#not sure how to choose because the full color one looks wrong and idk how to fix it but the others are understandably flat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whaleofatjme1920 · 4 years ago

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Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd

Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, physical cheating]

[AN: i love angst too]

The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.

It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.

She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.

“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”

“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”

Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.

Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.

“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”

Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”

Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.

“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.

Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.

Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”

Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.

“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.

Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.

She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”

Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.

And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.

Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.

When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.

Tim stayed the night.

The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.

It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.

Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?

He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.

Excuses, excuses.

The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.

He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.

It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?

A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.

“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”

“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.

He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.

The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.

You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.

“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”

“I wanna go home.”

Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.

A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.

You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”

“What? No-”

“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.

Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”

“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.

“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do.”

“Reader, baby please-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”

Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.

The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders

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yamagucji · 5 years ago

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some tips for writing blogs, especially those who are just starting out. these are some things that works for me and may or may not work for others.

how to add a read more link on mobile

type :readmore: on a free space, then hit the enter or return button

personally i think they’re very helpful because it lessens the space you take up in your dash, and might encourage more people to rb

+ you can also add this on a spot where it gives a sort of cliffhanger, essentially making people want to ‘read more’

headers, banners, and dividers

though not necessary, it’s good to have a title for your work. make sure it’s bold and doesn’t blend in with your notes (aka pairing, warnings, etc.). this also helps when someone wants to look up one of your works in your search bar

i don’t really make banners or covers for my works. but some good apps that i know of would be picsart and canva. if you’re looking for ideas, i definitely recommend going into canva

wondering how to make those really small, thin dividers? you can make them using picsart! to make a divider hit tools > free crop > brush > size (adjust it to your preference > then draw a line along the edge of your photo > save

using the divider you just saved, go back to picsart and edit it again > draw option > hit rainbow square at the bottom left corner > hit suction/droplet symbol right below the check mark > color in the white spots bc for some reason picsart glitches and makes dividers look white-ish

new blog? just opened an account?

this is gonna sound really frustrating. but... tumblr needs to check if you’re a bot or not. what does this mean? it’s likely that your first few posts won’t show up on the search bar. you may not even get to edit your header/pfp yet ://

this happened to me and there was no visibility on my account at ALL. what helped me get ‘verified’ is that i followed a LOT of accounts, liked a bunch of posts, made some posts here and there. now that lets tumblr know you’re not a bot

visibility

the tumblr tagging system usually only allows the first 5 tags in your post to show up. so, what can do you about this? only use FIVE or less tags in your post. wait about 15 minutes or more until you can add some more tags in your post, and they usually all show up like that

another important thing about using tags is not to generalize! especially if you’re using a popular tag. but also don’t specify it too much where barely anyone looks it up. for example, if you’re writing a gn piece about oikawa, i recommend you use the tags such as: oikawa x reader, haikyuu x reader, oikawa x gn!reader, haikyuu headcanons, etc

a good rule of thumb is to use character x reader tags first, then leave the full name or fandom tag last

FOR NSFW: tumblr doesn’t let any tags with nsfw show up. so, give your nsfw works another tag. maybe #namegetspicy idk, you figure it out

FOR WARNINGS: especially if you’re a dark content creator, i highly encourage you to add tw:xyz tags. if you already have a warning note at the top then that’s great. but even better for readers who prefer to actually block these tags that way they never get to see it

another important thing to note is that people have different timezones. it helps if you rb your work at a different time of the day, in case people missed it! (icymi) i’ve noticed that reblogging helps to make your post show up in the tags

interaction + feedback

first and foremost, you are not obligated to write for your followers, and neither are your followers obligated to interact with you. remember that everyone has their own individual lives, and they have their own things to do— so do you, too.

make friends! become mutuals with other writers, visit their ask box. i know it can be daunting having to initiate these things, but you might just turn out to have fun! you can’t expect people to interact with you if you’re not interacting (back). it’s... kind of a two way thing yk? no need to be afraid to interact with other writers. oh, and rb other writers works!

pspsps join tag games or do ask games. it’s fun and very interactive

it never hurts to ask for feedback. i usually do this in a more subtle way because i don’t really expect a full on analysis on my works. maybe a little, is this okay? or feedback appreciated. sometimes it takes a little bit of coaxing for the silent readers

formatting your posts and blog

i generally put in the title at the top in big, bold letters

then comes the header/divider. helps to make the post more... visually appealing ig?

it’s important to add warnings (if any) and the pairing. the audience is not all female, and it might be a little frustrating for male readers having to find out its an x fem reader piece like halfway through your fic

if you have multiple works posted, it’s really really helpful to have a navigation page!

you can organize the posts you make with tags! for example, if you’re shitposting, you can use a specific tag for that. if you have a nsfw related post (ESPECIALLY when your blog is open to the general audience) please make a tag for it

themes + colors

if you have a color in mind but don’t know which direction to go from there, i recommend looking up color + aesthetic

looking to use the same color? download a name color app that’ll give you a hex code for any color you want to use. then, you can type in that hex code for when you’re choosing a color for your tumblr bio

wondering how to make your header image small like mine? just choose a photo for your header and turn off the stretch image option

want to use a different text color that tumblr doesn’t offer? it’s not as complicated as you think. you’ll have to go on a desktop to do this and do some html (but trust me, it’s not very difficult). look up “HTML noob but trying my best - how to use colored text on desktop”

^^ i don’t have the link for the color text tutorial so you can try looking it up

how to make an aesthetic navi and masterlist

step 1: decide a theme! if you’re stuck, think about a character + color/season/mood or look up “[insert] aesthetic” to find some inspiration. or you can try looking at other blogs too

step 2: find a color scheme! it’s easier if you choose fewer colors. if you want to use the same color for both divider and text, download a color name app in order to get the hex code of that color.

step 3: add categories to your navi! most navigation pages include a link to masterlist, about/byi, and rules. your navi should have a title that indicates that it’s... a navigation page. you can add thin colored dividers with the same color to make it easier for followers to navigate

step 4: you can choose to create a ‘cover’ or a picture for your navigation and masterlist! again, i recommend you use the canva app as a starting point

extra: search up emoticon symbols to spice up your titles!

reminder for you as a writer

you’re not obligated to do any of these things. i’ve noticed that we tend to build pressure on ourselves when it comes to content and interaction. remember, this !! is !! for !! fun !! when you realize that it’s no longer fun, then know that it’s time to take a break. and there’s nothing wrong with a bit of self care.

^^ c/p from this post lol

at the end of the day, follower count and interaction doesn’t define you. again for the love of beings, you’re here on your own accord.

will be adding more if needed/asked.

#cupid; talks!#cueuepid

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momoliee · 4 years ago

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It’s probably too early for The Meta No One Asked For That I’m Gonna Write Anyway about XQC, alas…here we go

Dr. Xie Qingcheng, 32, male, straight (so far), 180 cm with only one current family member.

Xqc is introduced as a cold, aloof and apathetic retired doctor who has no passions, cares about nothing except for his sister, and unless he’s angry, you can barely get an emotional response out of him.

Through meatbun’s character notes on how he has no favorite food, no favorite color or animal, no personal preferences outside what’s most practical and how he’s very very responsible and rules abiding and honest and sober and serious, and through he yu’s POV that continuously paints him as this heartless cold blooded person, I dare say we were…deceived by this so far shades of gray picture we had of him.

Xqc was born into a finically stable middle class family consisting of two cops for parents and a younger sister that came into the world 8 years after him. When he turned 13, and his sister was only 5 at that time, his parents were fired from their job due to a case they shouldn’t have been investigating going wrong, and they had to move to a rural area. Not long after that, he witnessed both his parents’ deaths and saw their corpses with his own eyes, the site was bloody and there’s no way it didn’t traumatize a pre-teen like him. He then was tasked with taking care of his sister, becoming a doctor despite not wanting to, owing others favors and spending all his money on smth that’s yet to be revealed instead of enjoying it. He got married, not to a woman he loves but to someone whom he thought of as “suitable and appropriate”, got cheated on and went through a divorce before losing full interest in the marriage life. He was finally able to retire (we don’t know why yet) and live a quiet, normal, boring life.

I believe xqc loved his parents, I believe he loved them so much cause in chapter 20, he mentions how he thought he wouldnt be able to live past the grief, he wouldn’t be able to go on or move forward, how the grief completely overtook him. He also mentions how he used to play with knots and handcuffs when he was a child, which shows how close he was to them. So for a child who had a good stable life with two loving parents to suddenly fall from a class to a class, suddenly lose both parents and see their corpses with his own eyes, that must’ve fucked him up big time. I’m talking “when can I fully register all of this” kind of fucked up. But he didn’t have time to fully absorb all of this, didnt have the time to sit down and cry, he had a sister, she was only 5, where will they get the money from? What were they gonna do? How was he going to continue school while caring for her? He didn’t have the time to sit down and grief, to sit down and adjust. For a child who had a normal life and didn’t have to worry much about the money like every other middle class kid, he was suddenly burdened with poverty AND loss, and duty and responsibility. Good bye to the days of playing with handcuffs and knots huh?

