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mikodrawnnarratives · 2 months

Text

Have some art + fic rn cuz i had this idea plaguing me for a whlie in my first playthrough of the game and i needed to have it realized.

I don't want to edit my writing just yet so i'll do that later, but for now have some mentally unstable Siffrin 👍

I'll come up with a title ltr, prob when i edit this and post to ao3 (so if this gets reblogs just check out the og post for latest ver.)

For now the warnings you should know of are just character death, lots of Siff hating himself, and i think suicide ideation? I wrote this a few hours ago n still don't want to go back just yet but basically its nothing that doesn't already exist in the game

Fic starts under the cut! Roughly 2000 words

(edit: i forgor some colors don't exist/can't be seen 🤡, fixed now!)

Siffrin can’t seem to fall asleep at all anymore. The night right before the loops he can only pretend to get some rest before facing the king. He isn’t quite sure what the reason is. Being stuck in one place for too long? Useless? His urges to reach out for Isa’s touch that keep him awake at night, yearning for connection that is immediately are followed by disgust in himself? The pure exhaustion at the thought of repeating the next day again? None seem to be the answer. Maybe its a combination.

He only knows that he’s exhausted. Exhausted, yet unable to rest. Even if he were able, would he want to risk what ever dream or nightmare his head might concoct? A blend of memories and deaths to remind him that he can’t escape?

Not being able to sleep makes them worse at the loops too unfortunately. They got along fine for the first few loops after his first sleepless night, though the mistakes ramped up. They cursed their body, cursed themself for being so weak. Simple and stupid mistakes getting them killed via boulder when they forgot and slip of the hand resulting in the weakest of Sadnesses offing him.

Loop of course taunted about his failures, like they always do. He couldn’t fully blame them, knowing deep down he deserved it. There was a pull he sometimes had though, to rest with them, even for just a little bit. He’s hung out with them before, when it gets overwhelming, never for very long. Despite that, to actually sleep with them is a different story. Different vulnerability that, he wasn’t comfortable with. Too weak, he didn’t need another thing for Loop to tease him about. No matter how tempting it would be to sit in the tree and doze off. He wouldn’t doubt that, if he could rest at this point, he would doze off until the next loop.

He can’t have that. He can’t let his family die again.

The next loop began, the stage set, and Siff opened his eye, despite every ache in their body telling them not too. They can’t listen to their body right now though. They need to travel the entire house in the next few loops for anything he might have missed before. One more sweep.

He carries out his lines, plays the role he’s meant, rehearsing the other actor’s lines in his head before they speak up. Familiar steps, expressions, directions. When they get to Isabeau, they slip up again, Isa’s concern blooms. But they’ve seen this before. It’ll be fine. Their gut twists at forcing Isa to be concerned, but theres a warmth in it too. That Isa cares. Cares about them. It’s strange, when Odile gets close to the truth, stars when she FINDS OUT the truth, there isn’t any warmth. Just, fear. But knowing Isa won’t find out, just cares and makes them promise to talk about it at a time they know won’t come, it’s a guilty pleasure. At least, for now. Before it becomes meshed with all the other lines Siffrin has come to expect from The Fighter.

While navigation the House like normal, they slip up occasionally, interacting with objects that spark Odile’s concern. They don’t bother reversing the mistakes, he hasn’t slipped up that much. There’s no way she could know. Siff crumbled on the first floor at the counter they jabbed themself into again. Unable to see it and always stupidly forgetting to be cautious there. Stupid.

And they kept making mistakes. Their exhaustion pulling at their body, their nerves eating them alive. There’s no warmth with new lines of concern from their actors. Just spikes of panic followed by their attempts to reassure them. To continue on.

By the final snack stop before the King, their actor’s change the script again. Siffrin tensed, their hand tracing the handle of their dagger in case of emergency. Odile… odile doesn’t call out suspicious connections to time craft this time. Everyone just.. Just asks him to nap.

The third floor they had fumbled the most, their quick grabs at the keys became more clumsy against his will. His hands can’t stop shaking. The aches won’t cease their whining in his body. Change, of course they noticed, they aren’t blind. The script is similar, repeating the words that simultaneously warm his body and send nausea through it. They’re a family. They care.

Absently, Siffrin notes Mira’s asking him if he’ll accept a comb, again. At least that’s familiar. At least one of them new the script to stick to. And, he really wouldn’t mind it again. The loops reset his hair back to the tangled and knotted mess it was when he startled back to awareness in Dormont. Everytime. Sometimes they briefly wondered if Mirabelle would comb their hair out back in town too. They would never ask though.

Their family quietly chated as Mirabelle combed through his hair. Gently, dare they think lovingly. Careful not to hurt him. Like he’s fragile and weak. Pathetic. They are pathetic aren’t they. For wanting this. Selfish for forcing them. Their hands continued to tremble, as much as Siff tried to suppress it.

The Fighter changes the script first. First to notice. Notice a slip up. They tense, not for any particular reason just, they don’t know this script. The Fighter’s face is concerned but softens. Isa. Isa asked hesitantly it he could see their hands. Siff let him, letting their pathetic shaking hands be engulfed in Isa’s large ones. He hesitantly rubs their knuckles, Mira continues to brush the tangles out of their hair. Siff’s eyelid got heavier, their body screaming to just let go, just relax. They haven’t reached the king yet, the head housemaid, they can’t yet.

When they heard Odile close her book, another off script action, they jolted up and looked her way. Odile was about to speak up, but hesitated at their startled form. Her concerned and piercing expression remained.

“Siffrin, did you get any rest at all last night?”

They stop and meekly speak up, “I slept..”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Siffrin grimaced, tensing up. “I got.. Some rest. Why do you ask?”

“The fumbling around and absent performance don’t suggest you did.”

She had them there. Their fingers twitch as they internally remind themselves their dagger is still on their person. Even if their hands are occupied with being held by Isa’s. They take a breath.

The other actors contribute, sharing their nerves about facing the King. Needing to be ready before confronting the Threat, that could be their final standing place. No. No they won’t fail. They won’t die here. He might, but he won’t let his family.

Odile is actually the first to suggest Siffrin rest before they face the King. They can’t have any weak links before such a moment. Weak members. Weak. They were clumsy this loop. Their other family members share in the sentiment. They probably think he’s weak too. Their concerned smiles are hard to say no to though. The aches and exhaustion overwhelming his body probably wouldn’t let him refuse such an opportunity either. Surely. Surely they went through the first couple floors quick enough that another fifteen minutes before the king wouldn’t be too long. Right?

It’s a thought that didn’t seem to cross his family member’s faces when he gave into their requests and laid down. Mira scooted over, getting started on the next clump of tangled hair. Isa offered his lap as a pillow, and Siffrin’s slow mind just. Accepts the request. Not noting the dark shade flooding The Fighter’s face as they dragged their body to his lap, their head and partial upper body relaxing immediately. They rest their head on their blind side, one hand interlaced with The Fighter’s, behind them Mira finishing off the last of their tangles. The concern from their family’s faces hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s eased. And that is enough to release the remaining tension in his body. It’s enough.

Their family makes a few jokes that their brain muffles. Some laughing. Bonnie’s working on their snacks in the corner, still. They’ll be ready when they wake up. Their legs adjusted and placed in someone else’s lap, they think. Whoever it was, rubs circles into their calf. His eyelid grows heavier, their breathes come easy. Deep breaths. Someone rubs their back.

It’s nice. Really.. really nice. One could easily forget they were even about to face the King at all. Face the end. They close their eyelid. It’s warm. One breath in. And out. Just.. just a quick nap. Where they are loved. They.. they are loved right? This is what this means… at least right now…

Yeah. They hope this is right.

Sleep engulfs them for the first time in several loops and their breaths slow.

The chatting continues around him, not lacking some glances exchanged between the adults in the room. But mostly, just relief fills the air. Mira stayed by Siffrin’s side, threading her fingers through his now completely combed out hair. The flush in Isabeau’s cheeks still hadn’t fully left, every movement reminding him of his crush resting so peacefully in his lap. Like a sleeping cat that once it has claimed you as it’s cushion, you are bound by the universe to not move for any reason. Odile didn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, met with Isa’s shushing and hushed whisper “what if he wakes up and hears you!!”

Siff had done a lot today, and everyone would have assumed he was completely calm about fighting the king if not for his uncharacteristic clumsiness. Mirabelle supposed it made sense though. A night of rough sleep right before facing the most dangerous threat facing the country? That would make anyone mess up.

After another twenty minutes, Bonnie comes over with the freshly prepared snacks. Made extra special since they were more ahead of schedule than expected. Last hurrah before the king, everyone needed to be at their best.

Mirabelle smiles, heading over to were Bonnie had announced the snacks. Isa attempts to move but flounders at the idea of moving Siff. Mirabelle giggles at his flushing face as Odile moves their legs out of their lap. Well, time to end their nap she supposes. Their sleepy family member probably won’t be too thrilled about waking up but it is snack time.

Mirabelle collects her choice of snack and crouches over to Siff, moving their hat from where it had obscured their resting expression. Isa looked both upset to have the time his crush sleeps on their lap come to an end, and relieved. He lets out a chuckle as Mira gently shakes their shoulder.

“Time to wake up, Siffrin! Bonnie has snacks for everyone.” Mira moves a few hairs out of their face. “Siffrin?”

Isabeau adjusts, and joins in. “Siff? Sorry to wake you bud but..” He pauses, seeing Mirabelle’s face shift. Odile’s gaze sharpens as Mirabelle’s leans over them, placing her ear to their chest.

“They- th-they aren’t” Mira cries out. “They aren’t breathing! No no no-”

Isabeau moves Siffrin off his lap with shaking hands. Odile rushes over to their side, checking their wrist and neck for a pulse. Bonnie’s face crumbles in the corner, alarm replacing the happy air.

Isabeau shakes Siffrin’s still body, Mirabelle readies a heal craft as Odile begins to try resuscitating them.

but

the

world

goes

blank

Siffrin first feels the gentle breeze around them. The grass moving in tune, sometimes brushing up against the small areas their clothes don’t cover. They hear Mirabelle in the distance and when they open their eyes, she’s right above them, apologetic for waking them. Siffrin blinks. It’s been a while since Mira’s been the one to wake them up.

“Good morning! Well, more like good afternoon, I gue- wow. Are you okay?”

That’s new. Why would her lines-

“You’re crying.. Is something wrong, Siffrin?”

He blinks and brings a hand to his face. Sure enough, his cheek is stained with tears. He doesn’t remember crying, he just woke up too. From..

“Must’ve happened in my sleep” He says absently.

Mira frowns, “Oh no! What did you dream about…?”

Siffrin shrugs and repeats lines he remembers that will reassure her the quickest. She sighs and returns back to town. They’ll be waiting for him.

He takes a moment to think about what happened in the last loop. He.. doesn’t remember dying. Must have been when he went to sleep. That. That probably should worry him, that falling asleep could end a loop, but he doesn’t feel any regret about it. Actually, it’d be nice if all his loops ended like that. Just, dying with his loved ones around. It would take too long though, even if it could happen again. This loop needs to be faster. Last loop they didn’t even reach the king, and they have questions.

He grumbles as he sits up, a part of him yearning to go back to that warmth. Oh if only the universe could have let it be permanent. A permanent death that didn’t even hurt. That’s wishful thinking though, the universe isn’t so kind. And they have work to do, his family- actors. They need what he knows. He can’t rest forever yet.

The show must go on.

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amphitriteswife · 26 days

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Queen

Jaegyeon na x reader

Standing on the central station of Incheon, you were busy reading the latest news. You were going to take the next train to Seoul which was in half an hour. Tapping your foot against the ground impatiently, you were reading the news article about Jichang kwak who ‘suddenly’ passed away. Scrolling through the article almost the 3rd time in the past few minuted you scanned the words. Nothing made sense at all. Jichang wasn’t a weak man, nor was he he careless man. So why would someone target him when he wasn’t even the king of Seoul anymore but of Chuncheong? A place that many did not care for at all? Thinking about it terrifying. Not only did they know lots about jichang as a gang member, but they were strong enough to kill him.

The harsh and loud scraping of the train gliding ringing in your ears, the sound of many people talking all felt a little overwhelming at the moment. But what was there to do? It was strange. Everything seemed out of place. Jichang was a honorable man even if you didn’t often cross paths. He was respectful and did care more for his family than for the greed of taking over the territory of the other kings of the 1st generation. It was just so heartbreaking for a man who was finally making a turn for his life. Most of the time then. It gave off a chilling feeling. Unfortunately for you, the chilling feeling only became worse when a familiar voice was heard close to your ears

‘I thought we agreed you wouldn’t show your face in this place again?’ A man with a blonde dyed mullet and black roots asked you. He wore rather fashionable clothing and a chain around his neck. He looked like a kpop idol…you almost mistook him for DG but with another style..not that you’d say it out loud.

The man waved in front of your face. Seemingly to get you to pay attention. ‘Hellooo i asked you something Y/N’ the man said seeming a little irritated that you didn’t answer his question. Strange. He knew your name. Yet you didn’t know him, not at the top of your head. ‘Who are you?’ You asked him back a little puzzled. The man seemed absolutely floored at your question, almost offended even. His face switched from narrowed and a scowl to dropping open his jaw and having wide eyes. ‘It’s me! The king of Incheon!’ The man said pointing to his own face. ‘How could you ever forget my handsome face?’ He asked you back, offended at your lack of recognition for him. ‘….James?…’ you said slowly and hesitantly, recalling the events to meeting a red haired youngster you met a few years ago.

