if I have my idea on it at this point and it could possibly ruin my vision- I still wanna know

besides that I would love to see him hugged in canon. like he's crying about something then gets comforted... like I'm really obsessed w the fact that in canon he's the hero that cries the most

#ask game #bloons #btd6 #btd6 quincy #bloons td6

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house-of-slayterr · 1 year

Text

A Guest for Dinner:

So @myers-meadow and I have been making little headcannons about what it would be like if there’s vampires in the Hannibal universe. So here’s a short little imagine and shameless self insert for you all. Also testing she pronouns again, cause like I never liked She in a girl way, but she in a boy way is kinda swaggy 👀

Frances’ POV:

I ran inside the house, my hair soaked, trying to get away from the rain. It was a total downpour today and I hated it. I looked like a drowned rat. I didn’t announce myself coming in, a nasty habit I got into. But really what’s the worst you could walk in on living with your best friend?

Well it seemed the gods had an as we for me. I rounded the corner to Meadow’s room, opening the door.

“Hey Dow, do you know where I put my- oh.” I halted in my footsteps.

She hissed at me, showing off her very sharp Fangs. I didn’t bother to flinch, but still stopped in my tracks. Friend or not, never wise to approach a hungry vampire.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were eating” I said.

Covering my eyes and turning around. She chuckled.

“You act like you just walked in on my changing.” She said, flippantly.

“No, if I did that, I would have run away and cried.” I laughed.

“Rude!”

“Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it that way! The embrasement would kill me and you know it.”

She chuckled darkly, her meal squirming trying to get out of her hold. I turned back around, trying to give her some privacy.

“We’ll don’t stop on my account.”

Despite not looking at her, I knew she rolled her eyes.

“No, you’ve gone and ruined the mood. Poor little thing has hope that you’ll save her now.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

“You never saw me, you’ll walk home in this rain like nothing ever happened”

She compelled the girl. I watched as she stumbled passed me out to the front door. Meadow followed after, closing and locking the door behind her.

“Do you have to be such a sadist?” I chastised.

“500 years of being a vampire will do that you you Darling.” She winked. “Can’t teach an old vampire new tricks”

I scoffed.

“Yet you’re living perfectly fine with a human. Coexisting.”

“Yeah Yeah, anyways, you look like shit. We’ve been invited to dinner tonight. You should get changed.”

“Dinenr? With who?”

“That hot psych doctor. You know the one with the Hermès suits.”

“You and your older men in suits.” I shook my head. “He invited both of us? How odd. I didn’t know he knew I existed.”

“Darling if you don’t want to be seen, perhaps having half of you hair be bright orange is the wrong approach.” She chuckled.

She reached out to ruffle my hair but I swatted her away.

“Besides, technically I’m older.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. It’s still creepy.”

“We’re both consenting adults, live a little. Besides, it’s a big dinner party, it will be more than just us.”

“Great, socialising.”

“Relax bunny.” She twirled my wet hair between her finger tips. “If you behave I’ll get you a treat.”

I thought for a moment.

“Do I get to pick?”

“Of course.”

“No matter how inaccurate and cringy they are, you have to sit through a whole twilight movie with me.”

She scoffed pulling away.

“You’re lucky I love you little bug. Any other human to ask me that would have been dinner by now.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re a heartless monster. I get it. Twilight and you have to say one good thing about the movie after.”

“Ugh, fine. Deal. Now get dressed. I’ll fix your hair after you’re done.”

The ride to Dr Lecter’s house was fairly silent. The two of us listening to Deftones on the way. His house was gigantic. Of course our place was quite nice. You compelled the poor lady so we wouldn’t have to pay rent. Sometimes having a vampire best friend had its perks. I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair. Suddenly there was a smack on my hand.

“Hey, none of that! You’ll ruin all my hard work.” She playfully scolded.

I huffed.

“Relax little bug, I can hear your heart beat from here, they won’t bite.”

I cringed at her joke.

“Biting isn’t what I’m worried about.” I grumbled.

“You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, we will leave. Ok?”

I nodded.

“Good” she readjusts my hair.

After one knock at the door, it was quickly opened. Before us stood Hannibal. He looked quite sharp, I suppose that was no different than usual.

“Ahh, Meqdow, Frances, please come in.”

“I apologise for being late Hannibal, Frances got caught in this awful downpour. I didn’t want her to get sick so we had to wait for her to dry off.”

“Of course.” He stepped aside to let us in, wordlessly taking Meadows coat. I cling tighter to mine when he offered to take it. Using it as a literal security blanket. “You must be freezing, I can start the fireplace if you’d like.”

