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#hes eccentric…the worst kind of person….
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Hiding the rest of this HUGE comic behind a readmore for ur sanity
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Hes got the keenest eye for these things!
Now that this is hiding behind a readmore i can justify writing an essay in here. Nothing big tho i am just very chatty :)!
Postgame where Peppino still gets visits every now and again from the bosses of the tower. I already drew one for the noise (lmao) but i wanted to draw each of the main four interacting with him in some way.
Pepperman is a refined and well renowned artist. His art is highly sought after and his advice is not taken lightly. He has many MANY fortunes to pull from to make his visions a reality and to influence anyone to do anything. Except for Peppino.
From the very first fight, Pepperman is immediately, overwhelmingly obsessed with this stout little brawler. He is much much more than what meets the eyes. He is initially extremely offput and annoyed that a human so boldly decided to waltz into his domain, and he expects to be able to steamroll and bully this…beast…out of his place of work. He is refined when he wants to be, but he is quick to use his brute strength to get what he wants if only bc he knows he can do it
And so when he decides to fully charge and thrash this little trembling human, expecting him to skitter away the second he gets struck, he is completely unprepared for when he gets launched to the other end of this room. The human looks so incredibly PISSED, like a bull seeing red, and suddenly this little altercation suddenly became a real actual ‘knock your teeth out’ brawl. This human is only like half his height, but his punches and bashes fucking knock the wind out of him.
And like ! To add insult to injury!!! After he wins the fight! He visibly deflates, the adrenaline seemingly wearing off. Hes just this trembling fuckin whelp again !!! Whimpering as he fucking runs back out through the portal to do god knows what. And Pepperman could not be any more fucking intrigued. Like this no name came in, whooped his fuckin ass, and went about his day. Its unreal
While Peppino is running around climbing the tower, Pepperman is in his room losing his mind. Hes obsessed. No one has challenged him in this way. No one has fought him and WON. He is ALWAYS able to bully people into submission either through brute force or with money, and he got his ass handed to him !! He needs to know more. Its quite literally consuming him.
Cut to the final fight, set up for a rematch; and he knows he is going to get steamrolled again but it is SO exhilarating to get another chance to see this humans form up close again. This time he can try to commit everything to memory. Its all such a blur though, and in a quarter of the time it took to end their first fight, its over. He gets to watch the human fight the gunslinger with his bare hands, no gun necessary, and he doesnt even bat an eye at what looks to be a clone of himself. He is a force of nature tearing through every single defense, and when Pepperman watches the actual final fight with the bizarre little pizza man, its like hes caught in a movie. The rain, the storm, the atmosphere. He wishes he could burn the entire scene into his mind.
So when everything returns to normal, he takes the time to travel for days to come and find this little human named Peppino. The memory is still strong and vivid but eventually, details will start to slip his mind. He needs to find this human, convince him to sit and do some still life sessions with him to help cement the humans appearance in his head. He hasnt had to resort to…asking for permission for anything in a loooong time…he bullies people into doing what he wants but Peppino is not your average person, and if he wants something from this man, he’ll have to meet him at his level.
He...can make an exception for Peppino...he supposes.
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redsray · 27 days
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Batkids playing any kind of board game but make it extra competitive because whoever wins gets to choose what Bruce wears for the next gala.
Bruce, in a sparkly top and skinny jeans:
Reporter: Ah, who chose your outfit tonight, Brucie?
Bruce: That'd be my eldest, dear!
Dick, behind him, full into the gala persona: Flattering, isn't it? He should wear it more often, don't you think, sweetheart?
Reporter, flushed: Oh, absolutely.
Bruce (to Dick): Get a new fashion style. Please.
Dick: Never.
Reporter: Who would be responsible for your wardrobe tonight, Brucie? It's certainly a statement.
Bruce, head to toe in a pink suit and Hello Kitty accessories: Gorgeous, isn't it? All the credit will have to be given to Jason, though, I'm afraid.
Reporter: Your second son, if I'm not mistaken?
Bruce: The very one.
Jason from across the gala hall, trying to not cough up his drink with laughter:
Tim, next to him: He's pulling it off, though. Little spins and everything.
Jason: Still ridiculous. That's Batman right there, Timbo.
Tim, snickering: The Dark Knight, huh?
Bruce, dressed in a collared white shirt, sweater and skirt, looking like he just came out of a light academia novel:
Reporter: Wow, Brucie. Who do we thank for that wonderful outfit choice?
Bruce: Ah, flattering, is it not? Tim's choices when it comes to fashion are wonderful, if not a bit simple.
Tim, nodding from behind him: Only the finest satin skirts. Charming, right?
Tim, to Bruce: Don't call my style simple, Mr. all I wear is black.
[Jason handing Dick $10 in the background because Bruce does, in fact, pull off a skirt.]
Reporter: Oh lord, what a gown! Who influenced your fashion choice tonight, Brucie?
Bruce, in a long green and black gown with gold accessories, nothing short of royal-looking: I fear only one person I know could choose an outfit as gorgeous as this one.
Damian, proudly next to him, in a smaller, matching gown: Only the most exquisite. You lot in this flimsy country cannot compare.
Bruce: Yes, Damian has a fine taste in fashion. He gets it from his mother.
Damian, quieter: Well certainly not from you.
Bruce, dressed in an elegant white dress shirt, long black pants and a corset with red accessories, a fan in his right hand:
Reporter: What an entrance! Anyone to give credit to for the wardrobe, Brucie?
Bruce: That'd be my daughter, she certainly shines with her choice of clothing.
Cass, grinning with a matching fan: Very pretty.
Bruce: Thank you, Cass.
Reporter: Woah, that's certainly new. Any reason for this choice of clothes, Brucie, dear?
Bruce, in a snapback cap, loose jeans and a band t-shirt, complete with rings and a chain around his neck: Well, all of my children are creative, but... Duke might just take the cake for this one, love.
Duke, losing his absolute shit next to Jason, Dick and Tim: You look great, B.
Steph doesn't usually go to galas, but she participates in the game nevertheless. If she wins, god help Bruce, because it's a gamble with her. He either ends up wearing a gorgeous outfit with eccentric and trend-setting accessories or literal checkered pyjamas. Worst yet, he has to say he picked it himself, since he can't directly blame Steph.
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horrorartsworld · 1 month
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Hi! I’ve read quite a lot of your works and I’ve got to say, you’re a great writer, like oh my god!
I was wondering if you could write a one shot of Alastor with a female reader wife who’s like Beetlejuice? Appearance wise (but more feminine), personality wise and power wise as well. Maybe he hadn’t seen her full power before due to no one chanting her name, but during extermination day, as a last resort, someone does and she kind of just goes full on “beast mode” to protect her husband? What would Alastor’s reaction be? Would he like it?
If you can’t do it, that’s alright! I hope you have a great day! ^^
( ≧ᗜ≦)₊˚⊹♡ OMG NONNIE!! you do not understand how excited i was to write this for you hence beetjuice being one of my favorite movies hehe and thank you so much i hope you enjoy this one !!
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ghost with the most !
alastor/beetlejuice f!reader
warnings: slight angst, mentions of blood and massacre, some fluff towards the end!!
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“Wait…sooo you’re telling me chuckles over there has a wife?!” Angel Dust asks his voice raising in disbelief towards the chipper blond in front of him who just so happened to spring this unbelievable information on him.
“Oh sure!” Mimzy raved, with a sort of twinkle in her eye that she only got when she started to gossip. “Under all that creepy and murderous exterior there’s a big ol’ sap! Can’t say I blame him ether — his wife’s a real firecracker! Me and her use to get into all kinds of trouble when we were living!”
She sighs reminiscent on her past looking like she was lost in thought before Angel erupts in bewilderment once more, “There’s no fucking way! I can’t believe i’ve never heard about this…”
Then he suddenly glares at Husk who was unamused by the whole thing. “What?” He huffs with an eyebrow raised, using a towel to wipe off the innards of a dirty glass.
“You knew about this didn’t you…” He eyes him with the worst stink eye making Husk snort, “Listen…I did but that women is bad news and if anyone bothers to say her name three times it’s over…” The cat then places the glass delicately amongst the others before Mimzy gestures for a drink earning a scowl out of him, grabbing the glass once more. “Besides why wouldn’t i know…”
Angel Dust rolls his eyes, resting his cheeks in a pair of his hands taking all this new information in, then sitting up straight again. “Wait? why three times..”
Mimzy giggles delightfully like a toddler clapping her hands seeing Husk place a full glass in front of her. “It’s like her way of a contract honey, to make sure you truly need her when she’s summoned and she’s not all that bad Huskie she’s just a little eccentric and bizarre is all, but truly a fun gal!”
Husk lets out an annoyed huff turning his back to her as she downs her drink in one big gulp with a small hiccup following. “Besides no one’s seen her in years, bless her damned soul…” Mimzy goes back to being reminiscent once more, but this time with a frown forming on her face which was unusual for her.
“Anyways tits, are ya joining us tomorrow? Gonna be a riot.”Angel Dust attempts at changing the subject though he still wanted to know more, seeming that his question somewhat spooked her she started readying herself to leave.
