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dilatorywriting · 8 months

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Oh, 4k? Hold up then, looks like you dropped this 👑👑👑

CONGRATS TO YOU, ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS HERE!! If I could partake in the event, I'd love something with Riddle and prompt 17; love my short red angry king and alice in wonderland in its entirety tbh. If the Reader could be a bit of a rule breaker too and have known Riddle since childhood that'd be awesome as well. Again tho CONGRATULATIONS!! HOPE NOTHING BUT THE GOOD STUFF FOR YOU!

Gender Neutral Reader x Riddle Rosehearts Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt 17: "I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You were annoying.

At least, that was the kindest way his mother described it. And Riddle would have to agree. Always hanging over his shoulder like some overeager parrot and rattling off nonsense into his ear just as loudly. He was hardly allowed out to the park—mother said his studies were far too important, and even as a child Riddle certainly agreed. Mostly, at least. Enough to never argue—but when he did get time to sit out in the sun under the shade of the grand, painted trees, you were always there.

A bother, a nuisance. Sticky fingered with the remnants of swiped tarts and chattering on, and on, and on.

“I tried to follow a rabbit,” you said, rolling around in the dirt like a heathen. Weren’t you worried your parents would scold you for mucking up the smooth, blue fabric of your jacket? “But it ran too fast and I fell. Do you think I could catch it with a net, maybe?”

“Hopped,” Riddle correctly, stiffly. “Rabbits hop.”

“Well this one ran,” you argued back. “Faster than a car. Faster than a cheetah.”

“Cars are faster than cheetahs,” he said, turning to the next page of his book. “So grammatically you should have put that part second.”

You flopped back onto your stomach and pulled yourself to your knees, before scuttling behind his back and peering over his shoulder.

“How can you pay attention to a book with no pictures in it?”

He hunched up his shoulders and you dropped your chin down with a bonk. Refusing to budge.

“Some of us don’t have the attention span of goldfish,” he sneered, turning his nose up at you.

“Well, if I could only think as much as a goldfish, I wouldn’t want to waste it on that,” you snipped back. “Doing homework in a park. What are you, a robot?”

“I’m efficient!” he snapped. “Mother says I shouldn’t waste time on frivolities.” On things like you, he doesn’t say. A part of him wants to. The part that sounds like biting words and a sharp, firm voice demanding he get to bed by 7pm unless he wants to rot his brain. Another part is… is worried that you might not like that. And then you’d just get even more annoying.

You reached around and snagged the textbook out of his hands with an audible ‘yoink!’ and immediately ran off at full speed. Which is never fair! Because you’re used to climbing up trees, and sprinting through mud, and scaling boulders like a wild beast. And Riddle is—Riddle isn’t! He would never! So it takes him an age to catch up to you. By the time he does, he’s huffing, and puffing, and as red as his hair.

“Don’t do that!” he snapped, livid. “Ever again!”

“Alright,” you shrugged, a loose grin on your mouth as you returned your pilfered treasure. You’ve barely even broken a sweat. “I won’t bother you during homework, Riddle.”

Which is… That’s certainly what he wanted Of course it was. But it made something in his stomach drop nonetheless. Probably because you’d just find new ways to be irritating. Yes. That’s certainly why.

The first time he felt it was on his twelfth birthday.

He’d tried so hard. And he’d done so well. His exams had all come back with perfect scores, his projects and papers immaculately graded. He’d been going to bed on time every night, combing his hair exactly how his mother liked, even folding his clothes into perfectly pressed little squares. She’d seen it in one of her cleanliness magazines and had lamented how nice the style looked for something so tedious. But Riddle had learned. And now his closet looked as tidy as a militia.

“Can I go? Trey’s whole family will be there. And it’s just dinner. Fully monitored!” he reassured, fighting the urge to twist his hands behind his back. “Please?”

“Of course not,” his mother droned, not even looking up from her laptop. “You’ve been doing well, but we don’t want you slipping up, now do we?”

“But—” he started, and her eyes cut up to him like daggers. A warning. “…of course, mother.”

“Good boy,” she smiled, with that smile that was never really a smile. “Now go up to your room. You can have an extra half hour of free time today,” she said, like it was something worth celebrating. “For my special birthday boy.”

Riddle had sat in his bed wishing he’d never known what a birthday was at all. And then there was a tapping at his window.

He opened it in shock, to see you hanging off the edge like a particularly determined cockroach. Which was—! No! It wasn’t safe! And you were going to get him in trouble, and—

But instead of opening that stupid, fat mouth of yours and letting of your siren call of a laugh—summoning every sensible adult in a five-mile radius to come checking for delinquents—you simply swung around a bit to reach back into your jacket pocket. Riddle almost lurched forward when he saw your fingers scrabble a bit along the ledge. Ready to fall. But then you righted yourself and gently deposited a little, paper-wrapped parcel atop of the smooth surface.

And then you shot him a wink and disappeared from view, no doubt scuttling back down the siding like the demon you were.

He approached it hesitantly, like one would an active bomb. He carefully peeled back the sticky tape and smoothed out the edges of the sloppily wrapped package. Inside was a small, round strawberry tart. Freshly baked, by the smell of it. And the waft of warm, soft steam curling up from the flaking crust. With a little note tucked beside it in your chicken scratch. A lopsided smiley face doodled at the corner, beaming up at a hastily scrawled ‘Happy Birthday, Riddle!’

He took a small bite of the little, perfect treat and his eyes burned. Something in his chest gave a worrying thump-thump.

‘Oh my god,’ he thought in a panic. ‘The idiot poisoned me.’

But aside from the horribly loud ticking of his heart, nothing else seemed to go awry. He ate the rest of the tart in silence, feeling lightheaded and far too warm. He wondered if maybe his mother was right about sugar and myocardial infarction after all.

Riddle didn’t see much of you the next few years. His mother doubled down on his study times, and he wasn’t even allowed to spend time with someone as responsible as Trey anymore. Let alone the person his parent had deemed ‘a menace upon polite society.’ The next time he saw you—really saw you. Not just your hurried waves from across the street or the trace ends of your bubbling laugh from around a corner—was when the Royal Sword Academy’s students had descended upon Night Raven for the VDC.

You were chattering away with Che’nya, the pair of you looking equally as mused and ridiculous. All splashes of raucous color and uniforms so out of place that one would hardly be able tell what institution you were meant to be a part of at all. For a moment he thought you’d walk right past. It’d been years, after all. And certainly you’d moved on to bothering some new stick in the mud.

But then you saw him and your eyes lit up. His chest gave another of those terrible thump-thumps.

“Riddle!” you all but screamed. And launched yourself at him like a feral cat. “How are you! Your hair is so neat! Did you grow out your bangs? Oh! Look at your cape! So cool! Did you know that we don’t get capes? I think that’s a crime. Especially with how yours looks,” you rambled on. And despite that lingering thread of him that demanded that you must be annoying, because that’s what you were. Loud, and uncouth, and everything he’d been raised to not be. The rest of him was… Warm. And happy, to hear the familiar chatter back in his ear.

He scoffed, hoping it would cover the noise of his pounding heart. “No one in their right mind would trust you with a cape. You’d get caught on every door in existence.”

“Oh, that’s fair,” you agreed on a nod. “But surely a top hat, at least?”

And then you were back in his life like you’d never left to begin with. Or, well, like he’d never left you.

Showing up at Unbirthday Parties with the tackiest serving plates and even worse outfits. Telling him all about the rabbit you finally managed to catch, and how it does run, Riddle. I swear. Bringing him trinkets you’d found in small shops that had no practical purpose to speak of. Breaking every rule in the Queen’s Book and smacking yourself on the forehead each time he shouted a stern reminder. You even bought a little notepad to jot down his instructions. But all it ended up being good for was an ever growing pile of doodles and little, folded, origami animals that he’d find tucked all around his room like secrets.

And amidst all of this, that thumping, bumping pressure in his chest just kept getting worse.

It was a warm day, not unlike the one all those years ago where you’d plunked yourself on his shoulder and stolen the textbook right out of his hands. Now you had your own book to read, some monstrosity on analyzing ravens and writing desks, with your head precariously close to his lap but not there. He didn’t even know why that bothered him.

“This book is too complicated,” you complained. And Riddle fought the urge to point out you were holding it upside down. “Both have quills. Is that so hard to understand?”

“That makes no sense,” he argued back.

“Of course it does,” you said, perfectly pleasant and sure of yourself. “But you know everything, so you really ought to know that too.”

He snorted. “I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“What’s fifteen times thirty-four.”

“That’s not knowing. That’s just math,” he argued. “And it’s five-hundred and ten.”

“See,” you poked. “I knew you’d know it.” You rolled over to stretch out on your stomach—reaching forward to twist a long blade of grass between your fingers. “You always know what to do.”

Something in his stomach turned unpleasantly at that. Had he known what to do when he’d cowed to his mother’s commands and cut you from his life? Had he known best when he’d turned away from your warm greetings and friendly overtures to hide away behind the unsurmountable walls of expectation? Worse over, did you think that he thought all those things were… for the best? That he’d wanted to push you aside like all your cheerful banter and sweet attempts to brighten his dull, miserable life had been worth nothing.

“That’s not true,” he finally said, stilted and near whisper quiet.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him with a curious tilt of the head.

“Of course it is,” you blinked, guileless and genuine. Smiling up at him from your place in the grass with that familiar, twisty little grin on your mouth and a brightness in your eyes that never seemed to dim.

“It’s not,” he said, a bit firmer. And his gaze flickered off away from yours. “I think I’m in love with you, and I don’t know what to do about it at all.”

Riddle wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Silence, maybe. The horrible, awkward, biting sort that ate away at his soul like a rat gnawing through his bones. Maybe you’d laugh at him, in that bubbling, carefree way of yours, and tell him that you thought one of those rules of his was never to lie on a Thursday afternoon. That would hurt worse than the silence, he thought.

But instead you just rolled back over with a flick of your wrist, like you were gossiping about the weather.

“Then love me,” you said, simple. “I love you. It only seems fair.”

“…oh,” he spluttered, face lighting up crimson and warm.

You hummed, as if in agreement. But to what he wasn’t sure. You looked him over for a minute, like you were searching for something. And then you reached for his sweaty hand with your own and twined your fingers there in the grass.

“If everything always made sense, nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't,” you said, like that was supposed to make any sense at all. “And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"

“What on earth are you on about?” he gaped.

You burst into delighted giggles and tucked your nose against his hip. “Silly, silly. Stop trying to analyze everything, yes? It will only make things more confusing.”

You sighed and stretched, a contented smile on your lips. You reached up to tap a finger against his nose.

“Things don’t always have to make sense. That’s what makes it fun. And, well, if you’re really that determined to be able to figure out how things are supposed to go, we can do that later, yes?”

“…Right,” he managed to eek out after a long moment. Feeling far too light and far too… too something. “Later. There will be a later.”

And as much as that would have felt like a lie all those years ago—had been a lie even—when he said it now you looked up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. And he couldn’t help but hope for all the tomorrows in the world.

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Riddle Rosehearts x Reader #Riddle x Reader #Riddle Rosehearts #My Writing #Writing Prompts

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valeriianz · 4 months

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Here’s another half-formed dreamling fic with them stuck in a snow storm while flurries currently whistle past my windows (and cover my screens in white).

Dream, sitting on the floor of his kitchen, surrounded by candles because the power is out, and sipping a glass of red wine. He’s bundled in a blanket and desperately failing to conserve battery on his phone, by texting Hob, who’s also lost power.

Dream slouches back against his oven, of which the burners are on to give off some blessed heat (thank God his oven is gas), while he reads the latest message from Hob, lamenting how bleeding cold it is in his own apartment, a newly renovated chrome building on the edge of the city, where everything, including the heat, was electric.

Dream mourns for him, even though Hob makes light of the situation with his witty texts and flirtatious hints of how Dream could warm him up.

They’d only been on a handful of dates, not yet fallen into bed together… Dream awkwardly explaining to Hob that it took a while, if at all, for sexual attraction to form within a new relationship. Hob had, surprisingly, taken it in stride. Becoming patient and thoughtful, always communicating, and never pushing Dream’s limits.

It was refreshing, and– to Dream’s complete surprise– he’d found himself falling hard for the other man. Who knew a simple acknowledgment to boundaries would get him so wound up? His pulse quickened with every smile Hob gave him, his stomach tying itself in knots whenever Hob would take his hand, and his brain completely shutting off when Hob would kiss him. Chaste things that had progressively turned more and more heated with every encounter. Promising something more and more each time they met.

Currently, the sounds of his windows rattling from the flurries outside fill his dark apartment, along with the flutter of the open flames on his stove, and the quiet drip, drip, drip of the kitchen tap (to prevent frozen pipes, Dream had learned that lesson the hard way last winter).

After about an hour of texting Hob, Dream nearly halfway done with the bottle of wine, he receives a text that makes his heart jump.

So, what if i told you im actually outside your building?

Dream stood up so suddenly the candles around him nearly snuffed themselves out.

He yanked on his boots and pulled on his oversized winter coat, stumbling to his front door and marching down the stairs of the apartment complex he resided in, the age of which you could smell in its walls, see in the cracks and warps in the wooden floors. He made it down to the entrance and pulled open the door, the ice cold wind smacking Dream in the face immediately.

But then he saw a smudge of brown in the whiteness approaching. Dream kicked down the snow that had piled up at the door and waded forward in knee deep snow to meet Hob halfway and help him past the threshold.

Once the door slammed shut behind them, Dream took a proper look at Hob.

“You look like the abominable snowman.”

Hob laughed. He was absolutely covered in snow, piled high on his shoulders, his boots, even on his eyelashes.

“I feel like one.” Hob said, his voice cracked and breathless.

Once they’re back inside Dream’s apartment, and Hob’s outer layers have been stripped off and hung in the shower to drip dry, Dream sets off to boil water on the stove top for tea.

They sit on Dream’s couch, sharing a blanket and sipping tea while Dream admonishes Hob for coming out in the middle of a storm. What was he thinking?? To which Hob just shrugs and curls his nearly numb fingers around the hot mug, snuggling even further into Dream’s side and sighing.