The man stopped moving, completely stunned by the name you just called him. He looked almost deeply hurt and on the verge of crying by which name you just called him before his face distorted in pure rage ‘JAEGYEON! JAEGYEON NA DAMMIT! HOW DARE YOU EVEN COMPARE ME TO THAT FUCKER!’ He said all in one go, catching his breath after followed by his composure. He ran a hand through his bangs and looked at you again all cocky and arrogant. ‘So..what is the former Queen of Incheon doing here? Trying to get back your title?’ He asked you in an almost mocking tone.

Realization dawned over you which made you laugh because of how you totally forgot him, and because of how much he changed. Physically then, mentally he was still the same. ‘Well, even if i was the former queen, i left that life style behind a long time ago. Why did you think you won anyway?’ Jaegyeon stiffened a little. Are you implying that you let him win? How humiliating…But he decided to play it off for now. ‘So..what are you doing here?’ He asked you a little hesitant but mixed with curiosity. ‘I’m going to Seoul, taking the train. Why?’ You asked him back. A little suspicious by the questioning which made him scoff. ‘I could drop you off myself. No need to take the train.’ Jaegyeon offered, sounding more cocky than kind. ‘No way, i’d rather take the train than be seen in that junk of yours.’ That seemed to piss him off as his face scrunched up in anger before he started insulting you, spewing all kinds of nonsense and walking away to his junk car. Muttering a soft ‘stupid girl’ under his breath, secretly hoping you’d hear him.

It was weird, since you two were around the same age. But then again, it’s not like you’d care if he said something like that to you. You just waved back and stepped into the train that had arrived in the mean time, leaving Jaegyeon alone with the weird interaction he just had with you. He couldn’t help but wonder when he’ll see you again and confess. If he’ll even have the balls to do so.

Thank you all for reading! 🙏

#lookism #lookism webtoon #jaegyeon na #jaegyeon na x reader #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #coems🤑🤑#for the jaegyeon na fans cause man is underrated #lookism fic #amphitriteswife writes #webtoon #ptj universe #❤️❤️💛💛

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

You've got mail!

Alt title: Single Ghost babes in your area

Yan Chain-Letter Entity + Amab/G.N "Loser" Reader [smut, mdni]

[Tags: light horror elements, masturbation, tit fucking]

!WARNING!

Now that you've read this, there is no going back.

The woman in this photo was a young bride getting for her big day. Following traditions of her new family, she was forced to wear her veil the entire week predating the ceremony, and quite unhappy with her situation. Her marriage was arranged and she had yet to fall for her new husband. She begged for a way out, help given in the form a voice from the shadows offering to change her appearance the night before her wedding. When her husband and in-laws saw her new face the next day - they all went mad from terror. This image is the only picture of her face and she'll do anything to keep it hidden.

Send this message to eight people in seven days, or she'll visit you at midnight on the final day."

"...."

"... hear me out..."

The air stills - warranted caution to keep your big mouth shut where input was not needed - or wanted.

"Why is she hot?..."

A collective, drawn out groan harmonizes from those plagued by your company.

"..what the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

Below the totally scary and terror inducing text was a photo of a woman shrouded in darkness. Part of her dark outline rooted from the shadowy grey veil draping to her long, thin neck, and waist-length jet black hair framing her pale, ashen skin. Her sunken eyes and mouth agap in a silent scream stretched the cloth against her hollow cheeks - small, white irises fainty visible from her empty sockets and the veil that hide them. The same white eyes your friend had alleged to have been staring them back at them when they looked in the mirror all week.

As unsettling as the picture was to most in your group, your eyes had settled on the more pleasant sight of her shapely figure shown off in the tightly fitted, lacey gown she wore.

"What?! I can't be the only one that noticed how huge her tits are! I hate when people make these cheesy attempts to scare you, and the monster that's supposed to be sooo scary is just some ghost. You can't even really see her face in the first place!"

"God, how do we put up with you... Just make sure you send that back to the rest of us before you leave."

The bulk of your collective friend group had gathered to comfort the unfortunate soul who received the email, and squander their fears by sending it between one another to meet the chain letter's rule. You tagged along for the offer of free lunch, and now that you've gotten your meal you're ready to head home and avoid meeting these people again with the exception of an online space. You stand up from the table, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

"Yea, yea I'll do it when I get home."

"Y/n..."

"I said I'll do it later. I promise, as soon as I get through the door I'll do it."

11:58....

11:59....

12..

Opening your eyes, you expect to find angry, sunken eyes staring back, but all you see is the blank white wall of your ceiling. A week ago, you sorta forgot about the whole chain letter scare by the time you made it home, and only remembered minutes before the deadline upon realizing how pathetic it'd look if you died with your dick in your hands when you opened a new priva tab on your laptop. As figured, not a damn thing happened upon the stroke of midnight and quite frankly you felt it must've just been some stupid prank by your friends after not hearing a word from any of them during that time frame. You guessed there'd be no hot ghost chick to cause your untimely demise this time - but it never hurt to make sure.

"Gee, I sure hope a sexy ghost doesn't pop out to kill me right as I pull down my sweatpants. That would sure suck, and the embarrassment alone would probably end me!"

Nothing. You reopen your laptop with a heavy sigh. "Welp- Since I'm still alive, guess it's back to tonight's scheduled plans."

Tugging one hand into the waist of your sweats, you pull up one of your usual sites for quality adult content - scouring for the right material to fit the mood. Alot of good choices, but strangely every thumbnail you clicked lead to a dead link. You switch to multiple sights, but the same thing just kept happening. Frustrated, you don't bother wasting time looking at the preview of a message sent by one of your friends as you scroll. If they could wait this long to text you, they could wait a little longer for you to respond.

Ready to throw in the towel and let your imagination work its magic - you finally manage to get a stream open through sheer determination and miscellaneous presses.

"Finally...." You push your sweats past your thighs as the video opens on a woman sitting on a bed. The room is too dark to see most of her, but the camera and lighting was centered on all you needed to see to pull out your swelling length. The woman's flowing gown hugged the plump flesh of her thighs, rolling up to her hips - and revealing the of her transparent fabric of her underwear as she parted her legs slowly. She removes one strap from her shoulder, long hair falling over her breasts as she contorted to better fit her face into frame.

Head crashing into your pillow with a small groan, you fist your cock to the woman's beautiful image and thought of her large tits in placement of your palm. Your hand could only mirror a fraction of their softness and you whine as your thumb pressing the tip, picturing plush lips closing around you as you came. Your entire being yearned to paint her pretty face and chest in your release - narrowly avoiding the unnatural whites of her eyes at the intensity and build up of your climax left your own body out of your control.

Peeling your eyes open for the second time, the speed of your hand slows as you start to get the odd feeling of being watched. Looking back at the screen, the woman stares back, appearing directly in front of the camera as cold sweat breaks down your neck. Her fingers slither along the glass, reaching through your monitor as your eyes widen in horror. You scream- throwing the laptop as far from your person as you coward against the bedframe. It lands, screen upwards feet from your bed. Loud cracks and snaps play from the speakers as the woman pulls herself free with janky, articulated movements. Her gown falls down to her knees and her veil washes over her face as she climbs to her feet.

You pull your blankets over your shamefully, almost painfully hard dick as you raise your hands in defeat. "Please don't kill me! I'll send the messages right now, for real!'

The woman cocks her head to one side - eyes shrinking as you cover yourself.

"Don't hide...."

She crawls over your quivering legs, gripping at the end of her veil.

"I've taken on so many face - yet, none of them have ever been called attractive before.... Tell me..."

The room light's flicker as she pulls the veil upwards - slowly revealing the dark void where her face used to be. Thin claw marks drew from the intact flesh of her cheeks and jaw to the permanent shadows gouging her features dug deep as if whatever had done this to her had taken more than just her face. The pearly points of her teeth and the whites of her eyes were all that remained of her mortal beautiful. Shaking in fear, your body betrays your fright as your cock jumps watching her drag her tongue over her sharp rows of teeth.

"Do you think I'm beautiful now?...."

At lost for words, you dip your head in reply - eventually squeaking through a strained voice. "You're the hottest ghost that's ever been in my room.

The woman's body writhes with a full body shutter as she takes the blanket in her hands. "Let's see that I'm the only person in your bedroom... living or otherwise."

You hiss from the cool air enveloping your cock as the entity tears the last shield protecting your shred of dignity away. It not like the had much to begin with, but sleeping with the ghost that most likely killed your friends definitely took whatever was left. Her heated breath fans your skin as your cock springs from your shorts and against her cheek. Turning her head, your muscles lock as her sharp teeth come to contact with the head of your penis. There's some give before them, lips hidden by the shadows of her face puckered around your weeping tip as an impossible long snakes from between the two and spirals down your girth as her breasts spill from her tightly fitted top.

Cradling an arm beneath them, the ghost woman sandwiches cards your dick between her breasts. Her tongue, still working around you, provides lubrication - and lewd suction as she bounces the weight of her large tits in your lap. The tip of her tongue grazes your balls and you feel them tighten as you rock your hips into the supple flesh of her chest. Her tongue squeezes at your increasing pulse and her veil falls back in place as she to uses both hands to better assist her assault on your pulsing dick.

You tangle your hand through her hair, cock swallowed by her breasts and plump lips. Your other gropes at her tits, toying with her nipples as hitched gasps and the growing sloppiness of your thrusts signed your peak. The coil in your lower abdomen breaks right as she pulls her lips from your swollen head, using her tongue, face and breasts to catch the milky fluid that pumps from you in thick spurts. The white streaks contrast the dark silhouette of her face and as she looks up at you, you use a discarded blanket to wipe some of it away before collapsing on your mattress in a sweaty, panting heap.

The cotton touch of your pillow is placed with soft flesh as the woman crawls beside you in bed and pulls you closer to her. She brushes hair away from your clammy forehead, raising her veil to kiss your skin as your arms fall around her.

"Sleep now, my love... We'll play more once you've gotten some rest. I look forward to all the things we'll do in the future. I'm sorry about your friends, but I seem to be more of the jealous type..."

You fight off the spell of exhaustion to shrug lazily with a reply that makes your new wife smile from ear to ear.

"Eh.... fuck 'em, it was worth it."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #female yandere #yandere ghost #yandere teratophilia #yandere smut

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year

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What if Alicent's eldest daughter for whom everyone is yanderes is actually the daughter of Daemon? no one knows except daemon and alicent, daemon hates all of alicent's sons except his little girl who he has a soft spot for (and he dies of jealousy every time he sees viserys with his daughter). It would be even cuter if the princess had Grandma Alyssa's eyes, one green and one purple.

I thought of this a while ago but forgot to mention. I love this idea. The idea of Y/n!Princess being the daughter of Daemon and Alicent brings me ideas. In the books, there are rumors that say that Alicent gave her virginity to Daemon and in this scenario it could make sense.

Or the situation could also be as follows: After the marriage of Alicent and Viserys and the birth of Aegon and Helaena, Alicent, dissatisfied with her husband, ended up letting herself be involved by the Rogue Prince, who had had his eye on the young queen for a long time. Feeling seduced by Daemon's intense gazes, Alicent gave herself to him that night and many other nights, until she eventually became pregnant. They stopped seeing each other after Daemon's exile and the rumors about Rhaenyra and him, but Alicent had gotten pregnant and it wasn't her husband's. She knew and Daemon knew it when he returned from his exile and found Alicent holding her newborn daughter in her arms, Daemon knew that child was hers and by the look on Alicent's face, he knew it was true.

Alicent was extremely attached to her precious daughter, sometimes reaching the level of being possessive and would not allow the maids to take her away. She could go so far as to want to breastfeed her daughter. Which may seem normal to us, but for the time, the Queens did not breastfeed, their babies had wet nurses.

One of the most curious things about Princess!Reader was that she had the appearance of her grandmother Alyssa, her eyes at least, one green and one purple. One thing I like to think about is, what if she was more like Alicent? I won't say identical, but maybe the color of Alicent' hair and the eyes of Alyssa. The only one of Alicent's children who looks anything like her, and I would imagine that would have a bigger impact on her mother's obsession.

You're right, Daemon hates all of Alicent's children, except maybe Helaena, but I can't say he likes her, he has nothing against her at least, in my point of view. He hates all of them but his little girl. How could he? He loved her the moment he saw her in her mother's protective arms and, not caring about other people's eyes, he took the little princess in his arms and played with her.

Daemon undoubtedly dies of jealousy of Viserys with his little girl, he hates to see how his brother is titled her father and he does his best not to let it slip that he is the father of Y/N and not Viserys. Unfortunately he can't do that, he can't put his daughter at risk or be called a bastard. He wouldn't do that to her. I can see Alicent encouraging Daemon's obsession towards the reader too, as a way of gaining his support and she enjoys watching him interact with her precious baby.

Aegon, Aemond and Helaena would definitely be attached to their sister as well, especially Aemond and Helaena. The three are inseparable, and when Aegon joins in, may the Seven have mercy on the poor servants who try to control the four together. Perhaps Alicent decides to marry Princess!Reader to Aemond, just as she did to Aegon and Helaena. She doesn't like the idea of marrying her daughter off, but she'd rather it be her son than anyone else. Daemon obviously wouldn't accept that and would be furious with Alicent and even Aemond. He doesn't want his little princess to marry, much less one of Alicent's children. He will do everything in his power to prevent this.

It's a really cool concept and one I'd be happy to talk more about! Thank you for submitting it, anon!! <3

(I couldn't help it, sorry, but this is Daemon when he finds out that Alicent plans to marry Princess!Reader to Aemond)

#ask #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #a song of ice and fire #hotd #asoiaf #yandere alicent hightower #yandere daemon targaryen #concept #yandere concept

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sarcastic-positivity · 10 months

Note

(This is a one-shot I wrote based on the gerry x Tim roomates AU. It ended up a lot longer than I intended, but yk lol.)

