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#she Just Woke Up so i wanted to show the world filling in with colors and light
sweetcandyholic · 2 years
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She followed his gaze to a man hunched over a keyboard and computer. She wanted to call out to him, but her throat wouldn’t work.
Her breaths came desperately, but he wouldn’t turn around. She wanted to call him, but she didn’t know how. Who was he!? With considerable strength, she lifted her hand and reached out. She said something, anything, a small word she was sure had meaning even if she didn’t know what it meant, but all the man did was hang his head and she just didn’t understand.
The boy grabbed her hand to pull and lead her, and she moved with him not knowing any better.
maybe i should have drawn a keyblade for the kingdom hearts AU that xfm0eshirehc wrote but listen. this scene stuck out to me from the moment i read the first draft and it wouldn’t leave my head
happy @invisobang​ 2022!
Something to Me, to You :: written by xfm0eshirehc: [ ao3 ]
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turtletaubwrites · 2 months
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Sweet Abduction ~ Part 1
Thank you anon for this super cute request! I loved the idea, and I hope you enjoy the fic!
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Pairings: Charlotte Katakuri x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4084
Ao3 Link
Summary: Times are tough, and you're afraid you'll have to give up the family business, until you find people who cherish your work. Who knew making doughnuts would gain you the attention of an Emperor of the Sea, and her second son? Will your new life be as sweet as it seemed?
Rating/Warnings: SFW, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Minor Violence (hardly anything, just being grabbed by the arms briefly), Kissing, No Smut, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world
A/N: Turns out Katakuri is over 16 ft tall. I stuck with canon, hope you don't mind! Please heed the tags! This is very sweet romance type fluff, but there is some kidnapping and shit, so be wary 😅
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Your body naturally woke you in the quiet, early morning light, but you still felt like you were in a bad dream.
After all your years of struggling to get by, of trying to make a living off the only skills you had, you still had nothing. You had kept your dad’s shop running, learning all you could, trying to honor his memory. But now that he’s gone, prepping these early mornings alone felt like losing him all over again.
Especially since hardly anyone in this town could afford to waste their berries on sweets.
Even buying ingredients for one day's batch was brutal.
I’m sorry, dad. I don’t want to sell your shop. Please, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.
You blinked back your tears as you started frying the morning's first batch of doughnuts.
Falling into your rhythm, you glazed and displayed each doughnut with care. Still taking pride in your work, you treated each pastry with love, even though they would probably be wasted. 
You gave a little yelp as the tiny bell on the shop’s door chimed.
Your mouth hung wide as you looked at the two potential customers. Shaking yourself, you greeted them, turning on your customer service charm.
‘The best way to keep a customer is to show them you really care.’
Your dad’s sweet voice filled your mind, and you smiled, genuinely hoping that these people would have a wonderful day. And that if they tried your doughnuts, it might make their day even brighter. 
The two strangers made their way to the display case, reviewing the little menu above the counter, and they asked you detailed questions that surprised you. 
You had been too busy trying to make sense of the colorful, almost outrageous way they dressed, that it took you a second to realize how excited they seemed to be here. 
They can’t be from around here. Everyone here is too poor to be that colorful.
You pinched your wrist at the sour thought, reminding yourself of your dad’s view of the world. He’d tell you to focus on the good things happening right now.
The two customers ordered four doughnuts each, and you carried their plates to the dingy little table in the corner, filling their cups with coffee.
The urge to stare was almost too powerful. It had been so long since someone new came to enjoy your work. 
They smacked their lips, and licked their fingers, and their bright eyes warmed your heart. 
‘There’s nothing better than watching someone enjoy the work you put your heart into.’ 
You cleared your throat, turning away from them as you wiped away a tear at your dad’s words in your mind.
“Ooh, Mama’s gonna enjoy this,” the taller one hissed in a mock whisper.
“Excuse me,” the other patron called, waving you over. 
You wiped flour off your hands, grabbing the pot of coffee. You felt their eyes on you, feeling examined as you refilled their cups.
“Is there anythi–”
“How would you like a sponsorship to open a shop in the sweetest capital of the world?”
“... I’m sorry. What did you–”
The tall one grabbed your wrist, eyes almost manic as he leaned toward you.
“We’re scouts, you see. We’re from Totto Land, and we’ve been looking for someone with your talents. Everything will be taken care of. We already have a doughnut shop that's just waiting for an artist like you.”