You ask me, why does xqc not have a favorite food? I answer you, because many many nights, he didn’t know what to feed his sister, much less himself. Cause I bet that many nights, he would have to give up his portion for Xie Xue, to make sure a kid like her is full. Cause he couldn’t afford to be picky, couldn’t afford to choose; whatever was edible will be eaten, taste and flavor be damned. He had to start working from a young age, balance school, babysitting and working all at once. The last friend he made (I think) was that Chen Man guy whose parents were friends with his parents, back when they were alive and life was good. He didn’t have time to make friends, or go out, or have a favorite color or visit the zoo and decide on a favorite animal. No, he had to study, and study hard to become more financially stable and support Xie Xue, he had to raise his baby sister and protect her, he had to work or else how will he put food on their table? Yet he never lost his soft kind heart, cause when his sister asked for a laptop, he bought her one just so that she wouldn’t feel less than any of the other children.

Xqc had to SURVIVE, he had to make do with what he had and what he didn’t have. He didn’t have time to sit down and cry or process his trauma, didn’t even have time to think of adolescent love or his youthful days or do what kids his age did. And all of that carried forward into his adult life. He pushed his emotions back so hard and had his practical, business like mind take care of everything in order to make it through the days. He started to believe that passionate emotions such as love and hate and lust and desire were all a waste of time, a distraction from his duties, smth that will rock the delicate balance he created with his everyday busy schedule. Emotions will stunt you, emotions will delay you, crying and not going to work today means no food to feed his hungry sister with. That’s when he started thinking, strong emotions are a DISEASE, they will take up your time, cloud your judgement, have you make reckless decisions that you’ll regret later. And he couldn’t afford any of that right? Strong emotions are for the weak, they put you in crutches and disable you from moving forward. Wasnt that what he told his ex wife? If he had submitted himself to his grief back then, where would his sister be? Where would he be? How could they have grown up to be healthy and successful adults?

So this man taught himself practicality and duty and priorities. He stopped thinking about himself, about what he wants and what he feels, and instead started making sure that those around him are happy and content and safe and well taken care of. He no longer had desires or passions, he only had rules and regulations. If a person lost their sense of taste, would they still want chocolates and burgers? Would they still have cravings and foods they’d rather swallow medicine than eat? No. If so, how will they decide on what to eat every day? They’ll simply start following a “perfect nutritional plan” and “balanced diet”. They’d eat what they have to eat, when they have to eat, and in the exact portion they need. To them eating would be another chore they have to do every day to keep their bodies going. Similarly, with xqc, graduating, working, marrying, taking care of his sister and auntie, these all became “tasks” and “chores” that he had to abide by and follow. They became the dietary plan for his life till he dies, the outline he shall follow, the textbook rules he will carry out, no need to think of what he “wants” or “desires”, what will make him “happy” or bring him “joy”. He no longer listened to his emotions when making decisions. Even when marrying his ex wife, he married her cause she was “a suitable match”, not for her looks or personality or anything. Feelings are life’s taste buds, and once you remove them, everything becomes tasteless and mundane, and practicality/logic takes over. He stopped knowing what it felt like to choose based on your preferences, cause he stopped having the luxury of choice ever since that night when he was 13, and he no longer was able to re-teach himself the meaning of free will and choice.

So when he yu, in chapter 20, asked him how he would’ve acted if Xie Xue had died, and he said, “I would’ve continued living as I am today till my last breath,” he wasn’t being “cold” or “heartless” or “indifferent” as he yu likes to say. He was being practical and methodical and thinking with a logical approach, rather than an emotional one, just the way he taught himself to throughout all these years. His almost 2 decades of pure survival mode and severely repressed feelings spoke in the form of autopilot. “I would do what I have to do, what I’ve always done every day of my life so far cause what choice do I have?” Is what he meant to say.

But I believe that he’s a soft hearted, kind and loving person. He never says no his sister, never says no to his auntie, helped that homeless man as best as he could, taught he yu that he was normal and that he wasn’t a monster, believed in treating his patients with words instead of medicine prescriptions, believed that the mentally ill deserve to live normally instead of being locked up. I believe that underneath all the shit he has buried, there’s a lot of passion and love that’s been kept dormant for 19 years.

In conclusion, idk where meatbun is gonna take his character but I genuinely hope he gets to heal, and start having more color and flavor in his life. Start allowing himself to live, not just survive.

#case file compendium #xie qingcheng #bing an ben #meatbun doesn’t eat meat #cfc #bab #meatbun

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

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Angel in the Dark pt. 2

Demon!August Walker x Reader

Summary: After a one-night stand, or what you thought would be one, a demon drags you to his world and forces you to grow wings like he has so you would have to stay with him, unable to permanently return to Earth.

Notes: For those who asked for another part...I hope it lives up to any expectations. More parts to come now that i've fallen down this dark hole. Sorry it’s short.

Warnings: i'm sure there's cursing somewhere. Future smut. Oh, smut in this too. I forgot. Kind of captive-ish. idk. Sorry if I missed any. Oh, maybe a little emotional abuse? That's a pretty strong word for it though.

Words: 1364

Part 1

Part 2

He moaned so sweetly for such a massive man, as he slowly moved in and out of you, stretching, filling; his lips grazing across one cheek before nudging his nose against yours and kissing the opposite cheek. You’d tried to thrust your hips up harder to get him to fuck you faster, but all he’d done in response was place a giant hand on your hipbone to hold you in place so he could continue at the pace he preferred.

It was not a pace you were used to, and certainly not one you expected, but you hadn’t hated it. Eventually you succumbed to it, thrived in it, and when you managed to flip him over and sink all the way down his cock, you kept it slow. You’d liked to have thought his hands on your waist kept you from increasing speed, but they just rested on top of your skin, caressing, occasionally moving to your ass and squeezing or to your breast. Your movements were all your own.

“Beautiful,” he had whispered, eyes locked with yours. “Absolutely—”

You shot up at the sound of knocking on the door, instantly groaning at the ache of your healing back then rubbed at your sleepy eyes. There was more to be healed around where the wings had burst through your skin, but it was getting better, and you were finally getting used to the extra weight of them.

He knocked again. Why he bothered to knock, you didn’t know. He certainly hadn’t bothered to ask you before he invaded your body with that poison, or whatever it was; neither did he when he took you from your world and brought you here.

Even though you didn’t answer, he eased the door open, which felt a little more in character. He’d have come in whether you wanted him to or not. You should’ve locked it, but then again, it’s not like that would’ve kept him out, not with his strength.

August held a small tray in his hands, covered with an assortment of foods that looked as if they were from Earth, but you could never really be sure. Just as you could never be sure if the view out your window was real, or if even he was real. There could be a monster under that beautiful mask, more physical than how you’d accused him before. His skin could be of an inhuman color, bones twisted and mangled, teeth razor sharp, with eyes black as pits. You hoped that wasn’t what you had let inside of your body nearly two weeks ago. You weren’t sure how you would stomach it.

The foods ranged from fat, green grapes to thin apple slices with cubes of cheese, to perfectly round plums and olives. All foods which you enjoyed…coincidentally; you hoped anyway. You were sick of the hints that he had more information on you than he had led you to believe.

You remembered the stories you read as a child about the Gods and Goddesses. The tale of Hades and Persephone always stuck in your mind. Some retellings had the young girl falling in love with her captor, choosing, by her own free will, to eat the food of his world in order to stay there with him. Maybe the food of this world wouldn’t condemn you to the same fate, but you weren’t about to risk it, stomach rumbling or not.

“You need to eat,” He said as he sat the tray on the table beside your bed. “You haven’t in days, and you need to keep up your strength.”

You crossed your arms like a petulant child. “Not hungry,” You mumbled.

With a gentle smirk he said, “Yes you are, you little liar. I heard your stomach groaning from down the hall.” Then he nudged the tray a little closer. “So eat.”

“I have no intention to indulge in anything you have to give.”

“Well, you should get over it. You need food just as much now as you did before. You may not die, but you could be bedridden, a hollow husk, skin and bones. And not to say you wouldn’t still be beautiful, but I prefer you a little more—” His eyes dragged up and down your form “—plump, than that.

