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#but something about this one was just really haunting
itgirldraco · 3 days
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do you have any fic recs?
yes!! so many!! please check the tags for each!
all time favorites:
way down we go: an absolute classic. werewolf harry, chronically ill utterly miserable draco, post-war in small town america. enemies to lovers slowburn with protective harry and hopelessly gay draco.
in hopes that you may drown: SO much of my art is based on this author's harry and draco. such a lovely fic. post-war, draco raising delphi and absolutely perfecting the stressed yoga mom vibe. harry is instantly smitten.
in our blood: about haunted houses, parenthood and growing to care for each other. I love this one.
you'll still find stone: arranged marriage. draco expects the worst and harry is an absolute sweetheart. angst but so heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)
ANYTHING by corvetteclaire! their blood link and in the mirror series are severely underrated and genuinely took my breath away. some of my favorite writing and plots.
inside grey eyes: so so beautiful. quite dark and yet exceptionally hopeful. all about draco's recovery from a nightmare situation and harry's unending support. (mind the tags!!)
anything by tessa crowley!! an absolute gem in the fandom with an impressive variety of works.
the mirror of ecidyrue series: perfection.
in your arms, rests my world: “You make me feel safe, Potter. You keep me safe.” yeah..yeah. (mind the tags!!)
anything by toxik_angel tbh..one of my favorites is infairitance even though it’s incomplete; fairy draco is a game changer
oxytocin: angst, angst, angst, and so much cuddling. slowburn in the best way possible.
Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm: i read this some time ago but i remember adoring it.
Diffraction Patterns (I Don't Know How to Forget You): another incredible old read .
everything by beloved @rockingrobin69 !! this is one my favorites ever i never stop thinking about it
fluff/humor:
manlet: PLEASE read this one! so so cute and adorable and hilarious ft sweet giant harry and tiny angry draco and wickedly funny narcissa. will definitely open your eyes to small draco.
screw you: extremely funny and extremely hot.
like a star across my sky: SUCH a good fic! feels like a romcom.
title of their sex tape: as funny as it sounds.
flirt: really sweet. disaster flirty draco and awkward yet charmed harry.
married to a brute (ongoing): genius and hilarious
smut:
it beats me black and blue: absolute perfection. no notes.
let me roll it: so delicious. clueless mess draco and grumpy harry who hates everyone except draco.
his little something: size difference excellence
scenes of surrender: a combination of smut, love, recovery and caretaking
a perfect fit: hung harry and size queen draco
come up for air: veela draco
fawning for you: harry is completely obsessed with draco's videos. very cute, muggle setting.
burning the ground: creature fic
ongoing/other faves:
one elephant at a time (ongoing): i recommend this fic to EVERYONE. genuinely incredible. think yellow wallpaper, jane eyre, crush by richard siken, and the author mentions being inspired by my dark vanessa as well. so essentially a modern romance with a dark gothic backstory. every single sentence in this fic stands out to me. every characterization, every conversation, is just so honest and genuine. also!! draco has a cat called lady di!! and he loves to wear earrings! (mind the tags!!)
within the hollow crown: more of pre-drarry tbh. such an interesting plot!! harry grudgingly cares for an increasingly spiraling draco who is except under close and constant watch by the dark lord-every second of his sixth year. currently has an ongoing sequel.
imperfection (ongoing): another fic by robin! and another of my all time favorites, so so lovingly written and so tragic and lovely and heartbreaking. really digs into draco's psych and his manic mindset and constant spiral BUT there is light at the end of the tunnel and so much love surrounding him even though it's hard for him to see it. (mind the tags!!)
saviour series (ongoing): wouldn't necessarily call this drarry? more of a stockholm syndrome gothic novel type of fic but i recommend it all the same. the writing is truly extraordinary and the pacing is incredible. will leave you breathless. part one is complete. (mind the tags!!)
perspective series (ongoing): the original books with alpha harry, omega draco in gryffindor, and an adorable friendship dynamic between the golden trio and draco. really sweet, and super interesting. no romance as of yet but there are little moments.
tales of the potters: very interesting take on the arranged marriage trope! i recommend all of this author's works; they have a gorgeous way with words and their work really brings harry and draco to life.
the veiled boy (ongoing): one of the most intriguing recent fics i've read. really delves into character dynamics in such a realistic and refreshing way and draco is so endearing in it. every chapter has gorgeous illustrations.
never in extremity: reread this one recently. equal parts heartbreaking and heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)
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Interlude I: Kakavasha
Warnings: Discrimination and heavily implied racism
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You were an enigma, even to the other Avgin.
“She appeared out of nowhere.”
“Should we trust her?”
“She looks like one of our own.. and she seems harmless enough, I think we should trust her.”
“Are you sure about this? If she’s with the Katicans we could be in danger.”
The voices whisper and hiss, only slightly muffled by the barrier of a tent with little Kakavasha hiding behind some of the crates.
It made sense for the people, including his sister, to suspect you, even just for a little bit. But to him it didn’t make sense, you had the same hair, you had the same eyes, and you wore pretty clothing unlike them or the Katicans.
Kakavasha was one of the children who were a bit more subtle in their adoration of the patterns of your clothes, his eyes innocently tracing each one of them to see where they begin and where they end.
He learned that your name was Delia from the whispers of his mother and sister on the light of the campfire and the skies of their planet. He’d peek sometimes when his sister brought food to your tent— a simple stew, the same one he knew he would also eat for supper.
He observed, and noticed you didn’t do much of anything at all or even move. Something about you felt a little wrong, felt… weird. At first glance, nothing was wrong, you looked just like him, same eyes, same hair. What was actually wrong with you? He didn’t know, and he felt guilty for thinking of you that way the moment you had given him a sweet smile.
Surely, you would not be a traitor. You are Avgin like him, bears the same eyes, and the gentle smile his mother and sister had.
Kakavasha decided he wanted to speak to you, and he never regretted that decision.
It had felt so wonderful to be graced with stories (he never really questioned how you knew them) of people from afar, of people who persevered in their strife. The more stories you had told him, the more of hope and desire of true freedom grew inside his heart.
Kakavasha was just a child, but much like the older Avgin, he too wanted to be free, to no longer be gazed upon in mockery or jealousy, to no longer have the threat of his life taken simply for what he was born as.
When you both play, he always wins. His luck dictates for him to win.
It didn’t matter whether it was cards or hide and seek— the only game you’ve beaten him at was something called chess. He vowed to be smarter than you when he grew up after that, as you had said the game did not rely on luck.
It hadn’t occurred to him then that in the short two months you were with him, you were indirectly teaching him to play others as his pieces; to plan, to think outside of the box and to not rely on the thrill of a gamble. He remembered you mainly because you gave him good memories in your short stay and the lessons you imparted to him in the form of your stories.
His luck always aided him. It did when you came, it did when the Katicans invaded and the Galaxy rangers came, and it did when he wanted to get the attention of the IPC.
Mr. Boothill never really ended up liking his decision to join their ranks, and they had fought over it, but the cowboy conceded once he heard the Avgin boy’s reasoning.
He needed power and an extensive connection to help his people and to find you. The job of a Galaxy ranger would not grant him that influence, and another reason was simply because it was a somewhat.. safe outlet for his vices.
The voices of the Katicans still haunt him even though years had already passed.
Lucky boy, they’d sneer, jealous and mistrusting.
He was fine if people did not trust him; it already came with being an Avgin, being an employee of the IPC would not really change a thing. Besides, he wasn’t noble (at least he thinks he is not noble— that he is dirty, as free as he might be now), and he doesn’t think he can follow through with the strict code and creed Boothill swore himself to.
Kakavasha knew you and his sister would disapprove of the thoughts he directs to himself, but neither you or her are not here to hear anything. You’re not here to see.
“Still no leads?” He asked over on the other end of the line, his voice now taking a much deeper tone as it had been eight years since you left.
He’s an adult and a stoneheart; things he didn’t know he would become back then when he was just at the cusp of puberty and at war. He had his fair share of struggles too after that— the discrimination against his people never really stopped even after the killings did.
Some of them were still sold, were still seen as objects to be owned, an exotic prize.
He can’t gain power if he remained fully noble and good, and he can’t find you if he had no power and wealth. In order to help his people and himself, he resorts to joining the IPC.
“No, we couldn’t find any trace of the person you want to know about.” The person on the end of the line replied to him as his eyes traced over the stamps he’s put on a board in search for you.
It was as if you never truly existed in the first place.
He gave a hum of acknowledgment for the other person in the call and hung up, he doesn’t take this as a sign to stop though.
“Kid, you sure the girl you’re looking for is really out there?” Mr. Boothill asked him, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand as he too looked at the papers and red strings interconnecting them together. “Asked around a couple of friends and they haven’t seen someone like this leave on a ship—“
The cyborg’s pause made Kakavasha blink.
“You remember something?” He asked.
“Kid,” he didn’t like being called a kid now, but he lets Mr. Boothill call him that out of respect. “Mind telling me what the hell your girl was doing before the festival again? You mentioned she would go missing, right?”
“Yes, if I’m remembering it correctly, she would disappear every night when she thought I was sleeping. She’d…” Kakavasha’s brows furrowed. “Get out of the tent, then walk back in exactly six system hours after. I knew the time because I often counted how many times the hour glass would run out, and I would make a bet on how many hours it’d take before she comes back.. of course, I was always right.
“What does that have to do with this?” He asked.
“You ever thought how the hell we managed to find your planet?” Boothill scowled. “Just a feelin’… but I think your girl.. isn’t exactly a girl.” Kakavasha knew enough to believe the man, having known he had traveled many places and lived many years.
“I’m not quite sure if I follow…” Kakavasha trailed off.
“I can’t blame you, even to this day I’m not sure what the fudge terrorized our ship either.” Boothill sighed gravely with a shake of his head. “It’s just a theory, but your girl— Delia, right?”
He nodded.
“I think it might be the same thing that summoned us to your planet.” His scowl deepened. “Listen, we got points. You said she came out of nowhere, none of the Katicans knew this girl, none of your family knew this girl, she felt weird, knew stories and stuff she wasn’t supposed to know, and left for six hours every night for weeks til your birthday came in? That girl was no human.”
Your image in Kakavasha’s head warped. “A masked fool?” He asked, hesitantly.
“No no, I don’t think those shirt bags would bother to be so benevolent. And I don’t think they’d be powerful enough to scare some of my friends that they decided to go to a doctor.” Boothill inhaled and exhaled. “It’s probably something worse, I dunno.”
How could you be bad? If he’s understanding what Boothill is getting at, then you were the one who set the Avgin free from the Katicans, the one who ushered in help when the IPC did not offer his people aid.
