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subbmissivesuccubus · 9 months

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Bondage~

A/n: This was day 3 of my Kinktober! Bondage with Nanami. As the title says, there's bondage and very strict dom Nanami as well as pain play. And fem reader so enjoy!

You gulped as you waited in the car, Nanami talking to Ichiji. You really screwed up and somehow, your nerves were dulling the pain of your injured foot. Waiting for Nanami, who you knew was furious at you, was somehow worse than fighting a special grade curse.

You didn’t regret what you did. Sure, Nanami, your supervisor, ordered you to stand down as the curse was far stronger than you could handle. He ordered you to not act rashly and to think twice before leaping into action as this particular curse could create illusions and make people see things that weren’t there. But when you saw a crying child screaming for help among all the chaos of Nanami fighting the curse, you couldn’t stop yourself from rushing in. Nanami’s bark for you to stop fell deaf on your ears as you ran to the kid, only to see that it wasn’t real and within a second, something stabbed you through the ankle.

But the curse stabbing you using its claw was just the advantage you needed. You brought out your cursed tool, a long sword and sliced upward, injuring it enough to make it stop in its tracks and that was all Nanami needed to quickly slice it into pieces. You fell to the ground with a shout of pain, Nanami kneeling beside you as he gently grasped your ankle. You watched as the claw lodged into your foot disintegrated away, leaving behind a nasty, bloody hole in your-

The man quickly placed his hand over your eyes, shielding you from the sight. Without a word, he took his tie and wrapped it around your ankle with one hand, telling you to power through the pain. Once it was covered, the tie instantly soaked in your blood, the man lopped his arm under your knees before lifting you up in a princess carry. You grimaced as any movement made your ankle scream in pain, but you managed to not cry. You didn’t want to cry over this when you’ve seen your peers and even Nanami deal with injuries far worse without making a big deal about it.

But as he carried you to the car, you noticed it. You’d been Nanami’s underling for some time now and have gotten to understand his limited facial expressions and this was one you’d seen a few times before now. His jaw clenched, his lips frowning, his eyes in a small squint as he refused to look at you.

Uh oh.

He was pissed.

You jumped as the car door opened, Nanami being done with his conversation as he sat in the driver’s seat. Once the door was closed, he started the car, the engine purring back to life. “S-Sir-“

“Quiet.” The man ordered, not looking at you as he stepped on the gas, “I’m taking you to Shoko. We’ll talk after.”

You gulped. You were well aware of what ‘talking’ meant.

~~~~~

You closed the door behind you as you entered Nanami’s bedroom, the blonde man having gone in before you. Your ankle was as good as new thanks to Shoko, not even a scar left behind. But now, you had to deal with the consequences of your actions.

“So,” Nanami said, taking off his jacket before draping it over a chair, “You decided to disobey my direct orders. What made you think that was a good idea?”

“I-I saw a child, Sir.” You responded, “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“You knew the curse had the ability to create illusions.” The man said, hands in his pockets as he looked at you, “Rushing in like that was foolish and dangerous. And I don’t train my underlings to act on stupidity.”

“I know, Sir, but I couldn’t risk it.” You defended, “I knew there was a chance the kid wasn’t real but the possibility of them actually being there- I needed to make sure.”

“You think a child would just randomly pop out of nowhere in the middle of a fight?”

“…Stranger things have happened?”

Nanami sighed, grabbing onto his glasses before pulling them off of his face, “You know you’re going to get punished, right?”

“Y-Yes Sir.” You replied, heart starting to hammer in your chest, “I’m ready.”

Nanami was your superior, the man who was willing to have you as a sidekick but that meant you were his responsibility and when you did something dangerous and stupid, he took it as his job to properly…educate you. And he was very very good and getting your lessons through your head.

“Strip and get on the bed.”

You nodded and did as he told. Blood rushed to your face as you started to unbutton your top, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You did the same for your pants, the fabric pooling between your legs before you stepped out of them. With a gulp, Nanami still watching you, you moved your hands to your back and unhooked your bra, your breasts bouncing a bit as they were freed from their confines. Your ears turned red as your nipples perked up, clearly anticipating what was to come. Finally, you slipped your thumb into the hem of your panties before you pulled them down, stepping out of them as well. Completely naked, Nanami watched with his arms folded over his chest as you crawled onto the bed and laid down on your back.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. You nodded, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as Nanami grunted. You noticed that he had already prepared certain props on the bedside table, mainly, a long coil of red rope. Your eyes widened as Nanami got on the bed as well, straddling you. Knees planted on either side of your ribs, you looked up at the man, his stone-cold expression somehow making your body run hot.

“Tell me.” Nanami said, grabbing a tie from the bedside table, “Why are you being punished?” “B-Because I disobeyed you.” You said, gasping as he placed the fabric across your eyes, blocking out your vision. “And?” he asked. “A-And I got hurt.” “That’s right.” Nanami said, tying a knot at the back of your head, “You know better than to disobey me, right?” “I-I’m sorry Sir.” “You will be after I’m done with you.”

Your body shivered at his threat, your cunt growing wet from his words. Everything felt so much more intense due to his tie around your eyes. With the lack of vision, all of your other senses were heightened. His deep voice, the heat emanating from his body, his touch, his scent- all of it took over you, making you feel dizzy.

You gasped as Nanami’s hand slid to your back, pulling your body up enough for him to slide a rope underneath you. You gulped as you felt the familiar material brush up against your skin, the man getting to work. He first started off with your chest, his rough hands tugging the rope tightly as he wrapped it around your breasts, making them pop out deliciously. You didn’t need to see to be able to feel Nanami’s eyes on you, taking in every inch of your skin. You let out a yelp as he pulled on the final knot, the ropes digging into the fat of your breasts.

He let out a satisfied hum, eyes taking in how delicious your tits looked but he wasn’t going to give you the pleasure of his touch. Not yet, anyway. Nanami moved down your body, settling between your legs. Your face was a bright, beet red as he grabbed your knees and spread them, exposing your pretty cunt to him. Hooking his hands underneath your knees, he pushed them up, making you yelp as he folded you, pressing your knees against your chest.

“Hold your legs up.” He ordered, ignoring the flustered expression on your face as you did as you were told, your breathing laboured as you replaced his hands with your own. It was a whole new type of embarrassing holding your legs up yourself, exposing your cunt even more for Nanami to ogle at. “This might hurt.” He warned before grabbing another strand of rope. His other hand gripped at your foot gently before pressing down, getting it as close to thigh as possible before you felt the rope start to wrap around it. Oh…Oh! He was literally wrapping your leg closed. The rope was being looped around your calf muscle and your thighs to press them together, rendering you unable to stretch your leg. He did the same with the other leg, now both your legs being tied tightly.

“Hand.” He ordered and you obeyed, giving him your hand. Your heart started pounding even faster when you felt him take your hand to your ankle, pressing your wrist against your foot before tying the two of them together. Legs tied so they’re always folded and now, your arms tied to your ankles which gave you little to no freedom of movement- if you moved your legs, you’d have to arch your back and if you moved your hands, you’d have to press your knees to your chest.

“There we go.” He said, clearly satisfied with the job, “Now you can’t run around, disobeying me, hmm?” You nodded, gulping down your saliva as you took inventory of your body. Tied up and ready for him to do whatever he wanted. You felt him get off the bed, hearing the sound of him rummaging through his drawer where you knew he kept his…toys. After a few seconds, he was back on the bed, his heat grazing your skin as he leaned over you.

You shivered and gasped as he lapped his tongue along your nipple, his heat and wetness feeling wonderful on your sensitive bud. He sealed his lips around it, giving it a couple of sucks before his teeth nibbled on it gently. Each time he bit down it made your body twitch, pressing against the red ropes that held you down to perfectly, reminding you each second of how you were tied up.

But before you could enjoy the feeling of him showering your nipple with attention, there was suddenly a sharp pain on your sensitive bud- a clamping sensation that was squeezing your nipple so tightly it took your breath away. “Ah!” you screamed at the pain, “S-sir-“

“Hold still.” Nanami said calmly as he made sure the nipple clamp was secured. He roughly grabbed your other breast, leaning down to give it an apologetic lick before he clamped that as well. Your back arched, legs aching from the stretch as you couldn’t help but scream from the sensation, the clamps so tight it made you dizzy.

“How pretty.” Nanami said, making you let out a loud scream as his finger suddenly flicked at the clamp, “don’t start crying already. I haven’t even started.” “I-Its hurts!” “Good.” He responded, not caring about your cries and whimpers, “But if it hurts so much, why is your pussy getting wet, hmm?”

You squealed as you felt the man gently run his finger along your cunt, rubbing between your folds and getting soaked in your slick. He eventually made it two fingers, his index and middle finger spreading your wetness around before he started rubbing gentle circles over your clit. You moaned, tossing your head back against the pillow as the pain on your nipples and the pleasure on your clit was fighting for your attention, your body shivering at every rub- at ever beat of your heart.

“Naughty girl.” Nanami said, tutting as he gently inserted one fingers inside you, the slide easy due to how wet you were, “This is a punishment, remember? Who gave your pussy permission to get so wet?” “M’ sorry- I’m sorry-“ you babbled, head in the clouds at the various sensations. “I’m sure you are sorry but I think this cunt needs a reminder of who controls it.” “S-Sir?”

Your heart leapt to your throat at his words, knowing full well of what Nanami was capable of. You felt him take his fingers and spread your pussy lips apart, flinching as he blew some air on your clit. No doubt, your bud was plump and sensitive from his teasing touch, the cute nub peeking out of its hood. Nanami smirked as he stared at your twitching pussy, flicking your clit a few more time to really get it to swell up before-

He snapped a clamp onto it.

The scream you let out was piercing, your whole body folding but unable to do anything or move in the way you wanted it to. He watched as you squealed and writhed on the bed, the pain of your poor clit being squished between two wooden clamps too much for you to handle. “Control yourself.” Nanami barked, secretly enjoying the view and your reaction, “You look pathetic.” “Sir! Sir- Please!” you begged, mouth open as you screamed, each movement making the clamps on your body feel like they were growing tighter, “It’s too much- It hurts!”

“You know what word to use if you really want me to stop.” Nanami said, reminding you that you could use your safe word and opt out. He gave you a few seconds but when you showed no indication of using it, he continued: “Will you disobey me again?”

“No Sir!” you responded, tears in your eyes from the crushing pain, “Never again- I promise!”

“When I tell you to do something-“

“I’ll do as you say- I’ll do anything you say!”

Nanami clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Don’t. Interrupt me.”

Your body shivered at his tone, wanting to curl up from disappointing him but you couldn’t move. You sobbed our whimpers of ‘sorry’s’ and you couldn’t help but think of how pathetic you looked to the man. But luckily for you, he liked you pathetic.

“Open your mouth.”

You gulped before you did as ordered, opening your mouth wide. You waited as you felt the man move up the bed and you realised; he was straddling you once more, his knees planted on either side of your shoulders. You jumped as you felt something press against your lips- something hot and hard and throbbing- something you were more than familiar with.

“This is a punishment.” Nanami growled as he rubbed his cock against your face, grabbing it by the base before slapping it on your tongue a few times, “I’m going to fuck your face, cum down your throat and I’m not going to go slow. I don’t care if you pass out, understand?”

“Y-Yesh Sir.” You responded around the cock on your tongue.

“Snap your fingers if you need me to stop.”

You nodded, jaw already aching. Your poor nipples and clit still throbbed from the pain but you hopes sucking his dick would provide enough distraction. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled, making you arch your neck more before he slowly started pushing into your mouth. “That’s it.” He groaned as his cock got enveloped by your hot, wet heat, “Take it…take it…take it all the way down…”

He was only halfway in and you were already gagging. You tried to steel yourself as Nanami continued to push forward, ignoring your gasps and gags. You shut your eyes closed behind the makeshift blindfold, opening your mouth up as much as it could go until finally, Nanami bottomed out.

Nanami moaned, tossing his head back as he enjoyed the sensation of being stuffed deep inside your throat. Your tongue clumsily lapped at the underside of his cock, drool seeping out from between your lips as his balls throbbed against your chin.

This was going to be your punishment. Tied up, unable to touch him, body writhing in pain as Nanami uses you for his pleasure. You didn’t know it at the moment, but once he’s done using your throat, he was going to leave you like this for a while, forcing you to steep in the pain while your pussy throbs for pleasure and release. And no matter what, you were not going to cum tonight.

Gripping onto the headboard, the man started thrusting, immediately picking up the pace just like he said he would. He groaned above you, gritting his teeth as he started fucking your face, his heavy balls clapping against you, the slick sound of your wet mouth choking around his cock echoing through the room.

You’d better not pass out.

#subby writes #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami

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literary-illuminati · 9 months

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Book Review 70 – American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis

I’m honestly not sure I ever would have gotten around to reading this on my own, but ended up buying it through the ‘blind date with a book’ thing a bookstore in New York was doing when I was visiting (incredible gimmick, for the record). The fact that it then took me a solid three months to actually finish probably tells you something about how genuinely difficult a read I found it. Not in the sense of being bad, but just legitimately difficult to stomach at points. Overall I’d call it a real triumph of literature.

Not that anyone doesn’t already know, but; the book is spent inside the head of Patrick Bateman, high-flying wall street trader and Harvard blueblood at the close of the Reagan era. Also a serial killer. The story is told as a series of more or less disconnected vignettes, jumping from dinner conversations at one exclusive bar or club or another to the brutal torture and murder of a sex worker to several pages of incredibly vapid pontification on Nina Simone’s discography. The story vaguely tracks Bateman growing ever-more alienated and out of control as the year goes on, but there’s very much not any real single narrative or cathartic climax here. - most stuff just happens (stuff that’s either incredibly tedious or utterly nauseating by turns but still just, stuff).

So yeah this is an intensely literary work (obviously), a word I’m here using to mean one that is as much about the form and style of the writing as about the actual events portrayed. Bateman is a monster, but more than that he’s just an utterly boring and tedious husk of a man, traits which are exaggerated to the point of being fascinating– if you told this story in conventional third person narration without all the weird asides, it would be a) like half as long and b) totally worthless. The tonal whiplash of going from an incredibly visceral depiction of Bateman cutting out the eyes of a homeless man to six (utterly insipid) pages on the merits of The Doors is the selling point here (well actually I think Ellis goes back to that specific well probably one time too many, but in general I mean).

Bateman is a tedious, unstable monster, but as far as the book has an obvious thesis it’s that he differs from the rest of his social milieu only in degree. A symptom of a fundamentally rotten society, not a heroic devil among sheep. The book’s climax, such as it is, involved Bateman getting into a drug-fueled gunfight with the NYPD, shooting multiple people in the middle of the street, and then stumbling home and leaving a rambling confession to every crime on his lawyer’s answering machine – but despite very clearly wanting and trying to get caught and face some sort of consequence or justice, people just refuse to believe that someone like him is capable of anything like that. (It’s not, it must be said, an especially subtle book).

There is, as far as I can recall, not a single character who gets enough screentime to give an idea of their personality who I’d call likeable. Sympathetic, sure, but that’s mostly because it’s pretty much impossible not to sympathize with someone getting horrifically tortured and torn apart (at one point a starving rat is involved). The upper crust of New York yuppie-dom is portrayed as shallow and vapid, casually bigoted towards quite literally everyone who isn’t identical to them, status-obsessed to the point of only being able to understand the world as a collection of markers of class and coolness, and totally incapable of real human connection. Bateman is a monster not because of any freak abnormality, but just because he takes all of that a few steps further than his coworkers.

The book is totally serious and straight-faced in its presentation, and absolutely never acknowledges any of the running gags that are kept up through it. Which shows impressive restraint, and also means that none of them exactly have a payoff or a punchline – it’s just a feature of the world that all the expensive meals at trendy restaurants everyone competes for tables at sound disgusting when you think about them for a moment, or that the whole class of wall street trader guy are so entirely interchangeable that ostensible close friends and coworkers constantly mistake each other for other traders and no one particularly cares. Or – and I’m taking this on faith because fuck knows I’ve got no idea what any of the brands people are wearing are – that the ruinously expensive outfits everyone spends so very much time and money on for every engagement all clash comically if you actually looked up what the different pieces looked like. The book’s in no way really a comedy, so the jokes sit a bit oddly, but they’re still overall pretty funny, at least to me.

I like to think I have something of a strong stomach for unpleasant material in books, but this was the first work of fiction that I had genuine trouble reading for content reasons in I can’t even remember. I’m not sure it’s exactly right to call the violence pornographic in a general sense, but as far as American Psycho goes the register and tone Bateman uses to describe fucking a woman and torturing her to death are basically identical (and told in similarly explicit detail), and all of Bateman’s sexual fantasies are more or less explicitly just porn scenes he wants to recreate, so. Regardless, the result’s pretty alienating in both cases – his internal monologue never really feels anything but detached and almost bored as he relays what he does, sound exactly as vapid and alienated as when he is carefully listing the exact brands and designers every person he ever interacts with is wearing at all times, or arguing over dinner reservations for hours on end with his friends and lovers (though both those terms probably deserve heavy airquotes around them). He legitimately sounds considerably more engaged when talking about arguing over sartorial etiquette. It all adds up to a really strong alienating effect.

Anyways, speaking of sex and violence – perhaps because my main exposure to the story before this was tumblr making memes out of scenes from the movie, but I was pretty shocked by just how explicitly awful Patrick is ‘on screen’. The horrible murder, sure, but also just the casual and frequent use of racist and homophobic slurs, the pathological misogyny, the total breakdown he has at the idea of a gay man being attracted to him and thinking he might reciprocate – all of these are entirely in character for an asshole Wall Street ‘80s Guy even if he wasn’t a serial killer, but it’s still oddly shocking at first to see it so thoroughly represented on the page. It makes how comparatively soft-pedaled the bigotry and just, awfulness, of villains in a lot of more modern books stand out a lot more, I suppose? I have read a lot of books that are in some sense About queerness and/or racism in the last year, and no one in any of them holds a candle to good old Patrick Bateman.