Title: Another failed attempt at love

When Tim finally made it to the floor, his flat was on he stomped down the long hallway until he reached the door, where his flatmate, and more importantly, his bed was waiting for him.

He unlocked the door fumbling with his keys out of anger. He felt so stupid, he should've quit dating apps a long time ago but here we are. He shut the door louder than he intended and flinched at the realization. He wasn't sure if Gerry was awake or not, and he didn't want to risk waking that nightmare. Gerry needed his rest and lord help anyone who stand in his way.

But as soon as Tim turned to face the sitting room of his flat, if you could even call it that, he heard a raspy voice come from the unmoving figure sitting on the couch. "That bad huh?"

Gerry was sitting on the sofa, the only source of illumination being the graphics tablet sitting in his lap. His makeup was still on, though slightly smudged. Although Tim wasn't sure if that was intentional or not. Gerrys leather platforms were sitting off to the side in front of the couch as they usually sit, Tim was pretty sure there are dents in the dirty carpet where they sit.

"What are you a bloody vampire? Turn a light on!" Tim flipped the switch to his right and the room lit up. Gerry winced at the sudden light and indistinctly closed his eyes and tried to adjust.

"Unfortunately, no." The Gothic boy said sarcastically from where he sat. "So, did the date go well or not? You seem pissy."

Tim sighed and made his way across the room, "how difficult is it to pay for YOUR BLOODY MEAL!? He offered to pay or me! And then WHOOPS, forgot his wallet!" Tim waved his hands around to accentuate each word. He plopped down next to his flatmate as gracefully as a toddler doing a belly flop. "And I mean, I'm fine with paying for myself, but HE offered to pay! And then I had to pay for us BOTH!?" He continued.

"Wow, you've had a hell of a day." Gerry said mockingly.

But that was lost on the angry man sitting next to him. "Yeah! And he didn't even ask me any questions he just talked about himself and his ex the whole time." Tim sat with his arms crossed like a pouting child, mostly as a joke, but he was genuinely upset. There was a gap of silence where the two men sat in the thick tension filled air.

"Well, anyways, what are you drawing?" Tim broke the silence and leaned over the poorly died black haired man next to him.

"Eh, nothing, I just decided to draw you as a warm-up sketch. I'm gonna add some of the other archive workers." Tim looked into the bright tablet and saw a gorgeous drawing that shared his face. It honestly looked better than Tim did on a good day. It sure as hell didn't look like a bloody warm-up.

"That's amazing" he thought. He didn't realize untill Gerry responded that he had said it out loud.

"I mean, I've done better." Gerry said uncharacteristically shyly.

"Whats with the sudden humbleness? I thought you were good at everything?" Tim said sarcastically, and playfully elbowed his flatmate.

"I'm not good at everything, I'm just better than you." Gerry said with a smug smirk and a look in his eyes that somehow always seemed to make Tim nervous.

"Yeah, right." Tim teased, trying to hide the twisting feeling in his stomach and the rising temperature of his face.

Gerry went back to his drawing when he was finished teasing his flatmate. Tim watched him draw, he always did. But his eyes couldn't help but wonder to the artist. Gerry's dark gray eyes and smuged eyeliner were illuminated by the glowing tablet. The bright screen exentuated his features in a way that made Tim's face grow hotter.

Tim liked his Gothic roommate ever since they got to know eachother. They met through Jon, oddly enough. Apparently Gerry's mom worked in the institute in the 90's or something? Tim didn't really know the details, but based on how Gerry practically flinched each time she was brought up, Tim didn't want to ask. Gerry needed a place to live and Tim was barely affording his flat at the time, so they teamed up and Gerry moved in.

Tim didn't know how difficult it would be to live with the guy. He was only a year or two younger than Tim and he was hot, so he thought he would just jokingly flirt with him, from time to time like he did with everyone else and it wouldn't be a problem. Well little did he know that Gerry was also a huge tease, mostly to Tim which he thought was weird. Tim was really only on the giving end on the overly flirtatious friend, but Gerry would always find ways to knock him off his feet. Tim didn't know he had a thing for goths untill Gerry. Or maybe Tim just had a thing for Gerry.

"See something ya like?" Tim caught himself staring at Gerry's lips, that were twisted up into a smug smirk. That fucking smirk. Tim felt his face grow impossibly hotter as he tried to explain himself.

"I, well, I- I mean" Why was he bumbling like an idiot? He was good at this? This was his thing? He was the one who got people flustered, not the other way around. Tim heard Gerry start to laugh. God he loved Gerry's laugh. It was scratchy yet soft, it was like a shitty knitted jumper. But God it was cute. Tim watched the other man's lips as they laughed free of malice. He found himself leaning towards his gorgeous flatmate looking up into his eyes. Gerry suddenly stopped laughing and made a suprised expression. His pale face grew a bright shade of red as he looked at the man sitting next to him. He took a quick look at his lips then back to his large eyes.

Gerry quickly closed the distance between him and the other man. Tim genuinely couldn't believe he was kissing Gerry Keay. The man who flirted with him for more than a year and never actually made a move. Tim scooted closer trying to deepen the kiss. Gerry pulled away for a moment and before Tim could start to apologize for what he'd done. Gerry quickly moved the tablet from his lap and was back with his lips on Tim's.

Tim lifted his hand and placed it on the back of Gerry's neck. Gerry slightly parted his lips as an invitation and Tim quickly took it. Gerry supported himself on Tim's shoulders and Tim moved his hands to the other man's waist. Gerry was wearing an oversized jumper with a band that Tim didn't recognize, but it didn't really matter because Gerry swiftly pulled it off and threw it behind him. As Gerry moved to continue snogging his flatmate, Tim planted his hand on his chest to stop him.

"Why?" Gerry scrunched his brows in a puzzled expression and Tim continued. "Why are you doing this? Do you actually have feelings for me or is this just a fling?"

Tim was always awful with his words when it mattered most, but he felt he got his point across.

Gerry snickerd at his words and grabbed Tim's face with his tattoo clad hands "Tim Stoker, I have been in love with you for months." Tim lifted his brows in suprise.

"You wot?" Is all he could think of in response. The long haird man sitting next to him laughed, hands still wrapped around Tim's face. He pressed their foreheads together as Tim started to laugh as well.

The two men laughed together for a while. "I just, I never thought you actually had feelings for me." Tim said, the blood instantly flowing to his cheeks.

"I flirt with you all the time!?" Gerry responded throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

"You flirt with everyone!" Tim argued.

"No, no, no, you flirt with everyone. I only flirt with people I'm interested in and people who respond in funny ways. You just so happend to be both." Gerry looked at Tim with a smug expression and had the absolute gawl to wink! At the man who's already practically melting by the fact that the sexy goth he's shared a flat with for a year and a half, is in love with him. Tim felt his blood rushing a little further south than he'd like, so he turned away so as not to have even another problem on his hands.

"I love it when your shy." Gerry says with a smile. Tim turns and immediately grabs him by the neck of his t-shirt and kisses him. Gerry grabs his face and leans into the kiss.

"How's that for shy?" Tim says, pleasantly grinning at Gerry. The other man rolls his eyes and pulls Tim in for another kiss.

"Shut up, you tease."

Omggggg love love love

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danisha-tdh · 2 months

Note

Out of curiosity, could you please tell me what is Wondergotton? Is it a game, an au, or a fan concept? What exactly is it?

Wondergotten is not just a game or a fan concept, au kinda fitting but it's sort of different.

Well the answer is down here ⬇️

Long post incoming!

Wondergotten is world of creation within connection between imagination and reality. I made this from a year ago during halloween. Though, this was inspired between Epic Mickey and American Mcgee's Alice (I usually mix them into one), and also with Zippy and Whammy in cartoon purgatory. It is a world between heaven and hell, as included forgotten toons and fallen characters who died tragically, like villains.

Wondergotten wasn't just for fictional, but also can be a dream for people who are from the real world, by called-

There are two fact about the Wondergotten:

By the name Tarøt holder, it was referred an explanation how Tarøt card works in here

And there is a House of Tarøt

Also the land names

This is all sort of a new lore I made. Though it is hard to explain everything, I'm just really need a little relax first before digging more about it. Oh yeah! About the story title, is it officially by the name

A story about the main character or to be called the "Foøl" name Turbø, the greatest racer and has a loss memory due to be unknown and having questions about life. He encounter many horrors and having hard time to avoid his own "nightmare". Turbø encounter a familiar person, King Candy, who is a role as a "King", found him in a Forest of Nostalgia. Later, the two with Jack goes to a new home, Bon Thé vill. In this story, Turbo takes focus to bring his memory back and solving a mysterious world of Wondergotten.. or pershap find a solution to save the world..?

Welp, this all I have for the explanation. Though unfortunately, I may or may not made a story of it. But perhaps, if anyone interested about it.

Oh I almost forgot, I actually revealed one the ruler of each lands and their chosen tarot here:

Hades = The Judgement (As the judge and keeper of the Wondergotten, also the Head of the House of Imaginative)

Ørson = The Hanged Man (The ruler of the Steamy Skyland and the Head of the Madness Factory)

Ursula = The Moon (The ruler of the Caspian sea and l'Océan de la Ørchestre (Sea city))

Jafar = The Sun(?)/Justice [Not confirmed chosen card yet] (Ruler of the Dreadful Dunes)

Queen of Heart = The Empress (Ruler of Heartlands and the Head of the House of Royalty)

White King = The Emperor (Ruler of the Blooded Blizzard and the Head of the House of Nobility)

Bonus:

Captain Hook = The Chariot (Secondary ruler of the Caspian sea)

Dr. Facilier = The Wheel of House of Fortune (Head of the House of Fortune)

Maleficent = The Tower (Watchover Bon Thé vill(?))

Reminder: There are no ruler in the Forest of Nostalgia as it by freedom of nature. But, it can be found gnomes who live there in a wild.

#asks #just let me know if you need to know more just follow this tag⬇️#wondergotten

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never-ending-fanfic · 8 months

Note

all of your WIPs look so good T-T

5+1 Zeb+ singing and OCD? 👀👀👀

Thank you! And thanks for asking! 🩵

For the 5+1 Zeb+singing it was so long ago that I unfortunately forgot what it was about originally, because I do remember I had some idea about it, but it left and didn't return 😶

From what I do recall, it was 5+1 fic on "5 things Kallus and Zeb find out about each other on accident + 1 they say out loud" and I only remember that one trope: Zeb finding out Kallus likes to sing

The scene escalates like so: Zeb wanders around the Ghost for some snack and when he nears the kitchen, he hears music and assumes it's a radio. Then as he almost enters, he realises that the person cooking is in fact Kallus and that it's not a radio music, it's Kallus singing, because he thinks he's alone and feels free to do so. And so Zeb ducks behind the wall and just listens for a while and has Thoughts™

Zeb quickly took a quick step to his left, hiding himself from view behind the wall, so not to embarrass the man- not that there was anything bad about humming as one cooked, but Zeb was familiar enough with Kallus' reactions to know being caught like this wouldn't exactly cause him happiness.

Carefully focusing on the man's voice, trying to hear it through the sizzle of the dish and chopping of the knife, Zeb heard a melody. Kal's deep voice became so much softer than what Zeb was used to. Sure, it could turn quite melodical if he intended it to be, he could even sound delicate if he wanted to but it was rare, less likely to experience than Chopper's genuine apology or Draven's smile.

But now, when he believed he was alone, with no one to hear him, Kallus seemed to let it break through his usual mannerism and habit of confidence even clearer. Zeb did not recognize the song Kallus hummed to himself, it was very different from the music he usually listened to or the tunes he grew up with. He's been in his fair share of the Galaxy, but he couldn't place the soft melody to any part he's been to. Still, he found himself enjoying listening to Kallus' voice murmuring the song, sporadically cut short for the man to catch his breath.

And the way Kal's voice pitched slightly higher in some places made Zeb smile so widely he forgot what he came to the kitchen for.

Edit: I'm gonna answer for OCD wip title but in another post, cause I ran out of time @sapphic-loser16 💙

#just a soft fic #about my babies #alexsandr kallus #kallus #agent kallus #zeb orrelios #garazeb orrelios #star wars #star wars rebels #swr #star wars fanfiction #wip ask game

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trashyswitch · 1 year

Text

Luigi's Secret

Chapter 7: Hashtag Tickle Fic

Luigi was ready to unwind after a long day. He pulls out his phone, ready to read some tickle fics. But Mario's brotherly antics end up revealing a huge secret Luigi had managed to keep for so long...How will Mario react?!

Here it is...the moment you've all been waiting for...😉

After a long day of work and the occasional tease from his brother, Luigi was ready to just flop into bed and read for a while. He just…didn’t feel like dealing with anymore distractions today. Plus, he had noticed that his favorite writer had uploaded another fanfiction right as his shift had ended, and he was just aching to read it. And now was finally that time.

Luigi jumped into bed and pulled out his phone, opening up Tumblr and seeing the new fanfiction that was uploaded 4 hours ago.

[A Predictable Friendship by TrashySwitch]

But…then he remembered that he forgot to read the other previous fanfic uploaded by her. So, he opened up AO3, and clicked the fanfic name underneath the friendship fanfic:

[Go Home, Will! by TrashySwitch]

Luigi read the hashtags one by one, and bit his lip as he hesitated to click the title. He was nervous that the fanfiction was just going to bring his lee mood right back to where it was earlier this morning… Because unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, these fanfics always seemed to do that to him. Everytime Luigi would read a fanfiction, he would end up in those awful lee moods…and they could only be solved by either reading fanfictions while daydreaming, or by actually being tickled. And the latter option was something that could only happen if he worked up the courage to ask. So…Luigi made due with the former option.