A wave of nausea rolled through you. You didn’t want to be anything he preferred ever again. “Don’t come in here and bring me food like you’re trying to play house.” He snorted but you continued. “I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not your wife. I’m not your toy. You brought me here for no good reason. You forced me through unimaginable pain. You ruined me!”

His face contorted harshly by the end of your words, eyebrows dipping in the center and corners of his mouth tipping down. “You think I wanted you to hurt!?” He shouted, and it shook the walls, actually shook them. A picture fell from its hook and smashed to the ground, scattering glass all over the marble flooring. “You think I don’t remember my own pain from the process? I hated hearing your screams! I wish I could’ve taken it all away, but it wasn’t possible!”

You stood from the bed then, shoving hard at his chest, but he didn’t stumble. “You could have left me alone!” You hit a fist against a boulder of a shoulder. “I’m not meant to be here! I don’t belong! I am human!”

He grabbed your hands and held them down, then pushed you until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you had no choice but to sit, your wings spreading to fit behind you. He still gripped your wrists when he leaned his face closer and said, “You are meant to be with me. You are mine, and you couldn’t go back to your old life even if I let you. You are not human! This is your home now and I am all you have!”

“…I hate you.” You tried your hardest to maintain the glare in your stare-off, but a tinge of red was seeping into the blue of his eyes, like little veins slithering from the pupil and infecting the iris, and it called for you to back off, to stand down. You looked away from him and he took a breath.

“You will learn to love me,” He whispered. The words, hot from his breath, softly kissed your cheek before fading to coldness.

“You stole me—” You met his eyes to see all the red gone, just the mesmerizing ocean blue “—How could I ever love you? Why would I even bother to try?”

“Because what could you have possibly had on Earth that was so good--Nothing. I saved you,” He said then straightened to his full height. “I am the only one that loves you.”

You jerked your head back when he tried to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t currently holding your wrists captive. “You don’t love me. We only slept together once.”

“It was enough for me to confirm what I want.”

“What you want from me,” You corrected with a shake of your head. You knew he would take everything from you whether you willingly gave it or not.

“What I want with you.”

“You’re insane...and sick!”

August chuckled and released you, but there was a warning in that chuckle, a threat in the way he let your hands free. He was being merciful—he wanted you to realize—and would have no problem easily putting you back in your place if you didn’t calm yourself. “I’m getting really sick of your mouth.”

“Yea, well maybe you took the wrong girl.”

He smirked again then crossed his arms, staring down at you, almost examining. “No, I didn’t,” was all he said before he turned to walk away. He paused right before the door and pointed a long finger at the tray of food. “Eat. And maybe by the time I come back you’ll have straightened out that attitude.”

Yea, right. You rolled your eyes as he slammed the door behind him. Not a chance in hell.

----

Tags: @meriamunnofrumerit @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @forthebrokenheartedthings @meganwinchester1999 @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @amberlokabrenna @a-dlv @writing-about-current-obsessions @coffeebreathy @madbaddic7ed @petitefirecracker10

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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i-need-entertainment · 5 years ago

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Haikyuu!! Boys and what type of old man they’ll be

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi and Daishou

*Minor Timeskip spoilers*

TW- Old men, mentions of being senile, mentions of retirement home.

Akaashi Keiji: Old man with the best stories

The kind of old man who has the best stories.

He doesn’t tell fictional stories, they’re really just stories from his youth, but he always makes them so fun to listen to.

his grandkids always want him to be the one to read them bedtime stories.

He also gives really good advice.

Will do fun things with his grandkids like outings and what not, but he’ll also help out at home, take them to/pick them up from school and all that stuff.

Comes off as ‘wise’, and he’s stayed pretty sharp throughout the years.

Spends his mornings drinking coffee and playing crossword puzzles.

Aged very nicely, like he looks older sure, but he still looks nice.

Goes by Grandad

Washio Tatsuki: Sweet old man

The old man who only seems scary, because in all actuality he’s a softy.

Definitely loves kids, and keeps candy in a little bowl by the front door for when his grandkids come to visit.

Always offers to help people move into their houses, help with people’s housework etc. (He kept his nice physique playing professional volleyball dUh)

Always there for his family too. He hosts all the family dinners, makes sure his kids/grandkids are okay, all that good stuff~

He’s still pretty quiet though, but it’s never uncomfortable.

Like, you could sit in silence with Old Man Washio, both of you doing your own thing and you’d still enjoy your time with him.

Goes by Grandaddy

Konoha Akinori: Old man that shamelessly criticizes people

“haaa?!?! Well why the heck didya do that? That was dumb.”

He wasn’t exactly censored when he was older, so I find it very unlikely it got better as he aged.

He is in no way mean, just blunt.

Gives his two cents on everything.

The news? No don’t get news from them they’re stupid.

That brand of canned peas? They put way too little salt, there’s no flavor!

It seems like in any and every situation he has something to say about it.

Doesn’t get angry when he’s wrong, just laughs and moves on with life.

Goes by Poppy

Kita Shinsuke: Strict old man

Takes things very seriously, to the point he comes off as intimidating.

He’s spent a long time perfecting his routine, even as an old man he still has his life perfectly put together.

He remained blunt and perceptive, and he can sometimes come off as critical.

Just try cooking with him for example.

Really? You’re gonna do that? No, no it’s fine...just wrong.

But he’s passive aggressive with it.

Doesn’t realize it, but all of his kids/grandkids just want his approval r.i.p.

But little do they know they already have it, he loves his family and is already proud of him.

Goes by Grandpa Shinsuke

Suna Rintaro: Lazy old man

Yeah...he COULD do that..but he could also..like..not.

Spends his days. Uh. Watching tv mostly.

He’s pretty chill, and he’s is definitely the type to spoilt the heck outta his grandkids.

They don’t really even have to ask for it.

He’s just like ‘Hm...whelp, I’m the granddad, it’s not my job to parent you. Sure why not?’

His grandkids love him lol.

And not just because he buys them things, but he’s generally just a fun (but incredibly) unmotivated enjoyable old man.

Goes by Gramps

Ushijima Wakatoshi: He’s hOw old?!?!

He aged, but he didn’t...

Even in his old age he remains stoic and quiet.

Another one who becomes that ‘wise old man’.

He also tells good stories, even if most of them do revolve around volleyball...

Regardless his grandkids always enjoy spending time with him cause he’s just the coolest :)

But his grandchildren love him nonetheless!

Also calls his grandchildren by THEIR full names.

idk man it just works.

Goes by Grandfather...Yes, the whole thing but he doesn’t mind nick names, I mean they’re from his precious grandchildren after all.

Yahaba Shigeru: “When I was your age-”

The type to reminisce...you might even know what he’s talking about.

I don’t wanna say senile...

But he kinda goes senile y’know?

Gets a l l the girls at the retiring home though.

He also aged well, his hair has not changed, just it’s color lol

Has told the same story countless times, but each time his grandkids still enjoy it, whether if that’s for his enjoyment or theirs they’ll never tell.

He speaks very fondly of his volleyball days, and high school in general.

Plays volleyball with his grandkids, just for fun! Doesn’t teach them everything, but if they want to he’ll play negotiator with the parentals.

Goes by Pops, he rEFUsed to be called ‘grandpa’ it made him feel old.

Iwaizumi Hajime: “quIET DOWN” Grumpy old man

The old man all children are afraid of.

It’s not...intentional...

Okay it’s a LITTLE intentional. But he doesn’t make them cry or anything!

But Let me tell you, there will be n o t h i n g on Old Man Hajime’s lawn.

At one point some rowdy and punk teens started causing trouble on the street he lived on.

His solution was to sit on his porch and just...yell.

After years of being an athletic trainer and intimidating all those around him, he was made for this.

Those kids never stood a chance h a.

1,000% A good grandpa though. He’s very supportive of his grandkids, and is nothing but good and soft to them.

I see him as having been a stricter parent to his kids, but once his grandkids were born was just like ‘Your turn to be mean, I get to be the fun one now sucker’.

Goes by Grandad while the grandkids are young, but once they grow a little older they call him Old Man.

Futakuchi Kenji: Immature old man

If he didn’t look old, you would never have known he was 60+.

He does all the fun things with his grandkids.

Spoils them rotten and sends them home to his kids with a ‘Goodbye~’.

Definitely the type to fill them up with sugar RIGHT before they go home just to do it.

Despite his age if the family is all together and he’s asked/challenged, he’ll do what the kids are doing despite the knowing pain he’ll feel later.

One time his family and Aone’s family (...Futakuchi’s son married Aone’s daughter :0) had a little reunion and were playing volleyball. Even though it had been a *few* years since the two had played, they figured they’d do it ‘for old times sake’ as they had called it.