Your eyes were so wide it was almost painful, and part of you told you to run from these strangers. 
‘Don’t fight miracles, sweetheart. Sometimes good people really do get good things.’
“Okay,” you stuttered, following your dad’s advice one more time. 
You had heard the name Big Mom before, seen her wanted poster. She didn’t seem like a real person when you were struggling in your run down town. 
And you thought that Emperors of the Sea were meant to be terrifying, almost demonic. 
But here you were on her archipelago, her myriad of islands filled with so many happy people. So many people who love what you do.
It's surreal! 
You’d been given a doughnut shop on Komugi Island, along with a beautiful apartment above the shop. You wanted to explore and meet people, but you couldn’t think of closing the shop for even a day. 
All the ingredients you could dream of, equipment that you’d never seen before, and a dining area inside and outside with plenty of tables so you could enjoy the happy noises people made when they ate your doughnuts and pastries. 
It was heaven. It felt like your dad was there with you, kneading the dough, pouring the coffee. You could almost hear his laugh, his silly songs that he used to hum.
It felt like home.
After a few days, you noticed that the shop cleared out a little before lunchtime. You had been having a steady stream of customers all day since the day you opened, but now it was empty. You tried to remind yourself that things wouldn’t always be that busy, and that it didn’t mean anything.
I guess I’m just worried, dad. I want to do well here. I want to stay.
You had a pile of plates in one hand as you wiped down a table outside.
“Good afternoon,” boomed a deep voice from above, and your ankle shifted against the stone tiles.
You were slipping, trying and failing to keep a grip on the porcelain plates.
Then a huge, warm hand held you steady, and your mouth gaped at the sight of another gloved hand catching the plates before they fell.
“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, heart racing.
Shifting away to look at your new patron, you steadied yourself, pressing your palm against the warmth beside you.
Your breath hitched as your hand touched firm leather. You stumbled back a step, and he grabbed your shoulder to steady you, before setting the dishes on the table, and towering over you.
“I apologize. I should have waited until you set down the plates.”
The deep, measured voice made you shiver as you looked up at the man it belonged to. 
He was so tall. Insanely tall.
Is he a giant?
He sat down beside the shop on what you just now realized was a bench, made for someone his size.
Realizing how rude you were being, you cleared your throat, giving him a smile.
“No need to apologize. Thank you so much for saving my plates!”
You dipped your head, letting your eyes go wide as you looked at the ground after getting a better look at him. 
He had deep crimson hair, with eyes to match. Those intense eyes were framed with arched brows, and eyelashes so dark and thick that you could see them from where you were.
You brought your head back up to meet those eyes, and you bobbed on your toes as you tried not to gape at the rest of him. 
You’d never seen anyone like him before. He wore a layered scarf that draped around his shoulders, covering his neck, and the lower half of his face. 
Below the scarf was an expanse of muscle, pink tattoos accentuating his chiseled abs. His leather vest covered nothing, but it matched the leather across the rest of his body, belts, straps, and spikes giving you so much to look at.
Then you looked back at his eyes, and realized you’d been staring.
“I–I am so sorry. I’m new here, and my head is a little off still. Would you like me to bring you a menu?”
He hardly spoke while he was there, but his gaze felt heavy and warm. Thankfully, no one else came by to witness you making a fool out of yourself. 
He made a huge order, and you packed three large boxes to the brim.
Your dad would have been so happy in that moment. You could picture his smile. Practically hear his voice.
‘Look, sweetheart. Your love is gonna touch all those people that eat your sweets. Isn’t that just lovely?’
“Are you afraid?”
“What,” you choked out, quickly brushing a tear from your eye as you thought of your father.
He’d taken the boxes from you after paying, but now his brows were furrowed as he looked down at you.
“Oh my– oh no! I’m sorry,” you panicked, realizing what he meant.
“I wasn’t crying because of– I was just thinking about my dad. He would have been really happy with your order. You picked all his favorites!”
He stiffened, one of his gloved hands flexing on his knee.
Clearing his throat, he stood, his height leaving you speechless again. 
“Thank you, miss. Have a pleasant day.”
“... Th-Thank you! Please, come again soon!”
You were waving at his back, and he froze for a moment at your words. But he kept walking, finally leaving your sight. 