Luigi finally clicked the title and let the phone load up the fanfic. When it was loaded up, Luigi scrolled down and started to read the summary:

[William is refusing to go home from work, due to being slammed with so much paperwork. But Henry is having none of it. So he pulls an inconvenient prank on his buddy in an attempt to get him away from the work desk. And it works! Well...kinda.]

Luigi chuckled to himself with a big smile on his face as he read through the beginning of the fanfic. The chances of this fanfic writer actually writing about something realistic that he completely understands…is incredible. Everybody who works a day job would know what it’s like to have that one employee that stays a few minutes past punch out! And…if he were to be honest, the word ‘inconvenient’ was a huge understatement. It gets really annoying…especially when you really wanna go home, but can’t yet because of someone else.

Luigi kept reading through the fanfic, rather enjoying the playful banter these two characters had. And then one of the employees stealing the phone cord?! That’s so evil! That’s the equivalent of stealing a painter’s paintbrushes! Or a plumbers’ pliers! How does one do their work without that?!

And then the chase scene that resulted from the prank…He knew where this fanfic was going ever since reading the dialogue “COME AND GET IT, LOSER!”. These fanfics usually went the same way, but had different ways of getting there, which always ended up surprising Luigi.

[William widened his eyes in horror. “aAAAH-” He yelled before squeezing them shut. “OHNO-” William blurted out, hissing as he brought his arms against his sides to cover up his armpits.

“How long can Willy the crybaby handle being tickled?” Henry asked confidently.

“H-HENRYHYHY-” William’s wobbly smile grew wider as he quickly lost control of himself. “DAHAHA! DAMMIHIHIHIT!” William laughed, finally dropping to his knees. “WAHAIT- *snort* HEHEHEHENRYYYY!” William laughed, even letting out a snor-]

“You and those stories, I tell ya.” Someone said in front of him, taking his phone right out of his hands.

Luigi widened his eyes and reached up to grab his phone. “NO! I’m just getting to the best part!” Luigi yelled, growing anxious.

OH NOOO! NOT NOW! WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS?!

Mario moved the phone away from his brother’s hands. “What’s it about this time?” Mario asked, scrolling down slightly.

OH GOD.

“NOTHINGJUSTGIVEIT-” Luigi shouted, attempting to tackle his brother down and get his damn phone back.

“Haha! I’d like to see you try.” Mario teased as he scrolled down a slight bit more.

Luigi tried to prevent himself from screeching as he started to sweat from how anxious he was. No nO NOO! The last time Mario stole his phone, he had been at the beginning of the fanfic, where it looked like a normal story! And that was already too close to the reveal! But THIS TIME?! He was RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TICKLE SCENE! IF MARIO READS HIS PHONE EVEN A SMALL BIT, THEN-THEN…

“Geez- Why are you being so dramatic?!” Mario yelled.

“JUSTPLEASE-” Luigi begged helplessly.

“Please what? Please read it to you?” Mario asked.

Luigi gasped in horror. “NO!” Luigi shouted.

“Ooooh! Okay! I’d love to read it to you!” Mario teased with a smirk before scrolling up slightly. “Now what word did you last end on?” Mario asked.

Luigi was practically praying he could just melt into a puddle on the spot and sink into the floor. This CANNOT BE HAPPENING. HE HAD TO DO SOMETHING!

“Da da da- William dropped the shoe and-”

Luigi quickly started skittering his fingers in Mario’s armpit, hoping and praying this would get the man to drop his phone. Mario guffawed and doubled over, attempting to trap his hand in his armpit. “HEHEhehey! Yohou think that’s reheheally gonna stohohop mehehe?” Mario asked, a small wobbly smile developing on his face.

Luigi started blushing right away. God, even seeing Mario being tickled could quickly put him into a lee mood. It’s SO NOT FAIR!

Mario took this little moment of a pause, to start reading the fanfic out loud. “William dropped the shoe and…Uh…” Mario’s face started to change. His words trailed off as he attempted to read the fanfiction on his own.

[“Come here, you!” William pulled his foot underneath Will’s armpit and trapped the ankle in his armpit almost like a chokehold. Then, he started skittering his fingers on Henry’s vulnerable arch.

“eeEEEHEHEHEHAHAhahahaha! WAHAHAhahahahait nohoHOHOHOhoho!” Henry yelled-]

“Hee…he he- How do you even-” Mario attempted to read it outloud, but was really struggling.

“OHgodno-” Luigi reacted behind him, his voice wobbling and cracking.

“How do you even read this?!” Mario asked, letting out a laugh before continuing to read it to himself.

[“Lehehet me gohohohohoho!” He begged-]

“What…” Mario turned around to look at Luigi. “Is…this William guy supposed to be tickling Henry?” Mario asked.

Luigi squeaked as he felt his face go more red from both hearing the word, AND hearing the tiny explanation of the fanfiction.

Mario couldn’t help the small smile that was on his face. “And just to clarify, this is supposed to be laughter?” Mario asked, pointing to the dialogue he had just read.

Luigi only whined in response. He was hoping and praying this was just an awful nightmare he could wake up from…But he wasn’t waking up no matter how much he pinched his own leg. Mario knew…Mario had found out, and now he was going to NEVER let him live this down!

Mario chuckled and scrolled up to the top of the story. “Go Home, Will!…by TrashySwitch…” Mario read. “What is a TrashySwitch?” Mario asked. “Is her switch console so broken that she had to name her profile after it?” Mario asked with a laugh.

Luigi whined and covered his face with his hands. This can’t be happening. This CAN’T BE HAPPENING! PLEEEASE LET THIS BE A STUPID DREAM! PLEEEEASE!

“Hashtag it’s the working life for me, hashtag childish Henry Emily, hashtag childish William Afton slash Dave Miller, hashtag bad parent William Afton slash Dave Miller, hashtag only a small bit tho- This is just fanfiction!” Mario reacted.

Luigi whined and groaned, shifting his feet that were currently under the covers.

Mario widened his eyes and looked at Luigi with shock, before bursting out laughing. “YOU READ FANFICTIONS?!” Mario shouted, laughing again. “I THOUGHT YOU READ SHORT STORIES?!” Mario reacted.

Luigi let out a long, painful groan. He knew this was only the beginning of the end for himself. This was going to be the first of millions of teases specifically about this, that will leave Mario’s mouth.

Mario raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the hashtags. “Hashtag pranks and practical jokes, hashtag…tickle…fic-”

Mario heard yet another whine leave his brother’s mouth. Unfortunately, that whine would only confirm everything. Luigi was not only reading fanfiction…He was reading fanfiction specifically about tickling. “W-Wait…” Mario said, scrolling down a bit more and reading through bits of the story really quickly.

[“WhahahahAHAHAHAT?!” Henry reacted, squealing as the tickling doubled for him.

“You heard me.” William replied. “Did you want to be tickled?” William asked as he moved his fingers up to the top sole of his foot.

“WHOHOHO TOHOHOLD YOHOHOU THAHAT?!” Henry asked.]

Mario blinked. “Did…Did this Henry guy just admit to wanting to be tickled?” Mario asked.

Luigi whined and mumbled something.

Mario raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to speak up, or remove your hands from your face. I can’t understand you at all right now.” Mario said, attempting to grab Luigi’s hand. But Luigi’s hands were so tight against his face at the moment. Mario tilted his head, filled with enough confusion to last a lifetime. He clicked the name of the writer, and watched as it opened up to the profile. He hoped that the profile would help fill in some dots. Mario took a moment to look at the profile picture, before looking at the dashboard.

“Hi there! I’m TrashySwitch! You can call me T.S, or Pocket if you want to.” Mario started to read out loud.

WaiT- WHAT?!

“NonononoNONO-” Luigi reacted, getting up and reaching out for his phone. “PLEASESTOP!” Luigi begged.

Mario pulled the phone back, keeping it out of Luigi’s reach. “Nuh uh!” Mario started pushing Luigi down by his chest with his hand. “You can’t just take the phone and not fill in all the details.” Mario reacted. “So you can either let me read this, or fill in the details yourself.” Mario told him. Luigi stared at him with shock and fear. Those were his choices?! Either explain everything himself, or let Mario read it?! Luigi stuttered for a few moments, before reaching down and grabbing the comforter, covering himself with it as fast as he could.

Mario chuckled at the overdramatic reaction before continuing to read the profile description. “I’m a touch starved switch who is 70% Ler, 30% Lee. And I spend my time entertaining the moods by doing one of my passions: Writing fan-fiction! I am an SFW (Straight Fuckin' Water! XD) writer who mostly writes fluff and the occasional angst/comfort.” Mario read outloud.

Luigi let out another audible whine. No no no no no…Please stop…Pleeeease stop…

“Wait…‘mostly writes fluff’…” Mario looked at the blanket, and grew the biggest smile on his face when he heard a whine from Luigi. “Oh my god- these tickling fanfictions are actually the fluffy stories you’ve been reading.” Mario reacted. “These are the stories that make your face light up so much!” Mario reacted, laughing a bit.

Luigi shuffled around under the blanket, and groaned. Great…Now he knows…HE FREAKING KNOWS NOW. ALL BECAUSE HE LET HIS GUARD DOWN ONE SINGLE TIME-

“So Ticklefic…Tickle fanfiction?” Mario asked aloud. “Fanfictions specifically about tickling?”

Luigi squeaked and wiggled his socked feet helplessly.

Mario smiled a slight bit. The man then put the phone down and attempted to pull the blanket off Luigi. “Okay, you have a lot of explaining to do.” Mario told him.

Luigi squeaked and gripped the blanket harder, absolutely refusing to let Mario rip it off him. “NonononoNO!” Luigi yelled, terrified to show his disgraceful face to his brother.

“What’s a lee? What’s a LER?! What is a SWITCH?!” Mario reacted. “Who is this ‘TrashySwitch’ person? And why is this person writing fanfictions with tickle fights as the theme?!” Mario asked. “Do you know them?!”

Luigi groaned and attempted to kick Mario with his feet still under the covers. “Leheheave me ALONE!” Luigi yelled, pulling the cover off his own face so he could breathe cold air.

Mario dropped his jaw as he saw how red his brother was. And this wasn’t the same embarrassed color of redness that occurred earlier today, or in the past week…this was double, almost triple the embarrassment!

This was full-on humiliation!

Luigi whined and covered himself with his blanket yet again, already feeling silently judged by his brother. He was both whining, and giggling all at the same time. It was…both hilarious, and…almost sad to see…

Mario began to feel really bad for pushing Luigi to the breaking point. But…

Mario gently placed the phone right near the comforter opening. Luigi reached his hand out, grabbed it, and pulled it in under the blanket. Mario couldn’t help the little laugh that left his own mouth just from seeing that. He looked like a vampire getting his blade, or Golem getting his precious ring.

Mario then grabbed the comforter and went under the covers with Luigi. Luigi squeaked and covered his face shallowly with his hands so he didn’t have to look at Mario face-to-face. Mario only smiled and tried to think of how to continue this conversation. “So…” Mario started with a small smirk.

Luigi shook his head. “Don’tsayit…pleasedon’t…” Luigi muttered.

Mario raised an eyebrow. “Lee?” Mario said.

Luigi squeaked, whining and giggling at the same time.

“Ler?” Mario said next.

Luigi whined amidst his giggles, now kicking his feet lightly.

“TrashySwitch?” Mario asked.

Luigi visibly tensed up as he waited for the inevitable to happen…

“...Tickle?” Mario asked.

Luigi squeaked as his giggles went up another level, and turned himself around so his back was towards his evil brother.

Mario’s smirk only widened as he finally got the reaction he was looking for. “...Tickle tickle.” Mario started to smile somewhat evilly.

“MARIOSHUHUHUSH.” Luigi whined, turning back around to face Mario and pushing his shoulder.

“Ohoh my gosh, I’ve never seen you this embarrassed before!” Mario reacted. “Just the word tickle can make you react like this?!” Mario asked.

“N-No-”

“Tickle tickle tickle~” Mario teased.

Luigi shrieked and covered his face again, accidentally letting out a snort.

“Holy merda…Is this what a lee mood is?!” Mario asked.

Luigi snorted as he nodded his head. “Yeheheah.”

“How long has this been going on?!” Mario asked.

Luigi groaned and very slowly uncovered his face. “A year and a hahahalf…” Luigi admitted.

Mario dropped his jaw. “A YEAR AND A-” “I KNOW, SHUTUP!” Luigi yelled, covering his face again.

Mario bursted out laughing at him, absolutely loving this new fact. “This person has been writing tickle-themed fanfictions for a year and a half?!” Mario asked.

Luigi widened his eyes and slowly opened his phone. On AO3, he looked at the join day. “...Shehehehe hahad been for 3 and a half years…” Luigi admitted.

“HOLY-” Mario dropped his jaw. “HOW MANY ARE THERE?!” Mario asked.

Luigi whined and giggled helplessly. “Uhuhuhhhh…” He looked at the ‘Works’ area. “377…” Luigi admitted.

“Three hundred and seventy seven?!” Mario reacted. “That’s- THAT��S-” Mario attempted to do math in his head. There are 365 days in a year…730 days in two years…and 1095 days in 3 years.” Mario said. “So…Type this in the calculator.” Mario thought for a moment. “1095 divided by 377.” Mario said.

Luigi bit his lip and put it into the calculator on his phone. “She…uploaded a fanfic every 2.9 days.” Luigi told him.

“THAT’S INSANE!” Mario shouted.

“I KNOW!” Luigi yelled back, a small smile on his face.