Part of that is just the book being so intensely of its time, I suppose. The New York of this book is very much one of the late ‘80s, incredible wealth living side by side with social rot and decay, crippling poverty everywhere and a society that has to a great degree just stopped caring. Absolutely none of which Bateman or any of his peers care one bit about, of course – they’re too busy showing off the latest walkmans and record players, going to the newest clubs, and just generally enjoying all the fruits of Reagan’s America. Recent history has made the fact that Bateman’s personal idol is Donald Trump almost too on the nose to be interesting, but in 1991 I’m sure it was a bit more subtle in how telling it was.

Anyway, yeah, horrifying and exhausting read, triumph of literature, my god did Easton Ellis hate America (this is a compliment). Now time to go watch the movie!

#book review #literature #american psycho #brett easton ellis

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doodle-pops · 9 months

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Shadows of Honour

Finrod x reader

A/N: I have an unhealthy obsession with angst and since Christmas is close by, I'd love to share it with you all :)

Warnings: female reader, pregnancy, abandonment, arguments, heavy angst, angst no comfort

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: “If… If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

Rivers of tears cascaded down your burning cheeks as you stood face-to-face with the man you loved. His awareness and compassion for your distress was etched onto his face, unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. Those once–beloved blue–green eyes failed to hold the honesty and sincerity they once did; instead, they remained fixed on the floor, avoiding contact with you or the round, protruding bump that bore testament to your shared love. He heaved a heavy sigh, fully aware that explaining his reasons wouldn’t make sense to you, even as he allowed you to vent your pain and his pride. Were his actions truly so cruel and heartless as to bring his wife to tears and endless pleas?

“You can’t leave me; you can’t leave us!” your voice trembled with desperation, your hand instinctively cradling your belly, emphasising the life within. “You can’t abandon your family and people for the sake of a mortal you don’t even know, Finrod!”

Lifting his head to meet your tear–stained cheeks, he reached out to cradle your face, but his gesture was met with swift rejection. Your swatting hands pushed his away, and you took a step back, staring at him in disbelief. Controlling your breathing became a struggle; in your current state, maintaining composure was no easy feat. It was even more challenging when your husband, the one who was supposed to protect and cherish you, seemed to have lost all reason and logic. What happened to his sense and sensibility?

Covering your mouth in a futile attempt to stifle your sobs, you fought to speak with a broken voice, “Don’t...don’t try to smooth things over when you know I’m right. Don’t silence me! I have every right to be unhappy with your choice. You’re choosing a mortal over me, your daughter, and our unborn child! How else am I supposed to react?”

“You need to calm down, Y/N; it’s not good for the baby—”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me when your actions say otherwise,” you hissed with discontent, refusing to let him dictate what was right or wrong, especially when he couldn’t seem to decide for himself.

Frowning, his eyes darted hesitantly to the door, sensing a third presence nearby before returning to your panting figure. Your disapproval of his touch stung, but he understood that your nerves needed calming and your mind needed settling. He observed as you instinctively rubbed your belly, the storm of emotions causing your little one to shift uncomfortably. Dragging out this argument seemed futile when he knew that his final decision was unchangeable. It was only a matter of time until you comprehended the purpose behind his choice. Without further ado, he spun on his heels, making his way over to the closet, gathering clothes and hunting gear. Prolonging the debate wouldn’t lead to a resolution; you couldn’t convince him to stay, and he was steadfast in his commitment to aid the mortal.

“So you’re not going to say anything?! You’re not going to fight with me, fight for me, fight for us?! You’re just going to let yourself be swayed by some mortal who wants to fall in love with an elf and give her the Silmaril? The same jewel your cousins would kill for?” Your voice regained its vigour, tinged with frustration, as you approached the closet where he continued to nonchalantly pack his belongings. Your accusations stung like barbs, and yet he felt the pain even more acutely with every word you hurled his way. He knew the consequences; it was his very understanding of them that fuelled his turmoil.

Biting his lip to suppress his trembling emotions, he kept his eyes averted, focusing on the task before him. He didn’t want you to see his own turmoil, as it would only make you feel worse. Your stress levels were high enough, and he racked his brain for a way to soothe you without further escalation. “Please, don’t worry, ĕrĕmelda. I will return to you, safe and sound,” he whispered softly. “This is the will of Eru, and I must honour it.”

Your voice cut through the air, laden with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “Eru? Did he also instruct you to swear an oath, marry me, and start a family, only to abandon us for some mortal who wants to show the world his bravery by pursuing a maiden out of his league? I thought you believed that Eru didn’t intend for elves and mortals to be together. Why are you acting in direct opposition to that belief? And, for that matter, why did you keep the oath and the foresight of your own death hidden from me?”

As the trousers slipped from his grasp, he turned to face your puffy eyes and cheeks. The remnants of his irritation dissipated in the face of your broken state. His mouth opened to reply, but his words faded away as he studied your misery. He was causing more harm than good, and he couldn’t quite understand why.

With deliberate steps, he approached you, his hands tentatively reaching out to touch your arms. He noticed your lack of resistance and gently drew you into a hug. Holding you close for the first time since that morning, he breathed in your scent, savouring the fragrance of gardenias and lilacs that clung to your skin. He felt your baby move within you, and it was a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a life he seemed intent on leaving behind. Finrod knew deep down that this might be the last time he held you like this, yet he hadn’t anticipated that the parting would be so fraught with tears and agony. Leaving for a self–imposed mission in the name of honour and duty felt hollow when he longed to stay with you and your children, the family he had fought so hard to build.

In his heart, he knew he was doing more harm than good.

His children.

His heart ached at the thought of his beloved children—his eldest daughter, Lairelótë, and his unborn child. The child he cherished and sang lullabies to every night would grow up without their father’s presence, knowing of him only through stories and tales as he would be revered among his people. And his daughter, what would she think of him for leaving, for prioritising a mortal’s quest over his own family? The weight of these realisations bore down on him, causing turmoil in his mind. What was he truly doing? He had vowed to give his life for his family, yet here he was, seemingly throwing it away.

“If…” he began, his words trailing off as he listened to the heart–wrenching cries of his wife in his arms. Your sobs cut through him like a blade, each one striking his heart with painful force. “If…If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

You found yourself speechless, unsure of how to respond. His question stunned you, anger and bewilderment coursing through your veins. It felt as if he had dropped a ton of bricks on you with his words. “Finrod, I...” you faltered, struggling to put your thoughts into coherent words.

As he continued to rub your back, your hiccups grew stronger, a peculiar trait of yours that had often turned gloomy moods into moments of laughter. However, not even that unique trait could lighten the heaviness of the situation today. Glancing towards the door, his senses alert, he knew precisely who the third presence was. He fervently hoped that she didn’t have to witness the full extent of this devastating argument, which could only amplify the pain of his departure.

“F–Finrod,” you hiccupped, your voice shaking, “do you understand the significance of all of this?”

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand continuing its soothing motion on your back, gradually calming the movement in your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you rephrased your question, “This mortal knows that his quest will lead to death. By asking you to fulfil this oath, he’s essentially asking you to die for him, so that he can have his happily ever after while I suffer. He knows that he wouldn’t survive without help. Why accept the quest in the first place? Why risk a precious life? Doesn’t he consider you important?”

Finrod sighed, his tone carrying a mix of patience and empathy. “His heart is young and easily swayed by emotions, arimeldanya. Love often drives us to do whatever it takes to be with the one we cherish.”

“But why does he have to take you away from me?” you pleaded; your voice tinged with desperation. “Tell him to ask someone else, to be less selfish. I need you; we need you.”

A small chuckle escaped Finrod at the pout that formed on your tear–streaked face. It was a brief moment of levity amidst the turmoil, a fleeting reminder of the bond you shared. Sliding his hand up your back, his fingers gently cradled your cheeks, tilting your head to meet his gaze. You saw the tears welling in his eyes, an ethereal light that shimmered with sorrow. To you, he was an angelic presence, a source of joy and happiness.

Testing the waters, he gauged your reaction before leaning in, capturing your lips in a tender, bittersweet kiss. The initial surprise was replaced by a shared intimacy, a final connection before his departure and the sorrow that lay ahead. His lips met yours with a mixture of longing and pain, a poignant reminder of the love you both shared. It was a memory to hold onto, a testament to the strength of your bond even in the face of adversity.

“I swore an oath to his House to aid in times of need, he had summoned me to fulfil it, I cannot deny its call. I can only hope that this quest won’t tear me away from you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “And I promise, I won’t give up without a fight if there’s a chance for my wish to be granted.”

“This still isn’t fair Finrod,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve made a decision without me and I can’t change that. You’re so selfish...”

Eyes downturn, he licked his lips and cast one more glance at the door, sensing the presence fading. He knew his words were false hope when he had foreseen a certain destiny about him, but it was necessary to still give it. “There’s still a way to rewrite the future; it is not set in stone. My death does not have to be this way. Have faith in me, I will return to you and our dear little ones.”

Masterlist

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persephone11110 · 2 years

Text

Barefooting In Glass

TW: past child abuse, alcohol abuse,hurt/comfort, derogatory words used, curse words, low self esteem, parental tom kazansky, oc callsign:Apex

summary: You don’t understand why Ice isn’t mad at you. Ice adopts another pilot.

*bolded red is flashbacks

——

Your brain pauses as you feel the plate drop out your hand, time feels like it slows down as it splatters all over the kitchen floor.

“Why didn’t you die with your whore of a mother, Y/N?”

“Make your self useful and fix it Y/N”, Your mind tells you relentlessly over and over.

You’re immediately on floor picking up the pieces of glass. Not caring about the prickly feeling you get as glass enters your fingers.

You inspect the damage that was infront of your feet . Hissing sounds come from your mouth as blood drips from your hands.

You have no idea why its hurts so much, you’ve gotten glass shards stuck in you plenty of times. Fortunately the pain keeps you from getting down on the ground again and resume recklessly picking up glass.

“Apex?“

Damn it.

Ice’s voice gets clearer as footsteps are heard. You have a sour look to your face as your hand twinges again, reminding you about the glass, the pain becomes worse as each second passes.

Your unsure about what to do, you could lie your way out of this but face the consequences of being caught. Maybe you could just come clean and hope for the best, and hope he isn’t like your father.

“Y/N”, He’s closer .

Do something you idiot.

Ice head peaks into doorway, brows raised in confusion. Out of reflexes you stupidly turn around meeting Ice’s concerned face. The older man eyes dart to your bleeding hand, not even daring to look at the mess beneath you.

The staring and him not saying anything make your heart race a thousand beats per minute, the temperature in the kitchen rises.

Your vision blurs, as you blink away the tears that attempted drop down your face.

“What happened kiddo?”

You hate how kind, loving he sounds, his voice is filled with kindness something you never heard before. You also hate how it sounds like he’s talking to a child who’s need of reassurance and love.

You open your mouth. Nothing leaves it, emptiness fills the air. You look like a fish blowing air bubbles in the water. The older aviator gets closer to you; clearing all the space between you both.

He loosely grabs your hand, very gently-like.

You realize to late, that was him giving you a chance to get away, to tell him your fine.

You probably should have, but you couldn’t. Ice holding your wrist felt so gentle and loving that you couldn’t take it away.

Something told you to, but you couldn’t cause it felt so nice, something you wanted cherish for the rest of your life.

“Ouch”, he decides with.

You nod stupidly.

You wonder quietly if you should start to apologize for the broken plate, for acting like it wasn’t your fault.

Before you say something again Ice is dragging you gently to the kitchen sink. You sit down on a stool obediently waiting for the next instruction.

Your hand is being ran under ice cold water. The blood starts to run down your hand as it drains down the sink finally stopping. You finally breathe as the relief starts to set in, the sting lessens, the twinging slightly stops.

Your eyes are close, but they burn as you refuse to let the tears fall.

He couldn’t know you were weak. Not now, not ever.

“Admiral Kaz-“

The grey haired pilot rolls his eyes.

“Your only one who calls me Admiral Kazansky off duty” he grins. “You sleep over at my house, eat my food, and saved my husband and godson . Ice or Tom is just fine kid”

“Ice, you don’t have to do this. I can fix myself up” ,You tried telling him.

A strange look takes over Ice’s face and moment of slience passes, but he looks soft and kind. One thing you couldn’t seemed to understand is why.

He rubs his thumb over your hand without thinking. It makes the back of your neck burn, your cheeks also resemble the color of a tomato.

“I know you can kiddo, but I want to and don’t mind”

You brain stumbles over that, no one wanted to help you unless there was something in it for them.

You never knew being loved was an option for you.

Your father was a mean drunk, the man could always be found with a bottle of alcohol in his hands. He always slurred his words, always stumbling over his feet, always smelled like the stench of alcohol.

Never got meet your mother, she died during childbirth. Never knew her name, only by whore and slut.

You had friends within the navy, like the daggers but you kept them at arms length.

One thing your childhood taught you was never to allow others to see you vulnerable.

No one willingly kind to you , unless there was a catch.

But here was Ice is, holding your hand as he dried it to make sure there no glass left. All his attention his on you, making sure your okay.

“Kiddo brace yourself” he says softly. Ice slowly pulls the last piece of glass out your hand and drops it into a bowl.

You feel water fall down your face. You quickly start blinking the tears away.

Ice turns off the water,but doesn’t say anything.

Your expecting a tongue lashing, something being thrown at you, a beaten.

A soft peck to the side of your forehead.

The invisible grip you had on yourself was now gone. Ice lets go of your wrist, turning around fending to the mess of bandages and trash.

You tip your head downwards as more tears fall. The burn in your eyes return stronger as a tears starts from the corner of your eyes slowly dropping down your face.

You’ve always been a quiet crier. You had to learn how to if you wanted survive your abusive father.

You’ve never been on the other end of affection. As a child your father spent more time drinking than offering you affection, when you left home and the joined navy; not once did they offer you affection.

You thought didn’t you need any, in return a persona was created–Apex.

Apex was the shield you created as a child to protect your self from being hurt.

As a little girl you always told people you had a hard time with emotions. You couldn’t feel an ounce of pain.

Never did think it was a trauma response from all the pain you had to deal with.

You were cold-hearted, ruthless, emotionally detached. You racked up kills faster than anyone, and broke records faster than Maverick and Iceman.

But Ice kissing you hand, broke down walls that had been up for decades.

You shook sliently as tears started flowing down faster, releasing pain you held onto for years.

An accidental sob falls out your mouth. Without caring and realising you violently take your injured hand to your mouth.

Too fucking late Y/N, your a goner.

“Oh, kiddo…” Ice turns back to you, tilting his head as he realizes what’s going on.

“Let me get you some tylenol”, you regret not telling him how many broken bones you’ve gotten and reset yourself without painkillers. The plethora amount of times you’ve been sick and forced your body to heal on its own.

You blink. One tear drops down the right side of your face, and you hurriedly rub it away with your non-injured hand.

Ice takes your injured hand, and drops it gently on your thigh.

Of course you break the forbidden rule of not being vulnerable.

And of course he thinks your crying over your dumb ass hand.

While also crying over something so little is so stupid. You prefer not be crying in the COMPACFLT house, but your brain isn’t getting the message.

The older aviator returns again with tylenol in tow, with a glass of water.

Why isn’t he hitting you, degrading you.

It’s filled your cold heart with warmth.

You finally start to calm down, “Ice I’m-“, you cut yourself off. The tweezers sat perfectly on the sink.

Broken. Something you broke

The plate, Admiral Kazansky’s fucking plate.

Shit, god your so fucking stupid.

Ice picks up the last piece and places it in the trash can.

Just another reminder of why your so useless. Another reminder of why no one loves you.

You stare at the shattered pieces of a plate that probably cost more than you, worth more than you. As it’s pieces sat in the trash can, you wondered If Ice was slowly gaining your trust just to rip it away and punish you.

You caused this. This is all your fault.

You wanted to be helpful again. Yet you knew the last thing Ice wanted was a screw-up like you helping him.

You’ll just end up breaking something else, getting more glass in your hand.

Now the man who’s probably tired from working over forty hours. Now has to pick up after a twenty nine year who’s well than capable of cleaning up her own mess.

But you can’t, because your broken just like the plate. Can’t be glued back together.

Pathetic, Stupid.

You draw a breathe, a breathe that sounds shaky and unstable. You attempted to be quiet this time, and not draw Ice’s attention back on to you, something you didn’t deserve at all.

You screw up again. Unsurprisingly.

“Sweetheart” He soley focusing on helping now, not allowing anything to break his focus.

You flinched at the choice of word Ice uses.

Why is he being so kind to you?

You don’t understand. Is this a sick game.

A game you’ve played too many times,you’d stop counting.

Ice invited you into his house, treats your stupid hand and cleans up your fucking mess. And now You can’t even say I’m sorry to him without crying.

And he’s still not mad at you.

Guilt fills your entire body, it wraps around your lungs and stabs them.

The tears that are falling are guilt induced.

“Ice, I’m so s-sorry” You voice shakes with a quiver. It suddenly becomes more harder to speak again as your throat fills with an ache.

“I’m sorry, r-really am, It’s my fault Admiral-“

“Hey, hey, hey”, Ice cuts you off. The COMPACFLT takes your arms gently.”Who said it was your fault sweetheart? ,You didn’t do nothing wrong Y/N”

The sob that you released is more louder, more painful. The sob gets rid of the lump in your throat.

“B-but i ruined your plate” you whined loudly, and if you didn’t feel like a little kid who couldn’t express there self right. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel so embarrassed.

“Oh little one, you haven’t ruined anything”, Ice assures you , You would’ve scoffed at him if you weren’t so emotionally unstable right now.

You’ve lost complete control of your mask.

Apparently your disbelief had shed through your cracked facade. His thumbs runs over your un-injured soothingly.