“Worth it, to see you.”

“You’re insane,” Dream says, but smiles through it.

Hob’s skin glows with the orange and yellow flickering of the candles, his features softening and barely noticeable in the limited light. But Dream knows them by now. Knows the curve of Hob’s thick, dark eyebrows, down to the scruff of his jaw, and back up to the prominent shape of his nose. He’s always handsome, but right now, shadowed in soft light and his cheeks still pink from the cold, he’s lovely. And Dream can’t help but set his mug down, taking Hob’s as well, and kissing him.

His lips arm warm from the tea, and he tastes of lavender and honey, and it makes Dream want. Want to climb onto Hob’s lap and crawl inside him. Make a nest for himself– warm and safe and cared for under Hob’s breast bone. There he could listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart, how it thunders now, under Dream’s hand as he caresses down Hob’s sweater and gets teasing fingers under the hem, touching the soft flesh of his hips and stomach.

Hob moans into his mouth, making Dream’s skull vibrate and he nearly gives in, something dark and unknown swirling in his lower belly that drives his fingers to press harder, feel the texture of Hob’s skin, the smattering of hairs at his stomach, but he forces himself to slow down, to take it easy, to enjoy and luxuriate in what they have now.

Hob, miraculously, follows along. His own hands cupping each side of Dream’s head and only getting his fingers in his hair, matching Dream’s pace, kissing back with no intention of more unless Dream initiated. Moving his mouth at Dream’s pace, breaking apart and nudging his nose and lips under his jaw and nuzzling behind Dream’s ear and making him shudder pleasantly.

“Dream, Dream…” Hob mumbles, seemingly content in just kissing, just holding one another. “I could do this for hours.”

Dream grips the hem of Hob’s sweater, holding tightly as to prevent himself from ripping it off Hob. Another time, very soon, he knows. Dream has every intention to give into the temptation that is Hob Gadling, but the waiting is so much more fun. The anticipation, the slow understanding of his own feelings brimming up to the surface, will be that much more satisfying when he’s certain Hob will reciprocate them.

Hob just might love him back, right now. But Dream waits. Though, he does allow himself a confession:

“I could do this forever.”

#and then they roasted marshmallows on the stove #and snuggled in bed and it was perfect #dreamling #hob x dream #ace/demisexual Dream #it's cold as balls here and oh how i wish for a Hob Gadling of my own #my writing

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therosebunpost · 1 year

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Okay so, this idea has been rattling around in my brain and I wanna share it with you-

MDI! this will have 18+ content!

But okay, AU with Older! Steve in his 30s or early 40s, but Reader and Eddie are in their 20s! Eddie made it big as a rock star, so he buys you guys a nice house in a fancy neighbourhood which coincidentally is next door to Steve.

You both just boldly flirt with him all the time as a couples activity. But your also just menaces, so he has a love hate relationship with the two of you. Your loud music and parties give him a headache, but he also can't forget how he used to be at your age. Still, he'd love to give you both a little discipline for once.

Especially when you flirt too much with him, or leave your bedroom window wide open so Steve gets a clear view of you two in bed. Uncaring if the whole neighborhood hears you screwing.

I have one idea, where you guys trespass and use his pool when you think he's asleep, only for him to come out and find you guys screwing in there too! Hes one hell of a sight too. Glasses perched on his nose, strong arms crossed over his hairy chest as he peers down at the two of you. Not to mention his gray sweatpants look so good on him. No wonder its so easy to follow him back into his house. After all, he's got a big enough bed, and the three of you need to discuss you trespassing on his property. Ideally with you wedged between him and Eddie because he can't get over the way you sound.

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #eddie munson #rosepetaltrail #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #steve harrington x reader #stranger things hc #older!steve x reader #older!steve #steddie #steddie x reader #steve x reader x eddie #eddie x reader #eddie x steve

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sirthisisa-wendys · 1 year

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hiiiiiii hellooooooo!! can i request part 2 of start over : rindou x reader? i love it so much! i wanna know what happen after rindou comes home. what will happen to reader? does he treat reader good after the argument. or reader get treated even worse than before? and i would like to know what will reader do next. will she stay with rindou, or leave him? or maybe rindou realizes his mistake and changes? i hope u have a nice day! and sorry for my bad English :)) <3

Done done and done!

Start Over (Part 2): Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: smut, angst, drugs

masterlist

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

The table in the foyer thumps against the wall as Rindou grips your hips and fucks into you from behind.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. "Fuck..."

If you were to look up, you'd see your reflection: tired, eyelids dropping, hair wrapped around your husband's hand. And Rindou would look back at you with his soulless eyes, each supporting two black holes willing to swallow you whole.

Thunk... thunk...

"Ah," Rindou hisses, baring his teeth as he cums inside you. The rattling of the table stops, and Rindou's hand releases your hair slowly. He says nothing as he pulls out, leaving you dripping on the freshly-cleaned tile floor. He zips up, smooths his hair, and straightens his jacket.

"I'll be back home at seven."

You press your hands against your forehead and remain bent over at the waist, knuckles turning stark white as your fingers ball into fists. You can't hear the door shut over the incessant ringing in your ears or the shame flooding your brain. You don't even feel anything anymore. It's just you in that damned prison, cum sliding down your thighs as Rindou makes his way toward his job, and you remember your place in his house as his wife.

You only move from your position when you remember the maid is coming soon, and that barely spurs you into action to clean up or make yourself look presentable.

The woman is barely thirty, but she knows your situation better than most, it seems. Most mornings, she makes you green tea instead of coffee and helps rearrange whatever furniture has been displaced - whether out of Rindou's anger or lust, it didn't matter.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, you find her wiping the foyer clean and bent over where you stood earlier, swiping at the floor carefully. You say nothing as you pass by her, but that doesn't mean you're not sharing any thoughts or knowing glances.

The day is empty - void of meaning until Rindou reappears with his bored look and neediness. Your days are spent roaming about the house, doing mundane things like reading or sunbathing, and not thinking about much else.

When the baby finally reached the age where he could be sent to a care center, you did it immediately. Why raise a child in such a hostile environment? What good would that do except breed resentment in a house full of it?

"Sorry, Mrs. Haitani," the maid interrupts your thoughts. "I haven't cooked breakfast yet. Would you--"

"No," you reply, sipping at your tea. "I'm not hungry." The woman pauses, but shuffles off in the end, leaving you to mope about. And for the second time today, a thought breaches your false sense of peace.

I could leave.

This thought is a daily occurrence, almost like clockwork with its precision and volume. Every day, you think about it at least twice. And every day, you glance at the cameras set up to monitor the house... from the inside. And every day, you shrug the idea off. If you wanted to leave, it would have to be well-planned. But every time you tried to plan it, Rindou would ease up for some reason. He'd nuzzle your neck and kiss you to death in the evenings, then murmur sweet words to you at night and kiss you goodbye in the mornings.

And it would all be perfect for a little while until--

Your phone rings suddenly. The only number that's allowed to call in or that you're allowed to call pops up, and you press the device to your ear. "Yes?"

"I want to go out to eat tonight," Rindou croons, and you can visualize the smile on his face. "I'm thinking... Nobu."

Your stomach growls at the thought of sushi, and you huff a laugh. "What time?"

"You pick, baby. I want you to dress up. Can you wear the green dress tonight?"

"How about eight o'clock?"

"Sounds good. See you soon, my love." The sick feeling returns when you hang up the phone and turn to look at the stairs. As you travel up the steps, you recollect something you found in Rindou's things as you did the laundry. It was a small but fancy pill case, and five pressed, white pills lay inside with numbers on both sides.

You'd left it alone out of fear, but as your mind works, you reason just one couldn't hurt. Whatever it was, if it came from who you assume it came from, then perhaps it was something like a Xanax tablet or... whatever else Bonten sold. Rindou had never been visibly hyped up in front of you, and if these were his pills, well... maybe you would understand him better.

You slip one into your mouth without overthinking it and wander into the closet, intent on looking for your green dress out of the million and one others.

But soon, your head begins to swim, and you feel dizzy. You stumble, hands grabbing whatever to steady yourself, and a box of shoes comes tumbling down onto the floor in slow motion. Your body pitches and your vision dances, and before you can cry out for help, a deep sense of euphoria washes over you.

And you feel good.

Whatever Rindou has been hiding, you muse. This... this is different.

You lay on the floor and sink even deeper into the feeling, allowing the brief moments of reprieve and pleasure to wash over your body. "Rindou," you murmur, blinking slowly. "Rindou, you never told me you were hiding something that would finally make me feel good..."

Unbidden, his face swims in your vision, and you try to wave it off, but your fingers touch the skin, and Rindou's face isn't happy. His black holes for eyes are worried, but you see no reason for that. You finally feel good. Why would he ruin this for you by being upset?

"How long have you been laying here?" you hear him yell, but your body doesn't respond to him like it usually would.

"Don't know," you admit, trying to shrug. "Don't care."

"Fuck." Rindou disappears, then reappears with the pill case, his eyes searching yours frantically.

"Why are you so upset?" you wonder, but Rinodu isn't listening. Instead, he's squinting at the pills. "You need your glasses." He still doesn't respond. "Don't you hear me talking to you?"

"Where did you get these?" His voice is sharp, cutting through your pleasant emotions with bitterness.

"Your pockets," you reply, smiling. "You brought them to me." Rindou closes his eyes, inhales, then exhales deeply. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Rindou finally says, his eyes opening. "No, I'm not mad."

"Good. I'm hungry. Are we still going to Nobu?"

"No," he repeats.

"But I'm hungry. I'll even wear the dress if we--"

"No," Rindou says a third time. You shift up a little, trying to feel your muscles. "We can't now. Let's get you to bed." You protest a little as Rindou picks you up, but you're quickly silenced as your feet drag across the carpet and into the bedroom once again. Rindou tucks you into the bed with care, patting the covers and sitting beside you. There's a look in his eye you can't describe, but it's enough to make you wish you could.

"'M sorry," you slur, mouth forming a slight pout.

"No, I'm sorry." Rindou pats your hand absentmindedly, staring off into space as you blink. "You should rest for a while. I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

You can't help but nod. Rindou stays there - you feel him shift only a few times, but overall, he remains there in silence. You're not sure when you drift off, but when you awaken, the room is dimly lit, and Rindou is beside you, reviewing documents in his pajamas.

"Rin," you croak, throat aching for water. He senses your need immediately and produces a water bottle, uncapping it for you to take and drink from. The effects from the pill are abating, and feelings come back to you like a trickle of water flowing through a crevice. "What did I take?"

"Doesn't matter," he grunts, stroking your hair. "It won't happen again."

"But--"

"It won't. Happen. Again." The short words he has with you make you sink into the bed. He returns to his papers, though the hand on your head doesn't stop petting you carefully. "Get some sleep for me."

You have no choice but to obey.

#rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut

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dulcewrites · 7 months

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Seek and Destroy

Summary: Alicent swears she is not naturally a cruel person. Any semblances of cunning or coldness has been taught, slowly and surely. A gift bestowed to her from the age of ten and five. Something she was weened onto like a babe that suckles for milk from its mother. She has learned at the feet at the best - or maybe the worst. King’s Landing has fallen to Rhaenyra. Her children are scattered around the realm. Lives have been lost already. Alicent’s heart has finally callused. Nothing left but a shell and the venom that seeps out of it.

A/N: This is just something I have been working on. It is not finished obvi. I don’t know if I will expand on it. If I do I will probably post it to ao3

Her father’s blood had splattered into her mouth when she cried out. At first, Alicent did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her body shake in worry. Bones rattling together under neath sheathed of silk. Green silks. Or let them take glee in seeing fear in her eyes. She wanted to stand tall as the execution begun. Her father being first to go was for a reason.

Even in his doom, Otto Hightower managed to make his presence looming.

Alicent wanted not to shed a single tear. But then she felt ten and eight again. Just a girl with two children, and burden pressed firmly on her chest to the point where it was hard to breathe. He was unruly and fickle but without him, she would be alone… again.

Her brain settled between ‘This is all his fault. His debt comes due, as it should’ and ‘Daddy, please look me. Tell me you love me, that I made you proud despite of how it ends for us’.

But all her father told her was to look away. As if to shield her from a terror that had already came. A terror he brought. The horror was on their doorstep now. She was rutted in each night against her wishes; she bore four children - ones she could not save. They bore her grandchildren that she loved in a way she was not able to love her own children. Maybe if she could not help her own, she could do better with the littlest ones.

Jaehaerys. Oh, my poor Jaehaerys.

Everyone is gone. If not in person, in spirit.

Gwayne is gone. Her brother dragged into this mess. When he had arrived in King’s Landing, she has almost missed him amongst the other Oldtown knights. Her heart had sunk lower that she thought it could at the thought of not even recognizing her own kin. His face was one that was no longer burned in her brain.

Helaena’s mind and heart has been rotted from the inside out. On a good day, Alicent can force her to eat and drink. She bathes her daughter as if she still a babe. There is no light in Helaena’s eyes.

Alicent’s mouth feels as if a pile of sand has been dumped in her mouth if she thinks too long about how cold she was when Aemond left for the Riverlands. He gave her a kiss a cheek and muttered a pitiful sorry.

It was all he had said since coming back from Storm’s End. Different variations of the same thing. He never begged for forgiveness from the Gods but from her.

Sorry, mother. I’m so sorry mother.

If she could crush skulls with her bare hands, Alicent would. Not off strength, she’s always been a slip of a woman. But off the hatred that seemed into her bones.

She was prepared to die. She thinks she has been from the moment Viserys said he would marry her. From the moment the maester congratulated her on being pregnant with Aegon. Death had been a thing she even welcomed at times. When the lonliness felt too deep, when she could not stomach being called to Viserys chambers at night, when she had to look at her children for too long. She eyed Criston’s sword one too many times to admit. So, when Daemon leers over her with that cruel, ugly smile of his, she straightens her back and sniffs away her tears. He, of course, got the honors to kill her father; a task Alicent is sure he has wanted to do for decades.

It was Daemon who pushed her hair to the side with such gentleness it made her a bit sick. The coolness of Dark Sister pressed softly against her neck.