Slumping into one of the chairs, you felt the blood rushing through your body, your head feeling fuzzy after all of that. 
Then a line of customers started trickling back in, and you poured yourself into work. 
What an interesting place this is. 
~
He came back again. And again. And you always forgot to ask for his name. 
He never said much. He always ordered at least three boxes. And you always spaced out as you stared at him at least once before he left. 
Luckily he always seemed to come during a slow hour, catching you cleaning with no other customers to attend to.
You wanted to ask if he liked them. If he liked your dad’s favorite recipes. It seemed like a silly question, since he ordered so many every time.
But you liked his voice, and you thought it would sound really nice if he said it. 
You caught yourself grinning in the mirror at the thought as you got ready for the day.
I think I like it here.
“Good morning, miss Y/N!”
You had just stepped downstairs, morning light still not quite touching the world, but your shop was full of people.
“I… I’m sorry. The shop’s not open yet. But I’m happy to share my pot of coffee with you if you’re willing to wait on the doughnuts!”
You felt extra grateful that you’d dressed for the day before coming downstairs.
“Thank you dear, but you’ll be coming with us.”
A tall, thin woman moved toward you, a rough scar bisecting her face, and you clenched your fist to stop yourself from recoiling. It was too damn early for someone who looked like a gnarled old witch to break in and threaten you.
Is she threatening me?
“Sorry, uh,” you said awkwardly as you moved behind the counter. “I’ve got a lot of doughnuts to get started for the day.”
“Not today, sweetie,” the witch-like woman said, her reddish nose bobbing as she shook her head.
“I don’t– Did I do something wrong?”
You shrank back against the wall as guards moved against you, gripping your arms.
“Not at all,” the woman nearly shrieked, failing to sound comforting. “In fact, you are being granted the highest of honors. You are about to become part of Big Mom’s family!”
You had been squirming only slightly, not really fighting against the men holding and moving you. But now you slumped, confusion hurting your brain too much to keep steady.
“What do you mean? What’s happening,” you asked, panic building in your throat the closer they got you to the door. 
“You have been chosen to wed the shining star of the Charlotte family. Our strongest warrior, a man whose back has never touched the ground. My perfect big brother, Charlotte Katakuri!”
Your mouth hung open as she continued, her voice manic, louder with each word. She may as well have been speaking another language. 
She pointed a long, twig-like arm at you, and you tried to clear your head to understand.
“You can call me Brulee, sister in law. Tomorrow you will become Charlotte Y/N.” 
You stood, frozen and dizzy.
“Come now, lots to do, sister,” she tutted, snapping her fingers.
“But why? Why me?”
She reared on you, her red nose inches from yours.
“You’re special, of course. You were chosen. And you’d better learn not to question Mama.”
“Please,” you pleaded, twisting against the guard's hold. “I don’t–”
“Don’t question mama! And don’t even think about refusing her.”
The guards tightened their grip, leading you toward the door.
“Wait!”
“Don’t res—”
“Please change the sign! Please let my customers know I’ll be gone, I don’t want them to wait out there for me.”
Brulee frowned at you, but had one of the guards write a note, hanging it on the door.
“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, giving her a grateful smile.
She frowned again.
You didn’t resist, and the guards let you walk freely. You felt the stares of citizens on you, and watched a group of onlookers waving as the ship departed for the main island. 
Whole Cake Island. 
It was incredible. The sounds, the colors, the smells! Excited locals rushing around, as if preparing for something big. 
Like a wedding.
Brulee spent the travel time regaling you with stories of her brother. 
The second son of the Big Mom Pirates. One of the Three Sweet Commanders. The Minister of Flour who governs over your new home, Komugi Island.
“When he was born he stood straight up, and slept on a chair. His back has never touched the ground. He’s never laid down, and never been knocked down either.”
“That sounds tiring,” you muttered under your breath, but she turned, grasping your wrist.
“Not to my brother. He’s more than strong. He’s superhuman. He’s noble, and cool-headed. And you are going to be the perfect wife for my perfect brother. Got it?”
“I-I got it.”
She released your arm, and you tried to fight your nerves, but you couldn’t stop shaking. 
You were led through a massive castle that looked like, or was it a cake? The ceilings were so massive, you had to crane your neck to see them.
Brulee left the guards outside, leading you into a gorgeous bedroom, with an extravagant bathroom, and at least ten servants carrying all sorts of fabrics, powders, shoes, and more. 