Mario chuckled awkwardly as he tried to wrap his head around this new thing. “So…People like tickling so much that they write stories about it?!” Mario reacted. “And…my brother of all people, has been reading these stories a couple feet away from me without a second thought, for a year and a half now?!” Mario added.

Luigi looked at Mario, before looking down again.

Mario began to remember the little area that he read from the story.

[“You heard me.” William replied. “Did you want to be tickled?” William asked as he moved his fingers up to the top sole of his foot.

“WHOHOHO TOHOHOLD YOHOHOU THAHAT?!” Henry asked.]

Mario started to think out loud. “If she’s writing tickling fanfictions because she enjoys it…and you’re reading it…” Mario suddenly gasped and widened his eyes, before looking at Luigi. “Then does this mean you enjoy being tickled too?” Mario asked, smirking.

Luigi widened his eyes and groaned.

“So you read these tickle fanfictions because…you want it to happen?” Mario asked.

Luigi whined a slight bit…before nodding his head.

Mario stared at Luigi for a moment…before quickly thinking back to what happened earlier that week. “So…when Peach was tickling me and she threatened to tickle you if you tried to save me…” Mario started to explain.

Luigi looked down, smiling slightly as he scratched the back of his own head. “Uhhhhh…”

“You weren’t actually scared of her threat, because…you like it? And wanted it to happen?” Mario clarified.

Luigi groaned and started giggling in embarrassment all over again. “Mahahahaybeheheee…” Luigi mumbled.

Mario raised his eyebrows, before going back to thinking. “Okay…and when you went from ‘confident tickle monster’ to not even being able to say the word…was that real?! Were you actually struggling to say the word?!” Mario asked.

Luigi squealed and covered his mouth.

“Oho my god!” Mario reacted. “And…And when you used to annoy Dad so he would become the tickle monster…you actually enjoyed that?!” Mario asked.

Luigi paused for a moment and began to think. He wasn’t really able to remember his own thought process when he was doing that. Truth was, he didn’t even remember doing such a thing. But…now it made sense that he would.

“Ihihi guehess sohohoho.” Luigi replied awkwardly.

Mario widened his eyes. “Holy- That’s crazy!” Mario reacted. “So not only do you like it when people tickle you, you also love when people tease you!” Mario clarified.

Luigi whined a slight bit…before nodding his head. “But…only people I t-trust.” Luigi added.

Mario quickly kicked the blanket off the two of them, scaring Luigi in the process. Mario then pulled Luigi into his arms. “Then what are we even waiting for?!” Mario declared, drilling into his hips.

“eeEEEEEEEK!” Luigi screeched, grabbing Mario’s wrists as he howled with newfound laughter. He knew Mario was going to react. He knew it was going to either make or break his relationship with his brother. But…telling him actually rewarded him with tickles?! AND TICKLES TO THE HIPS OF ALL THINGS?!

If that was the case, then WHY DIDN’T HE TELL MARIO SOONER?! This was FANTASTIC! TICKLE ME! TICKLE ME ALL YOU WANT, MARIO! DO IT LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!

“Oh!” Mario tweaked his sides occasionally in the middle of tickling his hips. “And don’t think that just because you’re being tickled, you’re done talking. This conversation is far from over.” Mario declared.

……..Ohno…..

#luigi's secret #embarrassing #confession #flustered #the poor green bean #help this man #ticklefic #ler!mario #lee!luigi

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destiny-in-the-universe · 3 months

Text

The Promised Neverland x RC9GN Crossover

So, today was when the poll to decide the title for my new TPN x RC9GN crossover- unfortunately, it seemed that the poll ended in a literal tie. However, I’m leaning into titling it Everlasting Promise! I still have a lot of the crossover to work out because obviously this is not a retelling of the original TPN canon and unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be getting a lot of attention yet.

To be fair, when you take a very niche, almost dead fandom and then cross it with an anime I feel a lot of people forgot about, well, you take what you can. BUT I have zero intention to stop now-

It’s become something of a fun little side project and who knows, maybe once I advance on some other things, I can write a fanfiction for it!

Thank you to everyone who did the poll though! It wasn’t quite what I expected but I’m happy people decided to ‘vote’ so to speak!

To quickly summarize the current plot of Everlasting Promise, the Norrisville High students are in an orphanage- meant to be an equivalent to Grace Field- run by Marci. Randy sort of takes the role of Emma from the TPN canon, and accidentally uncovers the truth of the adopted children of his current ‘foster home’. Suddenly determined to free everyone, Randy - alongside some friends’ help - comes up with a plan to get out before he turns twelve.

As he begins to uncover the truth that went down a long time ago, Randy is now faced with being the current Ninja- having to defeat the demons and make it out to the human realm. Unfortunately, nothing is ever that easy…

Current Cast List

Randy Cunningham - 11, almost 12 years old. He’s meant to take on the role of Emma- as well as the Ninja which has different connotations than the RC9GN canon obviously. An adventurous youth who just wants to escape from the life he currently has.

Howard Weinerman - 11 years old. Randy’s best friend. He doesn’t really the take role of any of the TPN canons, but he thinks his friend’s plan to escape is insane and originally wanted no part in it. After a little bit of convincing- and realizing he might be adopted soon- Howard decides to help. If only to protect Randy.

Debbie Kang - 12 years old, has not been adopted through plot-logic/convenience. Has a role similar to Norman but not quite for obvious reasons. Debbie’s always been a bit skeptical of the orphanage though unlike her RC9GN canon- she keeps these thoughts quiet. Upon learning what’s really going on, she agrees to help Randy but their problems have only just begun.

Theresa Fowler - 11 years old. Information is still pending!

Marci - caretaker of “North Star Orphanage”. She has good intentions but she knows the responsibility she must uphold. As much as it pains her, she turns a blind eye whenever one of the kids never comes back or sends letters after being adopted.

The other characters will be added as the lore continues! If anyone has suggestions for who’s getting adopted out (aka who’s being Conny), let me know!

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railingsofsorrow · 1 year

Text

Memories

[peter parker x reader]

summary: you find an old photo album. and some other things.

pairing: p.parker x fem!reader; h.osborn x fem!reader

w.c: 3.7K

warnings/content: Angst™; description of headaches/migraines; mention of memory loss; a lot of crying & sadness & anger :)

A/N: heavy chapter this one 🤭. good reading, i recommend tissues. ps: the title of this fic is finally making sense. next week i'll post the last one!

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

❝ [...] autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

and I can picture it

after all these days

and I know it's long gone,

and that magic is not here no more and I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all.❞

Footsteps approaching made you blink away to get out of your daydreaming again.

“Found it,” Peter says, pulling a chair to sit beside you. He then sees you pressing your thumbs on your forehead, a crease between your eyebrows. His eyes soften slightly. “Headache?”

You nod slowly, refraining from moving your head too much.

Every time you had one of those... dreams, a migraine followed right after. It seemed to be getting worst day in and day out, you didn't know how to stop it. Although now, you were able to see small differences and you could almost grasp the voice. The boy's face still blurred, but his voice was starting to come alive in your head — like a word on the tip of the tongue that you can't recall for some reason.

He's real.

“Sorry, where were we again?” You straightened your back to promptly begin the assignment.

Peter Parker and you were assigned to do a project together, about a week ago. You are the kind of person that likes to starts things and end them as soon as you can, leaving nothing uncompleted or done half-way. But Peter had a lot of things to commit to this week. And every other week, apparently, because he always leaves classes abruptly. You keep saying it's none of your business. Because it is none of your business. You barely know him and you two aren't exactly friends — university colleagues, maybe — but seeing him arrive occasionally with a busted lip or a purple eye makes you want to go up to him and ask if everything’s okay. If he needs someone to talk. Just talk. Because that can help a lot.

There was another thing as well. His name. Of course there are millions of Peters in the world, the person in your dream with the same name is just a merely coincidence. An unfortunate one at that; you can't help yourself but stare at the warm brown eyes of the boy at your side and find something...

No.

Nothing. There's nothing familiar in a completely stranger because of a stupid dream.

You're seeing him everywhere.

“You're not wearing your scarf today.”

You look up from your scribbling, casting him a confused glance. Peter met your eyes but quickly forced his attention back to his own notes. He was always like this, could never meet your eyes for longer. You wondered if you made him uncomfortable.

“Your scarf. The red one,” he elaborated, clearing his throat. “I never see you without it.”

“Oh.”

Touching your neck subconsciously, you realized you were in fact, without it today. Peter's right, you never go anywhere without that scarf. You're attached to it. One of those things you can't explain, the feelings just has always been there. You couldn't remember who gave it to you, either. You just know it was a gift from a birthday of yours. Not that long ago, maybe. You couldn't be certain.

You find that your memory has been giving you trouble.

You made a mental note to search through those old photo albums your mother insisted you kept with you as you moved out. Nearly all of your life was in there. Maybe there's a hint from where you got your favourite scarf.

“Yeah, I... I forgot to put it on.” You said, giving him a soft smile.

That had been a lie. You never forget to put it on, it was practically another limb to you, but these days... something felt different about it. It was like you were holding onto something. You didn't even know what it was, but there was this longing, this pain, eating away at your chest, chewing every part of you.

It wasn't just the scarf. Of course not. You knew you were projecting on it. The universe knew you were trying to make sense of anything your subconscious was telling you.

“Are you heading out, already?” You ask upon seeing him organizing his stuff. Peter regards you with a quick look before vigorously stuffing something red inside his backpack that had slipped for a second.

“Uh, yes. I am, have to— you know. Stuff.”

You hesitate as he's about to rush out of the library, but you can't help yourself. “Peter,« You call out, attracting unwanted attention. But you don't care because he looks back at you. You ignore the nasty looks caused by your disturbance and steps closer to him, lowering your voice carefully before speaking. “Are you okay?” You question, placing a hand on his arm.

Peter opens and closes his mouth many times. “Why?” He croaks out a softly.

“Your left eye. You got injured, right?” You winde slightly at the invasive insinuation. Fuck it. “I've seen you bruised before. I just wanted to know if— if you were okay.” You carried on despite the uncertainty.

You expected Peter to explicitly judge you and tell you off for meddling into his life but he didn't do that. What you didn't expect him to do was looking at you the way he was looking. Gaze soft, a smile at the corner of his lips as if he had heard this phrase before and the warm touch of his hand on yours. You only realized you were still touching his arm when you retracted it, a burning sensation within your fingers. Peter's features twitched with guilt.

“I'm fine. I-I'm sorry.”

“Why are you...” Your voice died down when he left abruptly. “Apologizing.” You stayed frozen in the middle of the library for a while before realizing your stupidity, then you walked back, grabbed your stuff and left. The tingling sensation on your hand still there, but your headache was gone.

Photo albums were the reason you turned your room upside down. And where the hell were them anyway? You swore you brought them with you in one of your moving boxes, but the enigma was where you were keeping them.

“Why are you tearing our room apart.” You looked up from your mess on the floor to your roommate leaning against the door frame with folded arms. Grimacing, you greeted her.

“Hey, Stella. I'm looking for something, sorry I'll clean everything up after I'm done.”

She crouched down beside you, pushing away some of your things to sit. “What are you looking for?”

You sigh, “A photo album. More than one, actually. But if I find just one, I'd be happy.” You said, frustrated, throwing a few of your clothes at your bed. You had teared up your whole wardrobe. Nothing there.

She hums, grabbing a red sleeveless blouse of yours from the bundle of mess you had thrown at your bed. “If I find it, will you let me wear this to my date tonight?”

“You have a date?” Your face morphed in confusion. Stella had spilled her love life to you the first week you moved in and her main rule that she took very seriously — her words — was I don't do dates. They're so boring. And then she proceeded to tell you all about her favourite kinks. No, you hadn't asked. But you were weirded out that night and you laughed a lot.

She bopped your nose as she got up, “I do.”

“I thought you didn't do dates?”

She pointed at something besides your desk, “Try there. It's that box you brought that you asked me to never touch. Guess you haven't touched yet.” You let out a gasp and hauled your sitting frame towards the box. Memory box. That's what you called it. How couldn't you remember that? It was the only place in which your old stuff could be, you had reserved a little spot just for that. “Oh, and things can change, babe! I fell in love at first sight, how do you expect me to say no when she invites me to dinner? It's corny and it's cliché and I hate the idea but it's her so I don't hate it that much.” Stella yells out from the bathroom, sharing more details of her newest crush.

There it was. You think to yourself, a warm feeling in your chest to have found the old thing.

The dingy and washed-out green cover called out to you more than the colorful bracelets or the old letters. The pages were stained, too. But what makes your heart stops is the little boy present in most of your childhood pictures, someone who wasn't there before because instead of him laid an empty space. That cheeky grin, those dimples and that face full of baby fat. You were beaming by his side, his arm around your shoulders and your hands wrapped around his waist, your cheeks were scrunched together from how tight you were holding onto each other. Best friends — is what's written down behind the polaroid, in a messy childish handwriting. Yours, you recognized. The date was blurred but you didn't need it. The memory was as clear as if you were touching it with your fingers. How could you have looked at those pictures before and not remember every piece of him?

“You can't do it like that,” Peter scolded you, pouting when you tried to stand upside down again. “You'll get hurt.”The eleven year old boy said in annoyance when you tried it again and fell on the grass. Almost scraping yourself.

You giggled, wriggling your feet. “Why don't you do it? Scared, Pete? Such a baby.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “I do it waaay better than you and I don't break an arm because of it."

“That was one time!”

The next page had your parents, too. And his. The four of you were smiling at the camera as a puzzle laid at the center, nearly completed. Your mind pulled you somewhere else; a little further into the timeline of when that picture had been taken.