If you were not an Avgin like him, what were you? It’s established as of now that you weren’t exactly a person— hell, Delia probably isn’t even your real name.
Then, he remembered freedom.
It was a thought that came in like a stroke of luck as he gazed upon the patterns— the one he managed to identify as freedom quilts displayed hanging on Boothill’s wall.
The cyborg followed his line of sight and snorted. “Oh, that. Given to me by a friend as a souvenir two weeks ago from a city that devoted themselves towards this new Aeon.. Libertas, I think their name was. Don’t some of your people follow that Aeon now too?”
“Yeah, they do.” He remembered some of the adults muttering prayers to this Aeon— to give them strength, to thank them for being the representation of what they wanted. They prayed in the same way they would pray to the mother goddess, there is no tribute, there is no statue, in a way some of them also thought of Libertas as Fenge Biyos herself, although Kakavasha thinks that Xipe may be a closer comparison if one were to look closely.
Libertas had been recently introduced some six years back through a dream a few of his people had, and suddenly he felt dumb.
Kakavasha laughed, exasperated at himself as Boothill looked at him strangely.
“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Boothill’s nose wrinkled as Kakavasha calmed his laughter.
“Thanks for giving me a good knock to the head Mr. Boothill.” He began, smile stretching wide. “The answer to the mystery was under my nose the entire time! Goodness, I feel pranked.” He grinned, Boothill’s concern grew.
“The hell?” He muttered out.
“That cloth.” The Avgin pointed. “It’s the answer this entire time because it’s the same pattern Delia wore.” The more he gave it thought, the more it began to make sense.
Of course you’d wear the pattern of freedom on you.
Kakavasha smiled, gently and happily this time as he looked at Boothill with a sense of accomplishment. “Mr. Boothill, I guess we found the girl.”
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JSHDHSHSHS Posting this utter word vomit rn, and yes this takes place in the same universe as Aeon reader, though this is sort of a POV exclusively by Aventurine— there will be interludes for other characters too in the future, but for now please enjoy.
I would also like to add that this remains to be a gender neutral reader insert, the reader taking on the form of an Avgin woman was purposeful.
(This is heavily unedited and written at three am by a very sleep deprived mf)
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cherryredstars · 1 day
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Cherry, I’ve always wanted to say this to you… You. Are. Amazing! I seriously can't get enough of your work!
How about this? Reader is a TV host that bashes on Spider-Man. However it is just a job to her and doesn’t believe in the things she rants about. Anyway, one day reader is caught in the middle of one of Spider’s Man foes and our favorite grumpy spider saves her. Though he is extremely rude to her when she tries to thank him (what else is new?). Reader has to convince him that she doesn’t hate him (the opposite in fact) and decides to show him her appreciation.
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Thigh Riding, A Little Electricity(??)
A/N: Thank you, lovie!! Enjoy!
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The world must hate you.
The stiffness in the air is haunting as the burly hero trails behind you, making sure you don’t make more trouble. You weren’t exactly looking for it, it just came to you. How were you supposed to know actively looking for one of the biggest criminals in the past few weeks for a story could be dangerous?
Okay, maybe he had a point.
You sigh, trying to subtly glance over your shoulder. Even through his mask, you can see the grimace he directs at you, pixels slightly distorting. You thin your lips, rubbing your arm. Great, even Spiderman is after you.
“Um,” you start, turning to face him. He crosses his arms over his chest and you try not to let your eyes linger on how it tightens his suit. “My house is just around the block, I’ll be fine from here.”
He doesn’t move, continuing to stare down at you like you’re a child. You gulp, balancing on the balls of your shoes before slowly turning around and walking forward with a dragged out whisper of okay. You lead him down the block until you stop in front of the entrance to your apartment complex.
You face him once again, putting on an awkward smile.
“Thank you for, uh, escorting me home.” The hero says nothing, looking over you for any injuries before starting to turn around.
Your hand rushes out, electricity pulsing under your fingers for just a second as you grab his arm before he shakes you off.
“I don’t mean those things.” You rush out, suddenly desperate to clear the air with your favorite hero. “I-it’s a job. Just a job.”
You can hear the small scoff he lets out from under his mask, something in you deflating slightly. You open your mouth again, but no words come to mind to reassure him. You clamp your mouth shut, a stupid idea coming to you. You reach out, grabbing his arm again and turn him to face you. You’re quick as you lean up and press a hard kiss to his mask, your lips tingling from the buzzing technology. Instinctively, Miguel grabs at your waist to steady you on your toes, a low grunt leaving him.
You pull away, clearing your throat. Embarrassment flushes your skin and you sharply turn away. You really are stupid or something. “Good night.”
You stalk towards the entrance door, body moving like a robot as you avoid the burning gaze at your back. You open the door, turning when you feel hot electricity directly behind you. Your eyes stay on his chest, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
What he really meant was, I’ll follow you through the door and proceed to fuck you against it.
You let out a soft moan as he presses you against the wall, pressing a suited thigh between your legs as he guides you up and down it. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, digging in so strongly that the suit glows white under them. You can feel his lips at your skin, mouthing and sucking on the delicate curve of your neck. Your pencil skirt has folded up to your waist, leaving only your panties to protect your aching clit from the subtle buzz and zaps of his suit as he grinds you on him.
You throw your head back, a whimper leaving you from the harsh hold he has on your hips. You can tell he’s trying to get you off quickly, probably in a rush to get back on the streets and protect the rest of the city. But right now, he’s here, in your apartment with his sharp fangs teasingly dragging against your skin.
You wonder if he can feel the wetness of your parties through his suit, if he is able to smell the pure arousal wafting from you as you buck your hips against his thigh with heavy moans. You try to look down at his face, only to see the bottom half revealed so he can mouth at you. You whine in disappointment, even though the rational part of your brain understands why he won’t reveal his full identity.
He seems to smirk at the nose, flexing his thigh and making you gasp as your clothed cunt runs over the corded muscle. A small curse flutters from your lips as another pleasant flicker of electricity runs over your clit, your orgasm just over the horizon.
Miguel speeds up his movements, making you grind faster against his leg until he’s sure you’re about to glitch out his suit from how hard you grab onto him. You come with a strangled cry, cunt fluttering against his suit as his teeth give a small nip to your neck. The tiniest dose of venom hits your skin, but it’s enough to leave your post-orgasm state limp. You slump against him, twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure and his suit. He ever so gently moves you to the couch, laying you down as his mask fully obscures his face again. You’re left to drowsily stare at him as he approaches your window, opening it before disappearing into the night.
What a way to thank your heroes.
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astrow0rldx · 19 hours
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PAC TAROT: Shadow Work
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Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.
Pile One
You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.
Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.
Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.
Pile Two
She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.
At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.
Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.
Pile Three
She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.
Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.
Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.
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daydreamerwoah · 3 days
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Love Through It All Pt. 11
tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; a worried Ghost; mentions of therapy/counseling; heavy drinking; kidnapping sexual content (18+)
Read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.
You could scream, cry, do whatever you wanted... but when the anger subsided, the only feeling that was left was numbness. Numbness from being cheated on, numbness from your past, numbness from the fact that no matter how you felt, you still loved that fucking man.
But with that feeling of being numb, you also felt something completely shift in you. You had thought more about how you felt when you first saw those videos than anything. The confusion, pain, and shock.
The first week you missed the counseling sessions, you thought Simon was going to blow up your phone, asking why you didn't show. But when you didn't receive a single text the entire day, you couldn't help but feel.... muddled. When the chaplain emailed asking if you would be returning the following week, you could only respond that you would when you got ready. The thought of being in the same room as Simon made you worried about what you would say; what he would say.
After two weeks had passed, nothing had changed except you felt like you could breathe just a little. You worried during the first week of your space from Simon that he was going to show up, begging for you to talk to him. Or he'd stalk you when you went anywhere.... but you hadn't heard or seen him since that night. He hadn't called or texted you either.... and for the first time since it all, you groaned at the plaguing thought that would haunt you for the rest of your life - was he with someone else? You knew that staying with him meant you'd always think that... but now that he wasn't hovering over you constantly, it consumed you.
Did you want to suffer through that?
You asked Ava how she even lived with herself every day knowing her husband had cheated, but she only responded with, "Therapy.... lots of therapy, and a bottle of wine every now and again."
It was a joke that made you giggle... but you wanted to ask her why did she stay then. Why did she do that to herself... but what would that do? Like she told you before... it was your marriage, between you and Simon. No one else could or would understand it... no matter how much they thought they knew.
When Ava hesitantly suggested that you go out, you could have laughed. The voice in your ear wondering if Simon would follow you. That night of him fighting Keegan replayed in your mind so much, and each time, you fumed over the embarrassment of it. But she was right... you had been in the apartment for the last two weeks doing absolutely nothing, using your PTO at work to take time off from work. All you did was sleep, wake up to use the bathroom, maybe ate something if you really were starving.. and sleep some more.
So you did... you got dressed and went out.. by yourself. You felt guilty for even thinking about asking Ava to go out damn near every day after she got off of work, even though you knew she would have. You also didn't want her to get involved if Simon decided to show up randomly.
And then, when a month had passed, you couldn't even grasp the fact that you had gone out a lot. Resorting to either getting a drink by yourself or eating dinner by yourself. It felt nice a bit; normal even.... being out alone. You felt truly alone... even somewhat shutting yourself off from the world. It was like the more you drank, the more you wanted to do it. It helped you not think about him.
So there you were, sitting at the bar with one of those dresses that had most men looking at you while you sipped on your fifth martini.
"Seems you're enjoying yourself tonight," a voice with a slight accent said as he sat down.
You turned your head to the left, seeing a man with striking blue eyes and brown hair glance at you. He didn't even hide the fact that his eyes raked over your entire body, stopping at your hip before meeting your eyes again.
You hummed, glancing at his broad shoulders before you looked at his face again. He smirked, making a soft grin form on your lips. He wasn't that attractive.... but for some reason, he did make you slightly blush. Maybe it was the liquor that you drank fast.
"Mind if I buy you a drink?" He asked.
At least he was polite.
You agreed, and he motioned for the bartender over as he told him his drink order and got you another martini.
"Thank you," you whispered, looking down at your empty glass.
"What kind of man would I be if I didn't see a pretty lady sitting by herself without buying her a drink," he grinned, "Now what's a... stunning woman such as yourself sitting in a place like this alone?" he asked.
Even with his smile, he had a certain look to him that both intimated and intrigued you. Not necessarily in a sexual way... but in a way that had you curious.
You playfully scoffed, "I like being alone.... you don't get hurt when you're alone."
His eyebrow raised at your bitter comment, and you were thankful when the bartender sat your drinks in front of you. You grabbed the glass and took an immediate sip.