“A plate I got from walmart kiddo”, “something that I could care less about, something replaceable”.

Well nevermind.

“Come here kiddo”.

The older pilot pulls you into his chest protectively. He’s shielding you from all bad in the world, your bad thoughts.

At first you resisted, because in what world did you deserve comfort?

The hug feels so comforting, and warm something you’ve never felt before in your entire life. You allow yourself to go limp in his hold, allowing your emotions that have piled up for years to pour out you.

You could feel an apology on the tip of your tongue. But couldn’t bring yourself to ruin this moment between the two of you.

Ice had embraced you with ease, showing you that you deserve such comfort. He’d also showed you that comfort wasn’t not earned, it was given.

His hand cradled the back of your head.

It felt so tender that you cried even more. Your body starts to tremble like a baby who’s learning to walk, and you attempt to let go, but Ice wasn’t having it and he guided you back to him gently.

You still don’t understand.

“I don’t get it, why aren’t you mad at me?” Your voice thick with emotions.”Your being so nice to me for no reason.

Even though you don’t deserve it. It didn’t have to be said Ice could hear the words forming in your head.

“Oh, malysha,no” Ice arms wrap his around you tighter. Like he’s squeezing the sadness out of you, and that will somehow heal all your sadness. He presses a kiss to your head. You face turns beat red, and a helpless giggle releases from your throat.

“I’m being nice to you, because that’s how you should be treated, Y/N” he cards his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp.

“But”.

Ice shushes you, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Just cry malysha, nothing will happen if you do”. We’ll talk about this later”.

Aganist better judgement you do.

Finally the dam that helped you hide your emotions broke fully.

The sobs shake you and Ice physically. Mentally feels nice —yet so exhausting.

It’s honestly addictive, it feels nice to be loved without there being any conditions.

You shove your face deeply into Ice’s shoulder.

You pray Ice doesn’t let go.

“Don’t let go”, you whimpered softly.

“Never malysha” Ice promises, hugging you even tighter than earlier.

#top gun #tom kazansky #top gun maverick #tom kazansky x reader #dadmiral

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Text

Clarity of Heart.

Yan Shenhe x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and manipulation. Word count: 3k.

To Shenhe, you’re an enigma.

She tries to unravel you, and with every impatient tug of her fingers, ends up forming a tighter knot. Why she even wants to understand you is a mystery in itself. Hers is a life of quiet solitude — a fact that’s never troubled her before. One must have companionship to understand loneliness in its absence. Her master imparted this wisdom to her, further complicating matters.

She supposes there’s no sense in agonizing over the unknowable. Ruminating on why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west would similarly be a waste of time. What she does understand, what’s so tangible that she can almost grasp it with her hands, is that she likes when you’re present and dislikes when you aren’t.

You’re strange, she thinks, not that she has much of a touchstone to make comparisons.

You make a yearly pilgrimage to Mt. Aocang to train, yet whenever Shenhe happens by, you stop everything to greet her in kind. You offer to share your limited supply of provisions, giving her the bigger piece when she insists on splitting things in half. It simply doesn’t make sense. If someone interrupted her training, she’d find them irritating; if someone asked to share her food, she’d refuse.

Though she never felt the need to track time before — the concept you referred to as a ‘calendar’ is not in her lexicon — she finds herself in an agreeable mood when the leaves show signs of turning. The cooling of scorching air and shortening of days proceeds your arrival. Without realizing it, she’ll frequent the base of the mountain, eyes scanning the treeline for your familiar figure.

There are days she spends just like that. Noting the changing phases of the moon, wondering if you’ll arrive when it's waxing or waning.

Sometimes she guesses correctly, sometimes she does not. It’s of no consequence. When you appear, everything else is condemned to be forgotten in a veil of fog.

Every year, she comes to associate new mysteries with you.

However, there’s something about this one that she urges her to investigate further.

“Why did you not use your Vision?”

You suddenly grow an interest in the contents of her mortar and pestle. The herbs release a faintly bitter aroma, lingering in the air where your voice normally flourishes. She finishes grinding it into a paste while you look everywhere but her eyes. Without asking for your permission, she lathers the ointment onto your now bruised bicep. You fight back a flinch, a fruitless endeavor, for she notices anyway.

“It isn’t—” you inhale sharply when she brushes over a particularly sensitive spot, your face contorting as you continue, “A particularly fitting campfire story.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s popular for people to gather around the campfire and exchange stories. Sometimes they’re scary, but it’s all in good fun. The answer to your question… I can’t say this story’s very fun. Hence why I said it’s not fitting.”

As always, you teach her much about the bizarre customs of those who inhabit the world. She glances to the nearby campfire, to you, then back again.

“Shall I put it out, then?”

You smile, lines forming beneath your eyes while you do so. The fire makes her feel warm, but you make her feel hot.

“It’s okay, there’s no need for that. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. It has to do with these training trips, actually.”

The pause that follows your words urges Shenhe to respond.

“I’d like to know.”

You gaze up at the stars, your eyes reflecting the brilliant expanse. “A few years ago, I’d been working odd jobs to make ends meet. One of these was a waitressing gig at a fine establishment. At that time, I’d only had my Pyro Vision for a few months… maybe less than that. Since I rarely left Liyue, I hadn’t used it much.”

You hug your knees to your chest.

“There was this drunk customer. He’d been acting flirtatious all evening, but I was just trying to do my job. When it was strictly verbal, I could handle it. I’d dealt with his type before. But… eventually, he reached out and… touched me. I honestly don’t remember much of what happened next. It was warm. I smelled something awful, heard a scream that was even worse.”

The red ropes binding Shenhe’s soul grow taut.

“It was… an event. Turns out the man was a rather important merchant. With a wife and a newborn kid, to make matters worse. The flames had scorched the skin on his hand to the point it was unusable. Had it not been for a friend of mine, Yanfei, I could’ve landed in a lot of trouble. She got him to drop the charges. Still, rumors spread, and people believed what they wanted to believe. It was during that time I met Madame Ping. She offered to tutor me — teach me how to use my Vision, rather than be scared of it.”

Your fingers caress the scarlet gemstone. “That’s why I hesitated earlier. I still have lots of room to improve. Coming out here helps me focus better, though. I don’t know how to explain it. When I see those tall mountains that seemingly go on forever, and am able to reach out and touch the clouds… everything feels right.”

“If you like it here so much, then why do you go back?” Shenhe asks. This question feels important to her, somehow. A riddle that must be solved.

“Liyue Harbor is my home,” you reply without missing a beat. “My master helped me think of it like this: for every painful memory, there’s a memory I cherish to match. I have to go back and remind myself of that. Or else the hurt is all I’ll remember.”

Your posture eases after you finish speaking. Shenhe can tell this philosophy is paramount to you — perhaps even similar to the red ropes that keep her grounded. Everyone arrives at a way to continue forward and this is yours. She glances down at your arm, where a Mitachurl had unexpectedly charged forward and slammed into you.

You had the means to dispatch it, and still, you hesitated. She did not. She hoped your explanation would dispel her confusion, but as is typical with you, she’s left feeling further perplexed. If this is a place that does you good, you should stay. Is returning to Liyue Harbor a type of training for you?

“Thank you again for patching me up. And helping me out earlier,” you give your shoulder an experimental roll. “The way you fight with your polearm is almost magical. I don’t know how you can move like that.”

The praise makes her stomach feel strange, yet it’s far from unpleasant. “I’m glad I was nearby.”

She always is when you’re on Mt. Aocang, but she keeps this detail to herself.

“So am I.”

The wind blows softly through your camp, rustling tree branches and encouraging the fire to crackle. Shenhe’s experienced many nights like this. While she could always appreciate the serene atmosphere, having you present makes it different somehow. It goes from being just another pretty place on the mountain to a slice of paradise. You take the ordinary and turn it into something special, something worthwhile.

“[First].”

“Hm?”

“That man… is he currently alive?”

You shake your head. “He isn’t. As it turns out, he was making shady deals with this group called the Fatui. They aren’t people you want to mess with. No one knows the specifics, but his death was unusual. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume they did away with him after he no longer held any value.”

“That’s certainly a shame.”

You blink. “It is?”

“Yes,” she shifts her empty stare in the Harbor’s direction. “I would’ve liked to end him myself.”

Shenhe might be dense when it comes to most social courtesies, but even she knows this topic is taboo. Her entire life up until this point has consisted of training to subdue her homicidal urges. From this diligence on her master’s behalf, she came to glean that killing is an act that’s generally discouraged.

For this reason, she almost regrets her lack of tact if not for the sole possibility it could drive you away.

That’s why her eyes widen slightly when you press your hand over hers.

“It’s okay. I get it,” your tone makes it sound like it too. “If I’m being entirely honest, I thought about it before. I used to get angry when my master said I shouldn't throw away my future due to the past. In retrospect, I couldn’t be more grateful for her patience. She wasn’t protecting him, she was protecting me.”

The smile that Shenhe finds more dazzling than starlight works its way onto your face.

“Besides… if I had gone down that path, then who knows, maybe I wouldn’t have met you? That alone makes me confident I made the right decision.”

As far as you’re concerned, Shenhe is nowhere near as enigmatic as the rumors made her out to be.

She has her quirks, that much is undeniable, yet she’s simple at heart. She doesn’t leave you guessing. Mincing words isn’t her style, although it’s not born from malicious intent. To her, it doesn’t make sense why you’d say one thing while thinking another, an element you find refreshing.

You can only recall a single instance where you felt distance from her, despite being physically close.

That instance would be last night.

Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, it should be around noon. Normally, you would’ve seen Shenhe by this point. She prefers to drop by in the morning and then again at night so you can focus on your training. You suppose this ritual was never set in stone, it isn’t like she has to do it. Still, worry gnaws away at your rationality like vermin.

There’s plenty to do to keep your overactive mind occupied. Today marks the last day of this year’s annual Mt. Aocang trip. You pack your belongings up with care, not wanting to desecrate the land that served as your home for the past few weeks. The adepti are generous enough to grant you usage of what’s essentially their abode. The least you can do is ensure everything is returned to how it was.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you survey your work. You’re running out of menial tasks to justify prolonging your stay. Deep down, you know you’re waiting to spot those silvery strands of hair. It occurs to you then that you’ve never been the one to seek Shenhe out. Where would you begin to search and find her? Traversing higher up feels like a violation, that’s where Cloud Retainer lives.

It wouldn’t be right to depart for an entire year without bidding Shenhe farewell. This predicament leaves you with a limited set of options. You could wait, hoping that she might happen by, or you could leave a note. The latter has an impersonal air to it which doesn’t sit well with you. Especially when you have the distinct impression something about last night changed the dynamic of your relationship.

You’re about to sigh for the umpteenth time that day when your ears pick up on distant footsteps. Relief washes over you in waves, you practically trip over yourself to approach the source of the sound. You know it must be Shenhe before you see her. No one else comes up here, it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

Shenhe doesn’t acknowledge your enthusiastic wave, opting to inspect where your camp once was instead. It could be your imagination, but you swear she’s frowning.

She speaks up before you have a chance to greet her, an unusual edge in her voice. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry for not mentioning it sooner. I sorta lost track of the days,” you rub the back of your neck. “But yes, I plan on starting the trip back to Liyue Harbor today. I have commitments to attend to. Otherwise, I would love to stay longer.”

You don’t know why you feel compelled to explain yourself. It isn’t as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be, yet for whatever reason, that’s what it feels like. The way she fixates on your packed belongings isn’t lost on you. The intent behind her stare is, though. Your closest guess is mild displeasure.

“Then stay,” Shenhe’s response makes it seem so simple. “I’ll help you unpack.”

Without waiting to hear your answer, she makes for the bag that holds your tent, until you block her path. You were aware she could be stubborn when the situation called for it. However, this doesn’t seem like the time or place to charge ahead without paying you any mind.

“Hey, is everything alright? Did I say something that upset you? If I did, please tell me. I don’t want to part on bad terms.”

“We won’t,” she promises. The reassurance does little to make you feel better. “I’m not upset. In fact, I’m quite pleased. The intricacies of understanding others is an art that’s often lost on me. It wasn’t until our discussion last night that things made themselves clear.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot. “And just what became clear to you, exactly?”

“You don’t want to leave, so you don’t have to.”

Your lips part and then close in rapid succession. Did you accidentally drink liquor instead of water this morning? Why is she talking like this is the most obvious revelation in the world? Pursing your lips, you comb the recesses of your mind for any possible statement or action that’d lead her to this conclusion. Misunderstandings always have a starting point. No matter what angle you scrutinize your last interaction from, you can’t fathom how she came to believe what she currently does.

Then again, her thought process differs drastically from yours. You’ve never needed to try

“I’ve learned that people are needlessly confusing,” she approaches you with slow, languid steps. “They’ll want one thing then convince themselves to pursue another. You say you like it here, then offer an excuse when given the opportunity to stay.”

A kindling of frustration flickers to life inside your chest. “That isn’t— I’m not giving excuses.”

She tilts her head. “Then why would you want to return to a place that unfairly condemned you, when you were guilty of nothing?”

No one has ever put it that way — so blunt, so raw — the words are knives that know the perfect place to cut. You swallow thickly. A lump forms in your constricting throat that you thought you’d moved past. She’s in front of you now, looking down at you through snowy eyelashes. She smells faintly of morning dew and herbs. Even in the midst of this bizarre, almost dreamlike experience, there’s a certain serenity to be found. You’re situated in the eye of the storm.

Lithe limbs bring you into an embrace with the utmost gentleness, she takes care not to apply pressure to your healing arm. She treats you as if you were made of porcelain.

“I’ve been told this act provides comfort,” she runs a hand up and down your back, leaving goosebumps behind in her wake. You shiver. “Do you feel comforted, [First]?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Her grip tightens, causing your breath to hitch. “How about now?”

The genuine nature of her inquiry leaves you at a loss. Had it been coming from anyone else, you might think they were mocking you, but this is Shenhe. Her actions are always in good faith, regardless of the quality of their execution. You don’t reciprocate the hug or make an attempt to push her away. For some reason, the idea of shrugging her off instills guilt in you.

An unwelcome little voice whispers you wouldn’t be able to, even if you tried. Her strength is far superior to yours.

You beg the voice to not say anything else.

Shenhe nuzzles her nose into your hair, seemingly forgetting that you have yet to reply. “If a place is full of bitter memories, it’s better to leave it behind, rather than force it to taste sweet.”

“I won’t know until I try,” is your weak rebuttal. It sounded better in your head.

“If you try, you can get hurt again,” Shenhe’s fingers are impossibly cold against your sweltering skin. “So don’t try. Stay. My master has given permission for you to live here with us.”

She parts from you with some reluctance. You watch silently as she rummages through your equipment, putting everything back where it once was. She must’ve memorized how you preferred to set up camp. There’s concentration on her features, she’s intent on ensuring each item is in its proper place. After a few minutes of standing as still as a statue, you lend her a hand.

Your movements are far more sluggish than usual, it’s like there’s an invisible weight crushing you from above.

You test various arguments on your tongue and find them all unsatisfactory. How can you go about convincing Shenhe when you’re not even convinced yourself? For as long as you can remember, you’ve clung to the possibility of righting the wrong, struggling in swimming upstream against rushing currents. Could she be offering you a hand that’d pull you free from dangerous waters?

Or is she dragging you into another uphill battle under the guise of rescue?

From this position, high up in the sky, it’s easy to forget the complexities that inevitably come with regular life. There are no such difficulties here. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay a while longer. No one here looks down on you, whispers when you enter a room, or avoids you on the street. Underhanded comments never reach your ears. You had forgotten how much each of these unfair transgressions stings.

Shenhe reopened the wound — perhaps she has a better way to close it.

Until then, you’ll learn to endure the hurt all over again.

#shenhe x reader #yandere shenhe x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #commissions #my stuff

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teslacoils-and-hubris · 1 year

Text

Thinking about the functionality of creating clones to push the burden of being *you* off onto someone else

If you had an exact clone of yourself, with a complete copy of your memories (perhaps without the cloning part, I can be empathetic to the potential existential nightmare I've just put my pretend clone into) and then you kill yourself but let the clone live out your life without ever knowing they weren't the original, you didn't really kill yourself. You just pushed *being you* onto someone else.

Now don't get me wrong here I understand that the original prime consciousness of *you* is still dead and no longer part of the equation, but to everyone else, the people who really matter once you're dead, nothing changed. They still have their loved one walking around. In the case of this imagined perfect clone, there would be absolutely no noticeable personality shift between you and the replacement. You just pushed your consciousness off onto someone else. You're dead sure, but not in any meaningful way. You've replaced yourself with a ghost and no one will ever notice. Some other poor fool (with your face and your memories and your preferences and your voice and and and) just got shoved into the you shaped hole you refused to leave in people's life

And this is all without even mentioning the potential problem of the clone returning to the situation that made you so desperate to die in the first place. And you're already someone who will turn to making a clone to solve their problems, so inevitably you only have two options in this situation

1. The clone manages to better your life and get to a point they're happy (or at least not suicidal). I don't think I need to explain the horrible tragedy of this, if you had just removed this idea of escape you could have been happy, but you didn't. You obsessed over it and brought it into being and now you get to live a life that doesn't want you dead but You won't experience any of it

Or 2. The clone returns to its miserable life, independently comes up with the ideal of cloning itself to avoid leaving any gaping wounds, and does. exactly. what you did. Each clone returns to misery and does not see a way out of the tunnel. They all subsequently push away the loved ones you started this all for in each of their attempts to force their problems onto someone else. You never noticed how obsessed you were when you first had this idea. Never noticed how many hours you spent perfecting your clone instead of with the people you loved. The last clone, since clones are not immune to old age, is bitter and alone. Having pushed everyone you loved away and abandoned every outside interest for a goal they doesn't even remember. The memory of being clones is wiped from every subsequent version. It was a kindness. Now they're left trapped in cycles they will never understand, dealing with the consequences of things they didn't do, and you will die. Old and alone and miserable.