“Peter,” You knocked again after having no answer. “Peter, it's me.” May watched you with a sad look in her eyes, but you could see the hope dangling from her. ‘You're the only one that can get him out of this room on days like this’ — She'd tell you as soon as you walked into the apartment. That day had been the seventh anniversary of Richard and Mary Parker's death, it made sense that your best friend wanted to isolate himself from the world, but you noticed the light dimming from his eyes for days before. “I brought chocolate and Back To the Future.” No answer. You exhale and share a guilty look with May. “I can come back later, if you—”

The sound of the door being unlocked made your breathing stop. Although the handle didn't budge, you took that as an invite and entered the room quietly. Everything was reflecting his feelings and it was exactly what you expected to see as you surveyed the area in search for his light brown curls. Ignoring the mess of sweaters and t-shirts and smelly socks, you followed in direction of the mound of blankets, peaking below as you perched on the edge of the bed. “Hi, Pete,” You mumbled a softly as you spotted the puffy-eyed and red nosed boy.

“You brought chocolate?” He let out in a hoarse voice, stealing a look at your hands. You smiled.

You frowned when the images started to get stained with droplets of water. Tears. You were crying.

The next page had four pictures. Two taken by you and two taken by him. You remembered when they happened. It wasn't that far long ago. Which made it hurt even more.

“Did you just take a picture of me, Parker?” You gave him a playful glare.

May was traveling with some friends in that weekend and that left their apartment just for the two of you. Cuddles and baking and conversations about the future and teenage doubts. You were about to enter your last high school year. A lot would change, insecurities just gripped at your skin. You couldn't control the future, not matter how much you enjoyed the present. And you'd miss this. You'd miss being around Peter without being concerned about bigger adult problems.

But you didn't have to let that go, right? Not for now. You hoped, not for a far future.

“I haven't even brushed my hair yet,” you snickered, hiding your sleepy face behind your hand. Peter nudged your hand away, capturing another one. You objected loudly, standing up from your comfortable position on the couch to sneak the Polaroid camera out of his reach. Peter chuckled as you put the lense close to his face and said “Smile.” you clicked, giving him a look as you waited for the photo to clear up. “See? How'd you like that?”

“You're beautiful either way, baby. I'm not.” He pointed out as you surveyed both pictures. Your eyes immediately softening at the two of you. “See?” he grabbed yours, lifting for you to see it as if he was proving a point. “Beautiful. Showstopper. Perfect.”

The blush coating your cheeks were the indication he needed to carry on with compliments. Until you protested enough for him to stop.

“I love you.” Peter mumbled in the silence you had created in his apartment. Your back was pressed against his chest as a movie played on the television, one you barely paid attention to anymore because your eyes were almost dropping completely. “I love you more than anything in my life. I'm sorry that I can't keep you safe like I intended to.” He whispered the last part, not meaning for you to hear it, but you did. Shifting your body to meet his eyes, you saw his guilt upon thinking he had woken you up.

“You don't need to keep me safe, Peter,” You promises, touching his cheek softly. His freckles had faded a bit but by bring this close you were still able to see some. “You just have to come back to me every day.”

He frowned, “You're in constant danger because of me.”

“Not because of you. People don't know who Spiderman is,” You counterattack with mischief in your eyes. “That means I can enjoy both...” You peck his lips and feels him trying to supress a grin “... by myself. I love you, too. And you'll never lose me, okay?"

His hair darkened throughout the years, admitting a light shade of brown instead of blonde. The dimples and curls were still the same, that hadn't changed.

That hadn't changed.

In another polaroid, MJ's awkward smile at your side and Ned's excited persona at Peter's side told you this was taken two years ago. All of you were at the airport, just before boarding the plane for a two-week summer field trip to Europe organized by Midtown.

It had been five years after the blip.

“This is a stupid plan.” You told Peter.

He let out a long sigh, “I know, you've said that five times already.”

“And I'm going to say it one more time. We just found out that Quentin cannot be trusted, that he's dangerous. And you think going off on him on your own is going to be a good idea?”

“I'm not on my own.” Peter gritted. He was frustrated. So much had happened and the only thing he needed was for you to be by his side. But you weren't.

“Right,” you scoffed. “Nick Fury is on the phone. Who else. Captain fucking America, Peter?”

“Stop.” He said with an edge to his tone. MJ and Ned had left the room as soon as they felt the tension, they didn't feel like staying to see the bomb drop between the two of you.

“Well, someone has to tell the truth in your face!”

“What truth?!” He yelled, trying to match your tone. That was a new reaction. From both of you. You never screamed at each other, any disagreements were dealt with calm conversations. Your relationship didn't have much room to grow past friendship before Thanos took him away from you. “I'm trying to fix what I messed up. I'm trying to stop Beck and how do you suggest I do that other than going after him?”

“Stop trying to be the hero!” Your face was red, throat burning in rage. But there was something else, too. You were terrified. “Stop trying to prove something to someone that isn't here anymore, Peter. You're putting yourself in danger—”

Peter ran a hand through his face, “Don't.” His stern voice cut you off and the cold gaze he sent your way had you thinking twice about what you had said. “Do not bring Tony into this. This is not what this is about.”

Your whole demeanor softened and your anger dissipated like a melting snow. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“What changed?” He shook his head, staring at you as if he could see your bare soul. His eyes had dark bags from sleepless nights and you wished more than anything that he just rested for a minute. “You're being so difficult and I don't know what to do anymore.”

Your heart clenched — You're being so difficult.

You knew you weren't helping him. However, you grieved Peter Parker for five years. You laid in your bed, day and night, crying to sleep until your tears dried and your body begged for sunlight. Watching him go through the same situations as he did before the blip had your mind going back to that same place. Those empty days. Yes, you were being selfish. But you lost your best friend and your boyfriend at once. You weren't about to lose him twice.

You didn't know what you would do if you lost Peter again.

Upon noticing your silence, he turned his attention back to you again. His irritation melting into concern when he saw you crying silently. He arrived at your side as fast as he could, almost stumbling on his feet. “Hey, hey,” he cupped your cheeks, lifting your gaze to his. “Don't cry, I'm sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as you let out heartbreaking sobs. There was so much pain in your cries that Peter didn't know how to comfort you. Ever since he came back, he failed on making you feel better. What was he doing wrong? “I didn't meant to hurt you, baby.” he whispered, voice cracking because he was also trying to keep his tears at bay.

A lot had changed and the fault didn't belong to any of you.

“You didn't.” you buried your face into his neck, shaking slightly. “I just— Peter, I can't, I can't lose you again. If you go and don't come back I don't know what I'll do—”

“I will come back,” he said seriously, tilting his head to meet your eyes, “I promise you I'll come back, okay?”

“You promised before.”

Peter exhaled shakily. He had promised you this before. Right before he went up to space, stupidest idea he ever had. He kissed you on the bus and said “I'll come back. We have a movie night later, yeah? Wait for me.”

You had waited. Five years. And you had every right to not believe his words anymore.

“I know,” he brushed a strand away from your damp cheek. “But this is not the same from last time. And I-I know I can't ask you to trust me again. It's not fair. It wasn't fair.” his forehead fell onto yours as he shut his eyes at the same time he touched your face afraid that you'd slip away. “But I can promise you that I'll do everything in my power to always come back. Can you trust that?”

You nod, exhaling slowly now that your sobs had stopped. “Mm. I can do that.”

You were so wrong in trusting him. So wrong on believing that he'd kept any of his promises. Peter Parker was a fucking liar. The biggest of them.

And here you were, one more time, suffering because of yet another broken promise.

You let the photo album fall into the floor as you scrambled around for your phone. Opening your photo gallery, you scrolled hazardously through the library until you found those old pictures that made no sense. Previously you were holding the air, kissing the air or laughing at absolutely nothing. But now. Now he was there. The same face you saw today, exchanging ideas for a university project in the library. Warm brown hair and honey colored eyes.

That voice in your head during your dreams — which weren't dreams at all, it was your memories attempting to come back. Something that belonged to you in the first place, that should have never been tampered with— and the reason why it seemed so familiar. So close. He had been there all the time.

The missing piece. Peter Parker.

The tiny scar at your eyebrow only made sense now. Your fingers grazed over it as the feeling off betrayal resurfaced with the memory from that fateful evening. When you lost two things. Peter and a part of yourself.

“Peter,” you said, body closing the space between the two of you in desperation. “Peter, I don't want you to go.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he told you, hands wrapping around your back and squeezing you a bit. You started to sob.

You buried your nose in his neck as if you were scared you would never be able to do that again.

“Please, Peter. I don't want to forget you. There has to be another way, I don't want to be without you.”

The scarf was wrapped tightly around your hand, the photo album clutched on the other. Your pace was fast and certain. But you couldn't be more uncertain of your path. You didn't now where you were going. You just wanted to get out of that room filled with your past. Still, you carried the two things that would make you crawling back to it.

He inhaled sharply, “You won't.” There was certainly in his tone. He would make you remember, he had to. “I'll make you remember me. Hey,” he leaned away to cup your cheeks, smiling sadly with the waterfall in your eyes. “I'll make you remember me, okay? I promise.”

Maybe you should burn both. Pretend you never remembered anything at all and just let it go. Since your history hadn't meant anything to him, why should it meant anything to you? Why should you be the only one destroyed?

You sniffled, clutching his hand that was touching your cheek. “you promise?”

“I promise.” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I promise you.”

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

In your angry stupor, you didn't notice a car driving by as your crossed the avenue. It was only when the incessant beeping reached your ears that you blinked and froze, startled.

It had been too late, your body had already collided with something else.

a/n: the cliffhanger feels a bit like a telenovela but I promise it makes sense on next chapter. (harry comes back next chapter too!!)

#reader insert #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #broken promises #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #peter parker fic

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softquietsteadylove · 1 year

Note

Hi! I know it's been a while, I've got this li'l request? If it's okay? So I remember this Odin scene in Eternals where Gil said Odin taught him some drink or whatever bartending skills Odin taught him😂

I was thinking of Odin and his fighters/people resting on Gil and Thena's place and Odin offering Gil to live in Asgard as a thanks for helping them in the battle of Tonsberg or whatever that is 'cuz I totally forgot😭. And then one of Odin's knights/fighters saw Thena having an episode and of course Gil was quick to calm Thena down and Odin thinks/saw the threat Thena brought on Gil's life so he reminded him of is offer again, Gil said he would ask Thena about it and that's when Odin said that he couldn't bring Thena with him in Asgard because of the threat she posed (uhh yes, we slander Odin). And Gil immediately asked Odin to leave their place, because Gil would never let anyone disrespect Thena!!!!!!!!

Thena heard the whole thing and when they were having dinner, she asked Gil why didn't he accepted because he always told her about Asgard and actually considered living there.

You decide what happens next, so yeah this is kinda angsty request jsjshs. Thank you so much, not just for this but for everything...

"I have not tasted this since the great battle of Jotunheim."

It would be more apt to call it the battle of Earth, the war between the Frost Giants and Asgardians - with the Eternals to assist - taking place here on the planet.

But the Allfather was visiting for the sake of old times, he said. Supposedly he was doing his due-diligence of checking on one of his many realms of protection by dropping in on Earth.

Thena quite thought they had the planet under control.

Odin had even brought his young ones to inspect the planet tethered to their very own Asgard. Two boys, although the Warrior Eternal had distinct memory of whispers about Odin's 'fiercest child'. Surely the child making snakes out of rope and the boy trailing at her brothers' ankles were not the holder of that title.

She could remember being in Asgard, after the battle. It was beautiful there, the people under Odin's rule were peaceful and happy. Everyone kept addressing her as Valkyrie, which was odd, but she was unfortunately quite used to being called things by mistake at that point in time.

In many ways it happened a whole lifetime ago, and yet was less than a thousand years ago as well. His young ones had yet to become great warriors, as the old god was hoping and pushing for ceaselessly.

"I've tweaked the recipe--just a little," Gilgamesh smiled and laughed with the old god, the two sitting across their humble table like drinking buddies instead of two of the galaxy's fiercest defenders.

"You have altered my recipe?!" Odin thundered, and yet dissolved into laughter in the same breath. The lines in his face bent and accommodated the patch over his eye. "I could have you tried and exiled for such a thing!"

The two laughed with force enough to crack the bifrost.

Too loudly for the Warrior Eternal. Although she did smile as she rose from her seat. Odin observed as she trailed her hand from one of Gilgamesh's shoulders to the other, leaving with his mug to refill it from the larger vessel of brew outside the house.

Gilgamesh watched with soft eyes.

Odin cleared his throat and leaned forward, "and yet in exile I seem to find you."

Usually one to say exactly what he thought and felt at all times, the Strongest Eternal was silent. He took another sip, "you think?"

The old god looked around him, regarding the homemade - very literally hand crafted - house surrounding him, a far cry from the glittering opulence of Asgard's finest. "Is it...?"

Odin knew of Mahd Wy'ry. He had once stated that he could sense for more behind the Warrior Eternal's eyes than even a being of their life expectancy should have.

Gilgamesh looked around the home, candles flickering and casting long shadows around them. "We came here to be alone, together."

The old god made a face he might make at one of his sons. "Is that truly all you have to say, Gilgamesh?"

He shrugged.

Odin set his drink down more firmly, the way a ruler did when demanding attention. He leaned back and tipped his chin up, his white hair catching on the adorned shoulders of gold he wore. "My offer still stands."

After the battle of Jotunheim, Odin had extended the offer to Gilgamesh to come and stay on Asgard. His skill and strength was beyond renown and he had claimed that they would be honoured to welcome a warrior as fine as he.