"Trouble in paradise?" he asked.
You side-eyed him, wishing you hadn't said anything. But you couldn't help it. "Something like that." Another hum left his lips as he took a sip of his own drink.
"Know what you mean...... dealing with my wife cheating on me so. . "
Your eyes widened as your body tensed, and instantly he noticed. His eyebrows drew together a little, "Seem like you know what that feels like." You couldn't say anything. All you could do was take a gulp of the martini, wishing the ground would swallow you up. "With the ring on your finger, I take it as you have a lot on your mind," he observed.
"Yeah.... I do." You glanced at the missing wedding band from his finger, "Do you still love her?" What a stupid question.. a personal one at that. You were asking him questions about his business.
A sour chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced ahead of him, "Yeah.... but I'm too angry right now."
You understood exactly what he meant. You were the same way with Simon. "Do you think you'll stay with her?" you asked as you gulped, like him telling you would provide you with the answers to your situation.
He shrugged, "I don't know... right now, I just want to think about something else," he smirked at you once more, "Like how I'm sitting next to you."
God, you hated how pink your face and neck turned at him saying that. You cursed yourself for drinking those martinis too fast earlier.
"You think flirting will make you feel better?" you teased, earning a chuckle from him.
"Mmhmm. I think it makes you feel better too."
Giggling, you raised an eyebrow as you gazed at him, "You think?"
He downed the rest of his drink while his hooded eyes remained on you, before he placed the glass on the table, "You know what I think? I think you should come back to my room." He bluntly said.
"You don't live here?" he shook his head, "And why should I? You don't even know my name." you joked.
"That's the exciting thing about it, isn't it?"
You hummed... downing the rest of your martini.
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Breathy moans escaped your lips as the mysterious man softly kissed your neck as you straddled him on the bed. All obvious thoughts left your mind the moment you took the last sip of that martini. The world around you was spinning in a slow way. You knew exactly what was going on, but you felt too gone to control anything. It made a twinge of uneasiness flow down to your core when he placed his hands on your hips.
"You're so much hotter than my wife," he breathed out, making your eyebrows furrow together.
Ignoring his choice of words, your hands found their way into his hair, making him moan as he licked on a sweet spot by your ear. You slightly internally cringed at the feeling. It was foreign.
Maybe it was because you hadn't had sex in a while. Maybe it was because you were so used to Simon's touch. Whatever it was, it was making your head fuzzy, and before you knew it, the stranger had you laying on your back with your panties to the side and his head between your legs.
Damn those martinis.
But you couldn't deny that his mouth on you made something stir in the pit of your stomach. And after several confusing and blissful minutes, you were orgasming over his tongue. When you eventually came down from that pleasure, he raised his head, smirking at you as you tried to even your breathing.
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The next few days, you walked around like you didn't know what to do. After you left that hotel room, you called a cab to go home, and the moment you entered the apartment, you ran to the bathroom like someone was chasing after you. You couldn't believe you had done anything with that guy.... but also... you could. You had so much pent-up sexual frustration leading up to the point you were at least relieved he helped solve the issue. You at least didn't even have to do anything back to him.
But in the back of your mind, you were almost worried that Simon would find out. That he would somehow find the guy and kill him. You didn't want to be responsible for someone's death all because you and your husband were going through shit. On the other hand, you really didn't care if Simon found out, though. He probably had been sleeping with another girl already since he hadn't talked to you in over a month.
But the hardest feeling was thinking that at the end of it all.... two wrongs wouldn't make things right. The only thing that would resolve the issue would be to either leave him for good or move on together and try to be happy. Not cheating back on him.
You thought over both of those options as you drove back to the apartment from Ava's. You thought about keeping your secret from her, but she could always tell when something was wrong... and instead of wanting to go to a bar, you opted for going to her house and spilling your guts out about the one-night stand you had.
Was it even called that if you didn't have full on sex?
The only thing she could give you advice on was to really think about what you wanted to do and stop torturing yourself. Leave Simon and move on to stay and move on together.
As you got out of the car and walked the short distance to the building, an eerie silence fell in the air. The slight wind rustling the leaves was the only thing that could be heard, but you were so in your head that you hadn't paid attention to it.
It wasn't until a gloved hand clamped over your mouth and an arm wrapped around your body tightly. You tried to scream, but the moment you tried crying out, a van sped up on the curb, the door sliding open before you were dragged and thrown into it.
"Help!" you yelled, but the door shut just as fast as it opened before more hands trapped your arms and legs. You felt a sharp instrument poke your shoulder, what could only be described as a needle, as you felt it puncture your skin. Your eyes water up from the tears that were about to fall before darkness clouded your vision, and you passed out.
Okay............. I hope you all like this part as a lot of you were waiting for the cheating to happen back lol! I had completely different plans for when I first started this story but again, my mind goes all over the place so here we are lmao! As always like, comment, feedback is appreciated!
Side note: Brownie points on who you think the mysterious man was :)
Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514
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ghostdiva · 3 days
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youtube
ok so the new trailer for episode 3 just dropped. big hype. here are some theory's, notes, and observations.
also I took a lot of screenshots...
anyway here we go.
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so the adventure is set to be "The Mystery of Mildenhall Manor". Now, I do think that Caine is gonna be the quest giver this time, sending the gang to find something inside the spooky, probably haunted manor.
small guess is that they gotta find Matilda, one of the ghosts haunting the manor, and trap her in a vacuum. idk why, it's literally just a hunch.
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Jax also takes a moment to harass Pomni with a vacuum, which just makes me think of Luigi's Mansion.
anyway, the gang (minus Zooble) are gonna go in the manor and try to find whatever they're looking for, and either by agreement or random set of events, the gang is gonna split up, Pomni and Kinger being paired up. I don't really know if Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax stick together or not, as they're not really shown much in the trailer.
I am inclined to believe it is a set of events that separates the gang tho.
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it's the one of the reasons I can think of that'd make Pomni climb on the door like that.
I mean... outside of the very spooky decorum.....
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which Pomni has a pretty reasonable reaction to
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btw, I fucking love Pomni's cartoon physics with the squash and stretch rubber-hose animation. it's so expressive and fun to watch.
anyway, it seems Caine is determined to have Zooble go on adventures. so he literally sits them down and tries to therapize them.
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though with Caine being an AI with very little knowledge of how the human mind works, this goes predictably horribly.
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I imagine Zooble tries on some level to convey to Caine the ludicrousness of their situation. stuck in a digital world getting repeatedly traumatized by meaningless adventures that seem to do more harm than good. though I get the feeling Caine would miss the point, leading Zooble to correct him, and/or get upset at him for not understanding. watching this verbal fight happen between these 2 will probably lead to us, the viewer, understanding more about Zooble.
anyway, back to the manor with this cute little guy.
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look at him, he's so cute and squishable. unfortunately this guy is the only cute and squishable NPC here because Pomni and Kinger seems to really be going through it.
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they're mostly poking around, opening drawers and stuff. maybe they're looking for a key to get back with the others or something? who knows.
they both probably stumble around in the dark for a bit, both figuratively and literally.
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they might end up stumbling into an antagonist NPC, which is the only way I can explain some of these screenshots.
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it looks to me like Kinger is facing something. I mean, He's missing an eye in the first one, smacking something with a gun in the second, and looking really worried in the third. Plus the fist 2 have similar lighting so I'm inclined to believe those 2 pics come from clips in close time frames to each other.
there's also another image that has similar lighting...
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now... this may sound weird, but I think that either Pomni got Possessed somehow, or something tried to take her shape. Possession seems more feasible since we know at least 2 of the NPC's in this adventure are ghosts, and at least in media ghosts are known to possess people. seeing as digital circus seems to love pulling from video game mechanics, this wouldn't surprise me at all.
this would also kind of explain why in the "POMNI WAKE UP!! IT'S TIME TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE" video, in the "Kinger with a shotgun" clip, he seems to be hitting Pomni with the gun. it makes a lot more sense if Pomni ends up getting possessed somehow, forcing Kinger to hit her in order to defend himself from the ghost.
this also could tie back to the worried look on Kingers face in the screenshot before Possessed Pomni. Cause he'd know what he has to do, even though he doesn't want to hurt Pomni.
Hell, I'm pretty sure Kinger even openly protects Pomni in this episode.
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because of the shot in the trailer taken from this hole's perspective
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not only is Pomni hiding behind Kinger, but he has one of his hands out in front of her, as if to protect her from whatever is in that hole.
also in regards to guns, Kinger isn't the only one who gets to have a gun.
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Pomni gets to wield a shotgun too, and it's likely to help both herself and Kinger fight off whatever was after them in the hole.
Ghost possession and gun-slinging aside, I do think that Pomni and Kinger have a little heart to heart in this episode.
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boy doesn't that screenshot look familiar. reminds me of episode 2 with the blue lighting and concerned expression on Pomni's face. That scene in the test room where Pomni comforts Gumigoo. this time tho, she's comforting Kinger. it almost makes me wonder if this will be a reoccurring theme, with all the other characters eventually having a heart to heart with Pomni, and Pomni comforting them.
it'd really make her live up to her quote in episode 2 "I guess I just don't want you to feel like you're nothing. I don't want anyone to feel like that".
the only thing I do still have questions about, is wtf is Kinger looking at here?
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I mean, it looks like the eyes of a ghost, if they could make their eyes glow like that.
ya know what, maybe he's looking at a mound of pillows or something.
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yeah, like that.
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magniloquent-raven · 13 hours
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Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends
and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.
(read on ao3)
**
The 118 doesn't have a baby box.
In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.
So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.
He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.
And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.
So, they don't have a box. But.
Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.
Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.
Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.
Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.
Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.
There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.
Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.
"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.
Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?
Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.
Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.
Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.
It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.
"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.
"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.
"...What was that?"
"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."
Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.
Tommy promised he'd come get her.
Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.
He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.
Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.
In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.
He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.
She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)
"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"
Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.
"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."
Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."
Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."
"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."
Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."
Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."
"Okay, but—"
"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"
"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"
"I found him polishing the engine."
Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"
He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.
He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.
Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.
His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.
Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.
When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.
"Mmn...y'know. For being you."
Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."
"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.
Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.
Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.
"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."
"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.
Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.
She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.
Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.
The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.
She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.
God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.
"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.
He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.
"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."
"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.
"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.
He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.
Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.
"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."
"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."
The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.
Well. Alright.
"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."
"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"
Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.
Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.
He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.
The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.
"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."
"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.
"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—
"I love you so much," he says in a rush.
"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."
Buck huffs a laugh.
"And I love you too."