This post started with me trying to think of a funny joke about being submerged in green goo, btw

#doc rambles #im doing fine i just enjoy exploring fucked up what ifs #uhh #ask to tag #i guess?

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sky-fire-forever · 11 months

Text

I am... once again so sad and disappointed by Izzy's death.

Like... I just very genuinely do not understand the purpose his death served. Like if it's to fuel Ed's arc, it very genuinely fails to do so! Like, he says the crew loves Ed. He says the crew are Ed's family.

But Ed LEAVES THE CREW BEHIND! He does not stay with them!!! What is the point of that??

Why did the crew just fucking stand there while Izzy bled out?? This crew, who fucking risked their own lives to save Izzy, who accepted him as their family, just fucking stand around awkwardly while Izzy dies in Ed's arms.

Jim, Archie, and Frenchie could have been fucking KILLED by Ed for hiding the fact that Izzy survived. When Ed told Frenchie to fucking murder Izzy in cold blood, Frenchie risked death to refuse and hide Izzy from Ed. To lie to Ed's face about it.

They risked their fucking lives to save him.

And to declare him the new unicorn. They made him a new leg after they cut his flesh leg off to save him. They helped him find his place as their family and this touches him so much that he cries over it. Izzy fucking Hands. Cries over this meaningful gift that proves to him that despite his disability, they want him around. They love him.

And these people. These people who accept Izzy as their family and risked everything to save him from Ed. They just... stand in the background so Ed can hold him. Not one of them is shown to be affected by Izzy's death, NOT EVEN ED.

Ed just says "that's that" and moves the fuck on to run a terrible inn with his boyfriend who he rushed into another whim with despite them addressing that that is their flaw in their relationship.

I just don't understand the fucking POINT of Izzy's death. Yes, death can be meaningless in real life. But this show is not fucking real life. It's a show and it's supposed to be a comedy.

And yet this show depicts suicide, abuse, trauma, and then... laughs it off. But those heavy themes aren't part of the joke. They're just... there. But only when the show wants to be Edgy and Dramatic. And nothing has consequences.

It genuinely feels like they just didn't know what to do with Izzy, so they killed him off because they thought it'd be Dramatic.

I am so, so grateful to this show for his queer representation. I love the characters. I love the first season. I love a lot of how they handled so much.

But I'm still just... disappointed with season two.

I'm disappointed with its treatment of women. With how basically the whole crew become little more than background characters. I'm disappointed that they brought so many interesting ideas to the table and then didn't follow through with any of it.

I'm just... disappointed. That doesn't mean I regret that the show exists. I'm grateful for the good parts. I just think it could have been better

And keep in mind, I was not a part of the fandom until season two was airing. I watched season one when it came out and I liked it, but wasn't invested enough to seek out online takes. I had no idea what the fandom's opinion was.

The first episode that I started looking at stuff online about was Calypsos Birthday. That was the episode when I joined the fandom. Because I loved Izzy's display of queerness as it's presented in that episode and I adored Wee John's presentation as well. I got so excited by it, I went online.

I had no expectations for the finale. I had no idea what the fandom was like. I had no idea of the reception of Izzy or how things were expected to play out.

When I watched season one, my favorite characters were Oluwande and Jim. Jim meant so much to me as a trans person and I just thought Oluwande was such a kind and lovely person while not being portrayed as an idiot when so often the kind male characters are also written as stupid. And I really loved that Oluwande wasn't that!

I loved Ed and Stede's relationship! And their arc! I thought they were lovely characters who had such a good dynamic! I was rooting for them!

Izzy very honestly faded into the background for me when I first watched season one. I forgot most of what he did. He was kinda a plot device in my mind.

That didn't change until season two, when they gave him such a beautiful arc. And he skyrocketed into being my favorite character.

But I noticed how heavy the first episodes of season two were. And I noticed the way none of the actions had consequences. I was so confused as to why the crew just... accepted Ed back after he literally tortured them. I was like... "wait, what"

And I spent literally the whole season believing that Oluwande and Jim were in a polyamorous relationship because it was never made clear what the situation was.

And Ed and Stede became so... unlikable. Like they both became worse people and then never had aht consequences for it. Ed never had to deal with the fact that he fucking TORTURED his CREW. To the point where they had to try to KILL HIM. But he was saved through the power of love because it made a pretty mermaid scene.

I also didn't understand when Oluwande became romantically attracted to Zheng. I thought they were friends and he liked her as a person, but he seemed so awkward when she was flirting with him and I thought he was still in love with Jim. I very genuinely thought Jim saying they kissed someone else and the two of them laughing about it was the beginning of a polyam relationship. It very genuinely did not occur to me that they were not together

But this is a queer fucking show. And I assumed they were going to do a queer thing instead of wanting the audience to assume how their relationship played out based on social norms. I thought that's just... what made sense

And Lucius and Black Pete suddenly being portrayed as so... monogamous despite season one portraying them as Not That hurt so much as a polyamorous person. I didn't understand why it became like they were the people who mattered most to each other and they even got married, which polyam people can definitely do, but it felt like a moment of "You Are And Always Will Be The Most Important Person To Me"

I dunno. I very genuinely didn't mean to ramble this long, but I guess I had a lot to say

#ofmd #ofmd critical #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death #queue-no steel

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effloradox · 2 years

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I’m a Fire and I’ll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm (I)

Aemond Targaryen x Dragon Rider!Reader

Series Masterlist

Notes: I’m really excited about this fic! I’m hoping this will be about four parts in total, maybe five depending on how things pan out. Hope you enjoy it!

Taming a dragon is by no means an easy feat. They're fickle creatures, and easy to anger so it's understandable that so many people have burned in their attempt to control such a creature. You've watched several men burn in their quest to try and tame one of the few remaining wild dragons left in Westeros. All of them were cocky Lords of the realm that thought they could bend nature to their will in the same way that they bend man-made laws. They're all fools for thinking dragons will bend the knee just because someone has some gold in their pocket. The dragon did not care for their gold, it cared for their flesh.

The trick, you've learned, is that you need to accept that you're never actually in control of your dragon to be a good rider. Dragons aren’t creatures that can be tamed, and to believe otherwise is a fool's endeavour. You might be able to form a bond with one to the extent that you will not be incinerated upon getting close to it, but that’s not the same thing as taming a creature. It's hubris that gets dragon riders killer, nothing more. They forget what it is they're riding and their lapse in judgement gets them killed. It's something you've been careful to keep in mind whenever you ride Grey Ghost, lest it result in your downfall.

It may be the fact that you're an anomaly to dragon riding that makes you so cautious, after all it's exceedingly rare for dragons to accept riders who are not of Valyrian blood, it’s been all but unheard of until your time on this planet. The only other rider to be in the same situation as you is Nettles, and even you question how she managed to get Sheepstealer to accept her as its rider. She’s a sweet woman, if a bit dull, and upon first impressions one would never imagine her capable of seeing a dragon without fainting, let alone riding one. Looks can be deceiving though, you suppose. Just take yourself as an example.

You come from no family of major consequence, born to a family with minor influence in the Riverlands. There was enough food and money to get you and your siblings by, but when the threat of your marriage to an elderly lord came about (something that would have massively increased your family’s standing in the politics of the Riverlands) and your refusal to go ahead with the marriage was not taken with any grace, you decided to run away before you were forced into a life you would rather die than face. It was the hardest thing you’ve ever done leaving your family and everything you knew behind, but no part of you regrets it when you think about how your life could’ve been.

It's quiet by the coast. Over time that's something you've learned to appreciate the sound of the tides as they ebb and flow in front of you. Over the years it’s become easy to lose several hours of daylight just sitting on the beach watching the tide. You’ve always found comfort in the water, as ironic as that is now you ride a creature that can breathe fire. Maybe it’s just a Riverlands thing, but bodies of water have always had connotations of home, of safety. They’re consistent, and that’s been very reassuring whilst your life has been so tumultuous. It’s why you stayed by the sea when you left home. It’s also been useful in keeping yourself alive. The patch of land that you've comfortably described as your home for the past three years has versatile enough wildlife that keeps you satiated, and the sea provides copious amounts of fish to keep Grey Ghost satisfied enough that she won't turn to you for her next meal. It’s also close enough to a town that should something go amiss you’re not too far from civilization but it’s not so close that people would wander by and happen across you and a dragon.

It's not an easy way of life, but it's a better life than one of servitude to some old bastard who only views you as useful for birthing children so you're more than happy with the occasional wet clothes from the tide coming in unexpectedly. It also helps that you have access to anywhere in the realm if Grey Ghost is around. You’ve been able to travel to far off ports that many you grew up with could only dream about, and you’re hyper aware of just how lucky you are. There's nothing in the world like riding a dragon and soaring through the sky, it makes you understand why the houses of Old Valyria have fought wars in order to keep such tight reins on the dragons in their possession. With the wind whipping against you, it's no wonder why the Targaryens describe themselves as being closer to gods than men. There's a weightlessness that comes with it, and a freedom that you know few in the world have the luxury of experiencing. It’s a privilege to be able to do so.

Trouble is brewing in Westeros though. Even with the nomadic life you've been living for the past seven years, you've heard whispers in the taverns you've frequented on occasion about matters of succession and of who is to rule once the ageing king finally passes. Talk of a female heir has been spoken with such disdain through your life that it’s no surprise how quickly people are taken in by the quick coronation of Aegon the Second when his father died. From what you've heard it's caused quite the problem between the royals. To be crowned in the Dragon Pit only to have a dragon break through the floor and kill many of the common people bearing witness makes for quite a story.

With the distance between your home and King's Landing, you'd like to imagine that such matters won't be too influential on you and your way of life but part of you is concerned about the war that’s brewing. You know there are rumours about your existence and Nettles' drifting around the realm, the nobody's that did the impossible and tamed wild dragons. You've heard yourself referred to by many names, some are better than others. You're particularly fond of the Grey Lady if you're being honest with yourself. It makes you feel closer to Grey Ghost, like you're a shared force rather than just someone who got lucky and didn't get incinerated when you stumbled upon a wild dragon. If the royal family were to hear about such rumours, or worse believe them to be true, then it could destroy the life you've built for yourself. Nettles once told you that the time would come when the houses of Old Valyria would come to collect what they believe to be theirs but you didn’t think it would happen so soon. You want more time. Maybe you put too much faith in an elderly man not dying before you were finally ready to bid your homeland goodbye. Despite everything, you’re still not ready to turn your back on your homeland.

The tide coming in and brushing against your bare feet brings you back to the here and now. That, and a deep rumble that feels like it reverberates through your very soul. A while ago you would've thought it was a storm blowing in but you've grown wiser with your age. It's a feeling you've come to know well enough; it happens everytime Grey Ghost returns to you from wherever she flies off to but this is to a lesser extent. A dragon's coming, and if the feeling is anything to go off, it's bigger than Grey Ghost is. A lot bigger. That concerns you.

You've heard stories about the dragons that the Royal family have claimed, and some of them are the biggest dragons alive. The mere shadow of the dragon called Vhagar is rumoured to cast the entirety of King's Landing into darkness when she flies overhead. The idea of a Targaryen finding you makes you blanch. Your soul is screaming for you to jump on Grey Ghost's back and just fly as far away as possible but the sole rational part of your brain that's not rattled with anxiety knows that it would be a futile endeavour. A dragon that big would catch up with you in seconds, and would definitely be able to knock you both out the sky. You’d be lucky if you came away from that encounter alive. You could be torn into shreds before you even realised the dragon was near you.

That leaves your only option as running away on foot which means you won't get far, but you'll be harder to follow if there is someone searching you out. You can get to the nearest village in forty minutes if you hurry and you're friendly enough with some of the people there that you can lay low and hope that whoever the royal family sent after you will conclude that you're just a myth and not bother heading this way again. You don't want to leave without Grey Ghost, not with another dragon on the way, but it's too difficult to get away with her so you have no choice but to leave her here and hope no ill falls on her.

You’re aware that this could just be some awful string of fate and it’s merely coincidence that’s bringing this dragon towards your home. If you lived closer to an important lord then it would be a logical assumption that a convoy of royals on dragonback would land further out so as not to disrupt the town that was hosting them. There’s a traitorous part of you that knows it’s not coincidence though. There are lords in this area, but no one that would warrant an in-person visit from a Targaryen. Whether they’ve come for you or for Grey Ghost you’re not sure, but you could guess with a degree of certainty that they’ve come for one of you, if not both. Even if it’s just to find out if you’re real.

You only grab your essentials before making your way inland, and you can only hope that when you return, it will be like nothing has changed. Maybe for once in your life, things won't turn to absolute shit.

When you make your way into town, you realise almost immediately that it was the wrong decision to make. It's crawling with members of the royal guard, and whilst you have a few friends here, there's no guarantee that you've not already been given up. There’s a lot of people who would cross a stranger for a hefty reward from the crown. Coming here may just have been you handing yourself over on a silver platter. None of the guards look at you twice as you make your way to the tavern for which you’re thankful for, at least it means you aren’t immediately suspicious. You almost feel like you might get through today alive. Almost.

“She’s the one! There! That’s the woman you’re looking for!” You can make out the face of a man you beat in a game of dice a few months ago ahead of you, red in the face and pointing straight at you. Fuck. The effect of the yell is instantaneous as everyone around you turns to stare at you, including multiple guards. You quickly turn on your heel and break out into a run but you’re almost immediately surrounded by members of the King’s Guard who move to grab you.

You try to struggle against the multiple arms digging into your biceps but it’s no use. You get one good kick aimed at the knee of a guard that looks at you with an uncomfortably familiar leer which you're proud of but you have to resign yourself to the fact that escaping them is no longer an option. Now that they have you, none of the guards seem quite sure what to do with you

“Take her to the Prince. He’ll want to see this.”

#my writing #fics #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #fem!reader

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onlyonetifosi · 2 years

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Why me? How you dare?

-> Word Count: 1950

->Author note: 2nd part? And I would appreciate some ideas to write . English is not my first language so sorry for mistakes

Pierre Galsy, love of my life or that what i tougth only a month ago . It's been a little over a month since Pierre and I broke up, and I still can't understand why it happened. My twin brother Arthur was the one who found out first. He came into my room, sat down on my bed, and just looked at me. I could tell something was wrong. "What is it?" I asked him. "Pierre broke up with you," he said simply showing me a letter.

I couldn't believe it. I had thought things were going so well between us. We had been together for almost two years, and I had never been happier. But apparently, Pierre didn't feel the same way. He told in the letter that he didn't think we were compatible anymore and that he needed some time to be alone. I was heartbroken. I cried for days and refused to leave my room.

My older brother Charles tried to comfort me, but I just couldn't seem to snap out of it. Finally, after about a week, I decided to get out of bed and face the world again. But even though I'm slowly moving on, I can't help but wonder what went wrong. Why did Pierre break up with me? Was there something I did wrong?

I spend my nights crying for him, we were so happy for years but he decided out of nothing to cut laces with me and he was gone when i came home from work one night. Its heartbreaking only knowing about him from his bestfriend, the problem is that his bestfriend is my older brother Charles, Charles Leclerc, the one that said years ago that his friends where forbidden, but i didn't listen to him and now im facing the consequences.

Why I had to be so stubborn, I wish I had listened to him.

-Allez princesse, lève-toi, on dîne avec maman- Charles says entering in my room and opening the curtains for the sun to enter in my room, I cover myself with my duvets but he rip them of me as I growl at him .

-Allez! Je sais que tu ne veux pas parler, mais on doit dîner avec ma femme- he says to me as I roll my eyes and groan in displeased, today im having dinner at Charles house with all our family and his girlfriend, Charlotte,don't get me wrong Ilike her a lot but Im not in the mood to talk to anyone. I dont know why Charles dragged me here, but it seems like he wants to talk to me about something. I go in the bathroom and brush my teeth while glancing myself in the mirror and i notice that im really skinny now that im not eating that much ever since Pierre left. "Im sorry for what happened two years ago" Charles says as he enters in the bathroom "I should have listened to you when you said no guy was allowed around here" I say as we sit down on the floor of my room while we watch TV. "Pierre is a good guy" he says as he changes the channel "You two were perfect for each other, you just need to let go and move on" he says as he changes the channel again. "Im sorry" I say as I look down. "How about a big plate of ice cream?" Charles says as he gets up from the floor. "No thank you, its alright" I say while keeping my head down. "I'm going to get one anyway" Charles says before he leaves my room.

I turn off the TV before laying down on my bed with my box of tissues. I take out a tissue before wiping some tears away and start looking at old pictures of Pierre and me when we were together for two years that were in a photo album that my mom gave to me after he left me. The first picture was taken on our first date when we went on a picnic at Central Park in New York City when it was warm outside but then it started to rain so we had to grab our stuff quickly and ran towards the street where we took a cab home since it was getting cold out . The second picture was taken on Valentine's Day last year where we went to an expensive restaurant for dinner then later walked around town a bit before heading back home.

Photos that remembered our good old days where we were so happy together, even though there were some days where things didnt seem right between us which happens sometimes between couples, not all days are perfect or happy days but what matters is how you make them right or happy again after feeling upset, unhappy or angry towards each other which is what we used to do when there were problems between us until Pierre broke up with over something so stupid that could have been fixed if only hed listen to me instead of running away, making me hate myself because I thought nothing was wrong between us at first thinking everything was fine like usual but then things started changing slowly over time which made my heart ache more knowing that id never be able to see him again.

I wasnt aware that Pierre was feeling miserable about us because I never gave him a chance to tell me what was wrong thinking he would just be able to talk to me about it at any second if something was wrong when usually we had no secrets between us but then he told me everything in a letter after breaking up with me explaining why he broke up with me and how unhappy he felt thinking I didnt care about him anymore since I was never home, that we stopped communicating like we used to because things got difficult between us over time.