“No, no, no sweetheart! As much as I loooove a good brawl, this one is just not my cup of tea, kick ass though, choa!” And like that the tiny little blonde broad was gone out the door.
Leaving Angel to stew on all this information he just consumed, his eyes then wandering on the grouch in front of him with a smirk playing on his face.
“Wanna fuck before we die?”
“No.”
“Worth a shot.”
⁺˚⋆。°✩₊🪲
On Extermination Day it wasn’t looking so hot for the Hazbin crew.
Each and everyone getting hit down one by one like a domino effect without really too much that they could do about it with their fire power seeming to not be enough like they thought.
Angel Dust looks along the battle field, spotting most of his friends injured or worse and none other than Alastor actually getting his ass kicked. Causing the spider insane amounts of uneasiness, when suddenly an idea clicks.
“Y/n…..,” Angel Dust hesitates thinking back to what Husk said about you and how this could possibly turn out. “Ah fuck it….Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” He gives in shouting it as loud as he possibly could and within an instant the sky above the hotel swirled in green, causing many sinners and angels to look into the direction of it completely in awe of what it could be.
Alastor holding his chest as the gash across it starts to burn profusely, he notices everyone had stopped for some odd reason making him look in the direction of what had caught everyone’s attention, and if that man’s smile wasn’t permanently on his face already you would’ve saw the biggest grin known to man.
Suddenly a loud noise of a playful accordion rips through the air in a circus theme. ( https://youtu.be/gwsR5gOKK1U?feature=shared sounds something like this if your curious.) “Attention Kmart shoppers!” Your sweet yet sinister voice echoes throughout everyone’s ears with a menacing giggle following. “CLEAN UP ON ISLE SEVEN!! ,” Everyone looks around confused without noticing your form appearing in the middle of a bunch of the Exterminators, Angel Dust finally getting a good look at you causing his jaw to drop. Green hair flowed down your shoulders, a white and black striped dress hugged your body as two large mallets adorned both hands with a mischievous grin that could put Alastor’s to shame, then spinning both mallets around before giving quick blows to each and every dumbfounded exterminator that you saw, leaving an absolute massacre in your wake. Chest heaving with golden blood on your face, when you suddenly notice them, quickly wiping the blood with your striped sleeve and made your way over.
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(dress ref!!)
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Your green cloud forms behind a unsuspecting Adam with a pointed black nail coming out to tap his shoulder. He looks around aimlessly before facing Alastor once more, and then suddenly a large golf club appears with you on the other end of it with a golfers cap on your head. “FOUR!” Is shouted from your lips as you suddenly swing it with much force sending the douche bag flying lord knows where.
You hold your hand over your eyes pretending you saw where he was going, but then quickly snapped out of it to tend to your lover. “Always know how to make an entrance my dear,” Alastor says rather proud of his wife for being able to keep her cool all while kicking ass. “Oh you know I can’t help myself when there’s a crowd!” You dust yourself off before you do your best to help him up seeing his gash slowly dissipating into nothingness leaving just the rip in his nice dress shirt making you frown. “Awww Al, he ruined my favorite shirt!” You then loose track of what you were upset about and start playing with the hole delicately skimming your fingers across his skin, making him shiver as you made it seem like a mouth making ‘nom, nom,nom’ noises until Alastor cleared his throat.
“Sorry babe..” He chuckles down at you while then patting your head, before you wrap your arm around him taking him back to his friends.
“That’s quite alright…now how about we do some catching up, i want to hear all about your adventures,” He says looking down at you feeling how much he really missed this, missed you, clinging to you close like he never wanted to let you go again while you two walked.
Your eyes light up, bouncing up and down giddily next to him before jabbering on the rest of the way about things like almost getting eaten by a sand worm and practically ruining a recently deceased married couples start on the after life.
And of course Alastor was happy to hear all of it from his precious wife who he adorned and loved very much…
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trafltr · 11 months
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SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger
── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.
content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks <3
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god, you’re annoying sometimes.
unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.
and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.
it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.
eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.
but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.
“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”
‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.
it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.
“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”
eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.
“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.
the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.
honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.
the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.
and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.
fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.
eren jaeger: death by pussy.
doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.
“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”
eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”
you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.
your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.
his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.
“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.
“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”
your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.
you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.
eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.
the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.
the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.
“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.
“you said just the t-tip.”
“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”
eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.
the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”
and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.
with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.
“just…right there—”
your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!
there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.
“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.
and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.
“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.
the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.
because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?
nobody.
after all, you’re one of a kind.
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xnchxntmxnt · 6 months
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hurt comfort with the astarion guy pls I don't don't know anything about the game I've just seen clips of him on youtube and I love him
you aSK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE i love him
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Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine
Character: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)
Warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (reader doesn’t drink), general astarion backstory information but it’s nothing super specific. not proofread
Notes: almost cried writing this. im sorry. anyway I'm a hozier lover what else is new.
gn reader
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Astarion stared at the fire, leaning back against one of the boxes under his tent. There was something serene about this area—they’d never been attacked at camp, and it comforted him to know he could let his guard down somewhere. If only slightly. 
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you walking up to him until you spoke. 
“Astarion?” you asked, voice softer than he expected. “Are you alright?”
He must have looked upset—he didn’t need your pity, though, so he tried to shake himself back to reality. “What can I do for you, my dear?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and taking a sip of the ale next to him. 
You paused, looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed slightly, then finally decided to sit next to him. He offered the ale but you declined. Instead, you turned your body to face him and slowly, gently, brushed a bit of hair out of his face. 
And he flinched. 
You quickly pulled your hand away from him and rested it in your lap. He stared, wide-eyed, terrified of his own actions. He’d inflicted pain on countless others and never felt guilt for it, but such a simple gesture broke him. 
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice small and quiet. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Astarion was always so eccentric, so proud, so…unafraid. This was an entirely new side to him, and he was even more embarrassed to show it to you. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but he didn’t have the energy to make his feet move. To make anything move. 
There was a beat of silence, where the two of you only listened to the crackling fire a few feet away. Then, you spoke. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”
He didn’t understand how you could be so kind to him. There were so many things wrong with him as a person, or things from his past—he’d hurt people, tricked them, found ways for dear Cazador to turn them into mindless little puppets. Like he was, before all this mindflayer business. 
There was so much wrong in the world, and there you sat. His ray of sunshine—his hope. Somehow with you, things seemed a little less dreary. True, there was some mystical dream-being that followed you around keeping everyone from sprouting tentacles, so that was something positive. But your general disposition, the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring at you, the way you snuck away from the rest of camp with him to watch the stars…all these things made him fall so hopelessly in love. 
He couldn’t be that person for you, though. He never learned how to make big, romantic gestures or show his affection in a way that made sense. A way that made sure you knew he adored you in your best and worst moments. Cazador had ruined him—he’d ruined any semblance of having a normal life. On top of being a vampire spawn and ripped away from his life before, he was stuck in an endless loop of servitude and puppetry or constantly fearing for his life. He never learned or could afford, to just relax. You deserved someone who could love you whole-heartedly, not the monster he’d become. 
“I care for you so, so deeply, my dear,” he all but whispered, voice tight with emotion. 
“I know.”
“I cannot, for the life of me…” he trailed off, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I cannot understand why you care for me.”
His head hung low; you stared at him, shocked and unsure how to react to his words. He felt embarrassed, he felt small—there was nothing he could do, it seemed, to pull himself out of this rut he had himself stuck in lately. 
Then he heard your words. 
“Can I hug you, Astarion?”
He glanced over to you, seeing teh pleading look in your eyes. You’d asked. Maybe that made him feel a little more normal, a little less messed up. Hesitantly, he leaned into your embrace. The moment he felt the warmth of your arms around him, though, he melted. He laid his head on your chest, his full weight falling into you exponentially by the second. And with it, he began to cry. 
It was heart-wrenching sobs that felt like someone stabbing him through the heart every time, but he couldn’t mistake the comfort of your hands running through his hair. The soothing, repetitive motion calmed his nerves more than he thought possible. After what felt like ages, he began to sit up, trying to put himself back together like that hadn’t just happened. His eyes looked slightly irritated, but he tried desperately to wipe any evidence of his outburst from his face—
Suddenly, he felt your hands around his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. He stopped—his hands slowly fell, and he relaxed into your embrace once again. 
“You do not have to apologize for feeling things, Astarion,” you said softly. “And you certainly don’t have to hide from me. Not your thoughts, not your emotions.”
He nodded, turning his head slightly to the side to kiss the palm of your hand. His voice was hoarse but surprisingly gentle. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”
“That’s the thing. You do.”
He smiled softly—it had been a long time since he felt like he could do so freely. 
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auspicioustidings · 5 months
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Mandatory Dungeons and Dragons
Summary: You have moved to a new town and really miss running D&D, good thing the nearby military base is looking for a DM.
Words: 3.9k
CW: None :)
“So I’m naw going tae go through the portal?”
“Ok so you do know from your arcana check that if you were to try go through this portal while it’s red, that a few things may happen to you and none of them are good.”
“Aye, but how not good we talking?”
“Dragged through hell before being spat back out, let’s hope someone in the party has a diamond and revivify ready not good.”
“Copy. I’ll naw go through it then sweetheart.”