Alicent says a quick prayer to the Mother for her children. She knows it is to no veil; they were doomed the moment they came out of her. Mayhaps, this is her punishment for bearing them.

She does not sob over herself. Her lot in life has been well accepted. But Alicent wants to claw at her own face, peel back her own flesh so she is frayed out, when she thinks of her kids.

Let the Mother keep them safe as they do what is only imaginable in their wildest nightmares. May the horrors committed not leave them too soiled.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out in the Grand Hall. It echoes so loud that Alicent flinches, the blade swiping gently against her neck. She still shivers from head to toe.

Daemon huffs, before removing the blade cautiously.

Alicent peers up at the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra gestures softly to her husband to come up the stairs. Daemon does not fully sheathe Dark Sister but complies anyway. A piece of Alicent’s hair obstructs her view, but through it, her eyes stay trained on Rhaenyra. Or whoever the person wearing the crown is.

The woman looks like the Rhaenyra. The same long silvery blonde hair styled elaborately on top of her head with the rest hanging in a braid. Her long riding dress is a deep black with red stitching and a red dragon collar. Red and purple dragons snaking their way up her sleeves. The woman has Rhaenyra’s eyes and nose, but Alicent has never felt more confused about who stands at the feet of the Iron Throne. The woman’s mouth pinches the way a young Rhaenyra’s would when she was distressed.

Rhaenyra’s look makes Alicent think of the stories of warrior queen Visenya. Rhaenyra would often laud the might and cunning of her ancestor. After the pain, humiliation, and anger post Aemond’s losing his eye, Alicent had chucked softly to herself, in the privacy of her chambers. at the thought her son riding the Conqueror Queen’s beloved dragon. Because of course it would be one of her kids to claim the old bitch.

But despite the styling callback, a warrior Rhaenyra is not.

And based on the look of disgust settling on Daemon’s face, he thinks the same of his wife.

He will never see you as an equal, she wants to call out. It does not matter how many crowns you put on your head, how many dragons you claim - you always just be his little niece… a silly woman. The means to his end.

Their conversation reaches a cacophony and Alicent desperately wants to know what it being said. Is Rhaenyra asking him to make it as gruesome as possible? Maybe they will drag her body out in front of the castle for all the small folk to see. A warning for what can happen if they defy their queen. Alicent already knows the heads of those that helped Aegon and his kids escape will be next once they catch them.

Rhaenyra reaches out to grab Daemon’s arm, but he is already down the stairs muttering expletives out his mouth. Alicent hears the word whore, and scoffs internally. She fights back a sad smile that almost forces itself on her face. Not the first time she has heard that, and surely will not be the last. Poor Daemon has never been clever with his insults. They are as simple as he is. She is the nasty deceitful, whore that seduced Viserys and ruined everything. Used her wily, womanly magic, her cunt, to lure the King of the Fucking Seven Kingdoms into submission. She always noticed how Daemon always acted like she stole Viserys from him.

The same way the maidens whose virtue Daemon stole must be whores too. The same way Queen Aemma must have been inadequate since she did not give Viserys what he wanted. Something must have been wrong with Rhea and Laena too. Maybe even Daemon’s own daughters are not enough. Surely, something is wrong with Rhaenyra. Something that makes Daemon’s stomach curdle. Such is the way with men like him.

Viserys will be remembered as a peaceful king, and a gentle man. A king who was so averse to conflict that he raped Alicent for children he then neglected once they came. He was so kind he made sure his first wife died in a pool of blood with nothing but screams of agony and pleas of mercy dying in her lips.

She wonders if Rhaenyra knows that charming story. Would she still have felt safe under the patronage of Viserys if she knew such? Imagine the horror that Alicent felt when she overheard maesters whispering of such when she was pregnant with Aegon.

Alicent is sure Daemon will die being known as a ‘true’ and ‘honest’ warrior. Apparently, there are those that think there is some sort of honor in being upfront about ones rotting heart. As if his cavalier attitude negates the atrocities on his hands. The world has taught Alicent that type of ruthlessness is only tolerated at the hands of a man.

And Alicent, in all her attempts to do right, to keep her head above water, to appease and break herself down into a small enough package that all can accept her, will be known as a whore. A seducer, a scheming bitch that stole the agency of a grown man. She will die being blamed and accused.

It only seemed right she supposed.

Viserys the Peaceful. Daemon the Honest. Alicent… the Whore.

Her confusion mounts when Daemon does not come back to her to finish the job. Instead, he continues walking, right past and leaving the hall in a fit of anger and rage. Alicent knees have begun to ache from being crouched. Rhaenyra clears her throat, and Alicent eyes slowly go back to her. Dark bags rimmed Rhaenyra’s eyes, only drawing more attention to the extremely dark limbal ring that surrounded deep amethyst. When Alicent heard about Lucerys’ death, it had shaken her to her core. Frankly more for Aemond’s sake than for Rhaenyra’s or the boy’s. The thought of peace still naively in her mind. Alicent always seemed to the last one to arrive at the right conclusions. A fatal flaw of hers unfortunately.

You were already ill-fated, you foolish boy! Why make yourself accursed as well!

But when Alicent heard of Jacaerys’ death, she knew what was to come.

There are few things a parent loves more than their first born.

…. Alicent had never known what the smell of burning flesh was like till Aegon.

“I have decided to spare your life,” the few people that stood in the hall, her council, begin to whisper to each other. Rhaenyra shifts uncomfortably at the eyes on her. “For the sake of my father, who loved you once.”

Alicent blinks once, then twice, then three times. She is almost a bit disappointed. Rhaenyra has taken so much and now she has taken death off the table too.

And is that what they are calling what Viserys did to her? Love? Rhaenyra could not possibly believe that. Not now after everything. After the way Rhaenyra would so seamlessly twist the knife when she had the chance, when she was backed in a corner. Rhaenyra knew there was no love there. Not for Alicent and definitely not for her children.

The words crawl up her throat before she can stop them. She must know. “And what of my girl? What of Queen Helaena?”

The queen part slips out truly on accident, a panicked slip of the tongue, but Rhaenyra’s mouth curls a bit in a sneer.

If her Helaena is to die at the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s butchers, to meet the same evil fate Jaehaerys did, then Alicent might beg for the sword. Or a rope and one of the high ceilings of the Red Keep.

Something cold and numb flashes behind Rhaenyra’s already hallow eyes. As if she is just now remembering that she had a sister that still occupied the castle.

“The princess will be spared as well.”

Rhaenyra waves a ringed hand at the guard to have Alicent taken away. Before she can even register was has happened, she is dragged away by the arms.

“Let her be bound in a manner fitting of her new station,” Rhaenyra sits in the Irone Throne elegantly as Alicent goes.

Alicent’s frantic eyes look at her father’s limp body one last time. His blood spilled on the ground. His head separated from the rest of him. It is the first and only time Alicent has ever seen her father so… small.

If Otto was alive now, and they were alone, he would tell her that he was right. He said as much after Jaehaerys was killed. Right before Aegon snatched the hand pin off his grandsire’s jacket and screamed at him that all that cunning had gone to waste by Otto being a ‘bastard that was too thick in the head for his own good’. Otto would say they should have had mercenaries go to Dragonstone and do the deed while they had the chance. He would still be alive. As would Gwayne and Jaehaerys. Helaena would not be in a fugue state beyond repair. Alicent’s boys would be home, and well. Daeron could have come back to King’s Landing for a coronation that was not rushed nor interrupted. Aemond would not have blood on his ledger.

Aegon would be king with no one in his path.

You know it. You're no fool and yet you choose not to see it. The time is coming, Alicent. Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

She stumbles all the way back to the Holdfast with thoughts swirling in her head.

Alicent did not prepare Aegon, the way she should have. But she was not prepared for such things; so how did anyone expect her to know better. How can a child help a child. How does the blind lead the blind. She may not have done what she needed for Aegon, not in that moment. But she refuses to cleave now. Mercy is not a luxury she has been granted for some time.

Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

No, of course not. Alicent can be naive, but never stupid. Never foolish or too hot on herself. Her veins have turned ice cold. She does not have her children the way she would want to. Alicent has never had a dragon to threaten others with. The army at her disposal is elsewhere fighting a futile battle. Not even Criston is here.

She just has herself, and right now that has to be enough. It must be enough.

#im very interesting in her queen in chains era #I don’t even know the ending part of this #it would be mixing book lore and hotd tho #there might be rhaenicent… maybe idk #but it will maybe be from Alicent and Helaena’s pov #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #pro team green #hotd imagine #queen alicent #I am writing a different Alicent thing but that one is almost done I think #Alicent imagine

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owmylasagna-blog · 4 months

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Ed is Thicker Than Mud

Warning: Character development arc may take a couple years to take full effect.

Some random musings on post-BPS Eddy growing pains.

You can also read it over on AO3.

Each mechanical tick of the outdated relic of a wall clock reverberating through the office makes his skin crawl. Wriggling uncomfortably, the naugahyde of the chair releases a series of unnatural whines of protest beneath the restless teen. Don’t they know precious moments of his youth are slipping away with every infuriatingly useless second spent shedding dead skin cells in this room? It doesn’t help that his jeans are still damp. He’s pretty sure his new sneakers are wrecked too.

If being detained wasn't bad enough, they’re probably on the phone with his mom right now, and he isn’t exactly looking forward to his folks tearing him a new one over tonight's chicken francaise. Just as he imagines the yelling match his mom and pop are gonna inevitably start the loose doorknob rattles behind him.

“Here we go,” Eddy grumbles into the collar of his long sleeve polo. He slumps down into the armchair.

The door groans on its hinges, open and then shut. Footsteps click in time as the middle aged man slowly makes his way around the office furniture and sits. All the while Eddy keeps his eyes planted on the linoleum tiles between the desk and his feet. He feigns disinterest as a manila folder and a few slips of paper are shuffled.

“So. Edward McGee…”

Eddy squints, not exactly appreciative of the pause for dramatic effect, nor the emphasis put on his last name.

“Would you care to explain why you're in my office, young man?”

“No.”

“No ‘you don’t care’? Or no ‘you can’t explain’?”

In response, Eddy crosses his arms and slouches even further into the depths of the worn leatherette, the heels of his sneakers squeaking as they skid forward. The principal sighs.

“The silent treatment won't get you very far-”

“You know what I did.”

Boy was this interrogation a bunch of bologna.

“Yes, I certainly do. I’m well aware of the damage to school property you’ve caused, not to mention the cost required to repair it. What I want to know is why.”

“Principal Howard, I didn’t-”

“We’ve already heard your excuses. This is your last chance to plead your case as to why you felt it necessary to tamper with-”

“I didn’t tamper nothin’!”

Eddy shoots to his feet, looking the principal in the face for the first time. His heart thrashes against his ribcage.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Yep. Totally pointless.

The teen and the man exchange steely glares before the elder shifts his gaze behind the younger.

“Please sit, Edward.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddy parks his keister back down, resuming his previous slouch. He watches as Principal Howard leafs through the papers on his desk. Most are a familiar shade of detention slip blue, some more faded than others. It’s a suspiciously sizable stack considering he’s only been in high school for three months. Sure, his track record hasn’t been… great. He’s never been the morning type. Missing homeroom three out of five days in a week will do that. As does skipping out on a detention here and there. Compared to junior high, though, Eddy considers himself a freakin’ angel so far. Barring today of course… just his luck.

But the slips have Eddy curious enough to raise a brow at, sitting up a bit straighter in an attempt to sneak a peek. He’s caught off guard when the name written on the top edge isn’t his own. Well, not entirely. Eddy’s muscles flex with immediate recognition, flashing a fierce look up to find the intent gaze of the older man peering down his sizable nose through his glasses.

No ‘effin way.

“You remind me of your brother.”

Eddy sputters, feeling the air rush out of his lungs. It makes it hard to speak. His brain fills with static. It makes it hard to think.

“Wha- you- you can’t-”

How’s he allowed to say that?

“Before I became principal I taught at this school for many years. Don’t think I could forget a kid like that so easily. Bright, creative, one might say underchallenged, but misguided, difficult, trouble prone. Unfortunate really. I didn’t have much control of the situation then nor the authority. But things have changed, except for the fact that I’m tasked with ensuring another McGee boy doesn’t slip through the cracks.”

“Cool headed” is an accolade foreign to Eddy. It takes every fiber of his being to bite his tongue, stopping himself from spewing expletives that will land him right back in the hot seat for the umpteenth time. More than anything he holds back to prove that he isn’t anything at all like…

“Which is why I’m requiring that you join an extracurricular student activity effective immediately.”

“WHAT!? WHY?!” Eddy finally blows his top. It’s a relief to scream.

“You need discipline, structure, responsibility, teamwork - whatever it takes to preoccupy your idle hours.”

“Believe me, Teach, the mathletes don’t need me screwin’ up their squared roots or whatever.”

“Then choose something else that interests you. D’you like sports?”

Eddy shrugs. Lately, nothing really interests him. Let alone anything school related. Not even marathons of The Ed Sullivan Show or wearing out the grooves in A-tom-ic Jones can seem to pull him out of this slump. And he sure wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get towel-whipped by the meatheads, that's for sure. The thought of the foot smell that wafts from the locker room like a thick miasma alone makes him shudder.

Eighth grade graduation, the start of high school, and the abysmal summer between them had been a strange fog. Beyond his two best friends, Eddy avoided the other cul-de-sac kids like a plague. Oh yeah, this was cruel ironing as Double Dee put it. All that time vying to get their attention? Ever since they got front row seats to his bro’s assholery on full display, they’d been acting real nice. Too nice.

The remainder of seventh grade, after the groundings ended, was filled with an unprecedented number of invitations to movie nights, birthday parties, and sleepovers. Even though he’d sworn off the scams it somehow felt like he still needed to perform every time he made an appearance. Suddenly, everybody wanted to get to know him more. And that scared Eddy: what if there wasn’t more? He felt he hardly knew himself these days.

“You have until the end of the week to decide, so start asking around. And when you do find a team or club, I will personally speak to the coach or teacher running it to ensure that you are immediately enrolled and actively participating. Do you understand?”