But Pierre made the biggest mistake of his life by breaking up with me because he thought Id get over him easily which is far from it instead of getting over him id lost interest in guys since hes the only one I ever loved and dating someone else would feel weird knowing they are not Pierre, its been months without hearing from each other and without telling anyone about my breakup. If youre wondering how Im feeling now or how's my life going then I'm fine for now Im working on not thinking about Pierre every 5 minutes but its pretty hard considering how much Id loved him, how close we were and all the great times we had together as friends before dating and as couple.

-Maman, je ne veux pas aller demain, il sera là, je vais pleurer ou le tuer quand je le verrai (mum, i don't want to go tomorrow, he is gonna be there, i will cry or kill him)- I plead my mum, who came to visit me.

-Caroline Éve-Marie Leclerc, lève-toi maintenant même (get up now)- she forces me and I don't have another option than oblie her.

When we arrived to the Gasly's home, the one I had been so many times before in my childhood, I see my 2 older brothers and my twin brother alongside their girlfirends.

-Carla, I missed you- I hug my twin's girlfriend who I couldn't see for months.

-Allons tous à l'intérieur ils nous attendent (let's go in, they are waiting for us) - my mum says and we follow her.

When we enter to the house, I see him with a beautiful girl. -Oups désolée je ne savais pas que vous seriez là (oops, i'm sorry i didn't know you were going to be here) -says his girl who looks so many times like any model he was before I was with him- Well, I didn't know you would be here too -he retorts. We were about to start with this argument when my mum comes and says: -Arrêtez de faire l'idiot, tous les deux, c'est Noël après tout! (stop doing the idiot the 2 of you, its Christmas)- We shut up and go sit down at the table where the dinner was ready.

After eating and chatting for a while we started playing some games. I was playing Monopoly with my brothers and their girlfirends while my ex was flirting with that girl. I tried not to care but inside I felt hurt because he had chosen her over me even though I had been the one who loved him so much. When it got late, we all went to sleep in our rooms. The next morning, I woke up early and went downstairs to get something to eat. When I got there, I saw my ex and that girl kissing under the mistletoe. I couldn't help but feel jealous and hurt all over again. I went back upstairs and cried myself to sleep.

I enter into my brother room, he was there still in bed while his girlfriend was showering.

-Artie, why does it hurts so much, I hate him- I start crying. -It hurts because you still have feelings for him, after everything he did to you. You need to move on and stop thinking about him- he said. I nodded my head and went back to my room. I get ready, and I go down to see his mum and mine chatting and I decide to join them.

-Oh Carol, how pretty are you- his mum, Pascale tells me while sehe gets up to hug me- Do you want to make some Christmas cookies like we did when you were petitte?(little) -I would love to!- I say with a smile. After we made the cookies, we sat down and talked for a while. His mum told me that she was sorry for what happened between us and that she hoped we could be friends again. I told her that I forgave her and that I missed her too. Then there he was entering the kitchen kissing his girlfriend like a horny teenager. It hurted so much, his mum realised and hugged me.

-What are you doing?- the girl asks- Some cookies- i explain her trying not to be rude. He barely looked at me and i could see in his eyes that he still loved me. I wanted to leave but his mum insisted on us spending Christmas together like we used to.

Once they leave the kitchen, his mum made my sit with her. We talked a little bit before going to sleep and she told me that i should give him another chance because he was really miserable without me. I didn’t want to do that so i refused but she kept insisting. Later that night, he came over to my room and kissed me. I immediately pushed him away and told him that we were not together anymore. He screamed at me and left the room in a hurry. Next day, he didn’t even look at me and ignored my texts. I was devastated and his mother was mad at him for doing that. it killed me inside, like if i just ruined Christmas for them all. They never mentioned it again after that but i could tell they felt bad about it.

My brothers were there to support me along the way, and his mum was there too. She was angry at his son to doing that to me and she speek to him barely during the holidays. it wasn’t the best Christmas after all due to this. With all of it said, I still miss him and care about him.

Don't be a ghost even we are in halloween :)) Reblog, like or something <3

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly angst #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 drivers x reader

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beetlegoose01 · 8 months

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Ran from Hell, burned from life

[David Saw 0.5 one shot]

David was never meant to be targeted by Jigsaw. It happened by cruel fate that he was mistaken for his twin brother, and as such, had to face the consequences.

read on AO3!

Tick. Tick. Tick.

David was convinced he would go insane from the repetition of the wall clock's obnoxious tapping. Its crooked hands' restless noise was enough to make any normal person lose their senses. It might as well be a ticking time bomb, since any moment it would seal his fate in the dreary gray room he was forced into. It was bland and cramped with a sloping ceiling and painted chipped walls. Clearly it was never meant to be seen by any respectable interior designer, however it did leave him feeling like a prisoner. The handcuffs certainly didn't help.

He had yet to properly meet the gaze of the man sitting across from him. Detective...whatever his name was. He was a balding middle aged white man of no particular discernible personality aside from intimidating glares and a permanent scowl. He had introduced himself curtly, only for David to promptly forget his name. Already the man was treating him as though he was dangerous, handcuffing him to the table for extra precautions. Like he was a wild animal ready to attack at any moment. The shackles already made his wrists feel raw, but at least he had the freedom to keep a cigarette between his fingertips. It helped him from shaking, stopped his anxiety from going haywire.

The detective cleared his throat. "Coffee?" He offered.

David grimaced and shook his head. Judging from the way the detective's own paper cup filled with lukewarm coffee and no creamer he decided to pass. No use getting poisoned. Water sounded nice though, but he was scared to ask for some.

"Very well. Let's start from the top."

He took a long drag of his cigarette. "Don't wanna talk anymore about it."

"David, I still need to ask you a few more questions about what happened."

He stubbornly met the man's piercing eyes, amused when the detective's scowl darkened.

"I understand you've been through a traumatic experience..." David loudly scoffed. "And I sympathize with you."

"Doesn't sound like it."

"But," He clenched his jaw. "I need answers on what happened and so far you've been less than helpful."

"I'm not trying to be helpful." He exhaled, the smoke swirling towards the other man's face, who simply waved it away with disinterest.

"David."

"I just...I can't, OK? I- I can't talk about it."

"The sooner you do, the sooner you can leave. Do you understand?"

He flinched at the harsh tone biting him, but chose to arch his shoulders back, his eyes fierce.

“Unless you'd rather spend the night in a cell.”

David refused to take the bait

"I said---"

"I know what you said." he growled. "...Fine. I'll tell you what happened. Everything."

The detective nodded firmly. "Go on."

The scarred man took a shaky breath, looking down on his painted black nails, most of the polish chewed and ruined. "I was at work." He began.

David hated his job.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that. In fact, he would proudly tell it to anyone who bothered to listen. He always wanted to help people, but he was too dumb and easily distracted to be a doctor or nurse, so he was stuck being an orderly. Day after day, week after week, he grew accustomed to cleaning up the worst bodily fluids imaginable. Shit, piss, blood, vomit, he was familiar with it all. The smell didn't even phase him anymore. He was used to getting down and dirty, hating his life as he scrubbed like fucking Cinderella while patients berated him.

It wasn't his fault he had terrible bedside manners. He couldn't help that he smoked in the hallways and blasted his music through his walkman instead of changing bandages. He just didn't give two shits about these people, work or otherwise. They were all blurs, nameless faces that he was forced to interact with. The only bonus was the healthcare benefits and even that wasn't worth it.

Oftentimes his fellow orderlies would comment on how he set a bad example for the hospital. He was lazy, had terrible eating habits, didn't care about his health and took so many smoke breaks that all the doctors were convinced his lungs must be fully black and shriveled up by now from all the nicotine he inhaled. It was as though he was planning on dying young. But if he was honest, he wouldn't mind that. He didn't expect to live to see thirty, let alone to be an old man.

Living is overrated anyway.

He just didn't expect to be tested with that careless phrase as soon as he did.

It was the middle of the night by the time his shift ended. His head was aching from the long, odd hours of work and the lack of sleep, the only thing that kept him awake was the pounding music in his ears and a can of Red Bull he had a few hours earlier. His eyes drooped, yawning as he fumbled for his car keys, blasted Green Day too loudly in his ears as he made his way to reach his car. But eventually his exhaustion caught up to him, and his keys flew out of his hands and landed on the pavement.

He groaned, pulling his headphones out and reaching for them. He clicked the keys, and somewhere in the distance he heard his car.

And that was when he heard an entirely different noise.

Turning around with his back facing a nearby pillar, he kept himself alert for anything suspicious. He swore he heard something moving behind him. Some footsteps approaching his general direction. Moving from the stairs, maybe. But all he saw now was a floating plastic bag dancing in the chilly breeze. Nobody was here. There couldn't be. He was the last orderly in staff that was supposed to leave at this time.

"Hello?" He called out. "Anyone there?" His voice echoed from the deepest stretch of the basement. Then silence. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Yeah, you better stay back. I took one muay thai class, so I could easily beat you. Whoever you are." He couldn't help but laugh at his own joke. But his laughter faded in his throat seconds later.

The footsteps returned, faster this time. They were getting closer now. Too close. Whether he saw some movement or not, he wasn't risking his life to find out what it was.

At last, he saw it. Someone was standing there, watching him. They were dressed in some kind of black cloak, and most notably had a grotesque pig mask. David couldn't tell if the skin was real or not. He didn't want to find out. He let out a scream.

"Fuckfuckfuck- FUCK! HELP!" With one last burst of adrenaline, and without any further thoughts, he bolted towards the end of the lot. He didn't care if it was all in his head, he was out of there. His heart raced erratically in his chest, he really wished in that moment he paid attention in gym class more. Cardio was not exactly his strong suit. "Oh fuck me."

At last, he saw his beacon of hope. His holy grail. His car. He was almost there. He just had to ignore the stitch in his side and keep running. Keep running. Keep running. Don't stop. The footsteps continued to chase after him. And they were fast.

He couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close to escaping.

He swerved around, gasping as he caught a glimpse of whomever was after him, and to check if they were catching up. But that split second of checking proved to be his downfall, as he crashed into the nearest pillar and landed to the floor with a pathetic thud.

The last thing he saw was the face of a pig, before he was hit with complete darkness.

Blood and metal. That was what he tasted when he finally woke up, alongside a pounding headache from being smacked around. His eyes rolled around, scanning the area despite everything around him seeming blurry, and dizziness prevented him from focusing. After blinking for several seconds, at last his vision finally adjusted and he realized he had been placed in some kind of abandoned warehouse.

"Mmfh..." a groan escaped his lips, muffled.

His eyes went wide with panic as he came to a more terrifying revelation. There was something around his head, a metal contraption covering his mouth and jaw. If he had a choice of getting kidnapped, he would have preferred a regular gag...not some stupid helmet from the industrial revolution.

He tried to steady his breathing, focusing on why he had been taken. Ransom seemed unlikely, considering he had no money and no one would actually pay to save him. Which could only mean he was here for a more terrifying reason.

David squirmed desperately against his restraints, finding it harder and harder not to lose control and freak out. He could hear the twisting of gears against his ears, rattling around till it hit his skull.

"Rise and shine Adam."

He jolted forward, attempting to find where the voice was coming from, and less why it had called him Adam. It was deep and distorted, something out of an old recording. It was only then that he saw a video player to his left, and on the screen was what appeared to be a clown-skeleton puppet.

"You don't know me, but I know you."

'Do you?' David thought to himself.

"I want to play a game. Here's what happens if you lose. The device you are wearing is hooked into your upper and lower jaw. When the timer in the back goes off, your mouth will be permanently ripped open. Think of it as a reverse bear trap. Why don't I show you a demonstration of what it's capable of?"

David struggled against his bounds once more, panic rising as he saw a mannequin head appear on screen and promptly explode. It was impossible not to hyperventilate. His breaths started in short, shallow gasps before rapidly increasing towards the feeling of pure suffocation. All in vain to fight against the erratic hammering heart in his ribcage.

"There is only one key to open the device. It's in the stomach of your dead cell mate. Look around, Adam. Better hurry up."

The recording switched off, and was replaced with the ticking of a timer. The second he was released from the chair, he started to pull at the device, and seeing if he could remove it manually. With a few muffled shrieks and whimpers, he came to the conclusion that it was sealed tight. Not that his sweaty palms could even attempt to open it either way.

'It's in the stomach of your dead cellmate.'

There was a way out. Right smack in front of him, in the corner of the room was a body. And when he crawled over, he spotted the knife, the tracing of where he was supposed to carve. It was disgusting, but doable. He had even seen doctors perform this before. How hard could it be?

But when he reached for the knife, preparing for the incision, he discovered something horrifying.

The man was breathing.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

His time was running out.

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the wall clock to shut up.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"David..." The detective said cautiously. "Do you need a break?"

"No."

"What happened next?"

"What do you think happened next? I fucking...I tore into the guy. Didn't even hesitate. Ripped him open like a fish, found the key and got out. There was..." He swallowed back a sob. "So much blood. Blood splattered everywhere. An' the organs and...God."

"And you knew the man was alive."

He nodded weakly.

"You saw him breathing."

"Ye- yeah."

"Disemboweled him, knowing he was alive."

David broke down, collapsing into the desk. "Yes." He whimpered.

"David!" The detective snarled. "You realize you've just confessed to a murder, don't you?"

"I- I didn't mean to, I panicked, I was gonna fucking die man!"

"It doesn't matter, you still did it."

"What else was I supposed to do? If I didn't, the maniac was gonna kill me! I had to do it to survive. I was gonna be ripped to shreds!"

"You can make up all the excuses you want but it doesn't change the fact that you're a murderer."

"What would you have done?"

"What?"

"If you were in my place. What would you have done? You can pretend to be, I dunno, high and mighty but you would have done the same thing."

The detective was astonished, unable to come up with a response.

"Do you have any more questions or can I leave now?"

"N- No. A court hearing will take place, I'm sure you understand. But for now, you're free to go."

With his handcuffs removed, David slowly slinked away from the table. It wasn't until he was at the door, that the detective decided to speak up again.

"Wait. You mentioned that the...puppet called you Adam."

He didn't turn to face the man. "It did."

"Why?"

"I wasn't thinking at the time, obviously," He admitted. "Until recently I put it together that they were after my brother Adam, not me. We're twins."

"Identical, I assume?"

"Mm. Except he has a mole on his---"

"I think I understand. And why do you think he was targeted?"

David could think of a million different reasons why. But instead he said, "I don't know, I haven't spoken to him in years...well, until now."

"Are you worried he will be targeted again?"

David chewed his lip. "I called him recently, and he's staying with me for the time being. He hates the arrangement and so do I but he should be safe. So long as your guys do their job."

Truth be told, he knew Adam hated him. Resented him even, and he didn't appreciate the favor at all. He was stubborn like that. But David was stubborn too.

With one hand on the door knob, he did a half hearted salute. "See ya around."

At last he made his way out of the station. He rolled down his sweater to keep his hands warm, though it didn't prevent him from trembling slightly. A few people stopped by, recognizing him from the news and gave him some pitying looks. He ignored them. It was late and he wanted to go home.

With one last look at the police station, he turned a corner. The area was quiet and empty. Which was why he didn't expect to be grabbed again.

This time he didn't resist when a hand covered his mouth and dragged him into the alley. Instead he felt rather annoyed. He shoved the hand away from his mouth and glared furiously.

"Don't do that again." David warned. "Nearly scared the shit outta me. And let go, for Christ's sake, Hoffman you're such a dick---"

Mark Hoffman huffed out a laugh, tightening his grip. Meanwhile the other figure, Amanda stared at him intently.

"You didn't squeal, did you?"

"Of course not, I'm a man of my word."

"Good." Hoffman released him, but kept his body angled so both he and Amanda were blocking him from any potential exit. "You're not as stupid as you look then."

David glowered, hating them. "Don't forget our deal."

"We spoke to John and he agreed not to take Adam. We'll find someone else for the game." Softening, she said firmer. "I swear."

He was wary, but he had no choice but to trust her. "Thanks."

"But don't forget our end of the bargain." Her lips twisted into a smirk, throwing an object at him, which he caught. He traced out the worn out pig mask, hating how much it felt so close to flesh instead of fabric. In contrast, the hair didn't feel like hair, just long black tendrils. But it would have to do.

For now at least.

"You have my word."

#David saw 0.5 #saw 0.5 #adam faulkner stanheight #saw 2004 #fanfiction #saw fanfiction #one shot #amanda young #mark hoffman #tw: blood #tw: swearing

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melodyalanaroster · 6 months

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The Golden Heart’s Regret and His New White Light

Alana sat beneath a tree in the Sweet Amouris High Courtyard while reading Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett when Rosalaya appeared before her. “Alana?” She asked. “Yes?” Alana inquired as she closed her book and looked up at Rosa. Rosalaya looked at her very seriously. “Someone wants to talk to you.” Alana’s heart instantly began to pound with anticipation. “Please be Nathaniel... Please be Nathaniel...” She thought. Rosa stepped aside and revealed a very remorseful and nervous looking blonde boy. “I’ll leave you two alone. Try not to rip each other apart this time!” Rosa winked as she walked away.