“Don’t be a pussy Johnny.”
“I go through the portal!”
“...why are you all like this?”
You wanted to cry on the train home. Your first time at the TTRPG club in the city nearest your new home in a little village and it had been a disaster. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to play Dungeons and Dragons just because you didn’t know every rule inside and out, but they had made you feel so stupid and as if that was absolutely the case. You missed your group back home and were already a bit insecure knowing they had another person DMing for them now. It was hard not to get in your head and wonder if they would like the new DM better, if their style would be more agreeable than the rules light chaos you brought to a table. And with the derision you had gotten from the DM at the club for daring to call a nat 20 on an attack roll a crit, you were stuck on the train considering just never going near the hobby again.
Maybe you really wouldn’t have if not for the brave little flyer hanging on to the edge of a stall for dear life that caught your eye a few months later when you went to the farmers market. You liked the farmers market in this little town, lots of handmade jams and local produce and baked goods. The stall the flyer was on was the most eccentric stall of the market and one where you had made a friend your first time wandering through, although Nik was not always here.
The Russian man looked every part the stereotypical gangster, but he was funny and kind and didn’t get upset whenever people from outside this community took issue with him on account of his home country. He had little hand carved animals that when you asked he said were made by a friend. Saying he sold them was sort of complicated because he’d give them away for free if asked, they were pay what you want with any money going towards a charity for helping recovering drug addicts. 
All that to say, it was entirely surprising that he would have a flyer looking for someone to run a D&D game at a nearby military base. 
“Do you know this game lapposhychka?”
“I do! I used to run it back home. I’m surprised a military base is looking for someone to run a game though, it’s generally played by… I mean it’s more a nerdy game, I didn’t think soldiers would be all that interested.”
“Ha! Do not listen to these silly tv shows that tell you soldiers are very cool and tough. You are more cool than any of them.”
“Uh huh, should I ask how you would know that or is it a you’d have to kill me situation?”
Nik laughed in that way that you loved, it made you so happy how unstrained he was with his fondness for you. Such an odd man. Given that he sometimes would be away from the market for weeks and always gave vague answers about what he actually did you had suspected he was in some sort of shadowy career, at least if it was with a nearby military base you didn’t have to worry that he actually was a gangster.
“Send email to the address so you can run this silly game for them hm?”
Well, what was the worst that could happen?
“They found someone else, sending him tomorrow” Price said with a long, tired sigh to his team. 
You would think that being a task force that was entrusted with saving the world, they would be exempt from the wellness initiatives that some civilians with fancy little degrees in an office somewhere kept forcing onto them. This one had been running for a year now and TF141 had been finding ways around it. 
The base football team had kicked them off when Johnny had bitten one of the players after an argument turned into a scuffle, so HR sent them to do airsoft thinking that it would be more appealing.
The airsoft venue had swiftly asked for them not to return when Simon had made the other team get on their knees and mock executed them one by one, so HR had sent them to a life drawing class.
The life drawing class had declined to continue running for them with Gaz’s insistence that he must be naked in order to feel comfortable drawing someone else naked, and at this point HR seemed intent on declaring an all out war on Price’s team.
Their latest was Dungeons and Dragons. Price had not known what that was when the arrogant little shit of a man had waltzed in with all of his books and dice and props and complex maps and got them to make characters. He rubbed them the wrong way entirely, clearly had some sort of superiority complex knowing that he was able to tell soldiers what to do. That had been the same with every activity they had been sent to and he was getting more and more mad about it. Why did HR think it was a good idea for civilians to be giving them instructions? It always ended with a power trip and his team needing to cut someone down to size.
“Did they aye? Such a shame aboot whit’s his face, wonder why he quit.”
“Strange right? Thought the git was having fun what with Ghost getting so into character!” Gaz added, him and Soap grinning in a way that spelled danger for whoever they were sending next.
Ghost had gotten very into character. It’s not like the knife ever would have hit the little weasel behind the DM screen, it had thunked into the wall behind him just as it had been aimed to do. Price tried to smother his own smug grin thinking back to it, the look of horror when Ghost had launched the knife, walked over, ripped it back out of the wall and said ‘tell me again that it’s lodged so deep that I can’t get it out’. 
HR were changing tactics now, making them stay on the same activity and just switching around the person running it. Well, they’d soon find out that Captain John Price did not negotiate with terrorists.
“Just tryin’ to be ready for any last minute missions sir.”
Price had to hand it to Simon, the man was going all out today. Full tac gear, skull mask on, generally being the most terrifying soldier a civilian could ever have nightmares of meeting in a dark alley. No doubt whoever came in would try and feign disinterest, would try and come off as if the whole thing was beneath them. As if that would do anything but encourage his lieutenant. 
“Very good. Soap?”
“Sir?”
“The mask?”
“Aye, like LT said, battle ready.”
Gaz chuckled and Price once again controlled himself so he did not join. Soap hadn’t wore that little red skull mask in a while, but he couldn’t imagine it would go down well. The temptation to go digging through his own belongings and pull the black one he owned was creeping in the back of his head. If they could scare off this DM before they even started it would really save them all a lot of time. 
You were jittering with nerves as the soldier checked and rechecked your ID and waved you through. This was seeming more and more like an awful idea as you parked up and were escorted through the grey winding tunnels of the base, clutching the straps of your backpack like a lifeline. 
You were dropped off outside a door and left to try and control your erratic heart as you forced yourself to open it and walk inside what looked like some sort of briefing room. It would work, there was a big table. They were already here.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, they were huge. They were terrifying. Two were wearing masks and you thought that maybe this was fine, character masks right? Maybe the setting they played in was more modern-ish and that's why the heavy tac wear as well. The other two were a younger man in a baseball cap and an older one in a fishing hat. They would have been less terrifying if not for the fact that they were also big and good looking. This felt like a fever dream, these people could not exist. Were those knives?
“H-hi!”
The nervous squeak of a greeting coming out of you made you at the very least force a megawatt smile on your face to cover your embarrassment about it as you introduced yourself, stumbling over your own name.
“I ah… I’m here to run a game!” you said, swinging your backpack off of your shoulders and holding it up as if it would suddenly turn see through and show your supplies.
You suddenly felt wildly underequipped. You didn’t have all the fancy terrains or stacks of books or intricate props. You had a PHB and a oneshot, a beaten up DM screen and snacks that would double as battlemaps. The email had said that they already had player sheets and dice and you didn’t see anything on the table. Oh God you hadn’t thought to bring stuff just in case, what had you been thinking? Was the months of going through every background check under the sun not warning enough that you should not be doing this?
“Of course, we’ve been expecting ye! John MacTavish, ye can call me Johnny” said the man in the red mask after a moment of stilled silence, smiling and holding a hand out for you to shake.
You felt like your hand must be clammy and your heart was liable to beat out of your chest with this man being in your space smiling down at you. You tried to relax as the older man took your bag and set it down on the table, leading you by the small of your back to one of the chairs. 
“Captain John Price, have a seat” he said kindly.
“Oh! It’s nice to meet you sir. Captain. Sir? I’m so sorry, I’m not sure which I should be using. I should have looked that up before coming, I’m sorry, I really wasn’t thinking” you rambled.
“Slow down sweetheart, you’re not under my command, you can call me John.”
It was so clear that they were soldiers. Not just the outfits, but how they held themselves. The Captain was so solid and safe feeling, like a hurricane could rip through the door and he would be able to fight it off before it touched you. It was strange the feeling it gave you to be in the space of that kind of person. It was stranger still that all four of them had that same undercurrent to them, even the huge man in the skull mask with a bunch of knives strapped to him. You sat and swallowed thickly, trying to get yourself together as you shakily unzipped your bag and started to pull everything out, trying to at least make brief eye contact with the others as they introduced themselves.
“Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz luv. Hang on, we have our stuff somewhere I think” the man in the cap said sheepishly, sharing a knowing look with the others that you knew meant there was something going on here you were missing. 
“Ghost. We don’t have stuff, sheets are long gone. Left the dice in a bar.”
“That’s ok! I mean we can wing it with a pen and paper, I’m sorry I didn’t bring any extra sheets. And if you have your phone there are free dice apps. And um…” you trailed off, looking between them and slowly figuring out that the thing you could see was a strange mix of pity and guilt. “...do you… actually want to play D&D?”
“No.”
“Jesus LT, way tae let her doon gently.”
“Git! Don’t listen to him luv, of course we want to play.”
You looked at the Captain in question. It was natural to see him as the leader here, so if anyone was going to explain it would be him you thought. He held your gaze and you found you could not look away from those eyes. There was just something so decidedly cosy and warm about those eyes, like being inside bundled up next to a blazing fireplace while being able to see snow out of the window. 
“Soap grab some pens and paper would you?”
“Aye sir!”
John MacTavish had been so confident when that door opened that they were about to make HR give up once and for all, that whatever man walked through that door would barely make it ten minutes before running off. That had went out the window when you came spilling through. Not one ounce of posturing or arrogance, just a sweet little thing looking at him all nervous and jittery. 
He knew it wasn’t just him that had been taken off guard, the whole room fell into an uncomfortable silence after you had introduced yourself. He had never been good with an uncomfortable silence, and he was feeling especially inclined to fill it seeing how it made your face fall more and more by the second. 