Ignoring the warnings from their wives and children they started playing.

And actually played quite well, and avoided any serious injuries miraculously.

Goes by Grandad

Daishou Suguru: Mean old man

He is brutal.

To everyone not his wife, kids and wonderful grandkids that is.

The type of Old man to tease and provoke everyone, then plays it off like he’s just some ‘crazy old man’ who can’t control what he’s saying.

He can, or he is very much capable of doing so but chooses not too.

He’s a fun grandad though. Has all his grandkid’s favorite games/toys and snacks always stocked.

If his kids ever mess up he is rUthLess.

Those are HIS grandbabies how dAre you.

Used to tease them (lovingly) about relationships.

...And then his eldest granddaughter started dating Kuroo’s oldest grandson...and due to the death stare his wife gave him he couldn’t do anything about it.

Had to ‘welcome’ the boy into the family, ugh gross.

Goes by Grampa (tHeRe’S a DiFfErEnCe oKaY)

#akaashi x reader #washio x reader #konoha x reader #kita x reader #suna x reader #ushijima x reader #yahaba x reader #iwaizumi x reader #futakuchi x reader #daishou x reader #Haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuufanfiction #y/n #hq headcanons #hq imagines

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pwarkluv · 4 years ago

Text

❝ chicken tendies - l.mk ❞

lee mark x reader | angst | 0.9k words

WARNINGS | lowercase is intended, non-idol au, richkid!mark, mentions of hair color and style (sorry if you’re blonde/redhead/anything besides brown), bad angst bc i suck at writing it LOL, cursing, might have two parts idk idk

SUMMARY | when you’re the one thing he can’t have.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “chicken tendies” by clinton kane :) this might really really suck bc as i've mentioned before angst isn’t one of my strengths but i’ll try and get better!! thank you for being patient with me about puzzle piece btw, i love you all beyond words <3

mark’s heart stopped in its tracks the moment a tiny brown haired girl that looked just like you passed by him. his mind raced back to the memories you two shared, the times his life was more vibrant and colorful because you were there.

the thumping of his heart increased the moment he turned around and saw you in your full glory. god you were beautiful.

❝ i hope he treats you better than i ever could ❞

your soft brown locks were straightened out, curtain bangs to fit your frame. your smiling face mark knew too well on display as you laughed at what the dude next to you had said. mark’s unknown smile he let out after seeing you turned into a frown at the man in your presence.

❝ cause you deserve the world times two ❞

you two first met in your freshman year of college. the mark back then was stoic and lowkey intimidating, having to be on his best and pristine behaviour for the public.

see, mark was your typical rich kid.

his father was the ceo of one of the biggest businesses in korea and once it was his time, mark would be the next in line to carry on his legacy. his parents expected perfection and perfection alone, practically spitting on the fact that mark wanted to work in music instead.

and falling for you definitely wasn’t in his parents list of expectations.

you were the typical broke college girl who only knew student debt and getting drunk every weekend. but your kind and approaching demeanor captured mark’s attention and soon enough his heart.

❝ and our simple sunday afternoons ❞

it was another lazy sunday afternoon at your apartment, the two of you sprawled out on your bed. mark was humming a soft tune that the both of you knew by heart. your face was smushed up against his neck and his arms were holding you tight in an embrace.

who would’ve thought the big scary mark is a softy at heart, you thought chuckling a bit by yourself. the shaking of your laughter poked mark’s curiosity.

“hey~” he pouted. “what’s so funny?” mark whined, all the more fueling your laughter. the boy’s expression remained in a cute pout as you toned down, choking on your spit.

“n-nothing baby don’t worry about it.” you said, laughing a bit.

rolling his eyes, mark reluctantly held you close again grumbling about how childish you were being. you just smiled, taking in the warmth of his body, secretly liking how the boy had a soft spot for you.

❝ i hope he's home for you even though i had to lose you ❞

mark had no clue where things went wrong. one moment you were going to meet mark’s parents for the first time, the next you were running out the door with tears in your eyes. he was at a complete loss.

mark knew it was a somewhat bad idea for you to meet his parents. the last time he brought you up the three of them had a screaming match over you. his parents wanted him to marry someone from the business world, someone of status and money to help build the empire mark would soon inherit as an adult. but mark loved you and only you. you were the only person he could ever even begin to imagine marrying.

but he would’ve never imagined how outright rude his parents would be in the middle of dinner. sure they didn’t like you, but mark thought they loved him enough to try. oh how wrong he was.

“you’re sick.” mark said with tears in his eyes. he helplessly watched as you left through the front door, rightfully upset with what went down at dinner.

“mark dear, you know we only want what’s best for you.” mark’s mom tried to reason, holding onto his arm.

“she’s what is best for me. i love her, don’t you understand that?” his voiced cracked, wanting nothing more than to run after you. pushing his mother away, mark turned to run to you before his father’s voice boomed out.

“don’t you dare go after her lee mark.” he said, mark freezing in his place. “not unless you want me to send you away.” he threatened, and at this point mark knew he was doomed.

❝ for you to find who fills your heart ❞

you were miserable the moment mark broke up with you. it was all so sudden and quick, the reality of what had happened hitting you after he left through your door.

“we really need to talk.” mark said, barging into your apartment.

“yeah we really do.” you replied impatiently, wanting to talk about the last time you two met up. mark hadn’t talked to you after the messy dinner with his parents and that didn’t sit right with you.

“we have to break up y/n.” he said breathlessly, so quiet you almost missed it. almost.

“w-wait what?” you said, not expecting that. “mark?”

he couldn’t meet you eyes, preferring to look at the floor. “i’m sorry.” was the only thing mark said before taking off and leaving you all alone.

❝ even if i’m not the one you choose ❞

all of the laughter and heartbreak mark felt with his time with you all came rushing back to him with just the look of your smile. his y/n, except you weren’t his. giving you one last look mark turned around, only to find you staring back.

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genesisrose74 · 5 years ago

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Christmas with the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 1: Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita

Part 2 (Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita) here!!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Daichi

A huge romantic during Christmas, 10/10 quality cliche times spent together

You wanna go ice skating? Hell yeah sweetheart, he will make it the most beautifully romantic thing you’ve ever seen

Like straight out of a holiday postcard type beat

Istg the rink he takes you to looks like a more heartwarming version of Rockefeller Center

He’s a big keeper of tradition when it comes to making plans, but doesn’t mind a bit of nonsense fun when everything falls into place

Which is why you love to bring the team along on adventures because they make everything all the more entertaining

At first he’s confused like ??? You don’t have to do that just if they’ve been pestering you about it

But then he realizes you care as much about them as he does (hint: a hell of a lot) and they’re thus invited along for some stuff

Of course y’all also get some quality time together on dates with just you both

Anyways you and Daichi have talked a lot about traveling and how he was really interested in seeing new places

So as his gift you got him a carved map with a roll of red string and thumbtacks, so that he could plan out all the places he wanted to visit

You know how when Kiyoko found the “Fly” banner for Karasuno and all the boys cried?

Yeah

Like that but with lots more hugging and laughing

“You know you’re gonna have to help with mapping this out, right?”

“Is that an invitation I hear?”

“Oh, that’s a promise”

FJSFJDSK ALEXA PLAY AMERICAN BOY BY ESTELLE—

Please I love him; he is so damn sly and sassy I will die with this headcanon

Sugawara

I swear on everything that Christmas with him is equivalent to a Hallmark movie

It smells like joy and warmth wherever he is, and this season only amplifies it

He is such a cheeseball without even having to try

But it’s in the really endearing and heart-melting way,,, just MMM PERFECT

He’ll take you on a walk through those neighborhoods with those crazy light decorations in the front yard and buy you hot chocolate

If he sees a group of little kids gaping at all the lights, he’ll leave them starry-eyed with stories of magic, reindeer, Santa and so-forth

“You know, I’ve heard that Rudolph’s nose is supposed to be brighter than the world’s most powerful Christmas light”

Good heavens, children absolutely adore this man

Anyways he’ll make it a little game as y’all walk around this beautifully lit neighborhood, both of you with a different assortment of bingo squares printed on paper

First one to bingo chooses a movie to watch after getting back to Suga’s house

Will wrap a big fluffy blanket around you both and pull you into his chest while watching the movie

For his gift, you got a star named after him

It’s because y’all alway go stargazing for dates every month, just to sit out, talk and cuddle

Suga gave you the SOFTEST look after opening your gift and this cute little card you made 🥺

“Lets go try to find my new favorite star”

PLEASE HE IS SO SWEET

“Right now? Koushi it’s 11:30 pm”

“Just for ten minutes, and then I’ll get you home”

So y’all spend the rest of Christmas Eve on his roof, sipping warm tea and attempting to locate Star Suga

Asahi

Cuddle bear alert ‼️‼️

It’s basically hibernation time for him, because he’s not the biggest fan of cold

That’s alright with you though 😌 more coziness for you

Lots of quality moments indoors means more creative dates

A whole day devoted to chill present wrapping? Hell fuckin’ yeah

Nice music, pretty wrapping paper, shiny bows, maybe a little Christmas rom-com playing in the back — the whole shebang

You find out pretty quickly that despite how it sounds, it’s actually quite a satisfying and enjoyable pastime

Practically had to drag him out of your living room to secretly wrap his own gift

As much as he’s the king of timidity and soft™, he can be very playfully stubborn when he’s comfortable, hence why he was such an ass to get out of the room

I have no doubt that Asahi would melt for the most adorable, cheesy shit

So you not only bought him some really reliable headbands for volleyball use, but you also made a little coupon booklet

He can basically cash in paper promises for certain things, like getting to choose the next date idea, picking a movie to watch without any objection, having you make his favorite food, etc.