I simply stared at him, not saying a word. I felt Meadow tense next to me, sending me a look that said to behave.

“That would be lovely.” She answered for me.

“The others are already seated, we didn’t want to start until you got here.”

“I appreciate that Hannibal, that was very kind of you. I’m practically starving.”

Of course I knew there was another meaning behind her words. She hadn’t had any blood today, and I was worried this dinner would go south quick. And we’d have to move towns again. Meadow had eyes for the strange doctor, but I was protective over her. Her last boyfriend broke her heart, so she ripped his out of his chest, and ate it. It was quite a sight to walk in on, and that’s why we had to leave town. He was too high profile of a kill. And the same would go for Doctor Lecter.

We sat down at the table. I recognised 3 of the 4 other guests. Jack Crawford, FBI chief, Will Graham, a fellow agent, and Dr Alana Bloom. Meadow sat between Alana and Hannibal, and I sat between Will and the Mystery girl with red hair. Jack being at the other head of the table.

Dinner started without much of a hitch. I sat silently and listened into conversation

“And what are we eating tonight Hannibal?” Jacked asked.

“Rabbit, this was was rather quick on its feet.” He joked.

But something about it felt off, like there was some sort of inside joke I wasn’t getting. The girl next to me made a slight noise of disgust, digging into her salad.

“I’ve got to say Hannibal, this has got to be the best salad I’ve ever had.” She sucked up to him.

“Thank you Miss Lounds.”

I had to admit, I enjoyed listening to him speak, his accent was quite lovely. Conversations weren’t back and forth as if they were old old friends. Suddenly I was pulled from my thoughts.

“Is Something wrong with your food Miss Frances?”

“Hmm?” I hummed, way louder than I meant to, startled by the sound of my own voice.

“I asked if there was something wrong with your food? You seem to just be pushing it around your plate.” He said.

There was a slight heir of disappointment in his voice. And I knew Meadow would be pleased if I upset our host.

“Oh, sorry. I’m sure it’s lovely. But I already ate- I was only informed half an hour before we got here that we’d be coming.”

I fidgeted with my hands as I spoke.

“I sent out the invitations a week ago.” He said.

“I don’t check the mail much.” I shrugged.

Meadow gave me a warning look. I carefully put a bite on my plate and bit into it. Right away I could tell something was off. I’ve never had rabbit, but I knew it shouldn’t taste like this. I put on a fake smile.

“It’s lovely.” I said.

Hannibal smiled back at me, then went back to his conversation. I was glad the focus was no longer on me, until a gruff voice whispered.

“Don’t swallow that.”

I glanced up from my plate to see William talking. He said it with so much conviction I didn’t think to question him. But he and the others were eating it. It couldn’t be that bad. But none the less, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and spit it into the toilet, flushing it. I looked at myself in the mirror and ran another hand through my hair, further messing up Meadows hard work.

When I came back the atmosphere had shifted, Meadow was in shameless flirting mode.

“Have you ever had venison Hannibal?” She asked. “It’s quite a difficult meal to catch, they scare easily.”

What was she doing… I glared at her from across the table. I mean sure, no one would ever guess she was a vampire. That ridiculous, most people don’t even believe they exist. I was thankful no one else at the table seemed to pick up on her double meaning. Of course she wasn’t talking about deer.

“I have, it’s one of my favorite to prepare.” He said, smirking as he took another bite of his dish.

“I mean it’s practically to die for.”

“You hunt?” Jack asked her.

“All the time, it’s great fun.” She smiled.

“I know you’re fairly new to the area, if you want to hunt here you’ll have to stop by the station and get a permit with us.”

“Good to known, thank you agent Crawford.”

“And what about you?” Jack asked.

“What about me?” I raised a brow.

“Do you hunt with her?”

I shook my head.

“That’s more of a solo activity, hunting in groups can lead to accidents.” I kept with the cover, as if the congestion was actually about hunting animals.

“Accidents?” Alana asked.

“Yes, hunting in areas with other humans could lead to someone getting hurt. It would be a shame if she missed her prey. Besides, it her thing, I don’t intrude on peoples hobbies.”

I said. Of course I never went with her to hunt. She was always worried one of the victims could get away and hurt me somehow. Besides, nobody likes to be watched while they’re eating.

“So what do you do?” Hannibal asked.

I hated that the conversation was now fully shifted to me.

“I’m a baker. Just got a job at the bakery in town. I start Tuesday.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to come visit.”

“Perhaps.”

Thankfully Meadow pulled the conversation back away from me. She was much more charismatic and easy to talk to. Taking control of any room she entered. I wasn’t sure if that was a vampire thing, or just a her thing. As their conversation went on a picked up on more double entendres. There was no way Hannibal could be a vampire. So why was she doing this? Then I thought back to how will told me not to eat the meat.