The urge to immediately tease his Captain was strong seeing that barely perceptible tick of his jaw when you had stumbled over which honorific to address him by. In all of the activities they had done, not one person had afforded Price any of the respect he deserved. It wasn’t like any of them expected civilians to follow their orders or treat them as superior, but there was something almost disdainful about it when people very pointedly refused to acknowledge it at all. When they swung the other way and tried to assert superiority over him as if to prove something. So having this sweet thing immediately try their hardest to give him his place? It was definitely affecting his Captain and it was obvious to the trained eye.
He could have spear tackled Simon for being so blunt with you. He could have kissed Gaz for immediately refuting him. And he could have eaten you right up when instead of immediately showing off all of your knowledge about lore and rules like the last one, you started out with going over all the ways you would all make sure everyone was safe and happy and having fun. 
You got so bashful trying to explain traffic lights with Simon teasing you that he couldn’t really help but put a hand on your leg to stop it from bouncing. Your bright little blush and smile at him just melted him entirely. Ah fuck, he was so screwed.
“I don’t know what your last DM used but totally open to whatever makes you most comfortable. I tend to use a traffic light system, have you ever used that before?”
Simon Riley found you wildly amusing, not least because Johnny was like a puppy with how he was trying to get you to like him. He was certain that if you put a hand to that mohawk then he might actually just bundle you in his arms and never let go. Cute. 
“Red means too much, orange means slow down, green means fuck yes baby keep going,” he answered, suggestion dripping off of every word. 
He watched how that made you shiver from your toes to your head, your leg bouncing nervously making it endearingly obvious how it had affected you. He wasn’t really looking to make you uncomfortable, just to tease a little. Gaz gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table and he fought off a laugh. 
“Ok you’re technically not wrong, same principle. That’s just for during the game if anything comes up, but we can decide beforehand what we definitely won’t have in the game. I’ll go through my list, but if there is anything at all anyone wants to add we’ll add it on and I’ll work around that.”
Colour him surprised when after thirty minutes he had indeed contributed to your little list. You explained it so gently that it made sense to mention that he didn’t really want snakes in the game, the same game he hadn’t been intending on playing in the first place. He liked that a lot. He liked that you put him in a place where he could comment on something vulnerable so easily because there was no chance that you’d judge him for it, you just wrote it right down on your list without question. 
He supposed they could do a few hours of this stupid game.
If someone had told Kyle Garrick an hour ago that he would be very seriously yelling at a magical gate that kept bloody shooting magic missiles at him, he would have said you were off your head. And yet, here he was. Well, not him. Here Elliot Knight, elvin Paladin was.
When they had played last time it was like pulling teeth. This time? The paper in front of him didn’t have a thousand things on it to keep track of, you had more or less thrown the rule book out and simplified it down to what would be easy and fun. Soap had been encouraged to reskin his sword to instead be a golf club which he was delighted about. Price was doing an outrageous Yorkshire accent that he had done briefly as a joke and then committed to once he saw how it made you grin. Ghost had fully been allowed to macgyver together a molotov in the game. And he was so bloody mad at this gate that here he was yelling at it. 
“Stop shooting at me!”
“The gate simply repeats it again. Security protocols activated, please answer all security questions to deactivate security protocol. What is the gestation period of a milk cow? It fires another missile at you and… yeah that hits. It smacks into your shoulder for 12 points of fire damage.”
“Ow! Next time someone else is playing distraction, if you fail another investigation to find this bloody book I will kill you in real life Soap.”
“I’m trying, I’m trying! Naw ma fault that Neil Ellis is a dumb fuck, I had to put all of ma points intae wisdom so he could be a proper Druid!”
“Ok so you do have a really high wisdom Johnny, and one of the skills under that is animal handling. If you wanted to, you could try to use that to see if Neil knows the gestation period of a milk cow instead of using investigation to look for the right book.”
Gaz nearly killed Soap when he managed to fail that roll as well.
This was stupid and fun. John Price found this stupid and fun. He had gotten strangely attached to Barry Sloane, his human fighter who was really just trying his best, although his favourite character had to be Samuel Roukin, absolute little shit of a bard. Simon had made a 4 foot tall dwarf who happily sat and played his stupid lute during all of the fights and yet had managed to land the final hit on every single thing they had fought so far by insulting it to death. 
It had been especially funny when the big monster had transformed into a maiden with flowing hair and a billowy white dress and Samuel had, while Neil and Barry were downed and Elliot was desperately trying to get them up and not die, told her “what’s the difference between you and a salad? The salad knows how to get dressed” and you had just buried your head in your hands when he had landed the hit and told you the damage. Another kill for the bard.
It hardly felt like it had been a full four hours when you wrapped up the session and apologised for over running. When you asked them about why they were playing in the first place and you had agreed to join the fight against HR? Oh, you were part of the 141 now whether you knew it or not.
“Wait, so they're forcing you to do an activity between every mission?” you asked, somewhere between disbelief and wild amusement.
The game went really well in the end. You liked this oneshot, it was always a hit and good for beginners, but this group had made it especially chaotic. You didn’t think you had ever been kept on your toes so much or laughed quite so hard at a groups antics. They were so ridiculous, even more so with how scary they looked in their gear. Johnny had taken his mask off during character building and you really thought you must be some sort of psycho because it had sparked your cute aggression and you barely resisted the urge to smoosh his cheeks. Ghost never took off his mask, but you got used to it. He wasn’t anywhere near as severe as he looked and he had such a stupid sense of humour that was so at odds with the spooky skull mask that it made what he came out with even funnier. 
“Yeah, supposed to somehow promote wellness more than actually catching up on sleep” Gaz grinned, clearly delighted that you seemed to find it as ridiculous as they did. 
“So what will they make you do next?”
“This again if you say yes sweetheart. You’d be the first person to not drop us after one session.”
You gave the Captain a wry smile. They had insinuated that they had been pretty badly behaved at every other activity, so you could imagine they had scared everyone else away.
“Well why don’t you just get me to come back then? We don’t have to play D&D, as long as I report that we are right? You guys can just do whatever you want for 3 hours.”
You really wanted to see them again you realised with a thump of your heart. Even if it was just a quick hello once every one or two months so they could get a sign off to say they had done their mandatory activity session. It was difficult to try and process exactly what mix of emotions you felt when Ghost laughed warmly from behind you where he had been tidying away all the drink cans and sweet wrappers you had been using as map pieces, and then dropped his arms over your shoulders in a sort of hug. He leaned down, pressing his cheek to yours so that he was looking at the others still lounging at the table. You could feel his cheek, he must have taken his mask off.
“What do you say Captain? Have her come back and do whatever we want with her for 3 hours?”
There really was only one word going through your mind and you prayed that you hadn't said it out loud.
Green.
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the-cookie-of-doom · 1 month
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Kimhan Theerapanyakul is, by far, the worst of the young heirs. This is a fact universally, quietly, agreed upon by all of the bodyguards. 
Tankhun is… odd. Eccentric. His moods are unpredictable and his punishments unorthodox. He’s vindictive but never truly cruel. Not the way Vegas is, some will whisper, trading horror stories about what they imagine may go on in the Minor family compound. Tankhun is also a safe assignment; he never leaves the tower, meaning whatever guards are on his rotation have a relatively cushy life, as long as they can put up with him. Most of them can’t, and ask to be reassigned within two weeks. You don’t become a bodyguard for the mafia because you want to be safe. 
Kinn, despite being the middle brother, is the true heir, the one being groomed to lead the family. He is serious but kind, firm but fair. It is an honor and a privilege to be placed on his detail. An honor that Big worked very long and very hard for, sacrificing his life and his body to earn the right to stand at Kinn’s side always. 
And then Tawan came into the picture. 
A conniving, jealous little creature, who had Kinn wrapped so tight around his finger, it’s a wonder he could even breathe. Big, loyal guard that he was, tried his best to protect Kinn from himself. He overstepped. He urged caution in this fledgling relationship. Of course, Kinn was young and in love, and Tawan could do no wrong, right up until he was caught selling information to a rival gang. 
Big was the one to reveal Tawan’s schemes. He wishes, deep down, that he had been the one to kill him, too. That he could have spared Kinn that pain. 
Big is dismissed from duty after it’s over. Reassigned. He has been with the family for years at this point, worked his way up as a personal guard to the heirs; he expects he will be reassigned to Tankhun. Instead, he receives orders to report to Khun Kim, who’s recently moved out of the tower and into an apartment across town. 
It’s best if Khun Kinn doesn’t see you right now, Chan had told him. That hurt worse than the dismissal. Big was only doing his job, looking out for his boss—his charge, his responsibility—and here he is, punished for it. Thrown away. Banished from Kinn’s presence entirely. It aches. But Big only nodded and bowed, and accepted his orders, because he is a good and loyal guard, and he will do as he is told. 
Despite Big’s years with the family, he has had little contact with the youngest son. The next six months show him exactly why his coworkers call him the worst assignment.