Gilgamesh had said thanks but no thanks--he was happy on Earth.

Gil looked at the old god now, not even shrugging so much as rolling his shoulders, "my answer's the same."

"Your mission is done," Odin declared needlessly. "If you are truly not to return to Olympia then tell me why you would not agree to joining the echelon of the galaxy's strongest?"

Gil swirled around the suds in the bottom of his cup. "I'd have to ask Thena what-"

"No."

The air sat heavy. Gil inhaled, also setting cup down hard. "No?"

Odin straightened in his chair. "The offer is for you alone, Gilgamesh. The Warrior Eternal-"

"Thena."

The old god paused. "What?"

"She has a name," Gil reiterated, pressing his palms to the table as he pushed his chair back. "You've called her a valiant warrior, you fought alongside her, called her an ally of Asgard. But I've never heard you address her by her name. It's only ever Warrior Eternal."

"That is what she is," Odin snarled in the face of Gilgamesh's argument.

"And who she is," Gilgamesh growled right back at him, "is Thena."

The air began to fold and bend around the two forces of power in the room. Odin leaned on his elbow, fist on the table, "she is not sound, Gilgamesh. I will not bring a danger into my walls."

"But you would sit across from her in our home?"

"She is a liability to you!" Odin stood, forcing his chair back and his mug to roll and shatter on the ground.

Gilgamesh was quiet and steady. "Keep your voice down."

"Are you ordering a god?"

"I'm asking an old friend," Gilgamesh pressed harder on the table, letting the wood moan under his touch. "To not disrespect the woman I love."

Odin's face did not change. He was not happy to be ordered nor asked to do anything, whether by an old ally and friend or an enemy. "She is unstable, and I would hate to see a great warrior such as yourself fall victim to something as fragile as the heart!"

"Maybe yours is fragile," Gilgamesh scoffed, moving the table out of his way as if kicking a pebble out of his path. It toppled over. "It's time for you to go."

"Think about this, Gilgamesh," Odin far from pleaded but perhaps seethed at him. "Do you truly wish to make an enemy of the Nine Realms?"

The Strongest Eternal met the old god eye to eye. "Anyone who has a problem with Thena isn't welcome at my table."

Odin gave his old ally one last look of disdain, letting his disgust in the developments of the night drip off of him like mud. "It is always a shame to see a great warrior succumb."

"Thena has always been a better warrior than me."

Thena turned her head away as Odin took off in a thunderstorm of an exit. She sighed, "you just fixed the roof."

Gil shrugged, also looking up at the sky as the old god and once-ally made quite a dramatic exit. He bumped his shoulder against hers, "I can fix it again."

Thena looked at him, her eyes searching for answers he didn't offer to their guest. "Why didn't you?"

He had no need to clarify what she meant. He shrugged again, leaning over to pick up the table and then reaching for the broom. "It was never an option."

Thena let him put himself between her and the pile of shattered ceramic on the floor. She padded back to her chair in her bare feet. "It could be."

He ignored her.

"Gilgamesh," she attempted, but he swept the ceramic under his foot and then, with a glow of gold, ground it into dust. Then he swept it up to toss out the window properly. "Gilgamesh!"

"I didn't consider it then and I'm certainly not now," he grumbled, pulling the shutters closed against the evening breeze.

Of course he hadn't. Even after Jotunheim, even if they weren't still bound to their mission, he would never have considered it. Gil loved earth too much. There was too much to rebuild, too much healing to do. Their family was here.

Now their family was scattered around the planet.

He tossed the broom back to its place and slumped down in his chair again. He looked at her, "without you?"

Thena tried not to let her lip tremble as she whispered, "you could."

Gilgamesh did not indulge her misery, waving his hand through the air with a light 'peh'. She tilted her head, but he looked at her, shaking his head, eyes brimming with emotion. "How could I ever be without you?"

Thena blinked away tears of her own. Her other half raised her hand off the table in front of them and kissed it so gently it was like a whisper. "Perhaps you would be better off."

"Nah," Gil dismissed much more lightly again. He chuckled, "you think I wanna be anywhere but our little paradise here?"

Gilgamesh, the mighty and brave, champion of Athens and hero of Jotunheim and the strongest Eternal, much preferred his modest and hand built little shack. He had no need for Asgardian palaces or promises of Valhalla.

"I have everything I could ever need right here in front of me."

Thena smiled, almost laughing under her breath. She hadn't spoken a word since Odin's arrival. She leaned her head onto Gil's shoulder, "perhaps you are right."

"I am."

"You are far too soft for Asgardian warfare."

Gilgamesh laughed softly, running his fingers through her hair, "yeah, maybe. You seem to love me just fine, though."

#Thenamesh #thank you so much for the ask love!#Odin is...a bit of an ass #and it's not just the colonialism and genocide and exiling his daughter #it's not just the raising his sons alike but also pitting them against each other #it's not just the lying about adoption which is not cool #he just...seems like a bit of a dick #y'know?#but Gilgamesh is not here to stand for it #you have a problem with Thena you have a problem with him #the style for this one is a little different #I wanted short snappy sentences and very action driven #that's the way the question is being perceived #it's a yes or no #but Thena and Gil are so much more than yes or no #and it's with them that the world expands #you can always tell the mood of things depending on if we're in 'Gilgamesh' or 'Gil' territory #also it makes so much sense if Thena is connected to the image and idea of the Valkyries #like look at her #c'mon #I did do a little bit of research on Odin #so forgive me if I have some details wrong

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herrlindemann · 2 years

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LEGACY - October 2005, Interview with Oliver

'Rosenrot' is the name of RAMMSTEIN's latest work, which will be released exactly four days after this issue of Legacy on October 28th. A top placement in the charts shouldn't be taken away from this album. Everything the band has touched has turned to proverbial gold. Where is it going, the motor ship RAMMSTEIN, in 2005? The predecessor 'Reise, Reise' was just under a year ago and questions were allowed to be asked.

After the music journalists present were allowed to listen to the album twice in the morning, everyone later turned up for their interview. I met bassist Oliver Riedel for an intimate meeting in private. I hope I do not disturb you? “No, everything is fine.” Already a year ago I heard - at least that's what I think - one or the other song here, which didn't make it on 'Reise, Reise' at the time. The most urgent question first: How much of 'Rosenrot' was there at the time 'Reise, Reise'? “For 'Reise, Reise' we recorded 18 songs. A total of seven songs remained, and we quickly came up with the idea of making another album next year. But seven songs is a little bit for an album! In any case, the tour plan was already in place at that time and so the idea came up that we could write four more songs in the intervening, counter-free time. It ended up being quite difficult. Really new are 'Benzin', 'Mann gegen Mann', 'Spring' and 'Te Quiero Puta'.” Oh, the Spanish song is new? I thought this one in particular was left over from the last recordings in Spain. “No, that has to do with Till's interest in Latin America. He's in Costa Rica a lot and always annoys us backstage before the concerts with his Mariachi songs. Of course, it made sense that we would also write a Spanish song at some point.” Especially in this song I find the female singing successful. This is how witches should sound! “We said to the record company: We need a deep and smoky female voice. A bit 'slutty'. Suddenly a lady from South America was sitting in our producer's studio, singing her part and then she was gone again.”

All of the songs on 'Rosenrot' seem to take a step back compared to those on the predecessor. “Most of the songs that we don't release on 'Reise, Reise' are definitely quieter ones. ‘Reise, Reise’ had to be powerful for us! The idea then was to make the new album quieter overall.” Is it the calm before the storm? Is the MS RAMMSTEIN stranded, as one might assume from the new cover, or is she on her way to new shores under full steam? “Actually, the album should be called 'Reise, Reise Vol. 2'. We quickly forgot about that title. Since we see the new album as an independent one, we needed a new title. That was a bit unfortunate, since the cover was already finished. So the ship on the cover picture is now called 'Rosenrot' and everyone can think about what it stands for. Opposites? The cold world? Where has the love gone? No idea. But the ship does not symbolize the now and us as a band.” So on the one hand both albums belong together, on the other hand they don't? "Exactly. At the moment we are not planning an actual tour with our own stage design for 'Rosenrot' or anything like that. That will certainly change again in the distant future.”

Already with the last album I noticed that everyone can now show what a good musician they are. In addition, the band itself seems more relaxed to me. “In the end we were bored at times by the old and traditional Rammstein sound. Sequencer is running, drums play 'uff uff uff', guitar and bass play the same thing too. We didn't want to do that kind of groove anymore. It is also clear that the drums are looking for new rhythms. Our real strength is certainly the 'march', but you should always do what you feel like doing. Then you are authentic.” But you obviously have more fun together than when you were doing 'Mutter’, right? “Absolutely! 'Mutter’ was our darkest chapter. After a long time of touring we were at our limits, there was a real imbalance in the band. For example, it's nice now that Richard can make his solo record. There he can express himself musically in a way that he would never be able to within the band.” Was the band ever near the end? “No, it was only briefly put on hold. However, we quickly became aware of what we had already achieved and how the band can be missed.” Like in a marriage? "Somehow. But in a marriage, it's rare to just take a break. The positions are probably a bit harder.” How often do you bother? “If the points of contact allow it. Paul and I have children of the same age - that's where you meet. During rehearsals we see each other every day, on tour sometimes only in the evening and Richard is in New York right now — that's why you don't see him at the moment.” So more like a meeting in the living room. You come and go and if someone is there, then you are happy. "Exactly.”

'Benzin', the first single with a brutal video, fits like a glove to the current oil crisis. But it could also be a biker song. What does ‘benzin’ stand for exactly? “This is certainly a multiple topic. But fire is actually a part of our band history. It has been with us the whole time. Paul just went to Till and said 'petrol' would be a cool word. Can't you write a text about it? And that's exactly what Till came up with when he heard this word.”

'Mann Gegen Mann’ apparently has a same-sex background. It should be great when thousands of metalheads sing this song together at concerts. Because actually, in the metal scene in particular, prejudices are extensively cultivated. So why this topic? Is it just about the taboo or breaking it? “We don't want to discriminate against gays. The song is more for gays. We simply wanted to take the weight off the topic and make it more natural.” What should the fan take away from this song? “A normal understanding of the other.”

For example, the lyrics to 'Ein Lied' would force me to write a proper rock number. Then this piece turned out to be extremely quiet, with a nasty kid melody. How did music and lyrics come together here? “The lyrics are always hanging on the wall in the rehearsal room or studio and 'Ein Lied' was created in just 10 minutes. There was the riff, Till took the lyrics and sang. We recorded the piece and it was done. The text of 'Mann gegen Mann', on the other hand, already existed in the ‘Mutter’ times, for example.”

I could already read it in advance: the Brothers Grimm and Goethe connect in 'Rosenrot'. For me actually - as far as RAMMSTEIN is concerned - it is somehow obvious. “The news naturally wants to give us a level or a depth that we don't actually flirt with. Till has always used this old and romantic form of verse. That's why he doesn't just deal with the Brothers Grimm or Goethe all the time.” Are Till's texts untouchable? “Nothing is untouchable. If someone in our company spends a long time grappling with an issue, they are of course anxious to push it through. But it can also lead to tunnel vision and we only try to correct that a little. A lot of people had to listen to that.”

'Spring' not only has a wall of guitars, but also lyrics dealing with the topic ‘boss’ or 'the mean mob'. Is there a connection to the band? Is the song a criticism of the mob who are on the prowl and treating others unfairly? That's how RAMMSTEIN went before. "Clearly. The mob creates its own creature. He wants to push you in a direction. Therefore you are right.” Looking back, let's take the discussion about your first cover. “We hadn't dealt with this topic before. We were naive. Of course, that was good for us in the end. Otherwise our own aesthetics might not have come about at all. The discussions about Rammstein have never hit the core, but only aimed at the surface.”

'Rosenrot' masterfully knows how to damage surfaces and perhaps also penetrate deeper to the core. The ice has broken and the MS RAMMSTEIN is picking up speed again. Let's wait and see what kind of waters the men will sail into in the future. Perhaps sails will be set, perhaps there will be kerosene propulsion. You can be curious, because this band always causes discussions between love and hate. Where would the (music) world be today without RAMMSTEIN?

#Rammstein #Oliver Riedel #Till Lindemann #Paul Landers #Flake Lorenz #Christoph Schneider #Richard Kruspe #interview #translation #2005 #*scans #*

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iamstartraveller776 · 2 years

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Petrichor with Emma/Killian, please :)

Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground.

A/N: Thank you for the prompt! I hope a little Lieutenant Duckling will suffice.

In the Quiet Moonlight

Killian stumbles across her late at night in a secluded glade. This is the place he escapes to on occasion when his ship is in port—when the past digs its claws too deeply in his thoughts. She’s like a specter, her pale, slender fingers hiking her skirts up to her knees as she picks her way through the damp grass on bare feet. Her long flaxen hair is wild, glowing in the moonlight, and he thinks she might have been out in the downpour that passed an hour ago.

When she settles on a large worn boulder in the center of the clearing, when her face tips up toward the glittering sky, recognition makes an uncomfortable knot in his throat. He remembers the day his brother received his naval commission years ago—and the adolescent girl who had made faces at him behind her father’s back during the stuffy ceremony. A teenage Killian got an elbow in the gut when he snorted at her crossed eyes and wagging tongue. Her triumphant grin, more teeth than lip, was endearing, and for a moment, he forgot the asperity that seemed to have been inked into his bones from birth.

Her delicate features, once rounder with youth, have been honed with time, but they’re no less familiar. No less beautiful. She lets out a forlorn sigh, and he wonders what woes could beset a princess who has everything. He’s heard the tales, of course, of her impetuous nature, of the wild antics that gave her parents their graying hair. A sailor regaled the crew with the story of her stowing away on another vessel, playing a cabin boy for half the voyage before she was discovered. Another swore that he’d once been served by her under the guise of common wench in a seedy seaside tavern. Each account was more outlandish than the last.