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withahappyrefrain · 2 days
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for bradley and birdie! but i feel like he’s the one who doesn’t like scary movies 🤭
purposely suggesting a horror movie (even though they know they themselves hate horror movies) just so they have an excuse to cuddle up for the night
A chance to combine my love of horror movies with Bradley & Birdie? Don't have to tell me twice!
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"Whatcha wanna watch?" Bradley's mustache tickles your cheek, then your nose when his lips move to kiss you there.
"Is it my pick tonight?" You giggled, fingers gripping the cable knit sweater that currently adorned his body.
"Sure is, got full reign Birdie." His words give you pause. Full reign? Did that mean-
"What's that horror movie you always go on about?" Bradley confirms, as if he could read your mind. He couldn't lie, your raised eyebrows kinda gave it away.
"You mean Hereditary? You would be okay watching that?"
Bradley nuzzles against your body, his head laying against your chest, your fingers toying with his sun kissed hair as he nodded.
"If it means I get to lay like this, absolutely," Bradley's words are genuine, so you grab the remote to find the chosen movie.
"This movie isn't that scary. It's creepy, but it's not scary." Bradley has now put all his body weight on you, like a mustached weighted blanket. Your fingers were idly scratching his scalp with your nails. If Bradley was a cat, he would absolutely be purring.
You could only chuckle, having seen the film over a dozen times, "Famous last words Roo."
"Like the kid is creepy and clearly grandma is haunting Toni Collete." so he had been paying attention.
"It's a slow burn, that's all I'll say," was your final warning. If it weren't for Bradley loving wrapping his arms around you, you would have been able to adopt a more serious tone. But how could you when he kept trying to get as close to you as physically possible?
Bradley shrugged. He was active duty in the Navy. Horror movies weren't his thing, mainly because he always thought he had seen enough in his lifetime.
"Birdie, what the absolute fuck?" You simply giggle, a stark juxtaposition to the image of a decaying head on the screen.
"It only gets worse," your tone was bright and happy, not matching the words at all.
"This is your favorite? You're sick, you know that? Might have to send you away," he rests his chin on your chest, looking directly at you with a lovesick expression.
"Oh, I one hundred percent would have been sent to the sea side for hysteria in the early nineteen hundreds," you grab a piece of popcorn, popping it into your mouth, "I think we should bring that treatment back. Going to the beach would probably calm me down, especially if you're playing football there."
Bradley scoffs, mocked objection lacing his words, "You really can't stop sexualizing your old man, can you?"
"It's better than making grandpa jokes. I still can't believe you were too old during the Naked Brothers Band era," you roll your eyes, although a smittened smile remains on your face.
"And I still can't believe a prime television network named a show that. So like, how freaky does this get?" There's thinly veiled concern in his question.
"Oh, we haven't even reached the tip of the iceberg," you pause, "Just let me know if it gets too much. We can watch something else, like Airplane or-"
Bradley shooks his head, "No, this is an important movie to you, I wanna watch."
It's then you realize that Bradley isn't in it for the spooks, or those Pillsbury ghost cookies (though they are a treat). No, he was sitting through this movie to be with you, to hold you.
It almost made you want to stop the movie before it got to the fucked up part.
Almost.
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redtsundere-writes · 3 days
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Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen
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Part 17: Everything Is Cursed
King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader
Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.
Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.
Word Count: 6371 words.
Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →
One question was bothering you. You had been through hell and you still hadn't received your reward. That inquiry was running in circles in your mind. There were many answers, but none were facts. What was happening? Why were you going through it? How long would it be until it was over? Many possibilities, none seemed to be the right one. It was a doubt that arose the morning after the small funeral you prepared for your sister.
There was a small chapel past the garden and crops behind the terrible castle. Its white facade, with a classical curved parapet and a red tiled roof, emanated serenity in the middle of hell. On top of the facade, the emblem of Sukuna’s kingdom rose towards the sky. Vines grew around the open arch that reveals its interior. That small place had existed since Sukuna conquered these lands. With no function for that small building, Sukuna decided to leave it as it was. Sometimes the servants would go there in their free time to pray for their souls in case they didn’t survive another day.
You carefully placed the golden urn with Yorozu’s ashes on one of the shelves. Uraume had given it to you the morning after your little expedition with the king. That morning, you woke up, surprised to be in your room in the castle. Apparently, you had fallen asleep while watching the sunset and the king had to carry you back in his arms. “How embarrassing,” you thought before getting ready for the funeral.
You put on the cap of your black cloak so that no one would disturb you as you dedicated a minute of silence to your sister’s soul with your cheeks completely dry. You had quickly accepted that she was no longer with you and that you couldn’t do anything for her in life. Now the only thing you could do was honor her short life. Everything had happened so fast. A couple of months ago you were crying from happiness to see her, and now you didn’t want to cry from disappointment.
You listened to Kenjaku give his class, but you couldn't pay attention. It had been a week since Yorozu's death and something was missing. The reason why you had committed that atrocity that you wanted to forget but would haunt you for the rest of your life. You tried to pay attention to your teacher, but that doubt kept pulling you into the limbo of probabilities.
“Once you understand your opponent's point of view, it is easier to defend your own position more successfully, especially because that's how you avoid misunderstandings and arguing about aspects that the other side hasn't really said,” Kenjaku explained while writing the keywords on the board. “That's why studying the rival is very important in the debate.” He turned around to find you lost in your thoughts. You looked at the board, but you weren't really reading what it said. “Do you have any questions?”
“Why hasn't the king proposed to me yet?” You asked him, coming back to your senses. Kenjaku looked at you confused.
“I meant about class…”
“Ah.” You quickly read what the board said about the steps to learn how to argue. “I have no doubts about that.”
Kenjaku had noticed your strange attitude for a couple of days now, but as you continued with your education without delay, he never asked you. He thought it was because you were still mourning your sister's death or sad about not knowing the true whereabouts of your sisters. The teacher smiled to himself, just when he thought he could read you like an open book, it turned out that he wasn't.
“So that's what's been distracting you lately?” Kenjaku inquired.
“Did I do something wrong? The king promised to marry me once I killed someone of my kind, but he hasn't done it yet,” you explained worriedly.
“Do you want to marry him that much?” Kenjaku joked tenderly. It was nice to see a girl completely in love.
“Of course,” you answered without hesitation. Your master smiled at hearing you so excited. “My sister died because of that, I better do it.” That was not an answer he expected to hear.
“Excuse me?”
“I lost Yorozu because of that deal. If Sukuna doesn't propose to me, I would have killed my sister for nothing,” you explained, crossing your arms in frustration. “Do you know why the king hasn't done it yet?”
Kenjaku's enthusiastic smile disappeared just like that day when Sukuna came back with you in his arms, completely asleep and, worst of all, without a ring on your finger. The king was stupid for not taking the opportunity to ask you to marry him after all.
“I have no idea,” Kenjaku answered. “Maybe he's been very busy.”
That could be a possibility. You hadn't seen the king as often as before. You used to see him at every meal of the day, in the afternoon when you gave him your daily report, and when he sometimes poked his nose into your education. Now, you only saw him at breakfast time because he spent the rest of the day locked in his office. You couldn't even report to him because he wouldn't let you in. It was strange how everything around you had changed after your sister's death.
"I hope he didn't scam me," you thought, holding your head in guilt.
"The king may be many things, but a scammer isn't one of them," Kenjaku, I assure you.
The door opened, interrupting the teacher-student conversation. You recognized almost immediately the naturally bitter face, the gray hair, and the dull uniform in dark tones. It was that new servant who was so kind to you. All you knew about him had been from Mrs. Inoue, who had told you that he was such a reserved, serious, and somewhat grumpy man. It seemed so strange to you that you never perceived it like that.
“Sorry to interrupt you. The king calls you to his office,” he announced.
“Maybe the time has come,” Kenjaku commented with a smile.
“Finally…” You sighed.
It was strange. Kenjaku thought you would be more excited about marrying the king. You studied complicated subjects that fried your brain, trained until exhaustion, and got ready early to please the king’s eyes. It made no sense for you to work so hard for this moment and not be excited.
Sukuna let them into the office. You and Kenjaku entered after bowing in respect to the king and his right-hand man, Uraume, who stood faithfully behind him. Sukuna’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. He gripped his pen tightly to mask his nervousness at being in your presence.
Returning to the castle after his failed marriage proposal, he carried you to your room as you snored softly. He gently laid you down on the bed so as not to wake you up. He took off your boots before tucking you into bed. He sat next to you to admire your calmness. Your chest rose and fell slowly to the rhythm of your breathing. Your eyelashes stood out more when your eyes were closed. Your half-open lips invited him to come closer to kiss you like that night you spent together. “Enough!” Sukuna scolded himself in his mind to stop and immediately leave your room so you could continue your dream.
Since that night, he realized that he can’t think coherently when he iswas near you, so he decided to take immediate measures so you wouldn’t distract him when working. It was frustrating how your mere presence could upset him like that. He had to fight with all his instincts to concentrate on what mattered most now, the future of his kingdom.
You and Kenjaku approached the desk. Quickly, you noticed a large black box with a gold engraving of roses on it. It was almost as long as the desk. That must have been the reason you had been called. It seems that this was not what you were expecting.
“Open it.” Sukuna ordered you.
You looked at Kenjaku for a second, worried about what might be inside. Your master patted you on the back a couple of times, inviting you to come closer. You worked up the courage to open the box without a hint of fear. The latches clicked open at the same time. You lifted the lid to reveal the immaculate treasure.
A beautiful rose gold bow that radiated a special aura against the light. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you pulled it out of its box, along with its matching pink-dyed leather quiver. You never thought you'd see such a beautiful weapon in your life. You pretended to load the bow with an imaginary arrow to test it out. It was lighter than the one you had before, and you could tell it was made with the best quality materials. As you lowered the bow, you noticed a small detail. In the small hollow of the handle there was an engraving, a small daisy. You smiled at the cute detail. You thought it would have a rose, since it was a common symbol in the Sukuna kingdom, but daisies are cute too.
“It's a cursed bow,” Sukuna explained, catching your attention. “That means you can kill curses with it. Keep that in mind when you train with my soldiers.”
“What's the difference from a normal bow?” You asked curiously.
“This bow is infused with the cursed energy from Yorozu’s body,” the king replied bluntly.
“Are you saying that part of my sister is here?” You stammered. Everyone in the room could tell that you were about to burst into tears.
“Yes,” Sukuna replied in the same tone.
You hugged the bow to your chest as you sobbed softly, hiding your face behind your hair and the upper limb. A pang of guilt attacked Sukuna’s chest. He really thought you would like his gift, since you deserved a cursed weapon made especially for you, but it seems he was wrong.
“Thank you…” You sobbed. “Thank you for giving me something to honor her life with.”