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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year
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builtbybrokenbells ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ masterlist ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
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— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —
hi! welcome to the shitstorm! if you’ve read any of my works already and came to check out some more, thanks!!! also, if you’ve left any comment on my stuff i have def read them and appreciated them dearly :)
requests: OPEN (please be respectful and patient with me, I’ll do my best to get to them as soon as I can!)
taglists: please specify if you want to be on a general taglist, a fic taglist, or for a specific person 🫶🏻
disclaimer: i do not know gvf or any of the members. tis’ all fiction and imagination and i will never claim otherwise! also, i try to keep my works 100% original; i do not read as much as i write, and i would hate for someone to think im copying them in any way. also, please don’t steal my stuff :) also, i’ve said it before and i will say it again. please be kind to me and everyone else. this blog is a safe spot. my feelings get hurt easily, and i will not stand for any disrespect towards others. thanks in advance 🫶🏻
♡ - fluff, ☾ - smut, ★ - angst
as always, be kind, stay happy, and shoot me a message anytime if you want to chat!
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Hate To Love You | part two | part three | ♡ ☾ ★
Sam and y/n spent months hating each other, but a drunk confession and a bathroom hookup leads to more trouble than they bargained for. (Sam x f!reader with a Danny love triangle, series, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 25k
Picasso | aftermath | ♡ ☾
COLLEGE DORM AU y/n finds herself pining after the boy across the hall, taken by surprise after a series of events reveals that he feels the same way. An unconventional hookup leads to Sam making her first time unforgettable, both hoping for a romance to blossom from it. (Sam x f!reader, AU, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 15.5k
Gold Dust Woman Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★
Y/n finds herself completely in love with Sam with no hope of ever recovering. After months of waiting, hoping for a bit of reciprocity, she spends a night drinking his memory away. But, as we know, liquor never solves an issue, and always has the potential to create another. One messy hookup leaves leaves her undeniably in lust with the worst possible person: his brother, Jake. (Sam x f!reader, series, Jake x f!reader, love triangle, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 190k
Catch-22 Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★ WIP | ON HOLD
Catch-22: a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions. | Even if you knew every word to exist in every language known to man, you would still be certain that there was no better way to describe your relationship with Sam Kiszka.
Blurbs
Early Morning Fluff ♡
Kissing in the rain ♡
Sam giving you his sweater ♡
— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —
Daniel Wagner
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Bugs, Bears, and a Thunderstorm ♡ ☾
Y/n is not particularly enthusiastic about a camping trip. A set of unfortunate circumstances ensues, turning out to give the best possible conclusion to the situation. She realizes that maybe camping isn’t so bad, after all. (Danny x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 12.5K
Fade Into You ♡ ★
A bad day leaves y/n searching for solace in her boyfriend, Danny. He’s quick to the rescue, showing his unconditional love and willingness to help however he can. (Danny x f!reader) ONE SHOT | 6k
Guilty Pleasures ♡ ☾ ★
Due to a strong foundation of trust and a willingness to share, a situation which would normally be catastrophic seems to turn out to be quite rewarding. (Danny x f!reader, Jake x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 20.4k
Belladonna ♡ ☾ ★ WIP
Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.
Blurbs
Doing each others hair ♡
Danny helping when you’re overwhelmed ♡
In the rain ♡
— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —
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ryanstillwrites-if · 1 year
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“Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.” - Mitch Albom
On a Wednesday morning, you leave your doctor's office with the diagnosis of an inoperable brain tumour and the knowledge of an estimated four months left to live.
Suddenly left without any direction in your life, you find yourself in a support group for the terminally ill. Where you expected to find sadness, melancholy and a looming sense of dread at thought of a fast approaching death - all the same feelings you harbour - you find smiles and laughter instead.
You're drawn in by the people you meet there, curious and confused by their carefree attitudes. They're kind to you, they take you in, they turn your frown upside down - literally and figuratively. And just when you think you might be beginning to accept your fate; they decide to throw all caution to the wind and whisk you away on the adventure of a lifetime.
You don't know what will come of the next four months but with your new friends at your side, you're excited to find out. After all, this is the only life you've been given, and though it may be ending soon; you might as well live it to the fullest.
More Than Me is a story about love, friendship, found family and acceptance. It will deal with heavy topics such as death and illness, and may be uncomfortable for some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
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Demo: Chapter One, Part One • Character Descriptions
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Customise the main character in appearance, gender and personality
Meet and befriend a cast of characters, five of which you'll be able to pursue a romance with
Experience a new world as you road trip cross country with your new friends
Live your live to the fullest while you still can
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Adelaide Scholz - 29 • F • RO
A bit rough around the edges, Adelaide is a personality that takes some getting used to. Sharp tongued, self deprecating and blunt as baseball bat, Adelaide always has something to say - most times at the annoyance of others. But a stage 4 lung cancer patient such as herself doesn't have the time nor patience to care what anyone thinks of her. With her leather jacket and a carton of cigarettes in her back pocket, doomed to forever be unlit, she's ready to see the sights and if need be, kick some ass. She'll try, at least.
Hayden Della Rocca - 31 • F/M • RO
Hayden is probably the happiest person you'll ever meet, despite their failing heart. Diagnosed with cardiomyopathy just shy of graduating university, they've been on the transplant waitlist ever since but they haven't let that stop them. Having been cooped up in their studio working as a freelance artist, they're now ready to take on the world, pacemaker and all; and heaven help you if you try slow them down.
Gabriel Torres - 30 • M • RO
There's not much to say about Gabriel, mostly because no one knows anything about him besides his chronic liver failure. He's silent and mysterious but he's always happy to spare a smile if he catches you staring. Though preferring to keep to himself, he's more than willing to share his secrets as long as you're willing to listen.
Jordan Michaels - 32 • F/M/NB • RO
Your support group's therapist, somewhat unwillingly dragged along on your adventure. Very straight-laced and a stickler for rules, Jordan fears the worst the second they agree to join you. Now the designated driver and parent of the group, Jordan tries their hardest to keep everyone in line. But despite their initial reluctance, they'll learn to let loose and finally have fun; so long as everyone takes their meds.
Mavis/Maverick Chen - 31 • F/M • RO
A quirky and eccentric bartender you meet on your journey. Longing for a change of scenery, they jump at the offer to join you. Beyond their eccentricities - somehow both charming and strange - they fit in surprisingly well among your group, bringing new life to the party; pun intended. They help open your eyes to new experiences and hey, if all else fails, they can at least make you a mean drink.
Kade Weston - 22 • M • Non-RO
After being in remission for almost four years, Kade is forced to step back from medical school when his leukemia relapses and hits him hard. Unwilling to endure chemo for the second time, he is all too happy to pack his bags and hit the road. It’s clear he’s running from his problems, in spite of all Jordan’s hardwork, but maybe this trip is exactly what he needs. But whether he finds acceptance or continues running to the very end, he knows all of you will stand by his side.
Margaret Evans - 84 • F • Non-RO
A sweet old lady who’s always willing to lend an ear, share a story or offer one of the many caramel sweets she keeps in her purse. You’re shocked to discover the secret wild side she keeps beneath those wool cardigans and breast cancer diagnosis. She’s the ultimate wing woman and, though you hate to admit it, a better dancer than all of you combined.
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bullet-prooflove · 3 months
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For Bobby?
“'Cause you're beautiful and smart, fuckin' talented”
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Bobby doesn’t mean to fall in love with you, it’s just something that happens throughout the duration of your partnership. You’re meant to be a maternity cover, someone to pick up Eame’s caseload while she’s away as a surrogate for her sister.
When you first appear, he hates your sunny disposition. Eames is sensible, practical, it’s a good balance to his eccentric qualities. You’re too bright, too vibrant, it hurts to even look at you. The worst part is you don’t even try to reign him in.
“You’re an adult. You’re smart enough to know when you’re going too far.” You tell him when he confronts you about it. “You’re just pissed off because you’re missing your partner.”
He pauses then because honestly, he never dreamed that you’d call him out like that. He hadn’t thought it was in your nature. He starts to see you in a different light then, because underneath all of the sunshine and rainbows, there’s a core of steel.
He sees it during interrogations, when you go toe to toe with suspects. You have a way of getting under people’s skin, of deducing their secrets. He has a forensic mind but you, you’re emotionally intelligent. You get people.
“How’s she working out?” Captain Deakins him one night after you’ve gone home.
“We had a rocky start.” He tells his captain, his palm rubbing across his mouth as he stares at your desk with the brightly coloured pens and post its. You’re a visual person, you work best colour coding information, it was infuriating in the beginning but now he kind of likes it. It adds a little something to his day. “But she’s growing on me.”
It’s a Tuesday when he realises that everything has changed. You look up from a report you’re reading, and you give him that smile, the one that makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He finds the edges of his mouth tilting up as his gaze lowers back to the paper in front of him.
Yea, you’re definitely growing on him.