There’s one that he can exchange for a full out spa day trip, because good heavens he’s a sucker for those

Massage and exfoliation and everything — it makes him feel ✨refreshed✨

He was ecstatic fam, I don’t even know what to say

Like a puppy who just got a bunch of toys and a new backyard to play

Mans cashes in one almost immediately, and at first you’re confused

Like it’s Christmas time bubs, what are we gonna be able to do when most places are closed and it’s the holidays?

Then you read the paper

“Free hug (can be used and renewed <3)”

GIVE HIM HIS DAMN HUGS RIGHT NOW

He uses that one a lot throughout the upcoming days, to the point where he just keeps the paper on him for fun

“You realize you can just ask me silly, you don’t need to keep carrying the coupon around”

“Yeah, but it’s entertaining”

Cute little cheeky bastard

Nishinoya

LOVES LOVES LOVES CHRISTMAS

You know the 12 Days of Christmas? The song??

He gets you a small present EVERY DAY for all 12 days

Not to mention he has a big present that he saves for the actual holiday

Y’all are the type of couple to get ice cream in the middle of winter

Nishi loves his cold snacks any time of year, and you’ve thus picked up a similar taste

He will consistently pester you about what kind of present you got him

Gets pouty when you don’t tell him, but in the back of his mind he’s glad because it would ruin the surprise

Anything you get him instantly becomes his most prized gift tho

It could be a literal rock with googly eyes and he’d put it in a protective glass case for preservation

But of course you get him something better than that because he only deserves the best

He’s got this specific assortment of products to maintain his spiky hair and to make sure it’s healthy, but they’re pretty expensive to buy when he runs out

When he tore open your present’s decorative wrapping to discover a huge basket of basically every hair product he ever needed, he got wide-eyed

There was also a booklet of little notes you’d kept throughout the month that listed all the little things you noticed and adored about your precious boyfriend

He nearly CRIED reading them

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all that for me”

“You act like you don’t deserve all of it and more, Nishi”

Refuses to leave your side after that

Holding your hand, hugging you as tight as he can, etc.

He is head over heels idc idc

Tanaka

Another man who is obsessed with the holiday season and everything that comes with it

He is the biggest sap for this shit istg

Will spend hours trying to get you the best present of all time

And he succeeds exceptionally

Mistletoe? He’s got an ABUNDANCE on hand at any time, just to make sure he can get fair share of his kissies 🥰

His signature beanie appears in full force during winter

Sometimes you’ll pull it over his eyes before giving him a peck on the cheek and dashing off in the school halls

“I’ll see you after school, babe!”

Speech = jumbled + incomprehensible

“Uh hUh, you do that~”

He’s: adorable

I just know that he melts for really sweet and thought-out gifts

Like anything you give him he’ll adore, don’t get me wrong, but the ones done with special care and love are just his kryptonite

He brought you into a massive bear hug and spun you around when he opened a photo book of old pictures taken together, complete with lots of cute messages and anecdotes written alongside them

You and Saeko may have also gone in on another present for him without his knowledge

And on Christmas Eve, you dragged a curious Tanaka into his front yard to the sight of a shiny motorbike

It was Saeko’s old one that she’d held onto for a while, and an old schoolmate offered to fix it up nice in time for the holiday at a discount, so y’all decided to divvy up the lowered price and got it done for Ryu

Sweet boy was taken aback, with his hands clapped over his mouth and everything

Saeko patted him on the back as he stood there in shock, giving her baby brother a sweet smile

“All yours, little bro!”

Ya, Saeko fucking loves you 😌 and so does Tanaka

Overall very lovely, would cry to be loved by the Tanaka siblings

Ennoshita

After spending past Decembers with his fellow second year classmates (namely, the very enthusiastic Noya and Tanaka), he’s grown to know quite a bit about the different holiday events that go on around town

Still, Ennoshita is a pretty simplistic guy and is content with simply spending time with you

So when you recommended going to pick a Christmas tree out for your place together, he’s totally down

As long as he gets to help decorate too ☺️

Y’all end up picking a beauty of a tree ngl

It’s SO TALL

And a super stronk friend — fit for the most heavy duty of ornaments

It takes some damn work to get that bad boi inside and upright after driving back to your house

But like hell did that stop you

Now that it was all set up, sturdy, and given plenty of water, decorations were brought into the equation that same night

No rest until it’s all set up and looking mighty beautiful

Okay maybe some coffee breaks in between, but other than that the grind don’t stop ✋😤

Ennoshita is an expert at making Christmas trees look absolutely immaculate

Idk if it’s because he’s had to deal with cleaning up disorder for a while now?

Looking at you, ya second year loons

He just has the touch, fam

He’ll of course let you have input on which light colors, what type of ornaments, and so on

But honestly it’s really fun seeing him fully concentrated on making your tree the best it can be

He lets you on his shoulders to put on the tree topper 🥺

For his gift, Ennoshita really loves books, so you decided to get him 12 different (hardcover!!) stories — one for each month in a year

Along with a small sticky-note blurb on the covers of each to explain why you chose it, and to give similar title recommendations if he ends up enjoying

He was so surprised with how thoughtful and extensive it was

Loved it so much that he immediately started to read the first one, with you sat in his lap

“Chikara, you realize you’re meant to start this one in January?”

“Shh, I’m getting a head start”

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erinhime83 · 4 years ago

Photo

Since APPARENTLY I did the designs all wrong (I won’t lie - doing my own design of Evangelia was sort of a thinly veiled attempted to get @callistochan87 to redesign her herself. >.>), I figured I’d make it my life mission this week to go through and, like, fix them. Partially because in my fuming about finding out that two of the people were talking about this behind my back, I kept giving myself ideas. >.<

I am pleasantly pleased with the design that @callistochan87 did for Evania/Evangelia, although I’m worried how much is actually influenced by my design and how much she actually decided to do on her own. *shrug* I just like the simplicity of it and how it does make her look like a goddess. I kept forgetting to add in the pieces in front of her ears, lol.

Antigonus I did fiddle with a little bit. Mostly, @callistochan87 mentioned that she thought it was funny having this super old guy traveling with a bunch of teenagers, and she wondered why I didn’t just...make someone new. Well, mostly because I didn’t want to, and mostly because when she did create someone new when I decided the Guides were supposed to be younger, it felt...wrong.

SO, I decided to age him down a little. Which I suppose sort of defeats the purpose of @callistochan87 creating another character when I wanted to do the same, but ignore that. He basically has the same backstory - he was the youngest Guide of the previous generation. He’s the heir of the empire, being the Emperor’s nephew, and now that his Guide duties are over, he’s preparing to take over the Empire. EXCEPT, the idiot new Guide managed to get himself killed, so Antigonus is temporarily taking over the duties as they try to find someone else to take over. BUT THEN GUESS WHAT? He’s about 35, so while he’s old, he’s not stupidly older than than, and is sort of more of a chaperone than anything else.

His outfit come from an old one @callistochan87 designed, and I figure it’s just, like, a traveling outfit? idk

Freyja...omg, Freyja. She caused most of my strife. Like, I honestly didn’t change THAT MUCH of her design, just sort of little piddly stuff to make it look more visually appealing, but APPARENTLY, that was still bad. I stewed and hemmed and hawed on this for quite a while, annoyed before it hit me - this is a a redesign. Shizuka sort of went back to her roots. Why couldn’t Freyja as well?