“Rosa is quite confident... Its hard to say “no” to her.” Nathaniel laughed. Alana looked at him very seriously, stood up, and dusted herself off. “Let me guess... She forced you to come see me, didn’t she?” She sternly asked. “Let’s just say that she encouraged me quite a bit.” He replied. “If you’re coming to me simply out of obligation, then I’d rather you not.” She sharply stated. “I would have come on my own, eventually. I think that I owe you an... Apology.” He blushed. “Damn, I didn’t see that coming.” The voice in Alana’s head piped up. “What you did must not have been easy. You must have needed lots of courage and lots of... Support from the ones you love. And, I refused to admit it. I’m sorry... Are you still mad?” He apologized. Alana looked down and thought for a couple of minutes. “I understand if you don’t want to forgive me, right away, for what I said to you... But please, promise me you will think about it...” He pleaded. After thinking for a couple of minutes, Alana looked back up at him and stared deep into his golden eyes. “I have been thinking about it... For several days now... I have actually been hoping that you might come and apologize to me... But, before I give you my answer as to whether or not I will forgive you, I’d like to make a few things clear. You were horrible. You didn’t just patronize me and belittle me. You knew why I was doing what I did and you were still a monster to me for it. I don’t like being called an idiot Nathaniel... Let alone being treated like an insect... And you did both....” She began. “Alana...” He sadly sighed. “Honestly? I shouldn’t forgive you for what you did! I really shouldn’t! However, I am going to forgive you. Nathaniel Jacott, in your darkest moment, you lashed out and treated those who care about you like they were less than the feces in the sewers. But, I understand where I might have been out of line. You begged me to not go to Social Services... And I did anyway. That does not absolve you... At all. But, I care enough about you to look past that and hope that those actions were simply out of pain and despair. I forgive you.” She explained as she took his hand. “Are you sure?” He asked. “Yes! You beautiful idiot! I just explained that I care enough about you to not only do all of that, but forgive you in spite of how you acted!” She blurted out as tears came to her eyes. Nathaniel looked at her for a minute as wave after wave of relief crashed into him, consuming his body language. “I’m so relieved... I was terrified that you wouldn’t wanna talk to me after... After all of this...” He sighed. “Well... Are things getting better for you now? Is your dad facing consequences?” She asked. “I don’t live with my parents anymore. Castiel suggested that I become legally independent. I hate having to say it, but... His idea was a great one.” Nathaniel explained. “So you got emancipated? That’s amazing! I’m just glad he didn’t have you do something illegal!” Alana cheered. “At the same time, its logical that this solution came from him. Even if... I still don’t understand why he helped me.” He added. “Maybe because, even though he is a huge jackass, there is at least a little bit of good in him? Or, maybe there’s the chance that even he doesn’t know why he helped you?” She shrugged. “It’s possible, yes.” He chuckled. “In any case... He did the right thing. So, what were the parameters of your emancipation?” She asked. “My parents had to give their accord to a judge.” He began. “And they just caved? Just like that?” She interrupted. “I didn’t really leave them a choice. If they didn’t give their accord, I had decided to tell Social Services everything. In the end, everyone got out unharmed...” He explained. “I suppose that is a good compromise...” Alana shrugged. “That’s the deal, yeah. They pay my apartment and costs. I also told my dad that he had better not express his anger on Amber. I couldn’t tolerate that and would have to intervene for good.” He continued. “I get that. No one deserves that abuse.” She nodded. “Well.... I never thought I would get to this point, but I threatened my parents. And now, I live alone.” He sighed. “Did you find a place in town?” She asked. “Yes. It’s modest, but pretty nice.” Nathaniel smiled. “Well... Can I come over one day?” She smirked. “Oh, uh... Yeah, why not... One day...” He stuttered.

★

It didn’t take long for things to get back to normal around Sweet Amoris High School since Nathaniel’s return. However, Alana instantly began noticing the man making a few changes about himself. He began acting more relaxed and open towards people. He changed his clothes to a pair of white button pants, and long sleeved, blue, v neck shirt. He even got his hair cut a bit shorter. The new shirt he had begun wearing also revealed that, in his spare time, Nathaniel had begun to work out, as his muscles were starting to become more prominent. “Damn it girl! You need to stop staring at his tits!” the voice in Alana’s head ordered when she watched him passing out papers in History Class one day. “I’m not!” She thought back.

News of his emancipation and the events surrounding it spread through the school like wildfire, however, Nathaniel took it with his head held high. It took all of Alana’s strength to keep herself from running up to Melody and gloating about it. But, that didn’t stop Sam from popping off to the girl when she had heard her making snarky comments at Alana’s expense. “Hey, at least my sister DID something! You would have just let it continue!” Sam shot. “Sam... Don’t bother, she’s not worth it.” Alana sighed as she shot Melody a look that said “I told you so.”.

To say that Amber was not okay with the events that had transpired was a severe understatement. Her little gaggle of flying monkeys continued to support her, but even Sam could tell that it wasn’t enough. Each time Alana would look at Amber and see her continued distress towards the situation, a tsunami of regret and pity crashed into her. “Don’t feel sorry for that wretch! She needs to work through this just like everyone else does!” Sam scoffed when Alana expressed her guilt towards Amber’s pain. At one point, Alana even tried to talk to Amber, but Amber refused to listen to her. “Leave me alone Alana! Haven’t you done enough?!” Amber yelled. “But Amber... I’m sorry... I...” Alana blubbered. “No, you’re not sorry! You ruined my family!” Amber cut her off. “Amber...” Alana gasped. “You’d better watch your back from here on out. Because, the second I get a chance to “return the favor”, I’m taking it!” Amber snarled as she walked off.

★

"Nathaniel! You’ve changed your look! I’m happy to see you’re doing better!” Lynne cheered as she opened the door and found him standing before her. “Ah, yes... Thank you Ms. Roster.” Nathaniel nervously smiled. “Mels is home... Would you like to come in?” Lynne offered. “May I?” He asked. “Sure! Melody! Nathaniel is here!” Lynne called as she let him into the apartment. “Coming!” Alana called. Minutes later, she entered the living room wearing a pair of black Sailor Moon shorts, a black sports bra, and a black Sailor Moon tank top. “Hey!” She smiled. “H-Hey Alana...” Nathaniel blushed. “What’s up? Did you wanna hang out with Sylvester? Study? Or did Armin get you into anime and videogames?” She mused. “Well... We do have a history test this Friday.” He smiled. “But you don’t have your books. Good thing I have mine!” She cheered as she began walking towards her bedroom. “Come on!” She cooed when she looked back him. “Keep the door open!” Lynne called. “Alright mom!” Alana called back.

“He’s in your room... Hot as fuck... Here to study... But has no books.... If your mom wasn’t here...” The voice in her head began to huff. “Stop it!” She thought back. “So... Hey... At school, you mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something... What’s up with that?” She blushed as she sat on her bed and turned on some music. Nathaniel sat down in Alana’s desk chair and faced her. “Now that I live on my own, I’m allowed to do things that I wasn’t able to do when I lived with my parents...” He started. “You mean... Like having a girl over to your place and making her scream out in pleasure so much that the neighbors call in a noise complaint?” The voice in her head instantly popped off. “Stop it! He doesn’t think of me like that!” Alana angrily thought back. “Oh? And what are you wanting to do that you couldn’t do before?” She nervously asked. “I’d like to adopt a cat.” He smiled. “Fantastic! But, I guess that means you won’t wanna come visit Sylvester anymore... Right?” Alana chuckled. “Of course not! I always wanna come see this little guy...” Nathaniel cooed as the tuxedo cat entered the room and hopped up in his lap. “I know... I was just joking! I think you should get yourself a furry friend! You already know you’re great with them!” Alana mused. “I’m glad you think that... Because I was wondering... Would you like to go to the Pet Shop with me? I heard they’re having an adoption event soon.” He blushed. “Sure! I’d love to!” She cheered. “Great! We’ll go this weekend!” He beamed.

A couple of hours later, Lynne knocked on the cracked door. “Mels? Nathaniel?” She politely asked. The pair looked up from Alana’s computer. “Yes, mom?” Alana inquired. “What are you two looking at?” Lynne pondered out loud. “Cat trees! Nath is getting a kitty soon!” Alana beamed. “Good for you Nathaniel! I’m happy that you’re able to be your true self now!” Lynne cheered. “Thanks Ms. Roster.” Nathaniel grinned. “Well, dinner is ready. Come on kids. There’s a place at the table for you Nathaniel.” Lynne smiled. “Are you sure? I can go home if I need to.” Nathaniel nervously asked. “Nonsense! You’re not leaving this home without a full belly!” Lynne insisted as she headed towards the kitchen. “Come on. Best not to argue with her... That’s Sam’s and my job.” Alana shrugged. “Alright.” Nathaniel chuckled.

★

As the week passed, Alana couldn’t help but get more and more excited for the Pet Shop’s adoption event. “It’s like a date!” The voice in her head cheered. “Its NOT a date!” She thought back. “But its like one!” The voice in her head snapped back. Nathaniel had begun to come over to the apartment almost every day with the excuse of “wanting to continue researching what he needed for a cat”. It got to the point to where Lynne had started to call Nathaniel Alana’s boyfriend whenever he wasn’t around... Much to Alana’s embarrassment.

“Come on Mels! If he won’t ask you out, then you need to ask him out!” Sam insisted. “Sam! Nath and I still aren’t over what happened with his father. If anything, it’s going to take time for our friendship to heal from that!” Alana spat. “The way he’s always over here, it seems like the friendship is more than healing.” Lynne cooed as she sat the food down on the table. “See! Mom sees it! As it is, Mels, you have a harem! Viktor wants you back. Castiel is always sniffing around you. Armin looks for excuses to hang out and play Pokémon And now Nathaniel spends an awful lot of time in your room with you “researching”. At some point, you’re gonna need to pick one of them.” Sam explained. “Viktor KNOWS we can’t be together. Castiel, Armin and I are all JUST FRIENDS... As for Nathaniel, if we WERE to get together, it wouldn’t be appropriate for it to happen while he’s first starting out away from his father!” Alana shot back. “Viktor will most likely end up in an arranged marriage with Severina because of their fathers....” Lynne muttered. “And that is complete crap! They should be allowed to find love!” Sam boomed. “Its part of the aristocracy, girls. If our family were to ever take the titles that the Astier clan offers us each year, we’d be forced to live by at least a few of their rules...” Lynne explained. “Anywho... Mels, you can’t always wait for the guy to ask you out! Ask Nathaniel out! We all now you’ve been undressing him with your eyes ever since he changed his clothes and started bulking up.” Sam cheered. “Give your sister time, Sam! Not everyone can pick the guy and tell him to “get in there”, like you did!” Lynne chuckled.

★

When the day of the Adoption Event finally arrived, Alana woke up and got ready for the day very early. Sylvester was not happy being woken up by Alana getting out of bed. The tuxedo cat stretched his body out as long as he could, let out a long yawn and looked at her with a face that said “There had better be a good reason why you have disturbed my slumber.”. “Oh, calm down Sylvester... Today is the day that I help Nathaniel go pick out his own little furry friend!” Alana beamed. “Is Nathaniel going to be joining us for breakfast?” Lynne asked as she passed by Alana’s bedroom door and saw her texting on her bed. “He won’t be. He and I are going to the café for lunch, then to the event.” Alana replied.

Right as she finished doing her homework for the weekend, there was a knock on the door. “Always timely, that boy.” Lynne chuckled as Alana dashed from her room. “Isn’t it great?” Alana quickly cooed. She straightened herself and rapidly looked in a small mirror before opening the door. “Hey Alana! You ready?” Nathaniel asked. “Yeah!” Alana beamed. She turned to her mom. “I’ll be back later! Don’t wait up!” She cheered. “Just keep your phone on you and be safe! Let me know if you need anything!” Lynne called. “I will!” Alana called back as the door closed behind her. “Thank you for coming with me for this. I really appreciate it.” Nathaniel smiled as they began their walk to the Café. “Of course! I’m happy that you invited me!” She cheered. “This is feeling very much like a date!” The voice in her head piped up. “Its not!” She thought back. “But what if it was? It’d be so romantic!” The voice in her head mused. “Even if he did like me, its too early for us to date. He JUST got away from his father!” She sharply thought back. “So... I know its been a few days since we had that talk... But, are you sure you’ve forgiven me?” Nathaniel asked. Alana was instantly caught off guard. “Why are you bringing that up now?” She nervously blurted out. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since then... And this is the first time we’ve been fully alone without anyone listening in to our conversation.” He sighed. “Ah...” Alana replied. “So, have you thought about it?” He inquired, a little pain in his voice. “I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t... Yes, I’ve thought about it... And I stand by what I said then. You messed up big time, but you did it out of a place of agony and were lashing out. And, ever since then, we’ve made an effort to make it up to each other. So, yes, I’m sure that I’ve forgiven you.” She smiled. Nathaniel became relaxed and grinned. “I appreciate that.” He blushed as they continued walking.

The Pet Store was a relatively large shop in the small shopping district. Each set of animals had their own section. When they walked towards the cats, they passed a very large spider in a container. “Keep your eyes on me, Alana. I’ve got you.” Nathaniel ordered when he felt her cling to him out of fear. “T-thank y-you.” She stuttered as she followed his orders. Despite her best efforts, her body continued to tense up as fear of the arachnid overcame her instincts. Suddenly, she felt him take her hands off of his arm and slide his hand to her back. “You cover your back when your phobia gets triggered, right?” He soothingly inquired. “Y-yes.” She nervously nodded. “Its okay, we’re almost to the cats.” He cooed. The Cat Section of the store was at the very back and had a room with a large plastic window to the kennels for each kitty that they had up for adoption. Alana’s body began to relax at the sight of the little felines. “Cats are better.” She sighed. “Yeah, they are.” Nathaniel smiled. “I don’t understand why people even keep spiders as pets... They may have their uses in nature, but they are horrifying...” Alana muttered. “I’m sure there are people out there who say the same thing about cats. Some people like spiders enough to keep them as pets.” Nathaniel quietly shrugged.

A little white kitten in one of the cages looked right at Nathaniel, perked it’s ears up and walked right to the front where it could see him more. “Ah, hello little one.” Nathaniel cooed as he walked over to the cage and petted the kitten through one of the holes in the plastic. “Is this her? The kitten you’ve been visiting lately?” Alana asked. “Yes it is. Alana, this is Blanche. She’s the one we’re here to see. Blanche, this is dear friend Alana. She’s the girl I told you about.” He motioned between the kitten and Alana as he made the introductions. “Ah! Young man! You’re back! Are you here to visit, or are you here to finally take little Blanche home?” The store manager asked. She was a middle aged woman with tan skin, dark hair and dark eyes. “I’m finally here to take her home! I’ve got everything ready at my apartment and its time for me to bring her to her forever home.” Nathaniel beamed. “Do you have a carrier?” The manager asked. A wave of realization crashed into him. I knew I was forgetting something! No, I don’t. Do you have any for purchase?” Nathaniel facepalmed. “We do! If you two will come with me. We have a wide variety of carriers.” The manager explained as she motioned for the two of them to follow her. Nathaniel began looking at each and every pet carrier very closely, a little bit of panic started to slowly make it’s way into his eyes. Suddenly, Alana could hear her mother’s voice in her head. “I added a bit of extra money to your card, sweetie. Get something nice for Nathaniel and his new furry friend as a gift from the family!” Lynne’s voice cooed. She took out her phone and looked up her bank account. Lynne had added a lot of extra gold to her account. “A bit excessive, isn’t it mom?” She thought. Alana looked at the pet carriers, noticed one that looked familiar and walked over to it. “This looks like the newest version of the one we have for Sylvester.” She commented. “Its out of my price range.” Nathaniel sighed when he looked at the tag. “Don’t worry about it. Its on me.” Alana grinned. She turned back to Nathaniel, then to the manager. “Do you have a machine to make pet tags for collars?” She asked. “Yes, we do. It’s over by the registers.” The manager replied. “Fantastic! Get little Blanche ready for Nathaniel to take her home. I will be right back.” Alana commanded.

As she walked towards the register, a sparkly blue collar caught her eye from a shelf near the tag machine. “Obviously I’m getting that.” She thought to herself. The tags could be personalized on the front and back and were on display at the registers. A little blue heart caught her eye, so she instinctively put it on register belt with the rest of her purchases. “Adopting a new friend today?” The cashier asked. “My friend is, its his first.” She mused. “That cute blonde guy that walked in earlier?” The cashier asked. “Yeah.” Alana nodded. “Honestly thought you two were a couple, the way you guys hung onto each other when you walked in.” The cashier commented. “Ah, well... We’re just friends...” Alana blushed. “I know its not my place to say this, but you guys would make a cute couple. Go for it.” The cashier grinned as he scanned the last item. “Yeah... People say that a lot...” Alana rushed as she looked at the screen. “Oh dear... That’s under budget... My mom sent me a specific amount to spend on him this time... Are there any cushions for pet carriers around here?” She nervously observed. “Yeah, let me get one for you real quick.” The cashier smiled as he ran off. Seconds later, they had returned, scanned the cushion and put it in the carrier. “There we go.” Alana smiled. “Your mom gave you money to spend on this guy? Sounds like your family really likes him.” The cashier commented. “Look, I’m not sure if he likes me like that... And I’m not gonna pressure him, okay?” Alana nervously huffed. “I here ya. Don’t worry. Just know, I’m rooting for ya!” He cheered. “Okay, so how do I use the machine?” She asked. “Your friend just has to take the tag and the receipt to the machine, scan the receipt and it’ll walk ya right through the next steps.” He explained. “Okay, thank you.” Alana smiled as she quickly ran back to Nathaniel’s side.

“Alana! What took you so long? Are you okay?” Nathaniel worriedly asked. “Sorry! I might have gotten a little carried away!” Alana beamed as she handed the carrier, collar and tag to him. “I’m keeping the receipt until you need to personalize the tag.” She smiled. “Alana! This is so sweet! You didn’t have to!” Tears began to come to Nathaniel’s eyes as he took the purchases. “Nonsense! Oh, and its not just from me... Mom wanted me to make sure to get you something from the family.” She explained. “Thank you, you and your family! This means the world to me!” He cheered. “Well, I think its time to take little Blanche home, don’t you think?” The manager delightedly cooed. “Yes, I think so!” Nathaniel nodded. “Now, the adoption package comes with a few of the essentials. A small litter box, small bags of litter and food, and a handful of toys” The manager explained as she pulled out a large cardboard box with a handle.