You felt like you were in a whirlwind, just staying still and letting these strangers touch you, pamper you, fit the white dress to your body.
Now and then you’d pay attention to what they were saying between their giggles and demands. 
“She’s so lucky.” 
“I wish I could join the family.”
“I wonder if his children will be as perfect as he is?”
Finally, you were freed from their hands. Dinner was brought to your guarded room, and you watched the night fall.
You curled up in the luxurious bed, and sobbed silently. You caught yourself whispering under the blankets, eyes burning as you tried to make sense of it all.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m trying to see the good here. But I’m scared. I love this place. I love making people smile. But what if this man… What if my husband is a bad person? What if he’s mean? What if he doesn’t like me?”
Visions of terror filled your mind. If they could kidnap you for this, could they really be good people? This land seems so happy and prosperous, could this marriage be a good thing?
“Is this a miracle, dad? Should I let it happen, and hope for the best?” 
“Will they kill me if I try to run?” 
“I’m scared, dad. I wish you were here.”
Finally, your quiet sobs fell into slow breaths as sleep pulled you under.
Morning arrived, and the servants were buzzing with excitement as they prepared you for the wedding. You felt empty, hollow. They kept pinching your cheeks lightly, trying to wake you up, to convince you to be happy.
All you could manage was a weak smile as you looked at your reflection.
“You look beautiful, sister,” Brulee praised, patting your hand. “It’s almost time.”
She led you to a massive stone room, guiding you to a small bench before leaning over you. 
“Just wait here. It won't be long.”
She left, and you didn't turn to watch her go. You thought about running. There were no guards in this chamber. 
You bit your lip to keep from crying, afraid of what might happen to you if you ruined your makeup.
“Y/N…”
A choked gasp left your throat as you turned, looking for the owner of that deep voice.
Your favorite customer was there, his height looking almost normal in this massive room. He sat along the wall on a giant bench, leaning toward you.
“Oh, hello,” you practically squeaked, throat caught with unshed tears. “What are you doing here? I’m sorry I couldn’t make your order today!”
“Please,” he stopped you, holding out his gloved hands. You blinked at him, noticing that his normally black attire was white, somehow making his hair and tattoos stand out even more.
“What are you…”
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let this happen.” 
“Let what happen,” you asked, your mind moving so fast it felt like it was tripping over itself. You stood without meaning to, walking closer.
“You were brought to my island as a gift. For me.”
His dark eyes poured over you as you stood, silently waiting.
“I shouldn’t have told mama that I liked you. I tried to convince her to stop, but there’s no way to stop this without violence now. And I cannot hurt my family.”
Violence? 
Your heart beat in your chest like a bird, wings flapping desperately to escape a cage. 
“Mama is a decisive woman. When she makes her mind up on something, it will happen. I am usually the one to make it happen. Most of my siblings have their marriages arranged. I didn't…”
Regret tinged his voice, and you met his eyes.
“Why me?”
He looked away, sighing as he leaned back against the wall.
“My siblings brought you to my island because they thought I would enjoy your doughnuts. I happened to mention how much I’ve enjoyed your work, and your… company. So Mama has decided that you’ll be joining the family. That you and I will marry. In less than an hour.”
You’d never heard him say so many words at once, and his voice rolled over you while you tried to comprehend everything. Your mouth hung open as you stared at him.
“You must be frightened.”
He shifted on the bench, looking almost uncomfortable before he caught himself. He adjusted the movement, making it look deliberate. But you noticed.
He’s just a person.
“I think having a first date might have been nice,” you teased with a small smile. 
He stared down at you for a long moment, before his brows furrowed.
“You shouldn’t have to marry a monster.” 
“What do you mean,” you questioned, starting to feel lightheaded from everything.
“When we kiss, it will be over…”
“We’ll be married?” 
“No.”
You hadn’t thought his eyes could get any more intense, but they sure did. You stood, still as a statue, waiting for him to explain. 
“There’s something I have to show you.” 
Katakuri unraveled his scarf, slowly revealing the lower half of his face.
Your eyes went wide at the sight of his large mouth, scars stretching from ear to ear. Sharp teeth or fangs jutted out at the edges of his lips. 
Your first thought was that he did look like a monster.