(And yes, I realize I was in the wrong, but like I said, I hadn’t changed her that much from her last design, and, well, these were done years ago so I sort of...forgot that she didn’t originally look like that. >.<)

And I figured, ya know, since I had minorly changed Freyja and she didn’t like that, I had better change Desiree, too, because I drastically changed her. I don’t care what @swankifiedcos says about this one, I am IN LOVE with her outfit. <3 Her hair, though, was inspired by a recent picture of @swankifiedcos of her hair between dye jobs where it was pink at the tips and she looked SO PRETTY. Sure, Desiree is brunette, not blond, but I like that look on her so much I wanted to recreate it somewhat, and she looks so nice!

Frejya, well, I did sort of tweek her design slightly to what @callistochan87 did, mostly giving her cold shoulder sleeves as a sort of call back to her old sleeves. I won’t lie - I did attempt to do them again and failed spectacularly. Sorry. But apparently she approves of this sleeve, so that’s...one less problem for me to deal with. XD Just so you know, I gave her hearts rather than flowers merely because I can’t draw flowers. Consider it a style thing. Like, in reality, she has flowers, but i just draw them as hearts. I am SHOCKED that I was able to make the feathers as nice as I did, though! This look makes SO MUCH more sense than the way we used to draw it. Me likely.

(Also, you might be thinking that she’s still wearing the pants. I originally indended that, with the thought that she comes from a cold kindgom, but then decided they’re actually shorts that she ended up added to her outfit for modesty sake, much like Sethos did with his shirt. :P)

I really wanted to redo Nannin’s outfit as well, but I’m sorry - I’m lazy, and her original outfit is both too detailed and too simple. So I just made her top layer a darker pink, and I like it better. Also made her a blond again with the idea that the people of Melohdia like like normal ass humans, and the Chosen have colored hair, and the Guides have unnatural colored eyes, which is how people can tell they’re Guides.

Geoffrey (I’m thinking of renaming him Geauffery, because that’s how I prenounce it in my head) over there gets a new design as well because I didn’t care for his other one. >.< Also, decided, as much as I like the name Dimitri Kaminiski, I;m going to go ahead and make him Owen again. Mostly because he’s sort of shifted more into being Owen. I was sort of going with this old look while making it look a little more medieval, and I like it. I also decided he’s not a soothsayer, but rather a magician.mage.

Which is sort of similar to Evangelia’s power, but not quite. She uses the power of miracles, whereas he uses actual magic. Its sort of like how Shizuka and Freyja’s power is similar, but Frejya’s is a little weaker. (Shizuka has mastery over all weapons, whereas Freyja just has mastery over bludgeoning people with a huge ass axe. But she has the benefit of also having magic, whereas Shizuka can just use some fire magic.)

The next design is where it get all long and involved. Basically as I was stewing about having my feelings hurt and how I was going to hide everything in my annoyance, I THINK I was briefly reminded of the last time I screwed up and within that instance a brilliant idea came to me, mostly because I needed more villains.

I remember I really like Astrid’s design, but looking back, I’m sort of confused as to why? It doesn’t look at all better than Freyja’s. >.< Anyway, the thought is simple - when the Chosen are originally yanked into Melohdia, Nuncio replaces one of them with one of his own that would be easily manipulated. Why Freyja, you ask? Plot reasons, since it does help explain the whole Nannin thing a lot better. The thing is, though, that Ariadne and Atalo sort of find out and drag Freyja in as well, except she ends up in Baldernan rather than Azibo with the rest of the Chosen.

So the Chosen are in Azibo thinking Astrid is one of them, except they don’t really vibe with her that well. They just figure it’s because they can’t like everyone, and ignore it. Astrid herself doesn’t really suspect anything. But then they travel to Baldurnan and find Freyja there, who they do vibe with very well, and they find out that Astrid is a fake.

Which would be all fine and well. Even Freyja’s willing to give the girl a chance because, hey, it’s not her fault she was falsely brought into this world with no purpose. Except Astrid is a spoiled bitch and takes it as an affront that they would even want to include Freyja at all. So she just sort of runs off and Nuncio catches up to her, and convinces her that she’s the real one, and and she goes around antagonizing the group from time to time. They think she’s in league with Atalo at first until they find out of the truth.

NEW IDEA. I actually had this very vague idea while musing around, but @callistochan87 had another idea that was similar enough that I can change things to make it work WAY better. So, the new idea is mostly that Nuncio pulls Astrid into Melohdia way before the others. The people are rather confused, certainly, but it’s not 100% unheard of one Chosen being brought over. So she’s treated like something of a god and spoiled further, and Nuncio pretty much convinces her that she’s the soul savior of Melohdia. He assigns Thor to be her Guide, although he’s just some Random Dude (because I decided that matching genders to the Chosen is sort of weird, so Nannin is a full Guide now).

BUT Ariadne and Atalo end up pulling the REAL Chosen a month or so later, which REALLY pull the people for a loop, and they realize that Astrid is a fake once they realize that Thor isn’t a real Guide and that Nannin claims Freyja. The group attempts to assimilate Astrid in with them, because they realize it’s not HER fault all this happened, but since she’s a fake Chosen AND a narcissistic bitch, they end up not viving all that well, and she ends up running away in anger and embarrassment.

Nuncio sort of blames the whole thing on Atalo somehow, since the people forgot that Ariadne is the only one who can pull true Chosen into the world, mostly to save face.

Astrid and Thor do end up joining with Atalo for a little bit, because he’s trying to be sympathetic to her as well, but their goals aren’t really the same. She does prove to be a major threat to the group because she DOES have the power of a Chosen, although they’re sort of weak.

Her real name is Katelyn Davis, and she’s pretty much the opposite of the other Chosen. She’s a complete social butterfly, the sort to think the world revolves around her. She’s not happy unless she’s around people, whereas the other Chosen are pretty much introverted and would prefer to keep to themselves.

Her Guide’s name is Thor (I keep calling him that in my head, I think because of Frejya being named after a god), and he is, in fact, a true Guide. It’s just that he’s not a very good one, nor is he a good person. He’s a bandit and delights in the misfortunes of others. The other Guides avoided him at all costs, and wasn’t sure why he was chosen to be a Guide. He goes off with Astrid after they kick him out of the group when Freyja chooses Nannin over him. (The two of them became close in the month Frejya was stuck there on her own, so of course she’d want to have her stay with her.)

The last picture was just me giving them their original hair colors just for the hell of it, and now I’m torn. >.< Because I like these as well. I mean, I like the idea of the colored hair being how you can tell they’re the Chosen, BUT I also, you know, like the original colors BECAUSE they are the original colors. >.<

#original charcters #designs #mi #evangelia #antigonus #frejya #nannin #geoffery #alden #astrid #thor

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onf-headcanons · 4 years ago

Text

ONF and their high maintenance S/O (mostly about makeups and manicures)

dislcaimer : I dont support the mentality of aegyoing/manipulating/sabotaging your partner to buy you stuffs. Gifts are gifts but its not their are not full responsibility. It is also not a duty/obligation for your partner to recognize delicate makeup product when they can't and buy you your makeup product as well.

What i am saying even though here is that bf gifting lipsticks it does not mean guys should do it and also does not mean that if your own bf could not do it then they dont love you. ok let go to hcs.

Hyojin

I think he will ask you to drop the heavy makeup after you two are comfortable with each other. To him it was not your makeup that impressed him to date you.

He is the type that "I don't get make up but ok you look good" type of person, I mean have you watched how he get ready to go out in the Berlin trip? He just do basic stuffs not even a delicate touch XD

I think because he has a sister back at home? But if you think he will at least know a bit of stuffs because he has a sister then you are wrong lol

But he does understand if you wanna doll up a bit. I think he personally appreciates those times when he caught himself felt that you are dazzling.

I think its cute that maybe you only do basic light make up when going out with him but then when you join him with his friends, you wanna look good so you will put on proper make up (not over heavy ones). But Hyojin be like , " oh, come on... Its just my friends XD"

He is the type that waits for you, unless you have really bad time management, he will come over to rush you. "Hey hey hey, we are gonna be late"

Does not interested at make up or beauty stuffs so he would always questions with curiosity when he saw stuffs like.. " Glue? for what? Eyelashes? Won't it be dangerous?" (Especially you are the type that watches make up vids)

Bonus, you are in charge of his skin care, most of the time.

another bonus, the type that laughs at you if you are the type that opens your mouth when you are drawing eyeline

Changyoon

Very similar to Hyojin so I will skip make up and focus on the nail polish

(Also expanding the Changyoon who loves your hand hcs)

He knows of nail polish and the basic stuffs like base, polish and top, but did not pay full attention on manicure and pedicure stuffs

So when the first time you brought out mini UV light to cure your nails, he goes " Woah they got stuffs like that? why no one told me? I spend minutes blowing at my nails to dry during BB era"

Bonus if you work in nail salon or pick up manicure as hobby, i think you might share a bit of design you found online and ask him his opinions. His will comment a bit.