Nathaniel finished the adoption process in utter bliss. Alana couldn’t help but feel a TWANG in her heart as she watched him. “Yeahhh.... You’ve forgiven him.” The voice in her head piped up. “Yeah, I have.” She thought back. “I should be disappointed in you... But, you’re a teenage girl and he’s a hot guy...” The voice replied. “A hot guy who is really smart and sweet and who just adopted a cute little kitten.” She thought back. “Welp... So much for Nathaniel continuing to see Metal Melody.... Then again, I should have realized that the second you let him into your room without kicking his ass...” The voice sighed. “I can’t spend the rest of high school being pissed at him.” She thought back. “Yeah you can... But I know you’re not gonna...” The voice sighed. “Alana, I can’t thank you enough for this!” Nathaniel cheered as he rejoined her side. “There is no thanking me! Its what friends are for!” She cooed.

When Alana finally happily stumbled through the front door of the apartment later that evening, both Lynne and Sam were waiting for her in the living room. “Someone had a great time!” Lynne snickered. “Awe, did our little Mels get more than time with her golden boy?!” Sam smirked. “You guys aren’t funny! And, by the way, he was very appreciative of the stuff we got him!” Alana shot as she did her best to hide the blush that had begun taking over her face. “How appreciative? Did he finally kiss you? Did he take you back to his apartment and give you more than a kiss?!” Sam sneered. “Okay Sam, I think you’ve gone too far... They haven’t even gone on their first actual date yet.” Lynne rolled her eyes as she turned back to Alana. “I am happy that you two have made up, and that he appreciated everything. Its good to see that boy is doing better.” She cooed. “I am too...” Alana sighed. “Now, both of you, go to bed. You’ve got school in the morning.” Lynne ordered.

★

“Mels! Your prince charming is here! He wants to walk to school with you!” Sam called as she stood at the open door. “Sam!” Nathaniel nervously hissed. “Oh calm down! We all know that you and my sister are “just friends”.” Sam laughed. “And on that note... Hey Nathaniel! Let’s go before my mom jumps in on the teasing!” Alana smiled as she rushed towards the door with her bags in hand. “I won’t be teasing any of you until later today! I’ve got a book signing to take care of!” Lynne beamed. “Wait, what? A “Lynne Roster Book Signing” without her two biggest trophies?!” Sam cackled. “You two go to school, I can do this by myself.” Lynne assured. “Are you sure Mom?” Alana asked. “Yes! Now go! You don’t wanna be late!” Lynne barked. “Alright, love you! Let us know how things go!” Alana mused as she left the apartment.

When they got to school, everyone noticed the four of them arriving together. “Almost as if Nathaniel and Alana are dating!” one of the students mused. “Nonsense! She just helped him get away from his father, they’re probably just walking together as friends!” another student commented. “As if Nathaniel would date Alana! Spreading those lies about him and his family the way she did!” Melody scoffed. “You actually think Alana is spreading lies about Nathaniel’s family?” Sharon asked. “Of course! I think she did it to get closer to him!” Melody huffed. “Then you’re more of an idiot than he is.” Castiel shot as he walked past her. “And you’re in on the lie, Castiel!” Melody called after him. “Come on Melody, we know you have a thing for Nathaniel. But slandering Alana is beneath you.” Iris lightly scolded. “I mean... He did get emancipated from his family with Castiel’s help. I don’t think Nathaniel would have done that for no reason...” Kim pointed out. “Oh, come on! If Nathaniel was actually being abused by his father, surely he would have told someone!” Melody argued. “Awe, is the little brat just pissed off that she’s not the one who helped Nathaniel?” Sam sneered as she walked up to the group. “Its none of your business, Samantha!” Melody spat. “Really? You’re the one talking shit about my sister.... All because the boy you like is paying attention to her and not you! Oh, and its “Sam” to you, not “Samantha”. Keep that in mind!” Sam taunted. “Sam...” Iris started. “Of course you would protect your sister! I’d almost say it’s honorable, but your family is anything but!” Melody scoffed. Sam took a couple of steps towards the girl, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “First of all, the only person in this school who is allowed to give my sister shit is ME. Not you. Not Amber. Not Amber’s gaggle of bumbling idiots. ME. Secondly, I don’t remember reading anything in our nation’s history books about your family. But I know for a fact that there is an entire chapter on The Roster Clan. Not only is there an entire chapter in the history books dedicated to us, but Weathering hosts a festival thanking our family for founding the city each year and has done so for centuries. The Astier Clan has been BEGGING us to accept the titles and nobility that they’ve been wanting to present us since Astaria’s inception. In fact, over the years, it became a tradition for a member of our clan to go to the capital each year on Founding Day to formally decline the titles. Not only that, but almost every generation of the Astier Clan has tried to get us to marry into their family and have us join our nation’s royalty. In closing, if you wanna talk shit about me, that’s fine. If you wanna talk shit about my family, you will learn your place! If you wish to talk shit about my sister, you will keep her name out of your mouth. If you refuse to abide by this warning... I promise you that I will escalate things. And no amount of “good PR” will save you from that embarrassment! Am I clear?” Sam warned. “Is that a threat?!” Melody asked, a hint of fear making itself clear in her voice. “Its a warning and a promise. Now, AM I CLEAR?!” Sam snarled. “Crystal.” Melody spat. “Good. Later ladies!” Sam smiled as she walked off. “Sam is such a bitch!” Melody spat when she noticed that Sam was out of earshot. “You were spreading lies about her sister and then you insulted their family! You’re lucky that she didn’t beat you up!” Sharon snapped. “Yeah... Melody, that was out of line... You should really be thankful that all Sam did was give you a warning and a history lesson.” Iris sighed. “Come on Kim, you’re not on Sam’s side here... Are you?” Melody sputtered. “I think you were both out of line. But, you really shouldn’t have done that. All Alana wanted to do was help Nathaniel and you let your jealousy get the better of you. As it is, he turned you down and this isn’t how a friend would want to be treated.” Kim reprimanded.

“Everyone thinks we’re dating now.” Alana muttered as she and Nathaniel sat down to lunch. “Would that really be a bad thing?” He quietly responded. “What?!” Alana gasped, her face quickly turning a deep shade of red. “N-Nothing! I m-mean... We’re not. W-We’re just f-friends.” Nathaniel blushed as he nervously stuttered. “I mean, its not like you two act like more than friends or anything.” Sam laughed as she and Ken took their seats at the table. “I wouldn’t mind it. Although, I kinda think Alana would be good with Armin.” Alexy chuckled. “You just want Alana as your sister-in-law!” Rosalaya rolled her eyes. “Yeah! Alana and I are just friends!” Armin nervously scoffed. “Isn’t Castiel in love with her?” Ken asked. “You noticed it too? I think he is, he just doesn’t wanna admit it.” Rosa commented. “As it is, I think Viktor is still holding out hope that he can, one day, override his family’s orders and get back with my sister rather than potentially be stuck in an arranged marriage with Severina.” Sam stated. “What?!” Nathaniel gasped. “Yeah, we’ve told you guys that our mom is best friends with Aunt Verity and Aunt Cosima. Well, while Aunt Cosima was alive, Viktor and Severina were more free to do what they wanted. Which meant that Viktor and my sister were in a cute little relationship for several years when we were all kids. Viktor promised that he would, one day, “break the spell” and return to Mels’ side. Even though his mom tried to tell him that it wasn’t gonna happen. We’re not, formally, aristocracy, and we have no intention of becoming part of that system. But, it was cute while it lasted. Viktor was even responsible for Mels’ first kiss. You should have seen their faces when mom took a picture of them reenacting the famous “Spider-Man Kiss” at one point.” Sam explained. “Oh my god! That’s soo cute!” Rosa and Alexy mused in unison. “Viktor was even dressed as Spider-Man!” Sam gushed. “Alana, I didn’t know you were someone’s Mary Jane at some point! Why have you never mentioned this?” Armin inquired. “It was years ago! Aunt Cosima died not long after the photo was taken. Viktor and Rini were shipped off to boarding school and now their dads have that agreement to breed them like they’re prize winning horses. I am free to be with anyone else... And I would appreciate it if my friends and sister didn’t take part in a shipping war over who I’m gonna end up with!” Alana blurted out. “Well, my money is on Armin!” Alexy piped up. “Honestly, I see Alana with Nathaniel or Castiel. But, I wouldn’t mind seeing her end up with Lysander! I NEED a good sister-in-law!” Rosa cheered. “Its gonna come down to Nathaniel or Castiel.” Sam nodded. “You people do realize that whoever I want to be with also has to want to be with me, right? Now, quit making bets on my love life!” Alana huffed as she got up from the table, grabbed her stuff, tossed the remainder of her food in the trash, and ran to the restroom.

★

Several days later, Nathaniel, Armin, Alexy, and Kentin were gathered in the hall. “Are we interrupting a special “boys club” meeting?” Sam asked as she and Alana walked up to them. “Hey girls! We’re talking about our little trip to the Pet Shop last night!” Alexy mused. “That’s what you guys did last night?! I thought ya’ll were just hanging out!” Sam exclaimed. “We were at first... But then Ken adopted a little German Sheppard puppy and my brother got a ferret!” Alexy cheered. “Alexy! I was gonna surprise her with Cookie tonight!” Ken hissed. “Oh, my bad!” Alexy gasped. “You named your puppy Cookie? I thought your dad didn’t want a dog?” Sam asked. “He’s got strict requirements for me to keep her. As long as I keep up with them, she’s mine.” Ken clarified. “You got a ferret?” Alana asked Armin. “Yeah, I named him Rocket.” Armin smiled. “Let me guess, Guardians of the Galaxy?” Alana raised an eyebrow. “Yep! Mainly because I can’t, legally, have a raccoon as a pet!” Armin looked so proud as he spoke. “Raccoons are gross anyway!” Alexy spat. “No they’re not! They’re cute little trash pandas!” Alana chimed in. “See! Alana likes them!” Armin stuck his tongue out. “Did you go with them?” Alana asked as she turned to Nathaniel. “Yeah. I wanted to get more supplies for Blanche. It was really fun!” Nathaniel mused.

As the day went on, the school became filled with more and more chatter. “Something is changing.” Alana commented. “Peggy, do you know?” Rosa asked as Peggy rushed past them in the hallway. “Know what?” Peggy inquired. “Why everyone is talking more about something new.” Alana clarified. “No. You might ask Sharon. I’ve been forced to cover more of what the sports clubs are doing and the Tennis Club is currently on their practice field.” Peggy replied as she rushed off. “You’d think that that little “future paparazzo” would know if something was up.” Alana commented. “I know, it’s weird.” Rosalaya shrugged.

“Hey, Sharon, what’s going on? I heard the principal make an announcement, but I couldn’t hear it clearly.” Alana asked when she came upon Sharon in one of the classrooms. “Oh, we’re getting a new Science Teacher.” Sharon replied. “So, Mrs. Cooper isn’t coming back? I know she had the baby not long after I got here.” Alana questioned. “Nope! Turns out her husband recently got a promotion at his job and now he can afford to take care of them on only one income. She’s gonna stay with the baby until the kid is old enough to go to school and then she might come back to teaching.” Sharon explained. “Good for her. I’m happy that she has the ability to spend that time with her kid.” Alana mused. “Its a shame really. Such a bright and brilliant woman falling to the institution of motherhood.” Sharon commented. “Not gonna lie, you sound like Cruella de Vil.” Alana chuckled. “She had a point in that movie.” Sharon smiled. “Do you think that the new teacher will be a good one? The substitutes have been kind of sub par lately.” Alana asked. “I hope so. I hope that, whoever we get, will be someone smart enough to not fall in line with the path that society set before them. Someone brilliant, and hopefully a little snarky.” Sharon articulated.

The day went on as normally as it could. The halls of Sweet Amouris filled with the chatter concerning the new science teacher. Amber continued to avoid Alana like the plague. However, since the conversation about everyone wanting to see Alana with various boys took place, she couldn’t help but keep her mind on what everyone said. “Rosa and Sam already know that I like Nathaniel! Why is my love life up for debate!” She thought. “Because its something mundane that takes their minds off of the daily bullshit.” The voice in her head piped up. “Nathaniel asked if us being together would really be a bad thing...” She thought. “If he does like you back, then you should just wait for him to make his move. He knows you’re there if you need him.” The voice in her head responded. “I really wanna kiss him...” She thought. “No, you wanna do a lot more than kiss him...” The voice in her head replied. “Okay... But we are NOWHERE NEAR that point.” She thought. “But one day you might be!” The voice in her head clapped back.

Later that night, her usual dreams of being a Sailor Scout were interrupted by a vision of Nathaniel managing to climb through her window, kissing her passionately and whispering very spicy sentiments into her ear with his low, gruff voice. She could feel his hot breath on her throat as he spoke. “I want you My Melody.” He growled. “I want you too, Nathaniel” She sighed. “If this is a dream, please let me enjoy it for a good while!” She thought.

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This was going to be a combination of Episodes 24 & 25.... But it turned into just Episode 24....

Mrs. Cooper is a reference to The Big Bang Theory.

The movie referenced by Sharon and Alana in the last section is the live action 101 Dalmatians that stars Glenn Close as Cruella de Vil.

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rockydonetale · 8 months

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Worst week of their life.

(TW this fic contains physical AND verbal abuse, implied broken leg, starvation of a child, brief disordered eating, neglect, self blaming, yelling, gaslighting/emotional manipulation! If that's gonna trigger you, please leave!)

(Like seriously, while there's no blood, it's definitely something that could be triggering!)

(Note: Most of these fics will use they/them and the name Frisk for Rocky, as it's not in the multiverse yet!)

Frisk had a lot of bad days, before they ran away. Mostly, that depended on if their parents were having a bad day or not.

Most of the time, their parents had a bad day.

But, out of all of them, there's one specifically that still haunts Frisk, that still make shivers go down their spine. That makes them look at a plate of food and think "I can't eat that"

Their parents were both at work, and this eight year old Frisk was hungry, like, they hadn't eaten since the day before, and they had only gotten one meal then.

Now, Frisk had a basic understanding on why their parents didn't let them eat often, to make sure that they didn't waste food. And yeah, it sucked that their parents always got two to three meals a day, and Frisk only ever got one—but they're younger, and don't even gave a job, so clearly they don't need it as much as their parents do!...

But they were hungry.

And they knew, they knew they shouldn't have done it, but their parents were out and their little eight year old brain concocted a plan. They'd sneak into the kitchen, sneak a slice of bread or two, put the bread away, and nobody epuld ever know what happened!

So with a goal in mind, they (out of habit, honestly) quietly tip toed into the room with food, even if it wasn't much. Frisk did, admittedly, feel a little guilty for doing this. But the hunger spoke louder than their consciousness.

So they grabbed a chair, dragging it over to the cabinet that held the glorious loaf, and climbed onto it. Once they reached the cabinet, all they had to do was get the prevention lock undone.

Sp they twisted, tugged, turned, did whatever they could to try getting it open. But, it refused, it refused to open itself and Frisk was getting frustrated.

Eventually, they put a foot up on the cabinet, trying their hardest to pull ot open. Who locks up food anyways!?

But, while standing on one leg, the chair lost its balance, and before they could react—CRASH! The chair tipped over, throwing them to the floor!

It took them a second to realize what had happened, and then, they started crying. Because, ow and loud noises weren't mixing well. Not only that, but they didn't even get their bread!

So eyes closed and throat going raw, they just laid there, not even thinking about the consequences of their actions...

Until the front door open. They jolted, trying to sit up as their mother came into the room. Immediately, her face paled, a look if horror on her face.

The chair? Broken. Plus the jar her great grandmother passed down to her? Shattered. There was scrap marks on the floor, and her paled face quickly turned red.

(ANOTHER TW, this is where the physical abuse comes in!)

Frisk's mother stormed over to the scared child, and grabbed them by the scalp of their hair, yanking them up! Frisk started crying again, fearful as their body shook, their heart racing.

The mother dragged Frisk across the ground, their legs kicking as she brought them by the basement door. The mother grabbed Frisk's chin with a painful grip, and forced them to stare her in the eyes.

"When your father hears about this, you'll wish you were dead!" And with that, she smacked Frisk's wrist, getting them to flinch.

"O-Ow!" They sheirked as the mother hit them again, harder this time. "Do you not understand the trouble you're in!?" She yelled, and Frusk had no where to go—they were trapped again the wall and their mother.

Smack, again!

"I-I didn't mean too!" Frisk tried, which only made their mother angrier.

"Stupid child!" As she struck their wrist again. "Why would you break your mother's heart like this!?"

Frisk whinced, and the mother sighed, giving them a slightly lighter slap on the wrist, before she gripped their wrist again. "You know I hate acting like this, but it's the only way you'll learn..."

With that, she reached over and opened the basement door, shoving Frisk into the stairwell. "I'll get you when you've learned your lesson..."

She slammed the door shut, and suddenly Frisk had no light. They rubbed their wrist nervously, tears still blurry their eyes, it felt like the skin was burning. Very, very carefully, they tried getting down the steps.

Occasionally, they slipped, and by the time they got down, their ankles were bruised and red... and they landed funny on their leg, it hurt really badly!

But, they did bring this apon themself, huh? They broke the rules, planned on hiding it, and never thinking about it again?

Why were they such a bad kid?

So they sat themself down on the cold ground, and curled up into a little ball as they began to rock themself back and fourth. About the only comfort they had available to them...

So they rocked, and tried to think about what they did. Think about how if they could just be good for once...

They had a lot of time to think, tho. As apparently their mother thought it would take four—well oh, four and a half days for them to learn their lesson.

And no, they weren't given any snacks, just a bottle of water the second day. Not even a big one, no, it was the size of an apple at best.

(And yeah, this is canon to their backstory!)