Love Bobby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
@id1ehands @darqchilddaydreamz @words-and-seeds @malindacath @malevolent-muse @trublu2u
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gravity-barbie · 1 year
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Being shy and dating the Hargreeves HCs
Request
Masterlist
Luther Hargreeves
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-Well you’re kind of on the same page there, Luther can definitely assert himself in social situations more than you, but he’s often quite awkward and uncomfortable himself
-That makes you feel somewhat safe with him pretty immediately, you’re kind of kindred spirits, having a good time sneaking off by yourselves at the social event you meet at, and doing so again at any future ones
-He’s the type of dedicated romantic that honestly wouldn’t mind spending almost everyday alone with you, so beyond meeting his family he certainly doesn’t push socialisation on you
-Speaking of meeting his family he is very protective of you when introducing you to them, especially with your shyness in mind, he’s so alert, sending them death glares over anything that he worries might make you uncomfortable
-He does whatever he can to take social situations that you’re dreading off your plate, offering to run certain errands for you, or at least to accompany you for support
Diego Hargreeves
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-Diego can be very bold, tactless, explosive, all traits that make you nervous, yet he has a way with people, he’s honourable and caring which puts you at ease and eventually makes you fall for him
-Diego immediately feels protective of you and has your back, but it takes a while for your relationship to develop as he doesn’t take a romantic interest in you until he’s really seen your personality
-He’s very attentive of you in social situations, inserting himself into most conversations people start with you, checking in that you’re still comfortable, and remaining ready to drop the event as soon as you say the word
-He likes to appear macho and assertive so he really doesn’t mind doing most of the leading in your relationship but he does encourage you to take more chances and state your mind more
-He also is quite a loner himself so he doesn’t mind spending most of your time together in seclusion or giving you your space if you need it
Allison Hargreeves
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-You and Allison are a classic case of opposites attract, she’s quite talkative and outgoing which initially intimidates you but the relaxed, friendly attention she shows you soon has you absolutely smitten
-She has a talent for making you feel included without putting pressure on you, and getting a conversation flowing with easy questions
-It’s not necessarily something she looks for, but a shy partner does suit her well, she appreciates a good listener, someone she doesn’t have to try so hard to impress, and for what it’s worth she opens up just as slowly as you do
-As social as Allison is, she’s also independent and doesn’t mind giving you time alone and going out by herself or with other friends most of the time
-However she does encourage you to step outside of your comfort zone from time to time, insisting you meet a friend of her’s or accompany her to the occasional event
Klaus Hargreeves
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-Klaus is your worst nightmare, but god damn is he a charmer, you’re so on edge around him, yet there’s no where else you’d rather be, he is just bewitching
-He does disarm you pretty quickly, there’s a vulnerability behind his eccentric coating that makes you feel equal and at ease, and his open, talkative nature makes you feel like you��ve known him longer than you have
-Your lifestyles are far from compatible, he’s out seeing new faces every night and you prefer nowhere to the comfort of your own home, but together you kind of balance each other out, he starts to really appreciate your predictability, and you get a sprinkle of excitement in your life
-While Klaus can respect boundaries, he’s not averse to completely shoving you out of your comfort zone if he thinks you can handle it, which certainly isn’t always a success but when it is you sure are grateful to have him in your life
-He find’s your shyness very cute, and can’t help teasing you about it, but he also makes a habit of being very complimentary towards you to boost that self-esteem of yours
Viktor Hargreeves
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-You and Viktor are both so socially anxious that it’s a miracle you’re able to strike up a conversation, but when you do it flows so easily, you could talk for hours
-Your similarity has its pros and cons, your life together is very easy and harmonious, but you two don’t really challenge each other and it’s easy for you to drown out the rest of the world in your own little bubble for two
-However, as external challenges will always occur that can be for the best, as you have a strong sense of comfort from each other when life gets nerve-wracking
-Out of the two of you, Viktor is the bolder one, and it’s somewhat out of his comfort zone, but he can and will take charge in social situations when you can’t
-He’s very understanding of your boundaries, and very considerate, sticking close to you in public, giving you alone time when you need to recharge, comforting you over any social interactions that leave you flustered and complimenting you over one’s you do well in
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quotergirl19 · 6 months
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Today’s Bridgerton season 3 speculation (during this ridiculously long & torturous wait) is the following since the show loves to torture us by placing obstacles between the main couple, I could see the Polin love storyline going something like this…
Colin returns to London with a new look, super vain and eccentric after his most recent travels, he’s oozing confidence and every eligible lady in London is dying for his attention because he’s not swearing off women anymore and they all want to land a Bridgerton.
Penelope has not spoken to Eloise in months and her former best friend has begun to humor Cressida Cowper at parties, even snickering at her mean spirited jabs at Penelope. Pen however is determined to avoid Colin and Eloise this season. She’s changed her look after Lady Danbury kindly suggested she work with her modiste to avoid popular dress styles in favor of styles that accent her figure because she liked Penelope. But Penelope has been a wallflower for so long she has a hard time finding her confidence and when Lady Danbury overhears Cressida loudly reminding a group of people that Colin Bridgerton announced how he’d never court Penelope Featherington to be cruel and humiliate Pen, the countess makes it a point to tell Colin he’s to blame for the humiliation Miss Featherington is enduring.
The ton is abuzz about Lady Tilly Arnold and how beautiful and kind she is. The young widow isn’t the diamond, because she’s been married but, she’s highly sought after by several lustful men interested in making her their mistress. Colin once again gets caught up by the frenzy of competition with other men for her favor, similar to how he blindly went after Marina. Only this time he makes it clear that he is a gentleman and not looking for a mistress, announcing to his mother and family that he intends to marry Tilly. Violet is upfront that she believes Tilly and Colin would not be a good match, she thinks he should court Penelope Featherington because she’s a lovely person and their friendship would make an exceptional foundation for a happy marriage. Colin is adamant that he will never marry Penelope. Eloise insists that she would not want Penelope for a sister but refuses to explain why they have ended their friendship and storms off. Violet makes it clear that she doesn’t think Colin should marry Tilly.
Colin realizes that his comments at Featherington ball not only hurt Penelope‘s feelings, they have also made it much harder for her to feel confident while she navigates the ton this season as she tried to find a husband, and since he genuinely misses his friend, he decides to help Pen. He’s encouraging to her and introduces her to some nice gentlemen he knows who are looking for wives. Penelope’s new look and confident behavior attracts some suitors but Colin is protective of her and deters the least desirable men. He frequently calls on Penelope and consistently dances with her at balls and parties but makes it a point to favor Tilly. When Pen leaves a ball in a non-Featherington carriage, Colin follows her worried that she’ll allow herself to be ruined to ensure she snags a husband and that it would be his fault. This is when he discovers she’s Whistledown and confronts her, he’s stunned and unsure if he can trust her but after a highly improper and open conversation, he confesses his own scandalous secret to her, telling her he knows she is better than the worst things she’s ever done. He also thanks her for being kind to Lady Tilly in her Whistledown column and Penelope assured him she’s been kind because Tilly is a kind and good person and she understands why he’s pursuing her. After that they are less formal with each other and their friendship has undeniably deepened. Polin are each others confidants and have become a team of sorts. Colin convinces Penelope to stop writing Whistledown before she’s discovered.
Colin starts calling on Penelope more and more often, so frequently that Lady Featherington starts leaving them unchaperoned, convinced he has nothing but brotherly affection for her daughter. Penelope still prefers Colin to any other man but knows she must stay focused on her suitors and find a husband because Colin wants to marry Tilly. But one afternoon when they were left alone, Colin kisses Penelope. The kiss is intense and heated but Penelope stops things because she’s sure Colin is just being an opportunistic man who would leap on any woman he was alone with. Penelope tells him he’s virtually engaged to Tilly and that he shouldn’t be kissing another woman. He apologizes but makes it clear that he wasn’t being opportunistic, he just couldn’t help himself because he finds her so beautiful and he feels there is passion between them. Penelope insists that she would never trap him so he has to stop because if her mother caught them kissing he would be forced to marry her which would ruin both their lives.
Penelope tries to put some distance between her and Colin to focus on her latest suitor who she’s become certain is about to propose but then her suitor is caught in a compromising situation with Lady Arnold and he and Tilly become betrothed. Colin is convinced Tilly and her new fiancé must be in love because Tilly is a proper lady and would not allow herself to be forced into a marriage. And since he has not been able to stop thinking of his kiss with Penelope, he proposes that they marry. Penelope is adamant that marrying for lust would be a bad idea and she wants to be someone’s first choice, not just the woman her friend settled for to save face when the woman he really wanted has chosen someone else.
Colin is not willing to take no for an answer so he forces Penelope’s hand by telling her mother that he kissed her. The ton is buzzing that Penelope trapped Colin because nobody is willing to believe he chose her after announcing he never wanted her and how publicly he courted Lady Tilly Arnold. The rumors are cruel with people speculating that Penelope must be pregnant for Colin to marry her. Colin notices that Eloise says nothing to stop Cressida’s lies and gossip and he tells her she should be ashamed of herself for standing by while her oldest friend is mocked and disrespected and insists that will have to change since Penelope is going to be her sister. With his mother’s help, Colin makes a spectacle of their wedding to silence the ton by making it clear that he chose Penelope and she did not trap him. They marry quickly and give in to their mutual lust for each other, finding that they are blissfully happy together until Tilly and her new husband return later in the season and Colin draws attention to himself by defaulting to spending time in Tilly’s company at a ball, causing scandal and bringing on more cruel comments from Cressida towards Penelope. This time however Eloise checks Cressida and accuses her of being jealous of Penelope because she’s worthy of the Bridgerton name while Cressida will never be considered anything but a bitch to the Bridgerton family.