The principal receives a noncommittal grunt as a response. He’s more stern the second time.

“Do you understand, Edward?”

Eddy finally gives a reluctant reply, hoping that this is the end of the conversation and he’ll be off the hook.

“Yeah. Capeech.”

“Good. Because this sort rebellious behavior will not be to-”

“And it’s Eddy.”

The balding man blinks a few times, brows twitching.

“Well, Eddy, another stunt like today and I bring your parents in. Capeech?”

Having his own phrasing thrown back at him makes Eddy feel even more patronized than he already is. Which is saying something, considering this whole freakin’ ordeal feels like it was designed by the universe or some malevolent god to humiliate him to no end.

“Yeah…”

Double doors fly open when the compact teen barrels through. He’s moving fast, on a mission, so focused on getting as much distance between himself and this stupid school that he hardly notices the two figures sitting side by side on the stone stairs anxiously awaiting his release. The leaner of the two jumps to his feet, calling out through the bothersome crack his voice has acquired thanks to puberty.

“Eddy!”

He whips around, jabbing a finger square between Double Dee’s eyes. The taller boy flinches back at the accusatory appendage.

“I aint talkin’ to you, snitch! Let’s go, Ed.”

The eldest of the bunch complies to the command, joining Eddy by his side. Edd huffs, shaking his fists, and with an indignant stomp of his sneakered foot is hot on the trail of his two friends. Seeing as there is a nasty storm cloud over Eddy’s head Ed opts to not ask too many questions. Instead he shares the exciting news:

“Double Dee and me saw two squirrels fighting over a nut while you were gone.”

“Sad story,” replies Eddy, inflection flat as a sheet of paper.

Meanwhile, the speed walking boy approaching from the rear isn’t so quick to change the subject.

“Come now! You can’t seriously think my intention was to smear your academic reputation!”

Eddy keeps stomping the pavement, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, and rolls his eyes in disbelief. The balls on this guy…

“Eddy, please,” Edd pleads, finally gaining, “The entire first floor was flooded. Given my proximity I responded in a manner that anyone in their right mind would. Honestly, are you suggesting I had a plethora of options?”

“Bull! Ya coulda kept your big. Mouth. Shut.” Eddy snarls through gritted teeth, shoulders tensing up to his ears.

“And be a complicit bystander? I think not,” replies Edd with a pout.

“Why do you make it out like I wanted that to happen!?” Eddy spits back, keeping his sights focused on the cracked cement.

“Who says I’m blaming you? It’s causality. You flushed an entire cafeteria tray and its contents down the toilet.”

“Ain’t my fault the lunch sucked mega balls! And why’s the school got plumbing from the Dark Ages? You saw that casserole.” He throws up two skeptical air quotes, “Would have been better off eatin’ rubber cement.”

“I think I saw it move,” Ed adds excitedly, grinning ear to ear.

Ed had eaten his serving of casserole with much relish, though, not before dunking it into his trusty thermos o’ gravy. It’s too bad that Eddy turned down the offer. The mental image of the subpar cafeteria slop alone makes both Edd and Eddy’s stomachs churn, let alone the gusto with which Ed manages to devour it.

“Yes. Well. I must say I was glad to have packed a garbanzo salad sandwich today based on the looks of things,” the teen in the beanie admits, punctuated with a nervous chuckle.

Eddy can’t help but look his friend in the face despite the stubborn front he’s working so hard to put up. Edd’s got a small smile but otherwise he looks ill at the recollection of the foul lunch offerings, his tongue peeking out through the gap as it presses against the back of his teeth. The husky boy cracks his own smile and stifles snort at his pal’s pathetic expression.

“Food so bad, even the crapper couldn’t stomach it,” Eddy throws in just for a kick.

It works - at least he and Ed chuckle over that and Edd shakes his head incredulously - burning off some of the uncomfortable tension that has been growing since the afternoon. The trio continue walking a few yards in the direction of home, lulling their arguing for just a moment to the sound of gravely footsteps, rustling leaves, and the jingle of Eddy’s wallet chain thumping against his thigh.

Sidewalks aren’t exactly wide enough to walk together in a line so it's unavoidable that every now and then, if they don’t split off into a triangle formation, that they bump shoulders. Eddy feels his shoulder nudge into Double Dee’s arm, then awkwardly clears his throat and sniffles against the chill fall air.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” heckles Double Dee with a pretentious sideways smirk.

Before he knows it, Eddy feels the back of his neck burning. For that alone he gives the wiry and historically uncoordinated teen a solid shove, causing him to stumble over his own two feet and step squarely into a soggy pile of street gutter leaves. The feeling of cold damp permeating through his shoe upper and soaking into his sock makes the boy yelp and shudder in disgust, a shiver running up his spine.

“Wet!” Edd wails. He shakes his sodden sneaker like a cat that's stepped in water and skips to catch up.

Of course Eddy laughs at Edd’s theatrics, very openly, which just sets Ed off to join him. Reveling in his buddy’s harmless misfortune, Ed throws an arm over Eddy’s shoulder which the shorter teen roughly shrugs off.

“Very good. I’ve received my comeuppance.” Edd sighs, wincing as his sock squelches with every other step.

A few tsks of disapproval are made by Ed seemingly out of the blue. Edd and Eddy are surprised to see their happy-go-lucky Lump looking uncharacteristically forlorn.

“How sad it must be to be a squirrel without a nut. What cruel, hostile world we must live in where there are not enough nuts to go around.” Ed punctuates the thought with a heavy sigh.

“I’m lookin’ at a nut right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Ed perks up, head whipping violently in search of it as though he can rectify the injustice he’d witnessed.

“Yeah, TWO of ‘em!“

Just as he says it, Eddy’s fist finds its way to the tall redhead’s vulnerable groin with an empty punch.

“DOH!”

Edd puts a bit of space between himself and Eddy.

“Fear not, Ed. Every squirrel has their day.”

“Good for them,” Eddy growls, his earlier gloating soured by envying, of all things, a fuzzy rat.

Seeing as his vapid positivity hasn’t exactly resonated with Eddy, Edd decides to take a more direct approach.

“So, what punishment has befallen you? Another detention.”

Eddy’s brows drop down over his eyes with a snarl. He sees a pebble a few steps ahead and when he reaches it gives it a good solid kick. It skitters wildly into the street.

“No.”

“Suspension.”

“No.”

“Disintegration?” Ed chimes in.

“I wish.”

“You’d make a fine puddle, you would.”

“Thanks, Ed,” Eddy rolls his eyes, shoving his chin down into the collar of his jacket.

He nearly jumps at the shriek-like sound of Edd’s gasp. It looks as though he’s doing a decent impression of that weird painting of the screaming guy.

“Good lord, please don’t tell me you’ve been… expelled!?” Edd can hardly say the word.

“No! Worse! I gotta join some bogus extracaricature.”

Double Dee’s hand flies, grabbing Eddy’s bicep. The sudden physical contact makes Eddy reflexively flinch.

“What a relief! You had me worried for a second.” An offended look on Eddy’s face does worry Edd and he realizes it’s because of the grasp he has on his arm. He swiftly releases it, putting his hand in his jacket pocket.

“Ah- A generously lenient outcome considering the extent of property damage. Participation in a peer activity? Hmm… Why, you could always join me on the junior debate team. What you lack in research skills you certainly make up for with your argumentative temperament.”

“Kill me already.”

Eddy sags under the weight of such a nerdy proposition.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Craning his neck, Ed peers down curiously.

“Join me! We could always use a uh-” Ed pauses, counting on his fingers, “a third member on the team. You could even go by Mr. AV-Eddy.”

With a rough tug, Ed’s head snaps down to match his short-statured friend’s eye level, Eddy’s fist full of the pilling and frayed green jacket collar.

“Call me that at school and I’ll shove an 8 millimeter where the sun don’t shine.”

“Norway?”

“NO way. Don’t even try it.” Eddy threatens before letting go of Ed.

“You got it, Mr. Cool Guy I’d Never Ever Call AV-Eddy, uh, sir!”

To show his deference, Ed removes his monobrow and swears it over his heart.

They keep walking. It’s about a half hour trudge back to the cul-de-sac, but it sure beats the torment of the public school buses. Bottom of the food chain means getting the crappiest seats, or worse even, becoming completely separated. Much better to brave the biting wind for now: Eddy’s ears and nose are already ruddy. Come winter they might reassess.

It’s hard not to think he might be cursed: born with the dark mark. Maybe somewhere down his family line there was some cardinal sin committed that’s the root to all this. If he has to place bets it was probably those damn pilgrims that sold Peach Creek to the Kankers, the lot of inbred nitwits. Eddy sorta gets why his brother is the way he is. He knows deep down his parents treated him different from the jump. That he’s had it better, at least in some ways. Despite his bad luck he’s technically the lucky one. But there is still so much he doesn’t know. Stuff that when he brings it up mom just starts blubbering. He won’t even bring it up with dad. So teachers thought he was smart?

Over the last year, Double Dee has fretted over Eddy’s drawn out silences. Just like the one now. He can’t help but read far too deeply into whatever might preoccupy Eddy’s mind so much to leave him speechless. A more contemplative and reflective streak could be good for Eddy. Except Double Dee knows from personal experience how quickly things can go south inside the echo chamber of one’s own thoughts. He chews his lip as the worry gnaws away at him.

“Eddy? Was there… anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Eddy sniffs his running nose again, scowling. He shrugs.

“S’nothing. Everyone at this school’s got it out for me.”

The feeling of a gentle hand between his shoulder blades makes the back of his eyes burn. Dammit. He blinks hard, sniffing even harder.

“Not everyone.” Double Dee earnestly assures. Ed wraps another arm around him in a lax half hug and this time Eddy doesn’t shrug him off. Instead, he leans in.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Almost everyone.”

And that’s good enough for him.

#eene #ed edd n eddy #lasagnawords

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discordiansamba · 5 months

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I guess I should discuss the AU that's been rattling around in my brain in a little more detail, rather than just making shitposts about it. So here's the basic gist of it:

We all know there was one surviving universe at the end of Honerva's rampage in VLD's (pretty bad) finale before everything was restored to normal- but could it really survive everything that happened around it unscathed?

The answer is no. Of course it's no.

In a twist of irony, given Honerva's goals, Lotor is deleted from a universe that would have otherwise been very close to the canon universe as we know it- which is... kind of a problem, actually. As in 'the universe could fall apart if this event doesn't happen' problem. But don't worry. The cosmic forces of the universe has a stopgap measure of its own in place to protect itself.

After all, what could go wrong with the universe using one half-Galra to replace another?

Keith is born to Zarkon and Honerva in Lotor's place. He's always felt out of place in a way that simply only being half-Galra can't quite explain. He has a strong sensitivity to quintessence, and knows from a young age that his father and the witch that stands by his side are corrupted.

He knows he's corrupted too. he can hear things that are not him whispering in his head sometimes, telling him things. he ignores them.

(this is sometimes harder than he would like)

(on very rare occasions he hears a different voice from the rabble- one that calmly tells him not to do things. he listens to this one a little more.)

He grows up loathing his father- it's a mutual feeling. He knows that even before he was born, his mother loathed him as well. He grows up with no strong connection to their either side of his heritage.

(perhaps honerva subconsciously realized the child she was carrying was not her own)

He breaks away from the Empire on his own at an early age- he knows in his bones this is wrong, and wants no part in it. He ends up safeguarding a pocket of space from the Empire, but his motives remain erratic and he stays aloof from the other forces against the Empire, so he's not exactly trusted by them.

After all, he's not exactly not still a part of the Empire himself. Zarkon's not going to let his only heir walk away that easily.

He still ends up meeting Acxa, Narti, Ezor and Zethrid.

He's born with the Altean talent of shapeshifting- though he's better at it than most. He wears three faces- the Galran prince, the Altean wanderer, and then a third face, one of a race he has never seen before, yet feels oddly familiar to him.

(Sometimes it feels more natural than the one he was born with.)

He later learns of a planet called Earth, and its people known as humans, who so resemble his third face- and the blue lion with them. He decides to keep an eye on the planet with the excuse of trying to protect the lion... which is surely the only reason he feels such a strong draw to this otherwise backwater planet.

Which is great, because it turns out replacing Lotor with Keith created another problem the universe has to deal with- there isn't a Keith anymore to pilot the red lion.

He just kind of gets swept up in everything when the blue lion awakens, and before he knows it, he's on the Castle of Lions, and Princess Allura of all people is telling him he's a paladin. They all seem to think he's human.

Somehow, he senses it would be a very, very bad idea to tell them all he's actually Zarkon's son.

Great job Keith. You signed up for the universe's most stressful double life. I'm sure this is going to work out real well.

(I am lying.)

#the universe slapping keith over lotor's role like a band-aid: this will work. i'm sure of it #the funniest part of this AU is when it sinks into everyone that the person they thought was a scrappy 18/19 year old kid #is actually ten thousand years old #other fun things: Romelle and Keith besties still. she gets to be a rebel. as a treat #Keith and Kuron bonding. you're a fraud and I'm a fraud. maybe we can make this work #(as soon as I get Narti to remove Haggar's programming from you)#and of course. narti lives au #you can put keith in a prince role but you CANNOT make him act princely (unless he needs to. he can manage)

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eponymous-rose · 9 months

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So I've been rewatching Star Trek: TNG as comfort TV during/post-move and just got to Yesterday's Enterprise, which I remember liking well enough, but man, it's really unusual in the context of the rest of these early episodes. For one thing, the violence shown is a lot more stark than we've seen in the show thus far - Riker with his throat cut, Captain Garrett with the metal shrapnel in her head, lingering close-ups on dead faces. It's dark and moody and the "happy ending" resolution (as far as we know at this point, anyway) is saving the few survivors of a brutal battle, patching them up, and then shipping them straight back into that battle to be killed.

Given the show's not-so-great track record with its female characters, it's weirdly refreshing that we get a re-do for Tasha Yar. And yeah, she falls in love with a dude and goes off with him on his ship, but she was ready to say goodbye to him and that would've been that - what finally prompts her to step willingly into the meat-grinder is the realization that she had an "empty death" (Guinan had some really raw lines in this one) in the other timeline, and that now her death can have some meaning. It's nicely done, if a bit of a self-flagellating "mea culpa" on the writers' parts.