Also you might grasp his hands and try out newly thought designs on his hands

Bonus if he blushes and burst into laughter until you jokingly snap at him, "Ya, its not the first time I do design test out using your hands? Why are you beet red?"

To go deep into his mentality, he does not hate make up, he gets it. But for manicure he acknowledges it as art expression of oneself as well.

I think he prefer short nail manicure, once you get a longer sharper designs and you cant do your task like how you did normally, Changyoon nags you.

Also Changyoon thoughts on fake nail stickers, "Super convenient!"

He would love to try do your manicures if he got the chance. Not just painting plain color, he might also try following designs that your show him.

Seungjun

He is a delicate boy hahahah (watch leaders Berlin trip then you will get it)

Not the type that can recognize different shades of lipstick or foundation, but he still have basic knowledge. I do see is the type that will keep in mind what color you uses and will present you your favorite lipstick color. Or even randomly choose 1 color that he thinks it might look good on you.

I think you two will stand side by side in front of mirror and do make up and help each other check a bit. Especially eye shadow color, and hairstyles (if it is outdoor date day)

The type that notices changes on you but will tease you by keep saying the wrong answers. "Hey you look different? Is it the eyeshadow? Or was it a new earring? eh I was wrong?*devilsh smile"

He has two sisters so he is used and knows that girls and high maintenance people wears makeup. BB cream at least.

Fascinated when he first time sees you do your own manicure, he saw Changyoon paint nails during BB era, but if it is his first time seeing you painting quite complicated nail design from scratch, he goes "OOOOOOH so thats is how it done? 0A0"

I think he might introduce his sisters to you if you are a makeup artist or if you work at nail salon

Bonus if you are the type that do really minimum skin care, because of his (idk if i am using the right word) eagerness of doing facial mask, you might pick that up too lol

Both of you having facial mask on and chilling on the couch watching TV

another bonus, you two bickering because either one of you made the other one laugh too much making the mask cracked if it is dried up cream type.

Jaeyoung

He is like a combination of Hyojin and Seungjun?

Not sure on his skin care stuff but he will do basic stuff and I think he focus on stylizing his hair more? (but unlike Seungjun, Jaeyoung is more on styling using wax and hairspray)

the type who cant tell difference in lipstick shade lol

He thinks light makeup with less procedure/product look good on you. Especially if you are the one who is super insecure and wakes up super early to do heavy but natural looking makeup before work

Owh special mention, natural shade/nude shade themed makeup is his favourite

He has high respect on people who are high maintenance, but if you are too over enthusiastic he will tell you to slow down and go light heart on it, "Its to boost confidence/feel good about yourself right? Its not to impress others by overdoing it right?"

If you are a tiktok-er. I think you might ask Jaeyoung to do the my boyfriend did my make up challenge (To add, you cant trust Hyojin and Seungjun on this cos high chance if their prank mode kick in, rip. Changyoon will do it tho but you need to persuade him. Jaeyoung and Minkyun are the easiest to ask)

If sometimes Jaeyoung caught seeing you watching manicure design vids or you happened to try out a new manicure design from tutorial you saw online, he will sit beside, try hard to not disturb you. But while watching he will goes "Uwa, Shingi hada/ this is intriguing/amazing." (Try watch Mini game heaven season 2 0316, when he is the one holding the word board, the face he make as he is watching the leaders appeared in my head when writing this lol)

bonus, if you are doing really intricate work like placing a small sticker or draw a small design or sticking a small trinket? on your nails, Jaeyoung will also focus with you by holding his breath as he watches you doing your tasks

Minkyun

You trusted this boy to do BF do my makeup challenge and you regret it soon after, but the view results are amazing lol

but i think their S/O might lowkey get trauma lol and always decline Minkyun offer to help do makeup hahah

But again, when he do try to do it properly, he is ok

bonus, you two had to get another mirror because Minkyun is standing in front yours to check himself out every time he styles his hair a single bit, and it delays your pace of doing your make up.

Appreciate effort of you wanna look good, also he is the type who sits behind S/O while waiting them to finish up makeup (others will wait outside, But Minkyun is the type I want see whole process of how their S/O "transform")

Also the one who will sit beside you as you do your own manicure, or, the bf who will sit beside their S/O at nail salon watching the whole process.

But his hands are busy as he is also curious, so he will reach out to check the nail polish bottle or even the UV cure machine

So, he is also the type that will follow you into Sephora or makeup selling shops (is not that the others wont follow, but I want to highlight specifically for Minkyun). Hands busy, checking out stuffs.

Unlike Seungjun, the type that really cant tell if you change new lipstick or switched new eyeshadow.

BUT I THINK THIS PERSON, HE WILL SUDDENLY DROP A NEON EYESHAOW OUT OF BLUE IN FRONT OF YOU WHEN YOU ARE PAYING. You are gonna fluster if you are not the type who do daring colors. Minkyun only giggles and say " You wont know if you don't like it if you try?"

the funny bit, its not even him paying when he wants you to try lol

He is more of skincare type person. Similar to Seungjun, both of you cuddling with sheet masks on.

Yuto

The one who sticks to basic stuffs, skincare mostly

Also the type who will try to do makeup challenge diligently, asking you how should he do it rather than making a mess on your face.

The type that gives you thumbs up and affirming nods when you ask him how do you look.

He won't comment too much or nags/persuade you to stop doing heavy makeup eventually because he respects effort and confidence boost behind your makeup/high maintenance mentality

But he is flustered when you suddenly did a "I did a instagram summer gal makeup and show my bf" (for example) as it was way different and you look different. The moment you suggest to make this makeup theme as your usual, YUTO PANICKED, "Stop, stop, Mon sori yo? / What did you just say?"

IF you are office worker, he will nag at you if you are thinking straight to wear that makeup to office lol

The type that just quietly follows behind you when you are doing your shopping tour at Sephora or makeup shop.

But he will stop you if he sees your eyes gleaming as you stand at lipsticks corner lol (If you are the type who loves to collect and have too much lipsticks)

Occasionally surprise you with your fave lipstick color as well. Especially on early days of the relationship, you think he is the type that does not care. But turns out he is observant (because it is you so he is observant at your favorite stuffs)

Owh... i think he will be the perfume sensitive type person? He will mention what type of fragrance that he think you will go along well with.

Also I think the type who will recognizes if you changed perfume. Also the type who recognizes if you used his.

He might ask you to try on a sample and then you two might get a couple lover perfume/fragrance.

A/n : finally T^T this draft is in draft for like what... 6 months??? T^T

#onf #onf headcanons #onf imagines #onf scenarios #onf hyojin #onf j-us #onf e-tion #onf wyatt #onf mk #onf u #hyojin #j-us #lee seungjoon #lee seungjun #kim hyojin #lee changyoon #park minkyun #shim jaeyoung #mizuguchi yuto

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years ago

Text

hiding

prompt: hidden

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi! sorry for being absent for 2 days and then coming back with a fic that i think might suck? idk. i have been looking at it for too long i think... maybe you will like it? idk. i hope so tho :)

Shawn has chased more than one old man down the streets of Santa Barbara. Today’s pursuit is no different to the others - or at least, it isn’t until he finally catches up with the old dude in question (who, just for the record, is the fastest seventy year old Shawn has ever encountered).

They’re in an alley, and the other end is blocked off by several feet of chain link fence. This old guy may be speedy, but he’s evidently not much of a climber. Which is good.

“Took you long enough to catch up with me,” he says, his creaky-sounding old-man voice taunting and a little demeaning.

But his statement is fair. As is evidenced by the fact that Shawn is panting hard, bent slightly at the waist with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.

“But I did catch you,” Shawn says after a second, straightening back up. “And now I’m going to have to call the police.”

“I don’t think so.”

Shawn is about to say something dazzlingly witty in response, but all of a sudden there’s a glint of silver and then…

Then he’s just been stabbed by someone who probably eats his dinner at 4:30.

It takes him by such surprise that he doesn’t even make a noise.

And then it hurts. Hot and blinding and sharp and intense pain radiates outward from his stomach and the knife is pulled out and it hurts even more and he feels his body collapse but doesn’t register hitting the ground. There are stars in his vision and everything is blurry and the world sounds like he’s underwater and it hurts and hurts and hurts and he looks upwards as the old man casually wipes Shawn’s blood from the knife with the sleeve of his dark jacket. He idly passes the knife from hand to hand and Shawn watches him and he really wants to just get up and punch him and he staggers to his feet amidst a haze of bright red pain and then there’s a familiar voice from behind him saying, “drop your weapon,” and Lassiter has found them, somehow. He’s never been more grateful to hear the man’s voice in his life.