Penelope is humiliated but manages to save face before fleeing the ball. Violet tries to comfort her and later tells Colin he’s a fool for his poor treatment of his wife. Even Eloise is disgusted with Colin who was of course oblivious because he thought he was just being friendly to Tilly and her new husband who was an old friend of Colin’s from school. When Colin tries to speak to Penelope she can’t hide her heartbreak. She pleads with Colin to try harder to respect his wife enough not to make such a spectacle of his obvious love for another woman in front of the ton. She devastates him by insisting that he should pretend to favor his own wife in public so Pen would not constantly be reminded that she allowed him to steal her chance to marry someone who would have chosen her first and could have actually loved her. She lets slip that Colin’s heart was as wasted on Marina and Tilly as her own heart has been wasted on him. She turns to leave after saying that for her love is nothing but a curse.
Seeing how deeply he’d hurt Penelope and how sure she was that he not only loved another woman, but that he always would and that he didn’t even deem her worthy of his love is like a knife in Colin’s heart. She was so sure that he would ever put her first, but none of that was true and he had to tell her. Colin tells Penelope he was only being kind to Tilly and her husband upon their return to town. And that yes, he once thought he loved Marina & Tilly, but he knows now that he didn’t. He explains to Pen that he liked them and he intended to marry them but he didn’t know what love was then. Colin confesses that he only knows what love is because of Penelope. Because she knows and understands him, that she sees past the facade of the perfect gentleman to the imperfect man he truly is. That he’s been a fool in the past but could never forgive himself if he didn’t make it clear that she’s the love of his life. That he belongs to her, body and soul. That his love for her didn’t stem from some stupid competition with other men. It started with friendship and grew with her every smile and witty comment, and the fire he felt when she was in his arms as they danced. He tells her that she’s the most beautiful and intelligent woman he’s ever known and that he feels pulled towards her every time they’re in a room together. That’s why he kissed her that first time only he hadn’t know it then but what he wants most in the world is to be the man worthy of her hand and her heart. That he doesn’t give a damn about the ton or society, titles or gossip, Marina or Tilly… he only cares about spending his life with his Penelope. His friend, his true love, his wife.
Epilogue: Penelope and Colin waking up together while traveling, a package has arrived and Penelope surprises her beloved husband with a keepsake she had made for him. Colin’s had allowed his wife to read his travel journals for a fuller understanding of his travels and she edited them into a travel book and had it elegantly bound in leather with an inscription to the love of her life and father to the lucky babe growing in her belly. And Colin couldn’t keep the tears from his eyes. Penelope was the source of everything good in his life. She’d given him her heart, and her hand and now she had given him his life’s purpose, caring for their growing family.
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strangestcase · 3 months
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In the original novella, we only "see" three characters die. One is Hastie Lanyon, whose death isn't gruesome and startling like Carew's, but that meets an arguably violent end.
While Carew draws the ire of Hyde through simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time, being cordial to the wrong person, being, Lanyon rather doesn't. Instead, it is his act of loyalty towards Jekyll, the man he hasn't talked to in a decade and calls him a pedant when he isn't listening, what kills him. Once again good deeds are punished with death. The difference, though, doesn't just reside in the fact that Hyde never once needs to put a finger on Lanyon to kill him, but the fact that it is a deeply personal loss- on both sides.
Jekyll-as-Hyde correctly assesses that Lanyon will help a friend in need. He himself says that Lanyon would gladly sacrifice his right arm to save him in body and mind, and with those words he convinces him to come to the rescue via bringing Hyde the serum's ingredients from the cabinet, now forbidden to him. And Lanyon is a good man. He's sensible enough to bring a gun with himself, he's kind enough to help Jekyll even though he believes he's finally lost it -and he's not entirely wrong-, and he's open-minded enough to not only chalk up his supernatural hatred of Hyde to a silly personal bias rather than dismiss him as "deformed", but to also fight against it and be nice to him.
No, Lanyon doesn't meet his violent end through physical violence. All he does is fall into Hyde's trap and give in to curiosity. And that's how, in his narration, Chapter 9, we learn what really killed him in Chapter 6, weeks after the events transpired. His mysterious "disease", the thing eating up at him, is the revelation. One of his closest friends -despite it all- has placed his trust upon him, and his reward is to see him at his pettiest, his cruelest, his worst. To learn that his friend was a monster, all along. No. That he turned into one, on his own volition. The choice was his. And now that he's realized it was a dark path to walk, he can't un-walk it. He can't stop, even if he wanted to, cursing himself with a monstrousness that fights back at any attempt at a fix and yet needs to be fixed to save its skin.
There is no "normal" to recover. Jekyll had always carried with him the elements of his destruction- his arrogance and his bile. The revelation that Hyde never really existed destroys Lanyon's static and material worldview, smashing the orderly world he lives in to bits. The revelation that Hyde was created for a specific purpose, and what it was, destroys Lanyon's view of Jekyll as an eccentric but harmless man, a good person with misguided opinions and fanciful theories.
Does Jekyll ever learn of Lanyon's death? Does Utterson ever bring it up behind the scenes, out of the third-person narrator's scope? Will he ever know that his last crime was killing the man that saved his life?
Well... Ironically, Lanyon didn't really save Jekyll's life. He only extended it for a couple of months, prevented Hyde from being arrested and tried and executed for God knows how many crimes of indeterminate nature. After all, if his criminal record killed him of shock, or at least poured salt into the wound, it had to be gruesome. Thanks to Lanyon's intervention Hyde can return to the house as Jekyll and attempt at resuming a normal life, without success. Soon enough he transforms again, and runs out of salts, and is found dead on the floor with the vial he just emptied of cyanide still in his cold hand.
How do we define violence in a world in which body and mind are one? In the world of Jekyll and Hyde, thoughts and ideas are physical, real, tangible. Hyde is, ultimately, a concept, the sketch of a person disguising a fractured mind disguising a sad mad genius that desires to not desire. We can consider Lanyon one of Hyde's victims, but can we call Lanyon's death violent? I would say so. Like Carew, all he ever did, at least within the constraints of the story -a snapshot of a disjointed Gothic world-, was being kind to someone who didn't deserve it.
At the beginning of this post, I said there were three on-page deaths, three deaths we got to "see" in Stevenson's novella. The third death would be Jekyll's. And it is violent, as well- first his original identity dies, unable to be present, made physical, made real, by want of not being able to manifest itself, or rather, by want of not being able to not manifest Hyde's. In a sense, he's run out of opportunities to be "good". If Jekyll can no longer be Jekyll-as-Jekyll, and only has Jekyll-as-Hyde left, Jekyll no longer exists. As he puts it, he's forced to resume Hyde's personality for the last time- to put on a costume that has turned into himself. Hyde never existed as a person, and in the last eight days of his life he has to be, because Hyde is all he's got left of a person.
It's impossible to not think of a suicide, even a suicide by poison, as violent. But Jekyll's death is violent not just because he eventually goes through with his "promise" of sorts that he'll have to die to rid the world of Hyde (and so we have Hyde killing himself if only to not end up in the gallows, fullfilling his ultimate desire, because that's what he, as a concept, was designed to do). It is also violent because by the time he physically dies, he's long gone. He's committed enough violence against himself already, destroying his belongings and thinking of himself as either his oppressive father or his idiot son, depending on what body he's been thrown into at the time.
The horror of Jekyll and Hyde is the horror of the perversion of the intimate, on all levels. Your best friend is not who he claimed to be. Your body as an extension of yourself isn't to be trusted. Helping others gets you killed. Edward Hyde pollutes everything he touches- breaks into a homicidal rage at someone being polite at him, accidentally curses his savior with the decay of the soul, self harms in the most twisted way possible and dies two times, brings the worst in all those that look at him, brings terror into your house, ruins the night, and breaks the peace.
It is only logical that something -someone?- that ruins everything to its very core comes from within, and is ultimately the cause for three very twisted, and violent, forms of death.
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alchemocha · 8 months
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Stone connecting with Robotnik and being the one person he’s soft with, while he remains awful to everyone else except the difference is it’s a lot smaller scale now. There’s no attempts to end or conquer the world, although on bad days he might threaten it— but he’s just a grumpy petty bitch who’s inconveniencing people at best and possibly ending some corpo goon lives at worst, but all in all, he’s kind of just a weird guy now — not a galactic evil mastermind.
And Stone’s happier than ever. Not because the doctor’s stopped trying to think bigger than life, but because he’s more content, while keeping the eccentric, mildly diabolical charm that he’s always been helplessly endeared to. Even if it means apologizing to customer service workers twice as often when they go out.
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rynwritesstuff · 2 years
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Hello, how are you?
Can I please make a request??
Can you please write something with Eddie based on the song Heather? But maybe with a happy ending?
Thank you so much and have an amazing day.
Hello, my dear! I can absolutely do that for you, I hope you enjoy this!!
Eddie Munson x Reader
Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, brief mention of weed
Yours and Eddie's relationship grows from August to December of 1986.
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August 1986 - You didn't know his name when you started your junior year of high school. Frankly, you didn't even know he existed until your older friends started referencing 'The Freak' in conversations.