The alternate timeline isn't the gleeful, campy evil of the Mirrorverse, it's just an exhausted grind through the final days of a losing war. Lots of little touches show how desperate things have become - Wesley's been fast-tracked to a full ensign, Picard is a tactician first and foremost (he takes officers' opinions under advisement, yes, but he's also keeping from them the inevitable, imminent surrender), the bridge is laid out so the captain is front and center with everyone else in the background. As a contrast with the actual Enterprise's chill 90s living room lounge vibe, it's pretty striking. It's like a sneak preview into the bleak and war-heavy sci-fi that would start saturating pop culture a decade or so later, and then it's a firm rejection of that premise - "This isn't a ship of war. It's a ship of peace."

I have a long, long history with TNG - DS9 is my favorite Trek on balance, but TNG is encoded in my DNA. From around ages 3 and 5, my brother and I were watching and rewatching TNG constantly. (My parents would laugh over the fact that my brother didn't know how to read yet but had memorized the episode titles of the first couple seasons.) We had pajamas. We scoured every garage sale and had a giant metal can full of action figures and phasers and tricorders and ships and even, shockingly, that transporter toy that made things disappear using mirrors.

The tactile experience of those toys is burned in my brain - the loose nacelles on the Enterprise model, the click of the left phaser button, the little hole at the bottom of the Borg cube that we once stuck a pencil in and had the tip of the graphite snap off and rattle around forevermore. My brother and I played incessantly with our action figures, to the point where most of them had the paint at least partially rubbed off - we created hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of new episodes over the years. The first time I ever used a touchscreen was at some sort of Star Trek exhibition in Canada in the early 90s that we stumbled across on our way to visit my grandparents.

I'm always fascinated by how kids interact with fictional media - my brother and I were so young, but we obviously knew Star Trek wasn't real. Except... I just always assumed that important people watched it, realized "well, that seems nice", and were actively working to make that future happen. I was (perhaps a little embarrassingly) older when I realized that no, we weren't gonna be out there on science missions to the stars during my lifetime. At least, not in an Enterprise kind of way.

At any given time, there's just this Star Trek filter over how I experience the world - when I got to go to college thanks to scholarships, I had that weighty feeling of responsibility and awe that came with daydreaming about Starfleet Academy. I saw my career shift from the gold of engineering to the blue of science to the red of command. And the older I get, the more I appreciate a show that, for all its flaws, managed to make a utopia interesting and complex.

Because TNG was such a phenomenon when I was a little kid in the early 90s, a lot of my family relationships also have TNG tied up in them. I remember going to my grandparents' apartment and my uncle showing us a fan magazine about the show. I remember another uncle who didn't really "get it" but gifted me and my brother astronaut ice cream because he knew we liked that space stuff. I remember watching most episodes curled up on the couch or my parents' bed with my brother and my mom and dad. When Mom got sick and we talked about death, I remember the way she wistfully brought up the Nexus from Generations or how she hoped she could see the next season of Picard (she didn't, sadly, but she really enjoyed that first season). Hell, one of the first real bonding moments I had with my otherwise hyper-professional and businesslike PhD advisor was when she made a TNG joke, I laughed at it, and she said, "I just love that show, everyone's so nice to each other."

It's just been a lot of fun coming back to this show, is all. I think I periodically forget how much it's affected me and the extent to which it was a fundamental, formative influence. While a lot of it either hasn't aged well or fails to hold up to modern media analysis, so much of it is still lovely, and occasionally there are these moments of shockingly good storytelling.

Star Trek good.

#eponymous text post tag #eponymous moving tag 2023 #star trek tng

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diorncoke · 9 months

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Your my little sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey⋆˙𖤓⟡˙⋆ (1/2)

🫧⋆｡°✩ summary: in the moments of being under the influence of a man who averaged out the death rate of an entire state, Stefan is tangled in finding a comfortable home for a sweet girl who has the status he hadn’t heard about in centuries.

authors note: goddess, i had a fanfic about this years ago, and i didn’t go anywhere with it. so here is that tiny space in my brain that wanted to post this :) — word count: 7.8k

🌞 characters: the vampire diaries \ college au! , jeremy gilbert , / x black! fem! little! reader .☀︎ ݁ ˖

🌞 content warning(s): no set plot line, some use of y/n, talks of anxiety attacks, reader is a wolf pup, stefan & damon being big brothers, baby babbles, ¡male lactation!, use of rattles (i want one so bad), fluff, mentions of weapons, bottles, nesting, swearing, protective tatted jeremy, littles are knowledgeable, cliche asf ;) — third person pov!

🌞 before reading: her outfit, pjs & bottle , https://pin.it/2eS7TCc , https://pin.it/5VSFrm0 https://pin.it/4DQNyfF

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ The sun reached its peak before completely shining on the state of Michigan, New Orleans, specifically in the small town area of an infamous bar owned by the well-known witch in the area. Gloria is a flamboyant soothsayer, and many would describe her as charmingly intelligent with looks that have the appearance of only being forty years old. Though she wasn't anywhere near, she was more than a hundred years old, though she was not immortal.

She held the tasks of the spirits coursing through her fingers that allowed her to create many mixtures to slow down the aging she would have been subjected to. The world she accepted was due to her knowledge of mystical objects and the magical arts she knew best.

In the area, the day was ending, while for Gloria, it was just the beginning of a long day of watching the town folk drink themselves silly at barely noon. She began by noting out the invention from last night and checking for any fruit flies that tried to find homes in her classic liquor bottles. With her wooden clipboard, she walked around the remaining spaces behind the bar running her own rancid on the boxes. Considering it to be finalized, she threw the clipboard inside a drawer before pulling out a wine glass before she eventually poured herself a small glass of Chardonnay.

The witch felt the vibrant flavour of the white wine flourish against her dry thirst perfectly. She could age the wine with access to the best wineries in the area; who would care for this damned bar like her if she wasn’t alive. With a deep breath, she gathered the bottle and glass to its rightful place, still tasting the sweet tangle in her mouth before she took it upon herself to unlock the doors without having to walk over.

She began to walk against the bar edge before she heard the bell on the top of the door ring announcing its presence to the owner. Her back faced the bar top, placing tiny red straws into cups. It had only been a few minutes of opening before she felt folks pouring in; her bar was a classic spot with plenty of folks from over a hundred years ago still coming in and out. The perks of knowing a witch in the area to keep her young, she couldn’t imagine the looks of her ancestors as they watched her as closely helping wolves and a select few humans.

She smiled to herself, thinking of her past family before she took it upon herself to drown herself in an ageless potion to pause her aging, though she knew it would catch up to her eventually. Thinking so profoundly, the hairs on the back of her neck formed a light chilling breeze feeling the presence of something beyond human. Gloria was adept at reading people and the energy they gave off into the world; she had to. Bad energy minimizes the effect on the corners of the bar she saged with.

“What brings you here? You brought a friend, I see.” She announced her knowledge to the being before she could even turn around to face him. She plopped her hand around the cups of straws to place them behind her to the top above the seating arrangements for customers.

Gloria looked up towards the infamous Klaus Mikaelson in all his glory; she didn’t have to try and give off confidence as she held the powers of her ancestors. With one flick of her wrist, he would be forced out of her bubble alongside his friend without a second thought. She took in his body language, the glint of desperation in his eyes, looking behind to the clear picture of him and the former man she had known as Stefan Salvatore. A ruthless man who forced a man to drink his wife’s blood while they laughed, though from the look of him. He looked dazed and under Klaus’ compulsion. A clear abuse of power right in front of her. The damned wolf needed something from her, witches were always pulled into vampire drama.

Before she could ask what the infamous Klaus needed. He beat her to it.

“I need help locating a certain necklace. That my dear sister lost.” The sister in question scoffed from the front door of the bench she crossed her legs against. Gloria crossed her arms, hearing the beginning banter of the sibling just like they did in the 20s. She flared her eyebrows towards the hybrid, reminding him that he genuinely wanted something from her; he would need to be serious with her. If not, get the fuck out of her bar and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

“Hmm. Give me your hand, sweetheart.” Gloria raised her hand, awaiting the vampire to do so. The sooner she did this, the quicker she could get them out and away from her upstairs home. She grasped the soft blonde’s bloodied hand into her own, instantly feeling the dark shadows of the vampire's mind. Her first heartbreak being of a father’s betrayal, brushing his children as though they were nothing. That said, she was only here on behalf of her brother and the undying love she mindlessly had for Stefan. With a deep breath, she placed herself into the powers the necklace had for itself, scouring into the universe, looking for its source before her search stopped. She had placed the energy perfectly in a matter of time.

“There’s a girl with her friends.” However, she got more than she liked to lead. The perfect carbon copy of the woman known back then as Katerina Petrova wearing the original witches necklace dangling between her chest as her friends watched her stir a pot of chilli. The atmosphere surrounding the doppelgänger when dark as she placed herself in her energy bubble, burning the girl's flesh harshly before her ancestors pushed her out of the vision. She opened her eyes, feeling goosebumps erupting between their hands across the til of the bar.

“Yes, a dead girl with dead friends if I don’t get my necklace,” Rebekah spoke out, still feeling Gloria's hand intertwined with her own. Before the witch let go of her, standing further back from the trio of vampires. The feeling she received was not something she was used to when it came to doing spells. It was dark; even though she fused into old voodoo, this was something she wouldn’t allow herself to tap into. Regardless of what the damned wanted her to do, she needed a plan. It wasn’t only her that needed protecting.

“That’s all I got. Just images. I need more time.” Gloria truly believed she had the upper hand in giving the vampires what they wanted. She needed time, so she pursued Stefan to understand why she did what she did. In hopes, he would take in the reader who lay sleeping in the connected house without a care in the world. Continuing the notion of confidence placed her hand on the same glass she had only placed underneath the bar top. She pushed the glass of wine in between her lips and drank. Though it did nothing to tolerate her nerves, it tasted good. From the glasses eye, she watched Klaus debate giving her what she wanted before Stefan took it upon himself to take the attention away from the witch.

“Hey, you know, why don’t we just come back later? I’m hungry. I’ll let you pick who we eat.” Stefan filled the void with an enthusiastic voice while walking to the front door. Knowing the siblings weren’t looking, he scrunched his eyebrows towards the drinking witch, understanding without much words from the way her heart was beating. Stefan couldn’t help but want to know more, regardless of the circumstances of his humanity that was destroyed like a light switch. When he looked at the witch, it reminded him of Elena, the desperate look behind her chocolate brown eyes that wanted nothing more than to embrace in her soft hug. Stefan knew it wouldn’t be the same after turning the one thing that brought everything back on, but this was the first step. He wouldn’t be the man he was being compelled by.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ It was effortless to make the Mikaelsons believe Stefan had betrayed the bonded trust of what Klaus mistook as a friendship. He forgot the truth of their connection is a clear abuse of power in the twenties and used his vampirism to create fantasies that fuelled his instincts he knew deep down were of his true nature. Although it made Gloria sick to her stomach, the feeling that he could rip her throat out in the second of vulnerability. She still took the correct herbs and mashed them grinding bowl speaking to the ancestors above with nothing but salted intentions in her words.

She created a sinister scenario that led the siblings in thinking the vampire had fled to find refuge in an unfamiliar place they would seek for enough time too distracted by petty things to realize Stefan was in the outs of Michigan. A lengthy time before her dear one would be blessed in sanctuary from the darkness of that damned hybrid. Though here she was in front of the door that reminded her of what could change the rest of her life and sharing that with a vampire was something she never expected. When she first met the reader she had all intentions of harming her as she wasn’t welcomed in a place she sacrificed everything for.

All the ageless nights to be disrupted by a broken window and shattered glass she refused to let the reader allow to seep her bare feet into. She had no shoes. Gloria took a deep breath and reminded herself of the severity of the current situation.

“Stefan, do you understand that in these circumstances, I will kill you with my bare hands if she is not taken to safety? Right?” Gloria has no room for doubt or frolicking regarding the very thing behind this door. The witch was not one to keep the reader so hidden for a long duration; it was perfect, though; she had a late night practicing her shifting abilities. The memory caught her in a frenzy of smiles before the witch remembered to unlock the multiple locks on the flowery door across the stairs to the bar.

“Of course. I remember you. I’m sure you’ll do much worse. I want to understand why you have chosen me?” Stefan asked hesitantly, leaning next to the door and awaiting the dreaded conversation between them. The vampire watched her fumble with the keys to each lock before beginning the discussion. He blinked softly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“You can be good for her. Or I trust you will find someone who is. My aging remedies can’t stop the aging from catching up to me much longer. I’m getting too old to take care of her.” Anyone in the listening distance could hear the pain straining in her voice, thinking of leaving this world before she could help her little one find herself again and have the ability to be small. Gloria placed the multiple keys into the loop of her denim jeans, giving Stefan one last look over. She wanted her words to linger in his senses; this was impotent to her and her ancestors. She would not give them the impression of disappointment.

The supernatural entities heard the locks click into the ears before Gloria pushed the door open lightly, not wanting to scare the little one behind it if she had still been sleeping.

Stefan stopped in his tracks and recalled a developing scent of wolf pups that was still undergoing growth before he could get a glimpse of them. It wafted into his sensitive nostrils before he took a deep breath taking in the sweet flowery scent wanting to keep it under his nose for the rest of his immortal life. It was divine and filled with life, something he couldn’t quite comprehend behind what he surrounded himself.

Gloria looked behind her, taking in the vampire's reaction to her little one. She smiled before clicking the light switch that only turned on the fairy lights across the walls, as the pup was quite sensitive to light fixtures that beamed into her eyes. The colourful area of strawberry shortcake decor covered the entirety of the room she could barely remember the colour of the walls or floor presences to her.

The witch took a light step towards the bed covered in plushies that the reader loved to cuddle against and scent. Her favourite one to do so was of a cow named Print; he was a special thing that if you pushed a button on his foot, his stomach lit up with stars on the ceiling. Close enough to the pup, she removed the picnic table printed blanket from the reader's sleeping state. Anyone could tell she was still a pup as she didn’t wake up alarmed by others entering her room.