‘You can’t tell somebody’s heart from the outside, sweetheart. Always give people a chance.’
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, after you stood there too long, thinking of your dad’s voice.
You watched those huge hands start to drape the scarf, looking away from you as he covered his scars.
“Wait,” you commanded, voice almost too loud in the echoing room. You reached up to put your hand on his knee, shoving aside a brief thought about how things would work with his height.
“Will you be kind to me?” 
He paused his movements, face still uncovered. Your whole body rolled with warm shivers as he laid his hand on yours.
“I will be kind to you. And I will protect you.” 
“And you’ll tell me how much you like my doughnuts?”
An almost surprised huff left him, and you were pleasantly shocked to see his wide lips twitch up, a hint of a smile there. 
“I love your doughnuts. They make me very happy.” 
Your toes curled in your shoes as you grinned up at him
“Okay,” you nodded, dread shifting to excitement. “I guess we’re getting married then? Please, promise to be kind.” 
“I promise,” he agreed, head tilted as he looked at you, before wrapping his scarf back around. 
You were practically bouncing on your feet now, and your words came out high and fast.
“So, your name is Katakuri?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true you never lie on your back?”
“We’ll learn a lot of interesting things about each other later,” he promised, voice low as he patted you on the head.
“Right now we have somewhere to be.”
There were so many people. So much food, so many sweets. 
Big Mom was enormous, even taller than Katakuri. All of her children looked so different, so interesting. 
Everyone seemed happy.
I’ll choose to be happy too, dad. I just wish you were here with me.
The ceremony and vows flew by, and luckily you remembered what to say. Then the end arrived, and you realized that you didn’t know what to do.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may start your marriage with a kiss!”
How am I supposed to kiss him?
Your question was answered as his large hand scooped down beside you. Looking into his face, you could have sworn he was smiling by the slight crinkling of his eyes.
A giggle left your lips as you nodded, and you gasped as he grabbed you gently around the waist, lifting you up.
You heard the cheers of his family as he turned away from the crowd, keeping his face from their sight.
“I am sorry, Y/N.”
His whisper made your heart ache for this strange man. He seemed so lonely, even with all of his family looking up to him. 
Maybe neither of us have to be lonely anymore.
You touched a hand to his cheekbone, and he seemed to freeze.
“Don’t be sorry, Katakuri. Let’s just be good to each other.”
You felt a hum move through him before he carefully pulled his scarf down, just enough, just for you.
He’s so big!
That thought hit you again, but you’d already decided. You were already his. You leaned forward, and kissed him between the sharp fangs at the edges of his mouth.
His lips were warm, and soft, and sweet.
You let out a hum of contentment, wiggling slightly in his grasp. He pulled back, covering his face, then he stared at you. 
“Hi,” you said softly, feeling your skin flush as you felt suddenly shy.
“Oh mama, mama,” Big Mom laughed, making him turn to face the party.
“My family is getting bigger and bigger! What a wonderful day. Let’s start with the cake!”
~
Katakuri didn’t join in on the fun, sitting on the edge as if keeping watch over his own wedding. Everytime you tried to talk to him, new in-laws would drag you away, light conversations and laughter hogging the day. 
Finally, you were ushered away, waving back at the crowd as your husband joined you. 
Instead of a carriage, you were carried away from your wedding on Katakuri’s shoulder, adjusting the scarf so that it would stay in place. 
A procession of onlookers applauded, calling his name. You even heard your own name once or twice. It felt like the entire island was cheering for you, and you were caught in the chaos of a world you never could have imagined. 
Your mind started racing as the wedding was over, the real world starting to return. A million questions tore through you, and you didn’t know where to start, until one came tumbling out.
“How are we going to sleep if you never lay on your back?”
He let out a sound that could have been a laugh as he kept moving toward your new home. 
“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll show you.”
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Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: Once again, I'm so happy to take requests! I probably wouldn't have thought to write for this big guy, but now I love this lil doughnut man. He's so sweet 😭😭 (Let me know if I should write the honeymoon... 😳)
Tag List: @shewrites02
Part 2
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domainedewinter · 29 days
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The price of fire - chapter 3
Summary: Aemond meets a mysterious silver-haired girl on the beach while facing Vhagar. But the more he tries to know her, the deeper her secrets seem.
Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, she/her pronouns, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, misogyny, toxic behaviour, Dom!Aemond, begging, underage hotd style, nsfw. 