You looked into his eyes with tears running down your cheeks and a nostalgic smile on your face. Sukuna’s heart quickly skipped a beat as he realized the true reason for your crying. His lower hands, hidden beneath the desk, clenched into fists to control himself. How could you play with his feelings without even trying? Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses, the powerful tyrant and the commander of thousands, was being corrupted by a mere mortal.
He hated these feelings you caused him. You made him so embarrassed he looked like a tomato, you annoyed him so much, but he couldn't get mad at you, and now, you could manipulate him with a simple smile. He would lose his temper when he was around you and that drove him crazy. If you wanted, he would be in the palm of your hand. He had to keep you as far away from him as possible to prevent the situation from getting worse for him.
“Just go train already,” Sukuna ordered in a grumpy tone, turning his gaze to an empty document to avoid seeing you.
It was a shame he hadn't asked you to marry him yet, but the king really did look busy. You could see the physical effect that being locked up in his office for so long had caused. He had purple eye bags, his posture was stiff, and his eyes scanned the document lazily. “Maybe later,” you thought disappointed before taking the quiver with pink feathered arrows.
“Yes, my king,” you replied with a bow to leave.
“We must leave then,” Kenjaku made you second.
“Who gave you permission to leave?” Sukuna ordered him.
The master was surprised at that. You and Kenjaku shared a confused look, but you decided to obey the king so as not to cause any more inconvenience. Your legs walked as quickly as possible, closing the door behind you as you left the office. Sukuna’s hands relaxed as he no longer had to keep his emotions in check. After making sure you had already left, Kenjaku approached the king.
“Why so secretive, my king?” Kenjaku inquired curiously.
“It’s not a secret, it’s just that she’s not ready to know what I’m planning yet.” Sukuna got up from the desk to take one of the scrolls that were displayed on a bookshelf. He unrolled the scroll with a snap to reveal an updated map of the great world they knew.
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It was a large map made from parchment and black ink with wonderful detail. It showed all the important kingdoms and places of interest that made up the world. The Kingdom of Sukuna and the Kingdom of Jogo were to the west, the kingdoms of Gojo, Geto and Yaga; to the north. The kingdoms of Zen'in and Nanami; to the east, and finally, the Kingdom of Tsukumo was to the southeast. Currently, the great tyrant owned the east and planned to expand soon.
"I'm going to declare war on the Zen'in," Sukuna announced, pointing at the large territory with his finger.
Kenjaku looked at him impressed, but not surprised. He knew that one day the king would not be satisfied with keeping the infested lands with only curses, so he would go to conquer human lands. Kenjaku glanced at Uraume out of the corner of his eye, who had not said a single word the entire time they were there. He expected nothing less from the shadow of his majesty.
“Wow, how ambitious,” Kenjaku commented while looking at the map. “May I know why you made that decision?” He returned his gaze to the king with curiosity.
“The Gojo Kingdom and the Geto Kingdom are allied, so an invasion could be complicated with my current troops. The Nanami Kingdom, Tsukumo and Yaga are small but distant. They will be my next targets once I have the Zen'in.” Everything the king said made sense, but there was still a small kingdom that was at the equator of the world to consider.
“What about the Kamo Kingdom? It is small and right in front of the Jogo Kingdom. It is the perfect target.”
“How many times have Commander Mahito and his troops tried to kill them?” Sukuna asked him seriously. Kenjaku gulped at that indirect accusation.
“I have already lost count, my king,” he answered, embarrassed by his comrade.
“They may be a small kingdom, but they are stupidly powerful. They are watching their lands at all hours for living so close to the Jogo kingdom. If anyone is ready for an invasion, it is them.” Sukuna explained. "As this is my first invasion into the heart of a kingdom, I have spent all this time carefully choosing my first victim. Because once I do, the other kingdoms will know what awaits them."
"If you have already decided, I am ready to obey your orders as always." Kenjaku gave a bow of respect that Sukuna completely ignored to look at the window.
"My plan will be carried out once I secure the life of my heir, in case everything goes wrong," Sukuna explained. "During that time, you will take care of the troops of the Jogo kingdom."
"And what about the education of the miss?" Kenjaku asked worriedly.
"I already have that covered." Sukuna answered.
"So what is the first step?" Kenjaku inquired.
“Wait for the Zen’in to make the first move.”
You left your room after finishing getting ready for the day of training that awaited you. You had decided that from now on you would use Yorozu's dresses to train since they were lighter than yours, perfect for moving with complete freedom. Archery is a sport that requires complete mobility of the upper body, so it is annoying to wear elegant dresses that require a corset. You were heading to the courtyard, moving your shoulders in circles to warm up on the way, until you ran into that kind servant. He was dusting off an obsidian vase propped on a marble column with great laziness.
"Did everything go well with the king, miss?" The man asked you when he noticed your presence.
"Yes, he gave me a new bow." You showed it to him to show it off. He was amazed to see it.
"It is very beautiful. It is made with the best fiberglass and carbon. It must have cost the king a good fortune." He explained as he took it to examine it carefully.
“It's obvious that you know about this,” you said, somewhat surprised, taking back your bow.
“Of course I know, I was a hunter before I was a servant,” he replied.
“Really?” You asked, fascinated. The gentleman was going to answer, but another servant, who was passing by, intercepted their conversation.
“Wasuke, leave the lady alone and get back to work!” The servant scolded him angrily.
“Shut your mouth, idiot!” Wasuke replied in the same tone.
That sudden change in attitude took you by surprise. Now you understood why Mrs. Inoue said he was a grumpy man. One moment he could be a kind man and, the next, someone extremely rude.
“In fact, he is working. He is going to help me train,” you defended him. “Isn't that right, Wasuke?” You gave him a knowing wink.
“Of course, miss.” He gave you a slight smile when he realized what you were planning.
The other servant rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came, muttering insults under his breath. Typical attitude for an 80-year-old man. You and Wasuke looked at each other knowingly before smiling at each other as if you had done some mischief.
“I shall warn you that I am a very strict master,” Wasuke warned you.
“Just what I need,” you told him. “My name is Y/n,” you introduced yourself with a bow of respect to your new master.
“Everyone knows who you are,” he joked. “My name is Wasuke Itadori. It will be an honor to train you.” You had a good feeling about this.
Wasuke shouted encouragements at you while you barely did push-ups. As soon as you reached the parade ground, he told you that you were the weakest woman he had ever met in his life, so he forced you to do different exercises to strengthen your arms, shoulders, and back. Your weak muscles could barely support the weight of your own body each time you climbed up, keeping your back as straight as possible. You sweated, even in places you didn't know could sweat.
“Lift that neck, lady! Even a little girl can do 30 push-ups!” Wasuke yelled at you, small drops of saliva escaping from his mouth every time he opened his mouth.
“That's what I'm trying to do!” You complained between moans of exhaustion.
“I don't want a try, I want you to do it!” Wasuke spat. “Three more!”
With the little breath you had left, you lowered your body. The grass tickled the palms of your hands, but that wasn't going to stop you. You climbed up with your back straight and then lowered yourself again. This was more complicated than it seemed. Wasuke kept yelling at you to finish the simple exercise with a good grade. When he said he was a strict teacher, he meant it. You did the last push-up and collapsed to the ground. You groaned in pain as you breathed in the freshly cut grass.
“Get up now,” Wasuke ordered you. You reluctantly obeyed. “Now you are going to hold the bow in front of you for 5 minutes.” That sounded simple.
You took your bow, extended your arms in front of you and held the weapon with both hands. All was well until your limbs began to shiver from the exhaustion of the previous exercises. You tightened your grip on the bow to keep it from slipping from the sweat. You didn’t think you could last 5 minutes like that.
“Can I ask you something?” You tried to distract your brain from the exercise so that time would pass faster. “Why are you here? You look quite young compared to everyone else.”
Unlike the other servants, Wasuke was the youngest of them all, like you at the time. Most servants were between 60 and 80, he looked to be under 50. He had gray hair but still had dark hair, wrinkles from age, but he didn't look like a raisin, and sometimes he didn't hear well, but he was still strong.
“Do you want the truth?” He asked you. You nodded.
The truth was something he had a hard time telling. He was always a good liar to protect his family, especially his daughter. He didn't want her to live in fear because of living in a commune that was in constant danger of being attacked by a curse. His lies were the cause of his only daughter's giant curiosity. 
“My daughter died because of a curse. My wife committed suicide because she couldn't bear the mourning," Wasuke confessed with all the sadness in his heart. "I was a coward and couldn't follow the same path. That's why I'm waiting for the king to decide when it will be my time to join them." Your heart broke when you heard that. It was a tragic fate to suffer. "It's only fair that I too die at the hands of a curse. It's the price I must pay for not protecting my little girl." 
You knew perfectly well what he was talking about. There is no worse feeling than the helplessness of not being strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to protect what you love. You had lost your family by not being able to fight adversity. You couldn't even protect that child at the harvest for a day who was killed by your lack of courage. You tightened your bow again, this time, out of frustration that both of you had to go through that.
"I'm so sorry," you stammered. You didn't think his answer would be so heartbreaking.
“Don’t apologize. Life is cruel by nature,” Wasuke sighed.
“Still, I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I know what it’s like to lose your family.”
“I know, Miss.” 
Wasuke remembered seeing you cry and scream at the sky for your sin of killing your own blood. He had never seen a person suffer so much physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Even though he was behind the strong walls of the castle, a giant window separated them, and he had a deafness problem, he could still hear the powerful wails of your soul in mourning. Your palms open like books, the blood splattered on the canvas that was your body, and your face in sorrow. It was such a powerful image that he doubted he would ever forget it.
The loud bells woke them both from the memories of their sad pasts. It was the alarm announcing an invasion. This was the second time you had heard it in your time in the castle, and you had an idea of ​​who it could be. Several armed curses ran towards the castle entrance through the battlements that were on the walls, while incoherent instructions were shouted to you.
“Don’t let him pass!” A strong-bodied curse ordered as he summoned a dark screen that slowly covered the entire castle.
“We must go!” Wasuke asked you before taking your arm. You were going to follow him, but you remembered what Sukuna told you on your first day of training:
“In case of an invasion, you will need a cursed bow that allows you to use special arrows to kill curses and use it against sorcerers.” You tightened your grip on the cursed bow he had recently gifted you.
“You go. I will stay here as reinforcement,” you told him, removing your arm so he could leave alone. “Tell everyone to prepare to escape if it gets worse.”
“Are you sure, miss?” Wasuke asked.
“It is an order,” you said, sure.