Gloria looked to the side of her to see the pup she had been trying to wake up with tender swats on her back and bum. Her pretty doe ( eye colour ) opened up to the familiar face above her cradling face.

“Who is she? I haven’t seen littles in centuries. How did you find her?” Stefan hadn’t uttered a word in some time. He couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t vaguely remember when everyone had taken in people with smaller headspaces to fill the void for the undermining issue of no children for quite a while. The man stepped into the occupied territory before closing the door quietly, letting the question linger for an answer to meet.

“Hm. Her name is y/n. The poor thing was sent to kill me. Many folks in her pack believed she was an abomination and sent her to kill a witch. They hoped I would kill her. Boy, were they wrong? I fell in love with taking care of her. I don’t have any children of my own, you see.” Gloria believed the spirits called the reader to herself, guiding her through the hardships of life til she finally found someone who cared for her. Which is why she is the woman she is today. Gloria glanced towards the girl before taking a deep breath, knowing Stefan was not here to hear the whole story. However, she might have been wrong. The heavy vampire's eyes glanced at her baby beyond anything she had seen from the first time she met him. It was soft but short, knowing he had a reputation to uphold despite having no humanity.

“What happened to this pack?”

“I burned every single one of them to the bone. It took a lot, but I did it to protect her.” Gloria smiled, maneuvering the little so she rested against her shoulders rather than flush on her lap and pillow. She pushed her nose against her freshly washed hair, breathing in the brisk relaxing air surrounding her. It calmed her down in ways she didn’t know; coming into this room was a breath of fresh air. She would miss the comfort of her.

“I’ve kept her far too long from a pack. She needs one, Stefan. She won’t survive much longer with just me.” Before the vampire could speak, she quickly stated how long the reader had been away from the ritual of piling clothing and items; she loved to create the perfect area for a quiet hibernation. The reader's old pack was big on the little ones to ensure they were comforted in ways that some had seen as prehistoric for this day in age. Doing so was the first time in years of waiting to be found by Gloria that she created a nest. Gloria grimaced, feeling the painful memories of her pup during the nightly hour of how she craved to cuddle into her neck and scent her as pack members did.

“I will help you. I know someone who will take her in.” He heard her plead, thinking someone he had broken the heart of would understand his place in the vampire empire. He would beg on his knees to Elena after seeing the beautiful little creature grasping Gloria’s hand. Though, deep down this would be the perfect distraction to his whereabouts if they had a little one to take care of.

Stefan watched the witch place her black nail tapping the pup's squished face against her shoulder as she blinked slowly and softly, taking in the presence and warmth through the connected skin. The yawn, so simple yet cute from her chest, left a pout on her lips from the dryness that came with it. The blanket was sitting perfectly, squished around her legs and stomach though he could still see the flare of freckles on the reader's shoulders and stomach that were out, dancing for his eyes to consume. The vampire was attentive to everything she did, including the deafness of not hearing Gloria introducing him to the wolf before him. Eventually, seeing her ( eye colour ) eyes turn towards his own with a hint of curiosity. All he could do was place his sweaty hand on his pants to get rid of the wetness that came with being in this room.

“H-hello.” He called to her, seeing her sit up more comfortably in Gloria's lap. She fiddled with the hair in braids with her pink-coated fingers, twirling around each lock before she gave the courage to smile at the man. Before she eventually hid her face into Gloria's shoulders with a giggle. She was adorable in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure what to do. Was he supposed to continue standing awkwardly, or maybe he should sit on the chair on the opposing side of the bed? Though he didn’t sit unknowingly for long as Gloria picked up on his hesitance.

“You can sit. She’ll want to scent you eventually. If that’s alright?” Gloria asked, hoping it would be something he was comfortable with; it was something she did as not only a greeting but a nighttime routine when it came to accompanying a new member. They watched her lean away from the witch's lap and chest, awaiting Stefan to grasp her hand into his own. In doing so, she couldn’t help but try and place his hand close to the bottle that was empty on the side table he was sitting beside. She was building up quite an appetite.

“H-Hi.” She made sure to use her manners like Miss Gloria taught her. Her voice came out much more reluctant than she anticipated, she hadn’t seen many visitors in her time here. Most of the time she played by herself in her room or sometimes watched the people of New Orleans walk the street at nighttime. She gazed upon the burly man, taking in his presence that made her wolf whine on the inside. Something about his scent notified her that there was a part of him missing. Before she could dwell longer her mama interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Would you like to feed her?” The witch questioned, hoping he would, it was unfortunate, but she would have to understand she would no longer be the one to take care of the reader. Her heart was crushed just thinking about removing the littles' favourite pieces in the room condensed into a tote bag within the hour. Smiling sadly at the precious pup in her arms playing with the vampire's fingers, she distracted herself by creating a bottle of pure milk into the once empty one on the side table.

“Up and about. There you go, my little love.”

Stefan smiled for the first time in a while since he had given his humanity to Klaus without repercussions or any thoughts filling his mind thinking of the death of the love of his life. Before he could think further he felt the flush of the wolf's head find its way to his shoulders awaiting the bottle he held with no use from him. The previous scent of her hair crème against her raven skin was heaven-sent, he couldn't imagine comparing this to anything else. He breathed in deep that savoury scent he could relish in for the entirety of his life. It was almost off how comfortable she got in his arms and scented him, so different from each fight he had with vampires and full grow werewolves. The pup was so trusting or the most obvious was the fact that her caregiver was only a foot away and held powers of a thousand witches in the palm of her hand.

“It’s now or never Stefan. She’s getting fussy.” Gloria became fond of the quick response to her words the vampire had. The man maneuvered the reader close to the inner elbow of his arm, cradling her head against it for support. Before he began aligning the bottle to her already open and starving mouth and soon she began suckling. They both heard the sounds that resembled a baby drinking its mothers' nutrition in the early morning before starting the day. In other circumstances, Gloria would begin feeding her while walking to the common areas of the apartment to collect the things the little one would need to start the day. Or the reader would do it herself when she was feeling older.

A hesitant smile formed on his lips holding the reader's head against the left inner elbow not before using the gentlest touch to move the strands of curls that stuck out against her face. With a deep breath, he scooped up the bottle that mysteriously had filled with warm milk into his right hand aligning it to the hungry little one in his arms. Stefan observed her movements like he was sightseeing, her lips covered the nipple of the bottle before it filled her mouth with droplets of milk filling her growling belly. The sounds of tiny suckles filled the supernatural entities with pure joy. The thoughts of keeping the image of being this ripper disappeared into the room's environment into nothing. This moment here was something so beautiful he didn’t want to give her up to Damon and Elena.

Pushing these sinister thoughts away he watched his hands without much knowledge of what he was doing, to the side of the reader's hips in a rhythm he memorized his late mother used when he was younger. He could feel the pup's chest vibrate liking the sensation of his rough hands patting her soothingly. Soon enough she engulfed the bottle in twelve consecutive minutes leaving her mouth to make a recall sound letting him know she was finished.

Knowing of the routine Gloria grasped a cloth into her own before placing it on Stefan’s shoulders. Connected eyes with him she nodded, watching the vampire softly place the reader's head on his shoulder to burp the pesky bubbles out of her belly. He laughed to himself seeing the eyes of pups closed calmly and how her legs were like jelly against his torso. It was quite a sight.

Once she burped out anything that was stuck in her throat watching her mama pull away to cloth before she squished her face into Stefan’s neck. She hoped to stay in this crevice of his body for a while, none of her stuffies gave her this feeling, maybe because they weren’t real.

“She likes you.” Gloria beamed sadly holding the empty bottle, getting up smoothly border taking her leave of the room. She had to prepare to clean and pack a bag for her little one. As well, to make a herbal tea she would ask Stefan to have her drink from time to time to protect her energy. She hoped the deranged hybrid won’t find the lost wolf pup as he would change her to be like him like the speed of light. Fuck she couldn’t bring herself to just abandon the poor thing, she would need some form of an excuse to see her every month.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Damon swindled his way against the chilled bathtub of the bathroom connected to his bedroom. His back barely hit the cool bottom of the tub before he began looking for a more comfortable position. The man being over a hundred forty-five vampires had its kinks and one of them was stubborn on his back and neck. The damned thing clicked out of place at any given moment after he had fought an idiot who dared to attack the drunken asshole. He tense before letting out a sigh in content, it wasn’t long before he pulled the bottle of champagne from the bathroom floor into a glass.

A swift swallow in relaxation reminded him of the times he was human, laying out against the grass and the sun beamed on his milk skin for hours before he was rudely pulled out of that blissful state by his overbearing father. Maybe that was why he was the way he was, the dammed. The recoil of his fathers' disapproval secretly mended him to the vampire he was today. Godsend. He began distracting himself from his thoughts of his personality that somehow some tolerated by pouring an overload of bubble bath that was scented of husk from dear Elena into the bath. The white substance coated the body deliberately, pure relaxation was a must in this state. Hey! vampire can like bubble baths too.

Though, there wasn’t much he could think of when he was left alone with his thoughts running wild into spaces he concealed with impulsive decisions without thinking about the consequences for anyone involved. A common goal was all that he knew and clouded his judgement, like Elena. How much she wanted to know here Stefan did with his time while being in the presence of an original vampire that tortured for fun.

Damon lived for torment but when it came to his brother, who would come back into his life to take the girl he loved right back out from under him. He still wanted his little brother, the one who banter amongst either of the Mystic Falls humans they still fought like hell for. He laughed to himself getting sentimental placing the glass of champagne on his lips and taking a long sip.

It didn’t last long. His eyes plummeted at the sound of his front door opening, heavy footsteps and a scent of something he hadn’t smelt covered his nostrils more than the bubbles did. Damon gritted his teeth, swirling his head in distaste before forcing the bottle of champagne on the floor lifting himself to stand tall. The suds fell slowly down his body promptly to his feet that extended outside the tub. His motion cause water to pool onto the floor, though it would dry he would be dammed to know who entered the Salvatore home unannounced. Adding to the fact they ruined his needed self-care.

Before departing to the area where he knew the culprit would be, he placed a black robe around his body and tied the given straps on top of his waist. Damon made his way underneath the bedside table that hid a wooden stake for the times Katherine made appearances. He felt his weight shift between each step to the downstairs corridor before he became dazed with a familiar scent. The vampire was quick but cautious in his movements as before he wasn’t sure who had made their way into his home but now he was. The husk of a teenage boy sat alarmingly quiet at the fireplace, facing the floor before Damon stepped on a cracking piece of the floor. He was quite surprised by the confidence of the dead Jeremy Gilbert who was here to try his best to kill him that awfully made stake he was fiddling with. Thank goodness he wasn’t really in the mood to fight ninja turtles right now.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Damon questioned allowing it to linger in the boy's ear before he walked closer to the bar table to pour himself a drink of course. The teen looked as if he had seen a ghost, the man knew of his presence before he did. Jeremy sucked in a breath through his teeth removing the hoodie that was placed on his head. His black shaggy hair flopped on his forehead peeking through it. He thought lengthy to what the man had stated to him, his sister was preoccupied with Stefan’s whereabouts to know he was planning on killing Damon with the poorly made stake. Neither did he expect the vampire to continue pouring a glass of bourbon picking one up to give to him. They both sighed contently in each-others presence drowning in the sorrows of their siblings' absence.

“Did you come here to kill me? You’ll need a better weapon.”

“It’s only fair you did kill me.” Jeremy gave a smug look on his face knowing he wore a ring that prevented him from meeting the other side of being amongst the living. Although the facade was seen by those who looked close enough, he was constantly reminded by the trip there left him cold, leading him to understand he was meant to look for his body. His against the odds of staying in this state for too long could lead to him being stuck. Although Jeremys' body was close, he still felt his soul shift energies leaving him eerie and dark trying to find something to fill that void. He thought by killing Damon it would.

“Look I don’t do the big brother thing very well. Sorry, I don’t have any milk and cookies to offer you.” The brunette bit his lip feeling a heavy ache on his shoulders hearing his words. He knew to never expect anything less from the vampire, but maybe if he gave him some sort of closure he wouldn’t have been struck by gloom. It was almost like a cloud of it shadowed his being with no regard for why it sat polished on his shoulders.

That once smug look on his face turned sour.

“Dick.” To pick up where he left off he stood abruptly from the chair he sat in, taking his final departure from the Salvatore boarding house. The sound of the glass that was once being held in his hand alongside the stake felt broken on the carpet. The teen couldn’t care less about the mess he was making in a vampire's home, the guy was an asshole and he didn’t deserve his sisters' attention or the unrecognized love she had for him. There was almost steam coming from the top of his head from the fumes, he took one look back at the vampire before he finally walked his way to the front door.

A deep breath came from his chest pulling on the door handle, however, he didn’t expect to see the unpredictable.

Stefan Salvatore standing with his hands in his leather jacket. He liked almost the same except for the worn look of fatigue on his face, it showed heavily underneath his eyelids. The age of being under the compulsion of a damned hybrid they forced those around him to be the same. Klaus and his ways didn’t care about the ones that sat and were forced to watch. Jeremy couldn’t mask the shocked face he displayed to the vampire without thinking back to the question of why he was here, to begin with. How much more shit could Elena deal with before she snapped at seeing him again?

“Jeremy.” Stefan's voice sounded nothing less than smug sighting the shocked look that struck on his face. The act of surprise was something the vampire secretly loved when it came to victims thinking they were safe then he would display his presence to them. It wasn’t the same way as he looked Jeremy, the boy had grown taller from what he could imagine was only four inches higher than himself. Though was the young Gilbert even at the boarding house, to begin with? Had Damon had him under some stupid spiel to get Elena in his good graces?

Stefan bit his tongue from using his uncontrollable words in the man’s presence that he knew was sitting on the couch facing the unlit fireplace. He took one last breath before asking Jeremy a simple question so he could ask his brother for a favour. Though before he could the boy beat him to it.

“Damon you might want to come here.”