#donetale #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fic

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straykidsnerd255 · 1 year

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Please may I have Fruits Basket headcanons kinda Angsty of when Yuki's female S/O who owns three cats (Biscuit, Sage and Thorns..*Thorns hated Yuki's guts for some reason*) didn't care about the consequences of telling a rather furious Akito (Akito just had to see this S/O of Yuki's who broke his curse during childhood) that she was dating Yuki and she loved him *she may as well as dig her own grave was what she felt at that moment when she told Akito in the most polite way possible despite how she heard how her boyfriend had been treated from Yuki's older brother*..and S/Os body just reacted on its own to run and protect her boyfriend from harm when she realised that it was going to get nasty real quick. S/O got badly hurt as a result of Akito smashing her over the head with a China type vase..it left a rather deep cut on her forehead to her chin. Yuki's S/O loved Yuki enough to be willing to take the hits for him. *cue a rather understandably furious Yuki standing protectively in front of his S/O to protect her from Akito before she caused Yuki's S/O further damage*

Yuki's curse broke early in his childhood because he met you AU.

Here you go! I broke them into sections so it would be easier to read! Enjoy<3

Yuki meeting (Name’s) cats for the first time:

Yuki thought that he was great with animals. Biscuits and Sage seemed to like him but Thorns held a grudge against him.

Thorns would hiss and scratch at Yuki if he got to close to you or even looked at you.

Yuki thought it was just him that Thorns didn’t like but the cat refused to go around Kyo or Shigure.

However, Yuki knows how much you love that cat so he can’t really do anything but glare at the furball hoping it just runs away on its own.

When (Name) meets Akito for the first time:

“How dare you date him. You can’t be with him!”

Your first meeting with Akito didn’t go so well.

She yelled at you. Screamed at you. Called you every name she could think off

However, you stayed there, ignoring her words and smiling reassuringly at Yuki who was gripping your hand with all his strength.

That was your first meeting. You knew that you would have to go back and talk with Akito about wanting to date Yuki and you knew for a fact that would be a whole other struggle.

Going back to tell Akito you and Yuki are dating:

Shit hit the ceiling real quick.

Yuki stood in front of you with the angriest look in his eyes he had ever shown Akito.

Akito could only stare in shock at the look Yuki gave her.

You held the side of your face that was bleeding excessivly.

Not a single tear left your eyes but Yuki knew for a fact that you were screaming and hissing in rage on the inside.

When Hatori took Y/n to the in house doctor’s room:

Yuki was fuming. Akito tried to place her hands on his arms to calm him down but he ripped his arms from her and glared at her harshly.

“How dare you do that to Y/n. I don’t live under your rules anymore Akito. You can’t control me anymore.”

Akito glared at Yuki but deep down she knew his words were true.

The moment Y/n and Yuki had met, the curse that bound Yuki to Akito was broken.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt!” Akito yelled. Yuki whirled around so fast Akito thought he would break his neck.

“Oh like the way you hurt Y/n?” He snapped back.

Y/n a few days into recovery:

Yuki turned into a cuddle bug. He refused to leave your side and kept himself close to you as he could with Thorns scratching at his arms.

However, while you were sleeping, Thorns was laying at your side and watched with narrowed eyes when Yuki came in.

Thorns hissed when Yuki got to close. Yuki knew how smart Thorns was but didn’t trust the cat to keep he company.

So, he grabbed his book and sat at he edge of the bed and began to read.

Thorns finally tolerating and accepting Yuki:

Thorns still hisses and bats at Yuki from time to time, but the cat finally accepted Yuki.

Yuki was so happy that Thorns doesn’t attack him as much anymore.

“I’m so happy you two are finally getting along now.” You said, finishing up lunch and placing it on the table.

Yuki still felt like it was his fault that you had the scar that started on the side of your head and ran down to your chin.

You said it was a beauty mark but it still hurt him that he couldn’t keep that from happening to you.

“I love you Y/n. You know that right?” Yuki asked.

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss his lips. “Of course I do. I love you too.” You replied.

#Fruits Basket #requested #Female Reader #Reader has her three cats #Yuki Sohma #little bit of angst #Reader being a badass #@the letter horror lover #Yuki x Female Reader #Reader Protects Yuki

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forensicated · 11 months

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Smiffina Episodes - Episode 139

The morning after the night before - where Smithy faces the wrath of Gina after cheating on their drinking game and slipping her doubles where he was drinking singles.

At work, Smithy is suffering the mother of all hangovers and of course custody is incredibly loud and busy. "I really don't need this today...."

An unsuspecting Gina drives to work - late and hungover but believing she is fit to drive after sleep given what she believed she'd been drinking. Unfortunately for her she's in a minor car prang when she's cut up by a white van man, which means she has to get breathalysed by PC Gary Best of all people. Gina's not best pleased to see him arrive with Cameron - and Gary's crapping himself when he realises what he has to do. (I love Cam's literal "uh oh!") ".... had an accident ma'am?" "You know, you should be in CID with detective skills like that." Gina tries to get moving so she can get on into work... only for the breath test to fail - Gina's still over the legal limit. Gary flails but quickly covers and tells Cameron to go to the shout that has just come in and he'll 'grab a lift with the Inspector'. Cameron does... and Gary is terrified. He has to arrest the Inspector. Gina is very pragmatic about it and tells him its not his fault. Smithy however is not quite so understanding. "Sarge, I've got a problem." "What?" "I've arrested the inspector…." "……. You've done what?"

Smithy and Gina have a private chat in the custody Sgt's office where Gina reaffirms that she's drunk that much plenty of times and always been fine the next morning. Smithy tries to blame a faulty breathalyser but Gina won't hear of it. She's fully aware she could lose her job over it and just wants to get the official stuff done. As they leave the office more loud and rowdy customers appear in custody and Smithy is Not. Happy. "Calm yourself down!" he orders, grabbing one by the neck and marching him to the desk. "Today is not a good day!"

Smithy tries ordering Gary to blow into the machine. He tells Gary he has to do it because he was the one that brought her in "All you had to do was tell her it was negative and let her get back in the car! But you didn't do that did you? You messed up big time so you're the one that's going to have to get her out of it!" Nothing to do with the fact that Smithy is potentially likely still over the limit himself, obviously. Gary's terrified "Sarge, you're going red..." mid bollocking is adorable and hilarious. Gary is worried that it might get out that they covered it up and he'd lose his job to - as would Smithy - so Gary brings her in. Smithy tells Gina that Gary is going to take the test for her. Gina refuses, she is the Inspector of the nick and she is going to take the consequences - whatever they are.

Smithy is not prepared to let her go - nor admit the truth yet - so he tells Gina that she has blown just under the legal limit. Gina thanks God, Smithy and Gary and leaves to take an asprin, have a smoke and a very strong coffee. Gary is really relieved it's all over - but it's not... it's reading 42. The legal limit is 35 for breath tests. With Gina out the room Gary volunteers to take the test - without telling Gina. He's under the limit as he's reading 32. Both Smithy and Gary are thrilled - but Gary for another reason too... it could be his leaverage to get into SWAMP!

Smithy thinks things are all back to normal as Sheelagh returns from court to take over custody and he escapes to his office... only to see Gina on her way out. She doesn't know she's not fit to drive so he has to quickly grab his things to join her for a 'hangover hotdog' so he can do the driving. (Though if Gary was blowing 32 hours after a 'couple of beers' the night before and a nights sleep, what would Smithy be blowing considering the state he was in?! Shush, we're not to think like this! It's The Bill (PM Era!) throw away your logic!)

At the burger van, Smithy could not be LESS ready for a Hangover Hotdog.

"What's the matter? Lost your appetite?"

"Rules are rules. If I thought you were bending those rules for anyone, including me, I'd kick you from hell to breakfast."

As an aside, both Honey and Gary show some excellent restraint not petting or even acknowledging the worlds friendliest dog as they come out of a shop - I'd still be there now.

Smithy and Gina go to a call where they find a man who has been harassed by a White Van Man who smashed his windscreen with a wheeljack after cutting him up. He managed to get the registration which is familiar to Gina - it's the same one who cut her up that morning. The van has been involved in another disturbance closeby but Smithy doesn't know where the street is. Gina marches off to go and deal with it and shouts for the keys. Smithy's in a bit of a bind... he can't let her drive! Gina's well aware of what is going on and forces (some of!) the truth from Smithy. He admits he doesn't know what he/they'd do if she had gotten into the car, driven and hit someone but he couldn't let her throw her career and pension away [for something he'd done.] She still doesn't know he cheated the drinking game yet. She does corner him in an interview room at the end however and point out how if she was over the limit - how wasn't he? (but not for the reasons you'd think. Also ignoring the genetic differences, age and metabolism but concentrating on them having had the 'same' drinks) and he confessed he cheated and got her doubles to his singles.

"You are like a puppy! Stupid, loyal, leaving a mess everywhere for someone else to clear up!"

Gary's ontop of the world and pinches some food from Smithy's plate in the canteen. Gabriel is curious what 'take risks' means when Gary adds it in as a reason he should be in SWAMP. Smithy dismisses it but comes up with an initiation challenge for Gary - he has to streak around the station.

"I seem to have been a bit premature, can you just forget everything I said, Ma'am?" "Whatever you say, but my door is always open if you change your mind-"

"........" "... can you close the door on your way out, please?"

Gary returns to Gabriel and Smithy, pleased as punch that he's done it and passed his initiation... only to be told he'd failed for actually doing it!

"And by the way, Gary... I've had to deal with enough knobs today. I'm sure it's very impressive but keep it in your pants."

#The Bill #Episode 139 #Gina Gold #Roberta Taylor #Dale Smith #Smithy #Alex Walkinshaw #Ciaran Griffiths #Gary Best #Cameron Tait #Dan MacPherson #Smiffina #Smiffinalong #Gabriel Kent #Todd Carty

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notmuchtoconceal · 10 months

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Beautiful response. I know I said this before, but you don't have to dignify each of my asks with a response. You can ignore as many as you like. Especially when I'm drunk and say something incredibly stupid and worthless. I'm not embarrassed about those moments put on display (sometimes I need a good reprimanding to get my head back on)--it's just that I don't believe my id and my impulses should be enabled. When someone's being too stupid to breathe, deigning to speak to them is doing them a disservice.

I think you'll find your life is happier when you only reward people who give you worth. And the reward you should give those who give you their worth is your voice. If what I'm saying holds meaning to you, respond. If it doesn't, please don't.

Remember how I was talking about principles? That's one of the principles I follow, and it is the opposite of stifling. It's liberating.

When I make these asks, I do them for me. It's easy to mistake that for selfishness in its purist form, but like, it's more akin to the selfishness of someone who's faced with their own mortality? The selfishness of someone dying of cancer who has let go of their concerns and embraced a sort of optimistic nihilism. And since I ask them purely for myself, you can decide if they have consequences or not. I'm both complex and simple. The simple part of me is that I enjoy watching you perform. The selfishness comes from the fact that you're so good at what you do and so intoxicating that it's easy to forget you aren't some Performance Golem, and there's, y'know, a person behind the mask. Maybe that's a compliment for you. I'm gonna trust my gut and say it is.

I ain't a sociopath. But I'm like a recovering alcoholic. You really, really don't wanna put alcohol in front of me, bro. Because you know and I know that I want it. And if you want passion, you're gonna place that bottle in front of me, and you're either gonna get something really, really wonderful or really, really terrible. Either way, it's the path of chaos. If you don't want to experience a migraine DO NOT put that bottle in front of me. When I grin mischievously, don't look at the grin. Don't even look at the coy eyes. Look behind them. Look for the pain. Look for the person who's screaming for you to NOT, DON'T DO IT, DON'T YOU DARE and pounding fists against the irises.

What you are describing is the healthy attitude formerly adopted which allowed me to beat depression and drastically recomp my formerly morbidly obese body. I'd lost this attitude once I had to seriously reassess the motivations of the self-professed faggot for whom my ire is the substance of life itself.

His behavior was so confusing to me, I took on his perspective, changed the shape of my soul to understand him. I did it voluntarily and let him ruin me. There was a part of me that didn't think I deserved to get better. A part of me that thought I was cheating. A part of me that was leaving behind my family, whose abuse I was complicit with for most of my childhood, partly out of survival, mostly because I didn't know any other way to be. I felt as though I needed to forget so much of my past as I could to change, this faggot refused to forget and thus refused to forgive, and so always focused on surviving, could never thrive.

I did much penance and psychological and spiritual castration in my 20's to separate myself from my former brutality, and I'd felt myself in a place where I had understood my own values and my own limits well enough that I could take on the weight of my darkness in a productive way. I was wrong. I'd become too yielding. The faggot was evil. I remember all the ways he tried to talk me down into agreeing to be as pathetic as he was. I remember how transparent some of it was and couldn't see what was right in front of my own eyes. He wasn't any more evil than anyone in my own family. No more evil than my own little brothers. Small, scared, shivering, needing to poison you for an ounce of self-validation.

I don't owe my family shit. My family are even bigger assholes than I am. They choose to be this way. They don't fucking turn themselves into other people to reach transcendent self-destructive catharsis. Neither did this faggot. When I started ignoring him, it was because subconsciously I realized the game was up and he'd gotten out of me what he needed. If he wanted me to be a finance bro with him, fucker should have had the patience to help me with money blocks, cause I don't like being mindwiped and brainwashed. I got fuckin money issues and trust issues and I don't appreciate some fairy screamin at me.

I'm not gonna become a fuckin Ubermensch listening to scared farmboy chickenshit faggots, okay? Use your big counselor nerd brain to avise your king or go your own fuckin way, but I ain't your lackey. I was your muscle when you deserved it, but when you're a bitch, I ain't yours. St. John My Everlasting Light. It was so fucking confusing to me how pathetic you were. Bafflement. Sheer and utter bafflement is how you got eyes on you, sweetie. Holy shit. Must feel good to finally be totally figured out so you can be totally reduced and limited to a footnote just like you need to do to everyone else to make yourself feel less than tiny, huh? Holy shit. Every time I think about you now, I think about how I'm better in every way and how you deserve to be miserable for being so stupid. Holy shit. I've experienced all your thoughts from the inside and you are a total insipid garbage loser. Completely worthless. You have no value. If your brains were on the wall like Kurt Cobain's (who you admire and resent and long to be, with his beautiful hair and beautiful lyrics and beautiful bitch cunt breeder wife who reminds you of your bitch cunt mother who violated your boundaries so hard, every other woman feels like cheating, so you'd rather just be her and hate your father, the model of all shitty men who abandoned you) then everything would be beautiful.

I can imagine now the beautiful world where you've blown your brains out. I can see you screaming FUCK in that empty room for no reason, then unloading the pistol in your brain. A white flash of light engulfs you and a heavenly Cinerama score plays. The streets of a summer day in Milwaukee are lined with beautiful happy smiling couples in love, and everything is clean and the flowers are in bloom, and your ghost is there, invisible, watching all happiness, screaming about how you're alone and don't deserve love, and your ghost unloads the pistol in your brain again and there's a second flash of light and the day only gets brighter and all the happy couples more in love. I picture you blowing your brains out over and over and everyone around you just being happier.

I picture you being the only person in the entire world miserable and alone, trapped in a box in space filling up with your own piss and feces wile your eyes are spread-open clockwork orange style while you watch other people's happiness forever, damn-well aware you are the cause of your own misery. You have gotten me to temporarily ignore the German boy cause you've gotten your stain on him, but once you're washed off his 5D genius aura, all links between you and me will be gone, and your mental illness will only continue getting more hilarious.

Thanks for pissing on all my time and sympathy and attention, loser.

You begged to be fuckin worthless, and daddy's a giver and an accommodator. Way to go. You didn't like being encouraged for your art. You didn't think Tumblr was worth your time. Frankly, I don't think Tumblr is worth my time either, but what I make on Tumblr definitely is because I value myself. What the fuck was it with you and your heart button bullshit and bitching about people saying "hi"? Oneword? Uh. Is it cause you were a coward who followed broad trends to never be known? See, I believe you can work with broader trends without compromising your integrity, and this is the process of artistry? You don't understand that, though. You only know how to cowtow and beg. That's what you meant when you kept calling yourself a simp and a bitch and I was confused? I really couldn't understand how you saw yourself, cause I was reacting your writing, and not yet aware to the degree to which we were both drawing (as if in trance) straight from the unconscious, and so mutually had blindspots. See, if you had only given your attention to people who were worth it (like I did) you would only attract the people you wanted to attract. You played it safe and attracted safe people, then complained cause you wanted to be told what to do. You chose to be dumb and worthless.

That's why you go into the purgatory sex fantasy hell realm where your infinite suicide procuduces heavenly love auras now. That's why Ask Friend Crazy Guy is You, But Better In Every Way. He's a version of what you could have been if you had an iota of self-respect, but you pissed on everything you were given.

That guy who liked Xiu Xiu who you were bitching about and seemed to just think I was for reasons? Like... come on, dude. Did you just think that we liked similar things and thus were the same person? Are you not aware that art transcends ideology and you can't make blanket assumptions about an audience unless you're giving the game away you can only think like a targeted consumer bot? You're aware different people can like things for different reasons? Was there no thought whatsoever, and it was something like a sympathetic magical association? Are you way more a horny pagan witch than you're willing to admit? Why were you bitching about witches all the time when you so clearly are one? How completely unaware of yourself are you, and how much of the manipulation was deliberate? Are you just manipulative at the level of automatic implanted animal reaction? Are you trapped in the false garden of Eden? Do you just see things that you are and panic cause you think you'll get hit, so you pretend you're not that thing? Do you ever just slow down, stop and think and tell yourself there's currently no danger here? The past is the past? The person you're talking to is not your abuser? If you're hypervigilant, maybe engage responsibility instead of attaching yourself to someone? You're aware that other people have different feelings from yours? Maybe you're not because your crippling mental illness has left you in advanced state of emotional retardation.

You probably already knew I could understand people in ways you couldn't and produce art you couldn't fathom cause I had a deeper grasp of reality, huh? That's why you felt so worthless? I was just loving you and assuming the best, bro. I was hurt all my life and you were special and unique to me and you brought me into a different place. Thanks for shitting on me, though. You taught me I definitely had far more value than even I could have ever imagined possible.

Thank you, man. Enjoy the bullet through your brain, forever.

All is love is love is all.

#thank for talking to me bro #feel like we're rebuilding me together #double feature #build a creature

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