Wasuke looked at the entrance one last time and nodded, accepting the order you had given him. He returned to the castle at a quick pace to do what he had just been asked to do. You looked ahead before pulling an arrow from your quiver to load your bow. You were completely alone in the courtyard, as all the curses were either outside the castle or on the perimeter. You could only hear the war cries of the curses. You gulped, shaking at not knowing what was going on the other side. You had an idea, but you weren't sure.
The screams turned into wails in a moment. You gripped your bow, mentally preparing for your turn to engage in battle. Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be alone. There was Kenjaku and Uraume to fight next to you. Sukuna can defeat any enemy in the blink of an eye. He would take down this strong foe, wouldn’t he?
The curse screen dissipated into the air, announcing that this curse was annihilated. The chains of the drawbridge began to jingle, and the castle gate swung open. The large bridge fell into place, the ground beneath your feet rumbling. It shook you completely, staggering you in place. You tightly gripped your bow and aimed it at the invader. “A man?” you thought, faltering in your shot.
A tall man, great posture and immaculate aura, walked in confidently, leaving all the curses behind, turning into ash. His spotless black boots thudded against the thick wood, announcing his arrival. His splendid bottle-green military uniform had several gold medals decorating his chest, a black leather belt, and dark pants. He smiled proudly as he combed his blonde hair with black tips back with his fingers.
“Oh?” He stopped upon entering, staring at you in disbelief for a second, as if he had entered the wrong house by accident. “Where is the white-haired guy of questionable sex? He is the one who always greets me,” he asked, confused.
“Did you kill all the curses?” You asked, surprised to see so much ash evaporating into the air.
“You must be new.” The man smiled and confidently approached you. Not knowing his intentions, you stretched the string to load the bow to its limit, but this did not make him stop. “It is a very large weapon, do you know how to use it? I could teach you.” He spoke to you as if you were stupid. You frowned further, this stranger's attitude starting to bother you.
You had recently realized that people like him were the type you disliked the most. Self-centered people who think they can do whatever they please. Yorozu had given you the tools to deal with people like this. You forgave her because she was your sister, but him? This guy was a complete stranger to whom you owed nothing.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” You questioned with the most demanding tone you could fake, you had copied it from Sukuna from hearing it so much.
“I am Commander Naoya Zen'in,” he announced himself with a proud smile. “So I was right,” you thought.
You had only been a servant in the castle for a short time when you heard that name for the first time. You were washing the king's long robes in the backyard with a few other maids. Your fingers were beginning to wrinkle like they do from being in the soapy water for so long. The quiet and the voices of the gossiping maids kept you company. The little peace of the task was interrupted by the alarm bells that echoed throughout the castle. You stopped at the strange noise, having no idea what you were supposed to do.
“An invasion,” one of the servants announced, surprisingly calm.
“Do you think it's Naoya Zen'in?” Another servant, one who had been in the castle the longest, asked, somewhat excited.
“Winter is almost over, most likely,” Her coworker answered, wiping her hands on her apron after finishing her task.
“Who is Naoya Zen'in?” You asked them, butting into the conversation.
“A very handsome commander from an enemy kingdom who comes every year to deliver a letter to the king,” the first one answered. “Let's go see him,” she invited you to go with them to the entrance of the castle.
“No, thank you. I still have to finish washing this,” you politely declined.
The three ladies quickened their pace to find out if it was the man they could see annually. You looked at them curiously. “Was that man so attractive that you had to see him in person?” You wondered. Now you were curious to see this man, but you had a task to finish. You dipped your hands into the soapy water again to try to remove the stubborn blood stains from the king's white robes.
Now you understand why this man caused such a stir among the maids. Someone with such a presence had not been seen since Geto Suguru's corpse appeared in these parts. You looked towards the window that overlooked the great hall, a small group of ladies greeted Naoya from the safe point. The flattered young man returned the gesture.
“Women being women,” he sighed with a big smile. “Anyway, I have an important letter from Zen'in.”
“You can give it to me and leave,” you told him without lowering your bow.
“I think you don't understand your position as a female,” Naoya came closer without a hint of fear nor respect for you. “You're not going to be able to stop me.”
“No!” You shouted, making him stop at the loud objection. “You're the one who doesn't understand.” You lowered your torso so that the arrow's trajectory would change from his torso to his face. “One shot, and you're a dead man, commander Zen'in.”
Naoya smiled at the offense. Not because of the clear threat of death, but because a woman thought she could be a match against him. You and your pink bow were nothing compared to him. A replaceable servant couldn't be in front of a great commander of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world. He was about to teach you a lesson, and it would be the hard way.
"Are you sure you don't want me to save you? I doubt a girl as weak as you would survive long here," Naoya offered, giving you one last chance to redeem yourself.
"I don't need you to save me," you spat angrily.
"Fine," Naoya pulled a knife from his back, spinning it in the palm of his hand to wield it. "Whatever you say."
You let go of the rope when you clearly saw his intentions to hurt you, and the arrow flew into his face. He dodged it with his knife before lunging at you in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, he was already on top of you and his knife was already at your throat. It had all happened too fast. You had no idea how he had reached you so quickly. The blade swung down as Naoya's smile grew wider. You raised your hand to deflect it, but it wasn't going to make it in time. It came so fast that you couldn't even close your eyes to await your fate.
Out of nowhere, a gigantic fist sent Naoya flying, completely away from you. The powerful commander ended up being slammed into the nearest wall. Naoya groaned in pain before falling to the ground. You were perplexed at how bizarre that had been. You touched your neck on instinct, you didn't have a scratch on it. You sat down on the grass to look around for your unexpected savior.
At first glance, he looked like any other human, but up close, things were different. He was a curse with skin covered in stitches as if his body was made of patches. He had long, blue-gray hair that reached past his neck, and was divided into three large locks with bows at the ends. He also dressed like any other human. He was wearing a black shawl that separated into three pieces on the left sleeve and matching pants with white shoes.
“I'm just arriving, and they're already welcoming me with a sorcerer to kill, how fun!” The curse exclaimed as excited as a child in the park.
Naoya stood up with difficulty, dusting off his uniform. You stood up in the same way to retrieve your bow and load it with another arrow. You approached the curse with confidence, since it had saved you, even if it had only been for its own entertainment.
“Are you okay, miss?” The curse asked you with a big smile without taking your eyes off Naoya.
“Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” You told him, along with a small bow. “Who are you?”
“My name is Mahito, I am the commander of the Jogo kingdom. You must be the lady that the king ordered me to protect.” He introduced himself. “Did the king ask you that?” You asked yourself surprised. “So let me take care of this stupid sorcerer.”
“Who are you calling stupid, you fucking curse?!” Zen'in exclaimed before launching into combat for a second round.
Mahito pushed you away suddenly to transform his arms into two tentacles with dozens of knives on them and run towards his fast opponent. Naoya's knife challenged Mahito's along with the clicking of metals. The curse laughed as if it were a game, angering Naoya even more for underestimating him. They were both moving at speeds your eyes could barely keep up with, but you loaded your bow with another arrow anyway. You tried to aim for Naoya, but he was stupidly fast and Mahito was in the way. “Maybe it’s best I don’t get involved now,” you thought with some disappointment.
Mahito changed one of his tentacles into a large sword that fell on top of Zen'in. Naoya barely dodged it, his breathing ragged from the cursed energy he was expending by keeping his technique active for so long. "Who is this guy?!" He thought annoyed before moving away with a couple of backflips until he landed on his feet.
"Fine, you win..." Naoya took the envelope out of his jacket and threw it at you like a ninja star, landing on the grass in front of you. "Just for today," he said before running towards the nearest wall to climb it and escape.
"Oh, not so fast!" You exclaimed annoyed before pulling the rope.
You looked for a target before he left your sight. You focused on his back, which was the area that was free, as he climbed the wall as if he were an agile ant. You let go of the rope and the arrow flew through the air. Naoya saw it coming and dodged out of its path, but the arrow unexpectedly changed its trajectory and stuck in his back. Naoya bit his tongue to stop himself from letting out a cry of pain and continuing on his escape route. In less than a second, he had disappeared from your sight and Mahito's.
"Ah, the king is going to scold me for running away!" Mahito whined, disappointed in his efforts.
"How come that arrow didn't stop him?" You asked yourself confused. Clearly, it hit him, but he still slipped out of your hands like a damn cockroach.
"Those Zen'in have a very strong pride. That's probably what it was," Mahito complained. "But you're very good." He gave you a thumbs up. You smiled slightly.
You looked back at the card that was lying on the grass. You picked it up to examine it. It was a brown envelope with the Zen'in Kingdom's crest stamped on a wax seal at the opening. A purple orchid on the stamp decorated the envelope, giving the package a more elegant touch.
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“Gimme that,” Mahito snatched it from you, ready to open it.
“You shouldn't open it,” you warned him. “It's for the king.”
“It's from an enemy,” Mahito said as he looked for a way to open it without destroying the contents. “It could contain poison, activate some bomb or a weird technique they made up. Believe me, these Zen'in are capable of anything.”
Mahito pushed you roughly to get you away from the possible threat. You had no choice but to listen to him. This was an unusual curse. He had a playful attitude, very different from what you imagined a commander should have. You covered your ears as soon as he finally opened the envelope, in case it was a bomb. Instead of a glass or smoke bomb, it turned out to be a confetti bomb. It shot towards Mahito's face, surprising him immediately, as a colored piece of paper fell into his eye.
“Oh!” You quickly approached him. Mahito rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get it off. “Let me see,” you asked.
You grabbed his chin and pulled his hands away to meet his different eyes, since his left eye was navy blue and the other, gray. Even though it was a strange looking curse, his eyes were very pretty. You blew into his eye so that the paper flew away. Once near the tear duct, you reached for it with your thumb to remove it completely.
Your touch was very kind and warm. Mahito was so used to humans treating him so badly that it was a little uncomfortable for him that you were treating him so calmly and with such appreciation. He now understood why Sukuna had chosen you as the future queen, you were a special human.
“That's it,” you smiled at him. “What does the letter say?”
“You read it, my eye hurts,” Mahito reluctantly gave it to you, rubbing his injured eye.
You opened the envelope to check its contents. You thought it was a declaration of war or some important meeting, but no. Nothing like it. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you saw what it was.
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violetisconfused · 1 day
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Okay okay okay. Hear me out: Apollo x Telemachus.