“Look, Jeremy, I’ll say I’m sorry. I’m not good with this whole thing.” Damon took several steps to the entryway of his home before his words died off at the end. He felt frozen in his spot, he indeed didn’t expect to see Stefan again after the star he left in. Was he here with the hybrid? The vampire shrugged his arms over themselves displaying his distaste for him to come back to Mystic Falls too soon for Elena’s sake. With a glance to Jeremy who had a look in his eyes, he bite his tongue before speaking.

“And what are you doing here Stefan?” Damon questioned smouldering the non-existent attendance he had in his mind. He caught his brother unattended looking at the parked car that was sloppily parked in the driveway. Hearing those words, Stefan took a step back, he of course knew his presence would strike some nerves from everyone but to see it on full display alarmed a certain part of his brain to push itself to the surface once again. He had been fighting it all day. His humanity. Not only from the wolf pup that would probably be waking up anytime soon from the unmoving car for something to eat. But to pass by the places that he and Elena would always visit. Goodness, he needs to get out of Mystic Falls before he goes back to Klaus and smells the humanity on him.

“I need a favour.”

“So you show up unannounced asking for a favour? Fuck off, Stefan.” The young Salvatore flared his eyebrows close to the gap between his eyelids, he couldn’t recall a time he was genuinely unhappy to see him. Border he lashed out from the scoff that came from the door almost being slammed in his face. He watched Jeremy move his foot forward before the gap closed between the two worlds. The boy walked in front of Damon gifting the man a look to go on pleading for whatever this favour would be.

“Wait here. I’ll go get it.” It? Was it some silly little book that would eventually curse all the bloodlines that so happen to be inside the boarding house? They both gave each other a look before watching Stefan gravitate toward the truck that we most definitely not his. With a deep breath, he placed his hand on the truck handle pulling it open to reveal a distressed little one that was biting the surrounding areas of her fingernails. She had been awake a lot longer than he intended, he felt so bad knowing she was strapped between the seatbelts and blanket he pressed into the sides of her legs. The tears that silently streamed down her face didn’t help the decision he would make by leaving her with his demented older brother. Maybe instead he could have him convince Elena too, goodness this was all just a dumb idea he got way too in over his head.

But as he looked at her grabby hands she gave him and the thick lashes that were smudged against the tears, he swallowed thickly. Y/n didn’t deserve people debating on whether or not she would have a life of comfort. He began removing the blankets and then the seatbelts to formally place her against his chest so that if he needed he could high tail out of there before any of them could taint her mind. The reader's tears became yesterday's problem once she felt Stefan’s finger swipe the water away from pooling against her freckled cheeks. Then her head was softly placed against her newly favourite place between his shoulder and neck with a soft hand on the back of her head. Before she felt the soft blanket she was once cradled against on her back once more. It was her favourite scent, between Gloria and her bed back home with her. She kissed her already and it barely was a day.

“I have people I want you to meet. Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” Stefan looked down at the girl's cradled figure on this side of his chest awaiting a response before he turned around to face the curiosity of Damon and Jeremy. He smiled softly to himself at what his current state was, a little in his arms while holding a diaper bag filled with everything she needed. If you would have told him this is what his life would look like a year ago, he would have looked at you as if you were crazy. He felt her nod against his chest before he eventually took a step to not only close the truck door but to face the entryway of the Salvatore boarding house.

Damon was the first to react to the newcomer in the man’s arms, pushing his way between the doorway his curiosity taking over everything he was planning on being. He truly didn’t expect to be in the sight of something so small in the presence of someone like himself. The vampire took a step back to observe from the sidelines watching Jeremy behave differently. He took it upon himself to grab the bag from Stefan’s left hand. He picked up on the scent of something he hadn’t smelled since he killed Mason Lockwood in this very home. Though it struck of something lighter and less potent as if it was smaller. This being was a pup of a werewolf pack but didn’t smell of though it was currently a part of one.

Jeremy couldn’t help himself from taking the tiniest glance at the bundle of joy wrapped in the thickest blanket he had seen attached to none other than a vampire that had almost killed his dear sister. He proceeded to walk into the living room to place the light pink diaper bag next to the couch. Y/n took in the world around, the deep darkness of the wooden panels that filled the unknown place that Stefan seemed so familiar with. She scented the place with a wiggly nose before her breath caught in the back of her throat feeling someone come close enough to grab her baby bag. Was this man a thief?

“H-hi.” She broke the light silence that filled the room she was walking into, on top of the fact that her mama had always told her to be nice to those who deserved it. She lifted her head slightly getting a better look at the brunette who was somewhat human in the room of supernatural entities. No one could deny the atmosphere of the room change as she was softly placed on the couch away from the warmth of Stefan’s chest and neck. She kept a small smile on her face pacing her tiny hand in front of the blanket that was tribally placed on her lap and socked feet.

“Care to explain?” Damon questioned allowing it to linger in the air barely taking his eyes off the wolf pup on his couch. He gripped the robe closer to his skin, gifting them both his signature smirk that would work for those under his charms. The vampire took a glance at his little brother, the worn fatigue and clear deepness under his eyes from the lengthy trip of being Klaus’ pet. The slight cherry hue on his lips from the possibility of ravishing a human before coming to Mystic Falls. He couldn’t acknowledge the unknown scent that seemed to come full force through his heightened senses.

Stefan took a slight breath before he dumped everything that happened in last hours since he left high and dry from Mystic Falls all together. He carried himself from his standing position to sitting himself next the little that was already hoping he would. The reader was already appreciating his presences and the beautiful ring that sat on his finger she liked to play with.

“Would you mind taking her to the kitchen to grab a snack for her, Jer?” This surprised him completely he hadn’t expected himself to be so fond of someone’s feelings despite his humanity being on the outs. The vampire couldn’t help himself in doing so, he continued to hold her hand for a few seconds with a dewy smile on his face. Before he gasped the bag was on the floor of the couch to hand to Jeremy. He jerked his head towards the kitchen awaiting his response before hearing the boy tell her about the animal-shaped crackers she never had before in the cabinet.

( No one cares about their banter. NEXT!)

The reader wrapped her tiny hand in between the unfamiliar male's hand feeling the light texture of tattoos she subconsciously traced with her painted fingers. She could already feel the rising warmth that came from being head to chest with the waking figure towards the deepness of the kitchen. It was beautiful, though it seemed to be unused compared to the one her mama had. All she recognized was the raging amounts of alcohol on the opposing sides of the sodden stools in front of the counter. The wolf began to lose the skip in her steps as she felt the man slow down his pace. She took a glance upwards to gift the man a small smile, though he was already looking at her feeling nervous by his gaze she lifted her other hand and gifted him a small wave.

“Hi. I’m y/n. Y-You’re Jeremy, right?” It was weird just how comfortable she was being pooled into those pretty chocolate soul catches he called his eyes. She felt him move his gaze over her face causing a slip of a stutter to come front at the end seeing him do so. They both stood in from the counters of the kitchen taking in each other's beings while she took in his delicate human scent she hadn’t been around in years since with Mama. Jeremy almost had a heart attack hearing the words she stuttered over, licking his dry lips trying to find the right thing to say to her. He noticed that he was still holding her in comparison to his small hand didn’t help.

“Yeah, I am. What do you want for a snack, little lady?”Jeremy shook their intertwined to regain her attention from his face. Although he would never consider himself cocky in any way he still smirked internally after seeing her blink away her dewy eyes away from his. He pulls her hand once more finally taking the long awaiting stop to the fridge for her to see. The reader took in the minimal amount of snacks and drinks that were in it. She knew they were vampires by holy was there only a half-full orange juice container, a cartoon of eggs and expired milk. Although she was disappointed she removed her hand from Jeremy feelings intensely cold from the action to proceed to open the diaper bag to find her favourite snacks.

She handled him the basic puffs of strawberry banana bites that quite literally melted in her mouth. Not even acknowledging the mess she created in the bag she continued to display the puffs to Jeremy who gladly opened the container not before popping one in his mouth to her distaste after handing them back to her.

“Can I have some orange juice?” The reader questioned the man messily eating standing chest to chest to the man liking the feeling of his fluffy sweatshirt on her cheek. Her chin rested perfectly there looking upwards with that stupidly cute dimple that showed, switching between each eye of his to look a tiny bit closer. Jeremy pinched his fingernail on his palm looking down at her chubby cheeks and light wash of powder from the puffs. He reminded his hand from the sides of his body to lightly brush away the powder that stuck to her lips and slightly in her cheeks.

“Uh yeah. Why don’t you go sit in the chair, okay?”At first, watched her struggle to climb on the spinning chair but gave up in the mix of it. The man took it upon himself to quietly ask her if she wanted any help. So here he was softly placing his hands underneath her armpits to lift her to sit against the chair. The warmth of each other's skin to skin gave off a rumble between each-other chests that could have easily been mistaken for a hungry cry. But to a wolf pup, it was something completely different in her eyes. She began by taking in his eyes like they were meant to uphold hers, before feeling the chilled barstool he ever so gently placed her on top. They both felt instantly disappointed without the skin to skin but she still happily thanked him for doing, kindly offering him a puff in his much larger hand. Jeremy could help but smile at a small gesture, he took a step back to the opposing countertop to look at the diaper bag that he had previously placed on the dining room table a mason jar of vervain and herbs assorted inside, taking a glance back to y/n that was currently swaying her legs to the hums of her own throat. He turned back around to look at the mixture not thinking much longer to crumble them inside the juice before closing it back up and shaking it to face the girl.

“Maybe we can hang out sometime? Away from the supernatural, the vampire kind at least.” Jeremy placed the bottle to her lips as her hands were occupied by the puffs and looking around distracted by none other than himself. Still suckling on the off-tasting orange juice, that chilled her dry thirst as she began to nod at his question. He removed the bottle from her mouth allowing her to gift herself with the glory of his, all she thought of was how much she would love to be lifted by his arms and held close like she was with Stefan just a moment prior. They looked into each other's eyes warmly gifting one other a smile before they both liked away.

Across the home in the living room, two vampires listened closely to the little one's mannerisms toward the unseen boy and the way he spoke softly and seemed so smitten by one other so quickly. It was clear that part of herself was called to the boy named Jeremy. Gloria was right, he might have been the thing to encounter to meet the person who was perfect for her.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ part two

🫧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I hope you enjoyed it!! 💗 please don’t be a silent reader, let me know what you think⋆୨୧˚

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muzzlemouths · 9 months

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OK time to discuss some thoughts concerning the DLC/Eclipse. Obviously, spoilers ahoy

. So first and foremost, I really appreciate their voice mannerisms (prior to being rebooted) being about what we expected out of Eclipse. One talking and then the other talking, despite the body itself not changing. And then after being rebooted, that voice becoming soft and careful. There are many implications to what the change means, but I'll return to that thought later.

. Getting confirmation that the light isn't just a pesky nuisance but does, in fact, genuinely hurt Moon. More than that — the confirmation that the animatronics can feel pain at all! I've been writing my fics with this headcanon in mind the whole time, but it's nice to have it confirmed.

. THE TABLE W/ PLUSHES. I know a lot of the fandom has already decided that Sun was playing by himself (a hc that is incredibly sad on its own) but I've been thinking... wouldn't it be neat if this was a showcase of them playing with each other? If they're both stuck in this state of back-and-forth and communication is limited if available at all, wouldn't it make sense for one of them to set-up a scene and the other to finish it? Is it not even sadder that this might be the only way they can have any sort of real conversation?

. Their mouth moves. Their mouth moves??? Their mouth moves! I'm not for sure the exact reason for why it's hidden behind their mask, but I'm assuming it was put in place after they were reworked as daycare attendants. It makes sense that they would be able to move and talk like the glamrocks, especially while working theater, so my only guess is that they placed the mask over their face after reworking them to prevent young children from sticking their fingers between the moving teeth. As a former daycare volunteer (and a teacher of the 1st-4th grade), let me tell you, kids that age will put their fingers anywhere.

. Happy Birthday! I don't think this being their first line after having been rebooted has anything to do with the rebooting itself. Like, I doubt there's any real correlation beyond them recognizing that it's Cassie's birthday. Then again, Kellen Goff's tweet makes me think I could be wrong about this one. Who knows!

. OK OK OK so the way they switch between Sun/Moon when we're wearing the mask is really fun (as mentioned by twinanimatronics, Moon rocks while Sun twitches!) but I want to talk about how wearing the mask inside their bedroom makes it look clean, and the implications behind that if we see Sun while the mask is on but Moon while it's off. Does it mean Moon sees things how they are while Sun sees things how he wants to? (Sidebar, this will definitely be influencing how I write Sun's denial in DMD)

. On a similar note, the mask being on in their bedroom also shows Eclipse's face over their ceiling, but more than that, it shows their ceiling decorations (the painted on clouds, now almost entirely gone) moving, with trees swaying at the very corners. Is this a trick of the mask, or is this how they really saw the room? Was it built that way or did it just happen after years of being cooped up inside? ARGHGH there's just so much to think about with this one!!

There's definitely more but these are the ones rattling around in my brain the hardest. Let me know your thoughts!

#muzz mumbles #ruin dlc #ruin spoilers #have a faz-errific day :(

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cloudyswritings · 4 months

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Story/worldbuilding ideas n prompts

Just a sorta dump of ideas I’ve got rattling around in my brain. I may or may not get around to using these so feel free to play around with them.

Sci-fi:

Climate pirates: Basically just the future of our world where global warming has resulted in far more ocean to sail and a lack of resources has seen a second golden age of piracy. This would look kinda like a hybrid between Onepiece and Cyperpunk as a setting, maybe a woman who unexpectedly becomes captain and fights capitalism?

Spectral: Through science a man discovers a way to enter and exit the afterlife, he basically uses this to pull a bunch of heists from various afterlives and ends up being chased down from both the real world and by the dead. I imagine this could either be a story from his pov or someone who is trying to piece together his life story after the fact.

Slime based economy: Self explanatory, the economy of the US has transitioned to a form of slime. There’s probably a darker secret behind it all.

First contact but with octopi: They rapidly advance technologically once a scientist accidentally makes them longer lived, this leads to tension between our species. This would probably look like some sort of political story(I’ve been watching west wing).