You were curious immediately, because what the hell? Who could be weird enough, eccentric enough, strange enough to earn a title like that at Hawkins High, one of the most 'cursed' towns in America?
But then . . . Then, Eddie 'The Freak' Munson got up on a lunch table and started speaking, and you were falling immediately. His eyes met yours, and he had paused.
Wow, Eddie thought. That was the only word that raced through his mind as he stared. Wow, wow, wow.
September 1986 - You're minding your own business, walking to your lunch table, when someone comes crashing into you. You drop your tray of food, nearly slipping into the mess, but the tall figure who bumped you quickly grabs your wrist.
You look up, eyebrows furrowed, and you realize. Shit. It's . . . It's him. Eddie fucking Munson just made you drop your lunch tray.
"I'm so sorry," he apologizes before glancing back. A group of jocks are laughing behind him, and he glares at them. You put the pieces together immediately: They pushed him.
"It's fine, no worries," you say to Eddie as he looks at you again. You offer him a smile. "No harm done."
He hums.
"What's your name?" he asks. You tell him, and he holds out his hand.
"Eddie," he introduces himself. You nod.
"I kn--" You cut yourself off, nodding instead. "Nice to meet you, Eddie."
October 1986 - You're in the passenger seat of Eddie's beat up van, and he's blasting music as he drives you around. You shiver. Fall in Indiana is no joke, and when Eddie looks over at you with that big, dopey smile on his face, he notices your trembling.
"There's a sweater in the back," he tells you. You laugh.
"Why is there a sweater in your car?" you ask. "You don't wear sweaters."
"For when the cute person in my van needs it," Eddie says. Your smile widens, and you reach back to grab it. You unbuckle your seatbelt in order to pull it on, then re-buckle.
Eddie glances at you again.
"Looks better on you than it ever did on me, sweetheart," he says, and you're almost taken aback. He sounds so serious, so genuine, and . . . Wow, you're swooning.
Once the two of you are done driving around and laughing and Eddie takes you home, you tug off his sweater.
"Thanks for tonight, Eds," you say, smiling. He nods, then takes his sweater from your hands.
"Sure. Anytime."
November 1986 - Chrissy Cunningham is the queen of Hawkins High: She's smart, kind, athletic, beautiful . . .
And Eddie keeps staring at her. You finally look too, and when you do, your stomach drops. She's wearing it. His sweater. The one from the back of the van.
You glance at Eddie. He's still staring at her with that look in those pretty brown eyes of his, and you can practically feel your heart breaking. You thought . . . You thought Eddie was yours. You thought you were special.
You swallow the lump in your throat and head off to use the restroom.
December 1986 - He's called you three times, now, and each time you answer, you hang up within a minute. You have no desire to speak to Eddie right now, not when he chose Chrissy over you. Not when he betrayed your trust.
And the worst part?
He doesn't even know why you're upset. He appears to be concerned about you, all worried and offering to come get you and drive around even though there's snow on the ground.
You're in tears when you finally agree.
"Are you . . . Crying?" Eddie asks.
"N-No."
"You are."
You say nothing. Eddie sighs.
"I'll be right there, sweetheart."
Eddie drives faster than he ever has before, and when you open your door and immediately turn away from him, he shuts the front door behind him and reaches out to you.
"Hey. Talk to me--"
"Do you like Chrissy?" you snap.
"Do I-- what? Cunningham? No, no, why would you--?"
"I saw the way you were looking at her last week, Eddie. I'm not stupid."
Oh, no. Oh no, no, no, you've got this all wrong, Eddie realizes.
"I was trying to get advice from her," he says. "That's why we were--"
"That's why she was wearing your sweater?"
"She got cold while we were on the way to the mall."
"Ha!" you say sarcastically.
"I was trying to buy you this," Eddie says, and he pulls a small charm bracelet from his pocket. "And I needed her advice. She owed me since I hooked her up with some weed a few months back."
Your breath catches.
Oh.
Oh.
You bite the inside of your cheek.
"Eddie, I--"
"I know how it looked. I'm sorry. I, um . . . I don't like her like that. I like someone else."
You take the hint, this time, and after Eddie puts the bracelet on you, he puts his hands on your hips and pulls you closer.
"I like you," he says softly. "Only you. Always."
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lavendermeron · 11 months
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·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙
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TW: SFW, not proofread, english is not my first language so mayhaps some wordings might sound strange, GN!Reader.
also my first x reader writing, yay!
Word count: 1k216 words
·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙
Dating Wanderer would be an...interesting process.
You would need to have the will and determination, patience akin to that of a saint to deal with the sturdily constructed walls of the traumatized puppet. To weave through each and every words of bitterness that tastes just as bitter as the tea he enjoys so much and truly understand what lies beneath his carefully crafted synthetic skin.
After all, hundreds of years wandering throughout Teyvat and honing the experiences that can be summed into multiple lifetimes, be it violence or other unpleasant things, one would expect that Scaramouche would not be so open to finding new connections in fear of stepping onto old roads or stumbling down into the endless pits of self-hatred which roots from his own naiveté in days of the old; To think that he would be able to live out his life like any other human (which he soon had discovered to not be the case), it would be an underestimation to say that with each and every enjoyment he'd find, the world seems to be keen on throwing things back at him experiences that are worst, twice-fold;
However, if you do manage to worm your way through the narrow cracks of his non-existent heart, one that was broken and mended multiple times over, you wouldn't be immedietly treated with special care or anything as such, atleast not right away. What you would find is not a changed man or anything of that kind. All in all he would remain relatively the same, the sharp-tongued vagrant with a sense of eccentricity.
Wanderer is not a typical lover, it would be a slow process for him to take you into his circle of people who he could spare a glance to care about (which wasn't even alot in the first place). He wouldn't shower you in affections either physical or verbal even if you officially declares your relationship to one another, atleast, not directly.
It would start out with small gestures, the way he'd stand from afar, seemingly paying mind to other things not associated with you, but if you do pay notice, you'd see how he is always lending an extra ears or eyes to look out for you, helping you when you least expects it; He'd be more careful with his wordings around you, so that his already thornful words are but mildly- spiked vines, meant to hide his true intentions whenever he speaks to you, sometimes he'd slip in a teasing comment or two if you pay close attention?
Someone is making you uncomfortable? Oh, suddenly there's a blade of wind passing by which conveniently hits the person in the face and sending them flying through the room, out of your way. Need help with an assignment from the Akademia? He'd pretend to not care about whatever you were working on while also sneakily slipping in hints and clues in between complaints and non-malicious insults over how you are unable to solve such an easy problem before leaving without a word, leaving you confused.
As your relationship progresses, he would be more open to the more typical acts lovers would do while dating. Of course, at first he'd be quite reluctant towards affections that would requires touch due to his own past (that is the violation of his body through the horrific experiments conducted by that madman of a doctor who he will not want to recall the name of lest his unpleasant memories comes flooding back and ruining his mood) and he's not keen on having his relationship displayed to the public, out of concern for your safety, as there will be people who are after him which might try to hurt you.
Sometimes, he'd subtly link his pinky with yours whenever he deems fit, taking your hand and holding it tight if you need to go through a crowd of people in fear of losing track of you (but of course he won't say that out loud to save his already fragile hubris).
There would be more tender moments in your relationship, as his gentler sides shows up whenever you two are alone together. How he'd rest his head on your soft lap and close his eyes as you two rests under the shades, on a sunny day somewhere within the forests of Sumeru, he'd let his walls crumble for just a moment. Your hands running through his beautiful indigo hair while you both enjoy the comfortable silence, no words needs to be exchanged as the mere presence of you is able to bring peace to his phantom heart. Do not tease him on how "cute" he looks or anything as such when his mind drifts off and a smile creeps up on the corners of his lips, or you would taste the feeling of having his hat shoved into you face to shield your vision from his reddened cheeks and grumbling to himself as he storms away.
Wanderer is...not a typical lover, yet he is still prone to the problems one might face in his pursuit of a connection with you.
Due to the multiple times he has formed a bond (be it platonic or familial) and had it cruelly ripped from his grasp. It would only be natural for the abandoned puppet to cling onto you strongly once you have managed to penetrate his defenses, there would be times when he becomes unreasonably envious when you spend a bit too much time away from him or if you pay too much of your attention to someone else; You'd be able to tell whenever he is so by the way he gets a bit needier, how his eyes would stay lock onto your form or a look of displeasure at whatever is keeping your gaze away from him.
And of course, it would be your job as his beloved to reassure that you would be there for him for as long as your relationship remains intact, or until the day that death severs your intertwined fates by the concept of mortality if you are a human.
Hold him within your arms and cherish him, whisper sweet but genuine words to his mechanical ears, let him know that even if this world is cruel, even if it is full of uncertainties, that you'd never leave his side. Wipe away his tears should it falls against his will at his most vulnerable times, when he laments over his past that haunts him every night and the sins that weighs heavy over his shoulders.
To date Wanderer is to mutually be there for him as he does for you, to look out for him even if his words comes out as rough or harsh at the surface level and...
if you do find your way through all those difficulties as expected from this strange bond. It wouldn't be a lie to say that you will have his utmost loyalty and devotion until the day his divine shell that was made to host the heart of eternity gives away to erosion.
·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙
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