I know I sound mental rn but it would be REALLY funny, and honestly kinda cute. Like you cannot deny that Telemachus would be Apollo’s type. I fear local pretty young prince is exactly the kinda person Apollo would be like “yeah I’d hit” and Tel would honestly probably go from “why is this god talking to me so often?” to “wait is he flirting with me?” to “wait but I don’t like men… but like Apollo’s kinda cute… wait no!” to “okay so maybe I like men but do I wanna get involved with a god?” pipeline of self discovery era all because the god of archery and music came down and started flirting one day
Athena is VERY unimpressed with her half brother for this one of course 😔 she is in fact their biggest hater (Ody is close in second he wants Apollo AWAY from his child)
Penelope and Hermes are very supportive of the relationship though. Penelope more in a “as long as you’re happy and he doesn’t hurt you or get you hurt I’m fine with it” way. Hermes though, he actively encouraged Apollo to start flirting with Telemachus to begin with (great grandpa being a wingman to get you set up with a god? More likely than you think)
As for the rest of the Olympians? Zeus is wondering why his existence is haunted by Odysseus and his family, same with Poseidon. Artemis is entirely unsurprised her twin brother has decided to start dating a mortal prince, it’s very on brand for him. Ares couldn’t care less, same with Hephaestus. Aphrodite is actually a big fan only because she can tell that Apollo genuinely likes Telemachus. Hera is indifferent about it but I like to imagine that after God Games she’s a slightly better step mom so she’s relatively supportive of Apollo’s prince rizzing endeavors.
The relationship itself is surprisingly highly functional and really normal despite Apollo being a god. For a long time Telemachus makes an internal vow to himself not to fall in love too much because he’s aware that Apollo tends to switch up on how much he loves his lovers sometimes and doesn’t wanna get hurt but after a very long discussion and Apollo swearing he’s serious about this (like Hyacinth levels of serious about this. Bro is LOCKED IN) and after staying up literally all night thinking about it Telemachus decides to seriously give this a chance and stop acting weird and it goes extremely well actually. They hang out daily, usually in like the woods or something or down by the shore where there isn’t anybody around simply because neither of them really wanna deal with other people knowing they’re together. It isn’t because either one is ashamed of the other or anything, just simply wanting privacy and knowing they wouldn’t get that with Telemachus being prince and Apollo being a literal god so people would probably just be staring the whole time.
Apollo also gives Telemachus gifts like crazy. He’ll write him love poems and songs all the time and is always equally as excited to show him every time (Telemachus is always just as excited to hear it because he’s never had anyone love him like this before)
Now the funniest part of this whole thing: the era where Apollo is trying to woo Telemachus. He 100% used serenading but stopped after Odysseus tried to shoot him with an arrow (to be fair it was the 10th time Apollo was outside the palace singing so the attempted shooting was pretty valid. Ody wanted his sleep)
Then Apollo started bugging Athena and tagging along with her whenever she’d visit the royal family (she knew what he was trying to do but there’s no stopping Apollo once he wants to woo somebody. Not for a lack of obvious hating though. Very actively hates on his flirting. Apollo is extremely un-subtle with his flirting too which makes it even funnier because 9/10 Telemachus just runs away because he’s never been flirted with before
Then after the flirting just turns into Telemachus avoiding Apollo at all costs (Telemachus is in his questioning his romantic attraction era during this but ofc Apollo doesn’t know this) Apollo just starts leaving love poems once a week (this goes on for about a month so four poems in total).
Then yk as I said before Telemachus decides to give it a shot blah blah blah gay people real they kiss the end 🥳
So yeah there’s me explaining my crackship. It’s essentially just: “Apollo likes pretty boys and Telemachus is a (very awkward) pretty boy”
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prince-jjae · 2 days
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In My Imagination. ㅡ h.k. [ceilings. pt2]
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pairing;
huening kai/gn!reader
genre;
FLUFF. so much fluff. smut. mdni!!! i know i said itd be angsty but im a liar.
tags;
barista!reader, implied jealous taehyun, barista!taehyun, beomgyu being a sassy mf, daydreaming, plushie humping, coming untouched, masturbating, facefucking(mentioned as a daydream), mentions of aftercare, so much fluff omg.
part 1. tyun ending. masterlist.
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summary;
"but that look in your eyes, and that smile it makes me want to stay here in this room.. pretending youre pretending too."
hueningkai was never really one for intense, whirlwind romances, but he just couldnt help himself with you. you, who stared up at him with shocked eyes, as if his very presence was the answer to your every prayer. when you looked at him like that, how could he not fall madly in love with you?
Ever since that first fateful morning, Huening Kai made it a staple of his routine to order coffee from your shop every day. He would wait in line, an unknown antsy feeling clawing up his spine as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He was impatient, but blissfully unaware of the reason why. 
He tried not to read too much into it, but he knew you were the cause. How could you not be, when you stumbled over your words and actions whenever he got close? You lit up the room brighter than any sun, and he was firmly convinced that science had it all wrong. 
The world didn't revolve around the sun. it revolved around you.
You, with your cold exterior and sharp gaze that melted even the slightest bit, warmed by his presence, sizzled under his touch. He kept plausible deniability, at first. Just brushes of his fingertips against yours as he paid or when you handed him his drink with the same phrase as always.
“Have a good day.” And have a good day, he did. He doesnt think hes ever experienced days so good in his life until now.
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It had been around 2 weeks of this routine and 4 days of relentless teasing from his roommate beomgyu, when it happened.
The dreams.
It started as nothing, really, at first. Just daydreaming of actually mustering up the courage to have a conversation with you for once. Something beyond just ordering egg tarts and a coffee. What were your interests? What did you like, dislike, love, hate? He wanted to know everything, so naturally his mind filled in the blanks.
He daydreamed, nearly constantly. Always about you, always about how your voice felt like heavy whipping cream, drowning him in the sweetest of marshmallow fluff. He could listen to you talk for hours. He supposed he had, in a way, since he fantasized about you so often.
It was around a month after your first meeting with him that the dreams became more than just conversations he wished he could have. They morphed into romantic fantasies. Your hands were so soft, the few times he barely ghosted his fingers to your skin. He wondered what it'd feel like to hold them properly? To warm them after a day of playing in the snow? To swing between your bodies after watching a movie at the cinema?
And your lips.. the plushness of them, the way they formed around words and made them sweet no matter the context. God, he wondered how sweet they would taste. How soft would they feel against his own? Would they make him sweet by sheer contact?
He sat, sipping his coffee, egg tarts long since finished as he stared out the café window. He desperately wanted to stare at you, instead, but anytime he caught himself, your intimidating coworker was glaring pure death directly at him. It was startling enough to deter him.. but only physically. Mentally, he couldn't be deterred by God himself, he thought. Your being haunted him in the sweetest of ways, clinging to his skin and singing in his veins like a poison. 
“This cannot be healthy, dude. Just fuckin talk to them? Why drag me here if you're just gonna gawk?” Beomgyu huffed, bottom lip pulling into a dramatic pout as he slumped in his seat. He poked at his empty coffee cup, scowling at it with disdain. The two had definitely been here too long, and Beomgyu was itching to go home already.
Kai frowned, taking another long sip of his cold coffee, letting the silence between them stretch until Beomgyu shifted uncomfortably. Satisfied, Kai opened his mouth to reply with a hushed whisper.
“I'll talk to them, eventually.. I just wanted to treat you to coffee.” Came his reply. It was a lame excuse, if it could even count as an excuse to begin with. Beomgyu's eyes narrowed in challenge as he sat forward, pointing an accusing finger at Kai.
“you need to stop being such a pussy. You didn't drag me here to treat me and we both know it.” Kai's shoulders sagged in defeat, stealing a glance your way only to catch your coworkers eyes again. He promptly broke eye contact and blinked at Beomgyu, a nervous blush rising to his cheeks. Beomgyu just smirked at the pathetic reaction, head tilting to the side cockily. “See? Pussy.”
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It had been four months after your first interactions when his dreams shifted.. again.
No longer were they sickeningly sweet, bringing a pretty flush to his cheeks. No, now they brought a flush to his cheeks in a different way. Now he buried his head in his hands, desperately willing the thoughts to go away when in public. But in private? He reveled in them. 
He had always collected plushies, adorable varieties of characters piled onto his bed and shelves, but now he viewed their innocence in a.. different light. Now, all he could think of when he saw the black cat plushie was you. Your initial indifference, your subsequent innocence and sleek beauty. 
He couldn't help it. You did this to him, after all. He was desperate, whining and puffing out meaningless apologies to the black plush below him as he rutted into it. He was desperate. Every movement was fueled by a different memory of you. The way your glasses slid down your nose, the way said nose would crinkle when you laughed. The way you would roll your eyes at a lame joke your coworker told you, the way youd poke your tongue out of your mouth when you focused on making coffees.
God help him, that tongue. That was what he fantasized about the most, these days. How would it feel to tangle your tongue with his? How would it feel to become so intimate with you, so sloppy that drool pooled and spilled over your lips and chin. He wondered how talented that tongue would be when he stuffed your face with his cock. God, what a thought. Choking on it, your pretty whines.. Would your eyes roll back? Would you moan around him? Would you get so aroused by the action of him fucking your pretty mouth that youd drip all over the floor?
His hips stuttered, pretty whines and a long, drawn out moan falling from his lips as he came. It matted the fur of the poor plushie under his hips, but he couldnt focus on that. No, he was still deep in his daydreams, imagining how hed take care of you, how he'd be so gentle with you.. guide you to the bathroom to clean you up, perhaps even carry you if you asked-
Twenty minutes later, he decided the stickiness was too much to bear. Once he was clean, he took the walk of shame to the laundry room, plush cat tucked in his arms to hide the sin he had spilled on them. But when he looked up at met Beomgyu's eyes in the living room, Kai knew his secret was no longer his own.
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It was six months after your first meeting when he finally got the confidence to talk to you. God, he was right. You were everything he dreamed youd be. You were hilarious, your deadpan humor making him laugh harder than he ever had before in his life. He chatted with you while you washed the counters, swept the floors, made coffees. You had a closing shift today, and he had been there since the morning, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He spent the whole day talking to you, about everything he ever wanted to talk to you about. He learned your hobbies, your likes, dislikes, hatreds and passions. You were perfect. 
The two of you had been so engrossed in one another that the store was closing before you both realized. Not even the glare of your coworker – Taehyun, he learned – could sway him. He smiled, bright as ever when he glanced outside, seeing it was dark out. You were locking up the store, Taehyun was already halfway to his own car when he spoke up.
“I could walk you to your car, if you'd like? it's dark out…” He trailed, eyeing you for any potential discomfort. It melted into a pleasant smile after you nodded, inviting him along for the short walk. You two walked slowly, however, not yet wanting to separate just yet. He was infatuated, worse than he initially thought. Maybe Beomgyu was right, he was in love with you. He was entirely, wholeheartedly in love with a perfect stranger. And perhaps it was selfish of him when he asked for your number, clinging to hope that you were just as enamored as he was. 