Beam me up: A person finds a downed UFO and saves the beings within from the clutches of the government. This turns into a silly buddy cop story between a non-binary sweetheart and a grouchy gray alien as the go on a world tour to track down the pieces of his ship and reassemble it.

Fantasy:

Necomancer Whales: Basically a revenge story where a whalefall rises from the grave to hunt down the whaling ship who killed them. A sort of found family story with the creatures who were eating the whalefall? Idk I just like the idea.

Glass: A world where different wavelengths of light carry different magical affinities. Prisms and glass orbs could be used as focuses for channeling magic, staining glass might chance what types of spells can be cast. Glass opacity and quality impacts spell power. Some warlocks and sorcerers will replace body parts with glass and crystal prosthetics to boost their innate spell casting potential. I’m almost certainly doing more with this. A person can also develop their own light/wavelength from exposure to magic, this would cause them to glow and have inborn powers others don’t. The longest lived sorcerers are near blinding to look at.

Dreaming deeply: The barrier between dreams and reality has cracked, and in places shattered. Legends walk the earth once more. In Greece the skies rumble with thunder, in America the souls of cities shake off their slumber, and in the darkness beyond the earth something hungry has turned its gaze towards humanity.

Horror:

Succulent: A man becomes obsessed with succulents, covering his entire apartment with them. As his friends become increasingly concerned and his viewpoint becomes more and more distorted violence blooms with scarlet petals. The plants need fertilizer to grow…(this one is in progress)

#writing prompts #writing inspiration #my ideas #sci fi and fantasy #scifi #stories #horror #horror prompts #let me know what you think #Whales #aliens #necromancer

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cryptid-writing · 8 hours

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[A different kind of hero]

Warnings: attempted murder, destruction of public property, ?? not sure of anything else.

info: Tension grows as anxiety rises.

A/N: Oh, I finally updated with a new chapter! A happy early birthday from me to all of you.

Chapters: [1] [2] [3]

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[Chapter 4]

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Oscorp. Once again, you are here. And once again, your senses are ringing. A buzz thrumming at the back of your mind, the unease you usually felt now overpowering, making you feel a little ill, but you persisted. Now, standing near the building’s doors, you watched as people went in and out casually, not a worry at all. The lack of any sign of danger was eerily unsettling as the buzz continued.

Pushing your way into the lobby, you took a look around. You had never been inside Oscorp before, well, not properly. To be in a place like this was not something you ever thought you’d find yourself. Gazing around at the people walking to and fro, scientists and office workers passing through glass doors, small groups littered around chatting around the impressive fountain at the center and greenery which hung by the walls and from the ceiling. Your heart picked up its pace, frantically looking around the lobby for where to go, yet forced to speak with the receptionist. A young woman around your age gave you a smile as you strode over to her desk, the area of which had snail stickers, a snail paper weight, and complimentary candy.

“Excuse me, uhm.. Do you..” you racked your brain quickly for an excuse that could get you past the barriers you figured were in place, “Do you know where the bathroom is?” Nice.

The woman appeared surprised for a moment, but merely smiled with a slight chuckle and stood up, a snail pin catching your eye for a moment as the googly eyes on it rattled. You turned your gaze back to the receptionist and looked to where she pointed. In the back corner to the left. You thanked her and headed over briskly.

Spotting the elevators down a nearby little hall, you wasted no time in taking a lift. Ducking away from the restroom as soon as a large group of businessmen walked by and seeing the receptionist looked away to speak with someone else. You slip inside the extravagant doors and press the button for the highest floor.

Anxiety building as each floor passes, awkwardness and a need to cry, but you focused on breathing, an attempt to keep you calm. You didn’t need to panic, you didn’t want to panic. The buzz in your head only got stronger as you continue your ride up and up and up. You were definitely close.

----

Weeks.. Otto had been cooped up in that hospital for weeks. The incessant sensation upon his spine from the harness has been eating away at his patience, as was his own mind. He could not stop thinking, stewing on his life. The bullies growing up, the mean kids in school, and now his ever brutal ex-boss. It all came to a boiling point. He'd had enough. He was going to do something to put an end to this mistreatment. The cruelty he endured his whole life.

He was sick of it.

These thoughts played in his mind, fueling his seething hatred for Norman Osborn as he made his way through the lobby. The actuators tucked under the coat he grabbed somewhere along the way, hidden from sight, not wanting to attract much attention as he went to get on the elevator.

Halfway up, his actuators grew restless, clicking, ticking, rising up from under his coat. The itch and buzz at his lower back growing steadily as he neared his stop. He wrung his hands together for a moment, looking around the metallic walls of the lift. Bringing his gaze back down to one of the actuators he lifted a hand, the end of the actuator resting in his palm as he watched in thought.

“Osborn felt jealous of these.. a lack of profit he could have made from my own genius.. If he wants these things so bad.. Fine.” the elevator dinged.

“I’ll give them to him.”

----

Norman stood by his desk, listlessly looking over a few papers sprawled out on it, documents, reports, swirling a small glass of coffee in hand. Like a well oiled machine everything was running smoothly and according to plan for his company. Products made, money made. It almost put a smile to his perpetually bitter face. His mood turned to annoyance, however, when an unscheduled knock came to his office door.

He specifically stated not to be disturbed for the next 3 hours.. there shouldn’t be anyone here.

Swirling his drink in hand and taking a sip, he waited. After a moment of silence Norman walked over to the door, muttering in annoyance. As he arrived he heard one more knock and he answered through it.

"Who's there? I'm extremely busy and asked to be left alone!"

Silence again.. but then--

"Really? I recall this being your usual break time, Norman."

That familiar voice which called back from behind the door.. It couldn't be.

Norman quickly sat his drink down on a nearby decorative desk and gripped at the door's handle. In one violent motion he cranked and yanked the gold trimmed mahogany wood open to face what he never thought he'd see again.

"Otto?" He couldn't believe his eyes, he should have been dead! Fear and dread are not what arose in him, but anger. Boiling and brimming. The audacity to survive and still be alive..!

"Oh? So you do know my name. For what reason do you have to be saying it now? No petty little insults or cruel nicknames? I'm sure you have plenty locked away in that ugly little head of yours, Osborn. I’ve heard plenty working here.. towards me, towards others.. towards your own son--"

"Shut it." Norman spoke up, venom dripping from his words, "Get out of my office or I will call the authorities on you. We can all pretend that none of this happened, that you didn’t steal from me and cause expensive damages from that altercation you caused--"

Otto fumed, hands clenching as Norman spoke. Every word was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and droning. The lack of remorse so clear and evident on his face and in his tone. He gritted his teeth and hissed.

"Me? I'm afraid you are gravely mistaken, Osborn. It's not me who is in the wrong here." He stepped closer as he spoke, his tone threatening, as he stepped closer his actuators made themselves known. The glowing, pulsing lighted limbs snaked out from under the coat Otto wore, the ends flaring out and writhing.

He stops.

"It's you."

Before Norman could fully react an actuator lunged toward him, purposefully missing him by mere inches as it slammed into the desk behind him. Norman flinched, his own anger building at the levels of audacity Otto had to be doing this. He stood up straight and marched over toward the shorter man, standing his own ground in his own domain.

"What? Was that supposed to scare me? Even now you can't do one simple job right. Tell me, Otto, why is it that I fired you? Surely you've got a brain in there somewhere to figure that out."

Otto didn't respond, another actuator, instead, shot out, aiming for Norman's legs, trapping him. "What are you doing?!" Norman's words were ignored as the limb curled tighter and tighter uncomfortably to his waist. Lifting him from the ground slowly, Norman’s shouting increasing, demands to be put down among insults thrown at him.. Otto’s head fell towards the floor with a harsh stomp of his boot.. and all in a moment, Norman was slammed into the farthest wall. Norman felt the wind nearly get knocked out of him by the impact, his head rebounding from the force. Otto’s voice now booming, a drastic change from his usual anxious stutter that was nowhere to be heard. All his anger and rage that had built up over the years now finally being released in one violent outburst.

“YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!”

“Fired, killed, what difference does it make--” Norman tried to speak, always trying to have the last word, yet was unable to get much out as he watched Otto approach. A step, two, three-- a few was all he took before he lifted himself by two actuators, hovering just a little above his old boss. The third and final actuator raised itself, the end of it twisting and opening up as it drew close to Norman’s head, revealing a welding device inside the glowing pit at its center. As it began to glow ever brighter, Norman could feel the heat emitting from it, tensing at the anticipation of what is soon to come.

“That’s enough out of you! For too long I have hobbled around doing as you’ve told, being berated and belittled. I have worked harder than anyone else in this forsaken company and all I get out of this is an attempt on my life! For what?! And it’s not just me, either! Oh, no, everyone else is miserable here! And yet, I was singled out among all the rest to be the sick and abused pet of yours! Well, I’m DONE dealing with all of this! I can’t take it any longer! I CAN’T STAND YOU, NORMAN OSBORN!”

Otto accentuated his belted anger with the slamming of the welding actuator into the wall near Norman’s head, the core sending singed papers flying, frames shattering and clattering to the floor. Norman flinched and jerked away in surprise, looking at the destruction, bits of wall falling away as the actuator removed itself and turned to face him, and although it was a foot away, the heat it let off felt as though it were only inches from him. He turned his head, brows furrowed tightly, glaring at his insubordinate ex-employee as though he wasn’t the one seconds from death. He opened his mouth to shout, but Otto spoke up before he could.

“I will not allow someone like you to continue to ruin my life, or anyone else for that matter. I will succeed where you failed, Norman.” The actuator reeled back, the ends curling into a threatening display, the core glowing hot white, the atmosphere around it warping from the intense heat.

“CONSIDER THIS A MERCY--!”

“What the--?!”

Otto paused, noticing Norman’s attention was jolted mid-speech towards something behind him. He turned around to see what it was that had taken Norman’s attention away, actuator following in sync. There, he saw a peculiar sight. A young person in a tan sloth onesie, a puffy green vest, and a bag was standing awkward, having just been spotted in the middle of sneaking around for who knows what reason. Their face was covered awkwardly by two masks, obscuring their identity. What on earth were they doing here? No one should have been up here!

You were frozen, like a deer in headlights as all eyes in the room were drawn to you despite your attempt to remain silent and out of view. You tried to assess the situation, figure out what to do, but from the sounds of it, it looked like far too big of a problem for you to deal with. You could only stand stiff with fear, watching as Otto lowered himself and sent a free actuator over toward you before walking closer just a couple of feet. The actuator bobbed around, floating around you.. almost as if it was examining you.. The finger-like tips were spread, allowing the camera at its core to see clearly, you followed it with your eyes as it twirled, making note of the small shutter shrinking as though squinting.

“Who are you? No one is supposed to be here, not now--” Otto spoke, his anger faltering into annoyance of being interrupted at such a critical moment. A small hint of possible familiarity in his mind as he tilted his head and squinted his eyes at you.

“Uh.. I-I’m..” Your voice was small and meek, trembling with uncertainty, a panic at having to speak. Luckily, you were spared your impromptu spotlight as Otto started to speak again. Unluckily, however--

“It doesn’t matter. Not now--” Otto growled and rubbed at his temples as though a headache had been forming. He looks back up at you, an anger in his eyes. The actuator that had been eying you reeled back, that familiar buzz in the back of your mind returned and you reacted before it lunged. Narrowly avoiding the tentacle-like device as it slammed into a cabinet behind you. You glanced back to see it change path and target you once more.

“Now where do you think you’re going?!” Otto shouted, sending another actuator your way.

“I-I’m not here to fight you! I didn’t come here to cause trouble!” You called back, jumping and dodging the swift limbs trying to swipe at you as you ran around the room.

"If you didn't come here for any of that, then why DID you come here?! I can't have anyone interrupting this!" Otto replied with a growing frustration, his actuators still chasing you as his eyes followed, locking onto your agile form.

You took a few moments to respond, focusing hard on not getting grabbed. Your mind buzzing relentlessly as the limbs kept swiping far too close for comfort. You ran around Norman's desk, ducking down behind the large mahogany colored leather chair before finally speaking up again. Your nerves alight with adrenaline and moderate fear.

"I'm here 'cause I saw the destruction at the hospital-- I-I wanted to know if you were okay-- I don't want anyone to get hurt!" You panted, still not used to exerting yourself so much even despite the boosted stamina that came from your still freshly gifted powers.

Otto was confused, and more so, he was growing more annoyed by the minute. You wanted to know he was okay?

"Don't patronize me. I don't know who you are or why you would even care. You are being a nuisance interfering right now!" He spat.

"But I'm no--" You tried to speak but were cut off by another close swipe of an actuator that snaked its way to your hiding spot. You managed to dodge and slide your way towards the large window that sat just behind Norman's desk. Standing still, your heels tapping the wall just below the window as you eyed the actuator as it rose back up again. You didn't really have any means of escape.. except for the window.. but it was closed.

"I will not say this again." He stepped closer to the desk, the actuator curling itself around the chair behind it, raising it up.

"JUST LEAVE ME BE!"

And just like that, the window was shattered. The chair having been thrown right through it with you narrowly dropping down and out of its trajectory. Shrieking as you fell back to the floor.

"I-- I-I can't-- I-I can't let you just kill someone! P-Please--" Your pleas were frantic, spilling from you like cubes of ice clattering to the floor.

"..You. You don't want me to kill Norman Osborn?" He was almost taken aback, seeing red at this point. Gripping at his head with a boiling rage, his actuators lifting him up as he continued.

"If you 'can't let me kill' him, then you will be the FIRST to go!" And with that, he lunged forward. The actuators smashing into the desk without a care.

You scrambled to your feet and assessed the window as he spoke, your senses picking up on an impending doom. Spotting an open window a few floors down and a window cleaning platform just below. You inhaled sharply to try and calm your nerves in vain over the height you saw. The smashing of the table startled you, whipping your head around just to see and feel the sleek and slender tentacle ram into you.

You couldn't react fast enough to even make a sound.

#my writing #doc ock x reader #doc ock x you #doc ock #otto octavius #norman osborn #long post

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