“How did you find me?” he asks, before he can stop himself. He knows what he should probably be saying is, hey, I just got stabbed and maybe we should be doing something about that, but then Lassie’s explaining how he’d tracked Shawn down and he’s asking what exactly Shawn had been thinking going after a suspect alone, and then Shawn just kind of…doesn’t bring it up.

It’s not like he doesn’t try to. But Lassie is more interested in lecturing him about proper police procedure (which Shawn is familiar with - he simply chooses to disregard it).

“Lassie, um, I -” I got stabbed and it hurts really bad and could we maybe go to the hospital, please?

“I don’t wanna hear it, Spencer.”

“But -”

“If you don’t shut up right now, I swear I’ll pull over and make you walk. That man had a knife, and you chased after him because, what? You couldn’t…”

Lassie keeps lecturing him about why this was such a stupid idea (which, Shawn admits, it was). Shawn sighs to himself as the lecture goes on and on, which is a bad move, because it jostles his stab wound, and it takes all of his willpower to not just scream at the flare of white hot pain. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe normally but everything hurts and the whole front of his shirt is wet and sticking to his skin and he wonders vaguely whether he’s bleeding on Lassie’s seat, and hopes fervently that he’s not, because Lassiter will never forgive him if he ruins his upholstery.

After what feels like an eternity of driving, they arrive back at the police station. Shawn feels tired, and lightheaded, and he knows that’s bad. And they’re here now, so Lassie can’t force him to get out of the car and walk, so he decides to try and bring it up again.

“I think I’ve -” I think I’ve been stabbed, well, I know I’ve been stabbed, and I don’t wanna die but I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a lot of blood and it might be nice to do something about that.

But Lassie is already out of the car, opening the backseat and leading their cuffed suspect inside the building. Halfway up the steps, he turns around. Shawn is still in the car, and Lassie makes a gesture for him to hurry it up and follow them.

Shawn steels himself for the pain, then extricates himself from the passenger seat. It’s a painful ordeal, but thankfully, no one is there to hear his very pathetic whimpers. Once he’s out of the car, Shawn briefly turns around to check on his seat. Fortunately, it’s free of blood. He looks down at himself and sees that his clothes have not fared quite as well.

His black shirt looks wet, but the blood isn’t visible, thanks to the shirt’s dark color. The blood does reach down to his jeans, though, turning the tops of the legs rusty red. The inside of his jacket is damp, but the blood hasn’t soaked through the material, so the exterior looks clean. Shawn tugs his shirt and jacket down to hide the bloodstains on his jeans, then begins his trek inside.

The walk into the station is one of the most painful things Shawn has ever experienced in his life. The stairs are absolute hell on his wound, and he can feel more and more blood soaking through his shirt with every step he takes. He’s slowly but surely getting dizzy, and it’s getting harder and harder to focus, and he really needs to tell someone about this but he kind of doesn’t want to, now, for reasons he can’t quite fathom, and mostly he just wants to sleep. It hurts.

Finally, he makes it inside the station. There’s an empty chair pulled up next to Lassiter’s currently-empty desk, and Shawn makes a very slow beeline for it.

Sitting down is painful, but once he’s sitting, it’s infinitely more comfortable than standing or walking, and the pain lessens, just a bit. Shawn takes another look down at himself and sees, much to his alarm, drops of blood on the floor below him. The sight makes him feel even dizzier, and for a second he thinks he might pass out, and then he recalls what you’re supposed to do if you get stabbed (other than, you know, call an ambulance).

Pressure. He is supposed to apply pressure to the wound. It’s going to hurt, surely, but what’s a little more pain?

Again, Shawn has to fight to keep himself from screaming. Despite the intense pain, he keeps pressing his hands into his stomach, feeling the warm and wet and sticky fabric of his shirt. It’s the most unpleasant sensation in the world. His own blood soaking through his clothes and into his hands. He feels sick. Dizzy. Lightheaded. Confused. Afraid.

He needs to tell somebody about this before he actually passes out.

“Spencer? What’s wrong with you?”

Shawn startles at Lassiter’s voice. He sounds…oddly concerned. Hesitantly, Shawn turns his head in Lassie’s direction. Tell him, his brain suggests.

He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted (again).

“Are you…crying?”

Is he? Shawn raises a hand to his face and scrubs it under his eyes.

“Is that blood?” Lassiter is all seriousness now, and Shawn looks down at his fingers and remembers what they’d been doing before he’d used them to wipe his face. They’re bright red and now that he sees the blood, he can feel it on his face, drying beneath his eyes.

“What happened?”

“I got stabbed,” Shawn admits, finally. It’s such a relief to finally say the words, and he feels some of the tension leave his body.

Oh. Maybe too much tension. He’s falling.

Shawn’s body makes impact with the floor, and he can’t stop himself from crying out this time. For a second, everything is engulfed by a wave of pain that very nearly causes him to black out.

When the pain clears up somewhat, Shawn’s vision returns, and Lassie is above him, shouting something at someone and Shawn can’t focus hard enough to determine what he’s saying or who he’s saying it to. His voice is loud and commanding but there’s a look of something akin to fear on his face and Shawn wonders if he is going to die.

“Am I…” he starts, but halfway through the sentence he forgets what he’s going to say.

“You’re going to be fine,” Lassiter says, and his voice sounds certain but that look is still on his face and it scares Shawn and he doesn’t want to die, not now, not like this…

Lassie must sense him spiraling, because suddenly he’s talking again. Shawn focuses on him as best as he can, catching bits and pieces of the things he’s saying. “I can’t believe you got stabbed and didn’t say a word about it…running after a known suspect…going to punish him to the full extent of the law…”

Lassie’s talking eventually fades away, and darkness starts creeping into the edges of his vision, and somewhere in the back of his mind Shawn thinks, that’s not good, and then the darkness sweeps over him and the pain goes away and he finally falls asleep.

He wakes up and people are moving all around him, and he’s moving too, and he feels weird and he’s not exactly hurting but there’s some sort of strange sensation blanketing him and making it very hard to focus. He tries asking one of the people a question but his voice sounds muffled and he doesn’t know what he’s saying and then everything goes away again.

The next time he wakes up, he is much more aware. He’s in a hospital, and there’s a teenage girl in the bed to his right and a middle-aged man in the bed to his left. There are various machines around him that he doesn’t care to inspect, and there are four chairs positioned around the bed. All of them are empty.

He wonders where his visitors have gone. He wants to see Gus. And Jules. Maybe even his dad. He’d like to see Lassie, because he’s pretty sure the head detective had saved his life, but he doubts he’ll be here. He probably has much more important things to attend to.

So it’s a surprise when, a few long minutes later, Lassie steps into the room. He’s distracted, phone to his ear, steaming cup in his hand, and there’s a spot of blood on his jacket and a few more on his shirt and Shawn realizes it’s his blood - who else’s can it be - and if that’s true then either he’s recovered from surgery remarkably quickly, or Lassie has been here for several hours and hasn’t left. Both seem improbable, and yet…

When he’s made it halfway across the room, Lassie finishes his call and tucks his phone back into his pocket. He looks up at Shawn for the first time, and the dark expression on his face clears away when Shawn looks right back at him.

“Hey, Lassie,” Shawn greets tiredly, waving carefully with the arm that doesn’t have an IV needle sticking into it. “How’s it going?”

Lassie looks briefly like he wants to strangle Shawn for asking such a stupid question, but then he sighs and sinks down into one of the chairs, apparently resigning himself to answer the question.

“It’s going fine,” he says. “I’m not the one who got stabbed and then failed to tell anyone about it.”

“I tried,” Shawn admits. “You interrupted me. And then you weren’t there and I just…didn’t want to tell anyone.”

A look of guilt crosses Lassiter’s face. “I should have listened to you,” he says, which is an admission Shawn never thought he’d hear. He’d love to focus on it a little more, maybe tease Lassie for caring or possibly even keep the conversation serious, but he’s tired. He feels his eyes start to drift closed and he yawns.

He’s about to ask Lassie if they can continue this conversation in a few hours when Lassie sighs and says, “just rest, Shawn. We can talk later, whenever you’re feeling up to it. I’ll be here.”

It’s the nicest thing Lassie has ever said to him. Shawn would like nothing more than to say something gently teasing about Lassie really caring about him after all, but he simply falls asleep instead.

thanks for reading this! sorry for any mistakes i am super tired lol. hope you enjoyed, love u <3

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump28 #psych #shawn spencer #hidden #hidden injury #stabbed #collapse #hospital #my writing #i say things #ugghhhhh tired gn!

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