In fact, Meadow seemed to be enjoying this meal quite a bit. She avoided food most days unless I felt awkward eating alone. She didn’t need to eat food to survive, but she did on special occasions to blend in. All evidence only pointed to one thing. We weren’t eating rabbit, instead some pour soul who fell victim to the doctors charms. But if will knew, why was he still eating it?

Great, so we were eating dinner with at least two cannibals. And three more seemingly unsuspecting people. At least miss Lounds hasn’t taken a bite. I frowned. By the end of the night I was antsy and ready to leave. As we all broke off into conversations, Jack and Alana were trapped in a seemingly heated discussion with Miss Lounds. And Hannibal was shamelessly flirting with Meadow. I walked over to Will.

“You know, right?” I asked.

He chuckled. “You figured it out already?”

“Yet you still ate dinner.”

He shrugged. “You grow used to the taste.”

“Why not warn the others?”

“You seem nice. Perhaps I don’t wish for Hannibal to corrupt you.”

I blushed slightly at the suggestion. The two of us glanced over to Meadow and Hannibal.

“Your friends strange.”

“I know.” I said. “So is yours.”

He took a sip from his drink.

“She should be carful with him.”

“On the contrary Mr Graham. Once Meadow’s set her sights on someone, there’s no escaping. I should probably go rescue him from that conversation. See you around?” I asked.

He shrugged, toasting me with his whiskey. I gave him a weak smile and scurried off.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I’m not feeling well. Meadow, could you take me home now?”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Hannibal said.

“I’d love to join you for dinner next week.” Meadow finished her previous conversion. “The rabbit was quite delicious. I would like to see what else you could cook with it.”

When we got in the car, she immediately stated driving.

“Did you really have to flirt like that? In front of everyone?”

“God, don’t be such a baby Frances. Adults flirt, it’s what they do.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Would have been nice if you’d warned me about dinner.”

“It was just a hunch. You know how I hate to be wrong. But once I tasted it, I knew.”

“Just, promise me you won’t eat him. Or that other guy.”

She stopped the car, and turned to me.

“Omg, does little Frances have a crush?”

“No!” I denied.

“Omg, you totally do! You can’t be mad at me for dragging you to a cannibal dinner party now!” She joked.

“Oh I can, and I will. Drive.” I said, pretending to be mad. But I could never really be mad at her. “You still owe me a twilight watch.”

“Yeah, Yeah.”

By the time we got home I was exhausted. But I could tell you were still feeling sluggish.

“Not enough blood left in the meat was there?” I asked.

It sounded weird to be so causal about it. She shook her head.

“No. And you messed up my lunch.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so picky.”

“And maybe you shouldn’t bad mouth a hungry vampire, who’s date you just ended early.”

“It’s not a date if there are other people.”

She hissed angrily at me, her fangs showing. Her hand immediately flying over her mouth in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

I sighed, moving my hair away from my neck. A silent invitation.

“I cant.”

“You can and you will, unless you want to starve and accidentally eat your new Cannibal friend.”

She growled.

“It won’t hurt, besides, you’ll know when to stop. I need the extra help sleeping anyways, I don’t think I can sleep after that grotesque display of affection at dinner.” I joked.

She rolled her eyes.

“If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

I glared at her, growing annoyed.

“I’m serious, you know I never want to hurt you. You’re my best friend.”

“Which is exactly why I trust you, with my life.”

She sighed, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the couch. I sat down first and she sat down on my lap. I blushed slightly at the position. She moved my hair to the side.

“Just hold my hand if it hurts ok?”

“You never give your victims that option, have you gone soft?” I joked trying to ease the tension.

She was the only person I ever let get close enough to touch me life this.

“Only for you.”

With that she bit into the side of my neck. The feeling of fangs piercing the skin was indescribable. It hurt, but I sort of liked the feeling. I closed my eyes as I felt myself get weaker. As I grew sleepy she pulled away. I could feel her pull me close as she carried me to my room, tucking me into bed.

“Goodnight Frances.”

An: sorry if I switched tense, I tried to fix anytime I accident or wrote “you” but I don’t know if I caught them all lol. I was mildly distracted watching piranha, there were titties on the screen for like a solid 5 minutes 😂 I was very confused. I’m still working on the original Hannibal family with Meadow and I, but I was in the mood for some vampires tonight.

#self insert #vampires #Hannibal #Hannibal lecter #Hannibal headcannons #Hannibal imagine #Hannibal x vampire

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