And maybe it was the look in your eyes when you handed his phone back to him, your number saved in his phone with a pretty typed out heart next to your name; maybe it was the sweetness of the coffee still on his tongue.. but he really hoped you were dreaming of him, too.
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howlsofbloodhounds · 15 hours
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You know, I think Killer getting reunited with his brother after his escape with Color would be really interesting, whether it goes well or horribly wrong.
If it goes well, it would be really interesting to see how Something New Paps deals with Killer not really being his brother (though I am of the idea that he'd love Killer for Killer as well. I just also think it would mean him grieving his brother yet again. This time knowing he'll never have his brother back). It would also be cool to see how he'd get along with the Epic Sanses. I also really would love to see explored what his tentative new dynamic with Killer might be, and how that may change Killer's dynamic with the others too (would he be less codependent with Color with Paps in the picture? Or would he just become dependent on both?).
If it goes horribly, well, it would be interesting to see exactly how horribly. Would Killer panic enough to kill him again? How would he react to that after so long? Would Killer even believe that that's his brother? Would he just deny everything and turn away and then be haunted by the possibilities forever?
I just hhhhhhhh. I've been thinking about them so much. I've never see content about them explored, ever, and the possibilities are giving me brainrot
Yes! This is the stuff I want to see with killer from this fandom. Not more of the same! Let me watch these doomed siblings suffer or heal. The angst having to grief the person you never knew you lost while they’re right in front of you, looking at you, looking through you—only it’s something else with your loved one’s face. Uncanny valley im telling you.
I personally think Papyrus will have a difficult time actually accepting that his brother is gone. Hed subconsciously see signs in Killer—same smile, same twist of the corner of the mouth even if the nature of the smile is different from when Sans told an awful pun, because now Killer is smiling like that when he tells horrible stories he seems to think aren’t horrific at all.
I think how this reunion unfolds definitely depends on the exact situation. If Killer is still trapped under Nightmare or not, or if Color has rescued him.
And if Papyrus has any memory of what Killer did to him and everyone else—because Killer did spend years upon years murdering and horrifically torturing Papyrus and all the others as if they were nothing more than toys.
Killer could look at him, and all Papyrus could see is that empty, dead eyed look as he screams and cries while Killer breaks his bones. As if Killer didn’t recognize who Papyrus was, and if he didn’t care who he was.
And Papyrus, how his reactions during those times could’ve affected Killer. He was in unimaginable pain, terror, and confusion. Hatred and anger and spite are understandable reactions. What are some things he might’ve said to Killer during these moments that stuck with Killer? Begging and pleading, cursing and screaming? Attempting to get Sans to “remember who he is”?
As the world Reset around Killer, did others eventually start changing too? Even if only in small easily missed ways, even if they forgot by the next Reset. Chara and Killer were always in search of something new, after all.
Could Killer trust himself at all around Papyrus? Or would he immediately start thinking about how he has killed him before, how Papyrus could be here for revenge or even worse—for Sans.
Would some part of Killer despise Papyrus for being weak enough to forgive him, just like he always did for the human? Would Killer feel the need to kill Papyrus again—believing it’s what it has to do to prevent something even worse (Stage 4), or perhaps out of panic as you mentioned, or even that anger at Papyrus or just the unimaginable confusion and stress and pain that Papyrus’ presence brings (Stage 3).
Would Papyrus’ presence disjoint Killer’s “placement” in time.
Would seeing him make Killer think he’s back in the Underground with Chara, and thus Papyrus is another enemy he has to deal with. Would he be unable to accept that the Papyrus in front of him is his Papyrus, or would he think it’s just one Papyrus out of a gazillion more, and therefore not worth wasting energy on?
I can definitely see Stage 1 being reluctant to actually be around Papyrus. Not because he hates him or is disgusted by his “weakness” and not even because he thinks he has to kill Papyrus—although he’s very aware that some parts of him very likely do think those things—not only because he can’t trust his own mind, his own desires, but also because he just..feels horrible around Papyrus.
He idealized this image of Papyrus and the life he thinks they used to have, but he has changed. He has done a lot of things. He couldn’t even accept a hug from Papyrus for very long without pushing him away in tears. I think he’d definitely benefit from having his brother back in his life, although I doubt it’d be a very frequent thing.
I can see many instances where guilt, fear, and shame just leads to him trying to “hide” from his emotions in Stage 2, which leads to the usual avoidance behaviors. Which may also lead to him subconsciously blaming Papyrus for being able to have any effect on him at all—given how Stage 2 views it when situations and people are able to make him “feel” anything. As if they are attempting to control him.
So many interesting possibilities—especially given how much Papyrus may know. How much knowledge is he working off?
{ @stellocchia }
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flowercrowngods · 12 hours
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The Last Day.
Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.
So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.
The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.
But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.
Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.
It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.
The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.
Or maybe they’re the same feeling.
Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.
He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.
Michael Bruce
He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.
It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.
He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.
Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.
Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.
Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.
To the dust We gave the dead.
The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.
Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—
A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.
Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.
“Steve?”
“Robbie?”
“You… You better come see this.”
He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.
He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.
Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.
Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.
Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.
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fictionalsimp09 · 2 days
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skirt – @dorlenemicroficprompts – 485 words – CW: Underage drinking
Marlene is not who she pretends to be. She’s not confident. She doesn’t like being loud, but has a fear that people will forget about her if she’s too meek. She doesn’t love herself as much as she claims she does, especially when it comes to her sexuality. 
Dorcas Meadowes was the first person to see through her act entirely. Her friends could sometimes tell, but not always. Which is why she said she hated her to anyone who would listen. Dorcas is so uptight. So annoying. So stuck up. 
And the only person who knew she was lying was the one person she wanted to pretend didn’t exist at all. As if she could ever pretend she doesn’t exist. Dorcas haunts Marlene’s mind, constantly there, reminding her that she can’t escape this for long. She can’t ignore the fire she feels when her hand accidentally brushes against hers when she gives her books that Marlene dropped in the corridor. She can’t ignore how her heart skips a beat when Dorcas laughs. She can’t ignore that she is the most beautiful person she has ever seen. 
Every time Dorcas catches her eye across the Great Hall or on the Quidditch pitch, she wants to drown her feelings at the bottom of the bottle. Because it’s one thing being gay, and it’s another thing having a crush on another woman. 
That is exactly what she does, at a Gryffindor victory party. They beat Slytherin, just about. It would have been an easy win if Marlene didn’t refuse to hit Bludgers at Dorcas, who scored goal after goal until Sirius finally saw what was up. 
She’s almost downed an entire bottle of fire whiskey when the portrait door swings open, and the universe must really hate her. Dorcas saunters into the common room, with a captivating grin plastered on her face, wearing the shortest skirt Marlene has ever seen. She can’t pull her eyes away from those legs, the way the dark purple suits her. She doesn’t know how long she has been staring, and is only pulled out of her trance when someone says her name. 
“Oi! Mckinnon,” Dorcas snaps her fingers in front of her face, and she blinks up at her. “Good game.” 
She clears her throat. “Good game.” 
There’s a beat of silence between them then Dorcas smirks. “You like my outfit?” she asks, and twirls around. 
Marlene really hates her. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, and mutters, “Yeah. You look good.” 
“Good?” she raises an eyebrow. 
“Fucking stunning,” Marlene says without thinking. Before she has a chance to regret that, Dorcas smiles something soft that tugs at her heartstrings. 
She feels her cheeks heat up as Dorcas takes a step towards her. “Want to go somewhere quieter?” 
Marlene hesitates before extending her hand. “I would like nothing more.” And leads her to her dorm. She’s had enough of denying her happiness. 
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obufalo · 2 days
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gotta ask spn :333
thank you for the ask 🥺 i could talk about spn for HOURS
favorite male character
cas fascinates me. he's so rich as a character. (on the other hand I'm such a dean kinnie it's embarrassing)
favorite female character
charlie! i love her so much.
least favorite character
...i'll have to say mary. I don't think she's worse than john in any way, just think she's poorly written and doesn't really appeal to me, not even to my rage, as john does. most of the time I'm just annoyed by her.
favorite ship
destiel is everything to me. the ship of all time. the ultimate love story. the queerbait to rule them all. they will haunt me til the day I die and probably even after.
favorite friendship
dean & charlie are so important to me I can't even begin to describe
favorite quote
"freedom is a length of rope. god wants you to hang yourself with it."
worst character death (if any)
there are so many 😍
but really, you could think of the worst as in the one that hurts most or the worst as a writing decision or the most frustrating...
i think cas in 15x18 encompasses all of the above. i hate the way they ended crowley too.
this made me so happy you have no idea moment
"i have to find my father, he will protect me."
"jack, you gotta listen to me. that's not really what lucifer does."
"lucifer? no, that's not his name. my father is castiel."
saddest moment
"something always goes wrong"
"then why does that something always seem to be you?"
a bullet would hurt less
x
"i am your mother but i'm not just a mom. and you are not a child."
"i never was."
screaming crying throwing up
favorite location
i love the bunker!
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sadstrever · 2 days
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god. i fucking ate. i FUCKING ate. it’s been about a month or something and i finally fucking had to. i had to but it still feels like my fucking fault that i feel this way. i had 10 strawberries, 4 grapes, 1 cucumber, 2 figs. i am so fucking upset and terrified. it’s not just that i had to eat, i had to eat AFTER i had another really bad chew and spit day, 2 days in a row. im still 114lbs and that number is starting to fucking haunt me and it’s only been 3 days. it’s all because of my doctors appointment tomorrow. tomrrow my doctors might drug test me or find out i lost 16lbs since last month and i’m so scared i’m so fucking scared. i thought eating some fruits and veggies would help the blood test seem more normal, now that i think about it that’s so FUCKING stupid. i’m so scared i’m gonna actually gain weight it’s terrifying.
whatever whatever fuck. i have laxatives. there’s 3 set out in front of me and a glass of water. i was ready to take them but now i’m fucking scared. i’ve been taking so many laxatives just out of stress for no reason and now that i actually DO have a reason(the fact that i ate) i can’t take them.
lol okay i talked myself down and i put the laxatives away. i’m gonna wait until after the doctors tomorrow. i’m gonna go to the gym straight after if i get away with having weights in my jeans and they don’t bother me about this. i’m gonna burn 800 calories and fucking pray to god i don’t gain weight. i’m gonna take the laxatives after the gym and hopefully everything will be okay. i’m so scared. i feel pathetic and not in the way i usually do. today, i lost lol. i actually fucking did the one thing that i said was so “impossible” for me to do. god. all i can do tonight is chug a bunch of cold water, which will be good to make me heavier tomorrow morning too, do a couple workouts which will also make me bloat tomorrow, and try not to take the laxatives until AFTER the appointment.
i feel so sick.
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