But the rumors stopped some months ago. He supposes she’s finally grown into her royal obligations.

He spares another breath as a voyeur before deciding to leave her to her ruminations. He’s hardly in the mood for company himself when he’s in such a state. Unfortunately, his quiet retreat is stymied by the crack of a twig under his boot, and he curses under his breath.

She jumps to her feet, dagger in hand. “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

Her mettle draws a smile from him. He rather likes that his sovereign isn’t easily cowed, unlike the simpering political figureheads he’s had the disagreeable opportunity to bow before during his quests for crown and country.

Schooling his face to proper deference, he steps into the glade and offers her the expected obeisance. “I apologize, your highness,” he says. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Her lips purse briefly at the title, but she lowers her blade. “Yes, well…” She pauses, eyes narrowing. “I know you. Captain Jones’s brother.”

He swallows down the turmoil this familiar honor-by-association drums up. Sometimes he dreams of breaking free of the oppressive weight of his brother’s shadow. But he loves Liam fiercely; he’s desperate to make him proud. Particularly when it was his own flaws that nearly cost them this life of military glory before it could begin.

“Aye,” he replies. “Killian Jones, at your service.” Another bow seems to be in order, so he ducks his head.

The princess studies him for a beat, then nods as if she’s made a decision. She squares her shoulders and, despite her unkempt appearance, seems to become the very image of regal heir as she returns her dagger to its hiding place. “You may stay.”

Stay? He raises his brows, but doesn’t voice his bewilderment. “Of course, your highness.”

She rolls her eyes, nose scrunching in a way that is reminiscent of the impish child he remembers. “If you’re going to keep that up, you might as well leave.” She climbs back onto the rock and crosses her legs beneath her skirts. When he stands in place, she gives him a pointed look. “Well? Are you staying or not?”

He ought to go if he wants to keep his head—the king is notoriously protective of his daughter—but curiosity is a siren song he can never deny. “If it pleases you, your—” He cuts off at her glower. “I mean to say, as you wish…Emma.”

“I do.” She pats the space next to her, flashes him a small smile, and it’s the sun peeking over the horizon after a stormy night.

Odd that. He’s never short of comely lasses tossing him a wink and grin. Yet it’s never been like this, though he can’t name what this is. He joins her, leaning against the stone rather than sitting lest he has to make a hasty getaway. No doubt a servant or guard will notice her absence and come searching for her.

Silence stretches between them, marred only by the distant crash of the tide against the pebbled shore. He’s not keen to broach the quiet with frivolous conversation, but he feels he ought to do something. So he pulls the flask out from inside his coat, unscrews the cap, and offers it to her.

She eyes the bottle with suspicion, but accepts it anyway. It only takes a sip before she’s coughing and sputtering, shoving the drink back toward him. “That’s foul,” she says, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

He makes a noise of agreement as he takes a pull from the flask. The sweet, smokey liquor is an old friend, though as a naval lieutenant, decorum keeps him from becoming a lush. “It does the job of drowning your cares well enough.”

“Oh?” She turns to face him. “And what kind of troubles does a hero of the Nine Seas have that need drowning?”

Plenty, he lets his wry look say for him. “A mite more than a princess, I imagine.” The words are out before he can think better of them.

She laughs, though there is a brittle edge to it. “You’d be surprised.”

“Indeed?”

He notices her gaze follow him as he takes another swig of rum. She nearly snatches the flask when he offers it again. This time she only coughs once after a generous gulp.

“I didn’t ask to be born a princess, you know,” she says.

That’s true enough, he supposes. He didn’t ask to be born a pauper. And yet, “You have more than a poor sod like me could ever dream of.”

She makes a derisive noise. “More rules. More expectations. More responsibilities.” She waves a hand in the direction of the capital. “All that luxury comes with a price. My life has never been my own and it never will be.”

The defeat in her tone is a prickly bur behind his sternum, and he frowns. “What would you do with it if you were free to choose?”

Her eyes gleam with fervor. “I’d burn every damnable gown I own and only wear trousers.”

“Trousers?” He grins at the image it conjures. She’d look fetching in them.

“Yes,” she says. “And I’d sail away to find adventure. I’d command my own crew, and we wouldn’t be beholden to any crown.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “A mercenary, then? Or pirate?”

“An explorer,” she counters, gesturing wildly. “One who also comes to the aid of others.”

He gently pries the flask from her hands before she can pour out the rest of his rum. “Worthy aspirations, princess. But pray tell, how will you feed your crew?”

Her enthusiasm dips as she seems to consider his question. “I suppose we can take on cargo and passengers or the occasional job—so long as it breaks no laws.”

“Of course,” he agrees with feigned somberness. Truthfully, there’s a certain appeal to her fantasy. Perhaps when he finally grows weary of his regimented existence in the navy, he might chase the vision she painted. The thought has a tang of betrayal to it, though, as if he hasn’t the right to savor that freedom if she can’t.

“I’d…” she begins, gaze dropping to her skirts as she picks at the fabric. “I’d marry for love. I’d choose who gets my first kiss and who…” Her cheeks color over what she leaves unspoken.

The bur in his chest becomes a spiky vine twisting through his ribs. “Would your parents truly deny you a love match?” After all, King David and Queen Snow were famous for their own enduring devotion to one another.

“Maybe not,” Emma says, resignation bowing her shoulders. “But if there is a man with an acceptable pedigree that I don’t find revolting, I haven’t met him—and I’m pretty sure I’ve met them all.”

Killian can’t hold back a soft laugh at her candor, but he quickly sobers at the melancholy in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says helplessly.

“Why?” she asks. “You’re not the cause of my suffering.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t save you from it,” he says with all sincerity. For a foolish moment, he entertains the idea of helping her run off. But they’d be chased until the end of time, his own brother likely leading the charge.

“No one can.” She stares out into the shadowed forest.

He wants to turn away from the ache drawn in her features, but he finds he can’t. Why had the fates seen fit to lock such a fierce, vibrant soul in a gilded prison? Will all that passion be smothered one day by the weight of her birthright? If so, it would be a travesty.

She glances at him with a guarded expression. “There is something I would ask of you.”

He can’t begin to guess what it might be. “Anything, lass.”

Without a word, she grasps the lapels of his coat and drags him to her. Her lips are suddenly on his, and he’s frozen from the shock of it. As quickly as she ambushed him, she pulls back with an embarrassed apology. No, no. That won’t do at all. This can’t be what she remembers as her first kiss.

He brushes back the veil of hair that had fallen across her brow, hooks it behind her ear and traces a line to the hollow of her neck. Her breath quivers to match the erratic cadence of his pulse. Slowly, so that she can refuse him if she wishes, he leans forward, pressing his mouth over hers in a tender caress. Her skin is soft beneath his palms where he cups her jaw, her lips supple against his. That indefinable something swells in his chest as she slides her fingers through his hair, as she relaxes into the kiss. He’s never had an interlude so full of desire and yet so innocent before, and he wishes they could dwell here indefinitely.

But the need for air eventually overcomes them. The need for reality too.

She rests her forehead against his. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Words tangle on his tongue. There are promises he wants to give her—of the independence and recklessness she craves. But he can’t give them any substance. “Aye,” is all he has left to say.

She doesn’t speak as she slides down from the rock. He doesn’t chase after her when she disappears among the trees, though he’s certain she’s taken something precious from him all the same.

The Jewel of the Realm takes to the sea once more, and he ignores Liam’s concern each time his gaze drifts in the direction of Misthaven. Because it isn’t gloom that darkens his thoughts when he recalls the scent of loamy earth mingled with the scent of her beneath the stars. No, it’s the seed of a treasonous story that’s taken root in his heart.

The tale of a navy deserter who steals away with a princess.

~FIN~

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #lieutenant duckling #prompt #my fic #cs fan fiction #cs fanfiction

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harveyhawkscripts · 1 year

Text

[M4A] The Fortress Titan [DnD and Transformers inspired] [Fantasy] [Character introduction] [Runaway listener]

Google Doc

Usage:

- Okay for monetization

- Please credit me as Harvey Hawk :)

- Tweaks, improv, and pronoun changes are okay! Just please do not rewrite the script completely.

Synopsis: The listener runs away from home and takes shelter in a massive cave. Deep inside the cave, they find a fortress which turns out to house the spirit of the soldier Aurelian.

Key:

[SFX and Action]

(.) Short Pause

(...) Longer pause

(Voice instruction)

Word count: 1144

—

AURELIAN:

[Robot start-up / maybe gears turning]

(Softly) I am… active? How long have I been…?

(Out loud) Halt! What is your business here? How did you find this place?

(.)

Your voice. Are you a child? What are you doing here, little one?

(.)

Not a child, but young nonetheless. Too young to be wandering these caves alone.

(.)

I am… I was Aurelian. Now I am no less than the place where you stand.

(.)

Underground… castle? Not quite. In truth, young one, you stand in a mighty fortress. When you touched that panel, it reactivated me. I have been dormant for… tell me, young one, how long ago was the great Six-Score War?

(.)

I see… Then it has been nearly three hundred years.

(.)

You wonder how I am speaking to you? Understandable. I assume you have never been in a talking fortress before. The truth is, I used to be a person, just as you are.

(.)

You wish to know my story? Very well. But in return, little one, you must tell me what it is you are doing here.

(.)

Very well, then. A long time ago, I was a knight of King Amadeus. Like my father before me, I fought in the Great Six-Score War. And, like my father before me, I had little knowledge of why I was fighting. Though, it seemed no one truly knew what started the war, nor why it continued. It had been going on so long it was as if everyone forgot, and only fought for fighting’s sake.

(.)

Is that what they say…? Hm. And what do you think, little one?

(.)

Yes, greed does seem a more likely explanation. That is what the princess of the time thought, as well.

(.)

The princess was the smartest person in all the kingdom. At least, she was in my experience. And she was… everything to me. We met as children; she would sneak away from her studies and I from my training, and we would walk through the woods together, telling stories and chasing frogs. As I grew older, I fell hopelessly in love. I told myself I would rise above my station for her. I would someday be general, I said, and when that day came, I would ask for her hand. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Despite my efforts, it was not I who was awarded the title of general, but a close confidant of the king.

The king, having inherited a war, tired of the bloodshed. He called on his wisest scholars and strongest soldiers, on the great blacksmiths, and finally the most powerful sorcerer in the land. The sorcerer was named Casimir and was known for dabbling in dangerous and dark magics.

(.)

You have heard of him? That does not surprise me. He was incredibly famous – or rather, infamous – in my time.

Well, little one, the king gathered these people to come up with a way to end the war. And what they decided on was a weapon – a giant, devastating weapon that towered over the trees. One that could take two forms: that of a fortress, and that of a warrior.

For years, not a blacksmith, stonemason, or carpenter was spared from the grueling task of constructing the titan. Meanwhile, the sorcerer and his scholars searched for a way to magically pilot the behemoth. And lo and behold, they found one.

(.)

What they needed was a soul. A person’s spirit could be used to power the titan, and in theory they could learn how to pilot it. Casimir demanded a soldier give their soul to the titan, particularly the general. However, the king had great love for his general, and insisted instead that another knight take his place. In return, that knight would receive the highest honors as well as any blessing the king could give them.

(.)

Yes, I gave myself up. It was foolish, but… any blessing. I would finally be able to marry my love. I offered my soul to the sorcerer, thinking I would be in control of the Titan, but… Casimir put an additional spell on my being. A spell that took over my very mind and soul.

Unable to control my new body, I was under the sorcerer’s command. I razed villages and claimed land in his name. I could see the utter destruction I wrought but could do nothing to stop it. And when the opposing side was all but decimated, the sorcerer turned me against the king and demanded the throne. When he would not give it…

(.)

I tried to refuse. I was not strong enough. Under Casimir’s control, I destroyed… everything. The king, his army… the princess.

In the chaos, the king’s general was able to slip past my defenses. He slew the sorcerer, and I suddenly found my faculties returned to me. Dazed and horrified, and still bound to this infernal body, I hid here. I remained in my fortress form, dormant, until you entered and reactivated me.

That is my story, little one. But what is yours? What brings you to the caves deep under the mountains?

(...)

Your parents…? I see. So, you are dealing with your own war, then. My sympathies, little one. No one should be driven to run from their home.

(.)

Young one. I have been alone for hundreds of years. Perhaps I wish to make up for the damage I did years ago. Perhaps I cannot stand to see a child alone, as I once was. What I am trying to say is, If you wish to stay here, to find peace, then I will not stop you. However, I still do not have the energy necessary to transform. Nor do I wish to cause harm to this mountain. If you make this place your home, I will be your friend, but I can do little to actively care for you.

(.)

You still wish to stay? Will you be able to procure your own food?

(.)

There is a market nearby. Very well. Consider yourself welcome. I admit, I have never cared for a child before. Well, I suppose if you are old enough to find yourself here, you are old enough to be self-sufficient. Tell me, young one, what is your name?

I welcome you, then, my new friend. I promise I will care for you as best as I can, despite the limits of this body.

(.)

You are welcome, young one. I must thank you, as well. You have not only awoken me, but you were willing to listen to my story.

(.)

Then this will be a fresh start for both of us. From this point forward, I will be your sanctuary. I will tell you stories of old, shield you from the elements, and be a place for you to rest your head. You have my word.

(.)

Welcome home, young one. I hope you will be happy here.

END

#script writing #writing #asmr scripts #script #fantasy #platonic #m4a

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