(coming soon, I will indicate the chapters containing smut with a 🔥) 
Rating: 18+, MDNI
English is not my first language.
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Chapter 3.
⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝ Roxaene ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝
The night had been more restless than Roxaene would have wished; her dreams were filled with dragons, the sound of their wings, and the fiery color of the fire ready to devastate everything in their path. But it wasn't just the reptilian eyes of the dragons she had dreamed of. 
A lilac eye, cold and masculine, had haunted her night—a piercing gaze that demanded the world to be offered to him, and if the world refused, he was ready to take it by force. 
She woke up in a sweat, short of breath, with the echo of the prince's voice in her head. 
As the hours of the day passed, Roxaene felt a kind of anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach; why had she agreed? 
Because she had no choice. 
Because otherwise, the prince would not have let her go. 
Because if she had not given her word, perhaps she would never have left that beach. By what right did he show himself threatening and demand her presence?
By royal right.
Aemond was a prince, a Targaryen, a being chosen by the gods and envied by the men. He could demand whatever he wished and be obeyed instantly, a thought that touched the nerves of the young girl. Trying not to let this anxiety overwhelm her, she spent the day helping her host, her thoughts flying too quickly during every small talk, but her innocent and apologetic smile prevented anyone from blaming her. In their eyes, she was just a reserved and new girl in town, probably shy and a bit naive; that's what was expected of her age and gender.
When the meal was finished and the sun began to redden, she excused herself and went to bed. The fabric on her head covered her hair, braided along her shoulder so that no silver strand would betray her secret—a secret she herself was unaware of.
It didn't take her long to leave the house and reach the beach, her mind memorizing every cobblestone, every street to take as if her steps were destined to go there. Vhagar was the first thing she saw; lying on the ground, her warm breath swelling her body with each expiration.
And again, that numbness against her palm. Roxaene nervously rubbed it against the loose pants she was wearing—having only worn clothes from Dorne until now—before instinctively raising her head, her heart and mind commanding her to do so. 
So that her gaze met the prince's.
⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝ Aemond ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝
When she emerged from the path, the young prince noticed her instantly; the blue and orange fabric covering her head, braided down to the small of her back, and the strange clothes she wore; loose pants, split on one thigh, with a belt made of thick, embroidered fabric a few centimeters below her navel. A long-sleeved top revealing her shoulders, on which an orange and yellow cape was hung.
The prince's single eye lingered on the young girl before looking into her eyes and approaching her. Once in front of her, he tilted his head to the side, as if evaluating or assessing her.
"You came. I appreciate that you kept your word."
At the slight pout on the girl's face, he guessed that she didn't like her word being doubted, but without adding anything, it was he who continued.
"I have questions to ask you. And I expect answers, Roxaene."
Roxaene's thin, silver eyebrows furrowed, and it amused him; something in her calmed him and made him want to know more, to push her to her limits and see how far he could go.
"Follow me."
He nodded and reached out to her, almost surprised by his own gesture. The girl's lilac eyes landed on his hand, but she didn't resist, taking it and shivering when they touched. He led her near Vhagar and sat in the sand, facing the sea, motioning for her to do the same.
"Where are you from?"
"Dorne."
"Hm." Aemond's only response as he leaned towards her, his hand reaching for her face. As she was about to pull away, he grabbed the fabric in her hair to remove it. Instantly, her small, pale hands, so small compared to his, grabbed his wrist, shaking her head from side to side in a silent "no."
"Yes. Remove your hands, now."
The tone of his voice was cold, like the blade of a dagger ready to pierce flesh, and Roxaene felt her heart race—something he probably felt too, as he slightly furrowed his silver brows in turn.
"What do you fear? I've already seen you without it. There's no need to hide from me. You have nothing to conceal if I want to see it, understood?"
This boldness, this arrogance, made the girl's blood boil. She clenched her jaws, trying to regulate her increasingly difficult breath, but let go of the prince's wrist, offering him her best black and murderous look.
Kneeling in front of her on the sand, he gently and meticulously removed the fabric, unrolling it and releasing her long moon hair that cascaded down to the small of her back and around her delicate face. He saw her lower her eyes and grabbed her chin, their gaze meeting again.
"In my memories, no one in Dorne is known to have such features. Let me rephrase my question; where are you originally from? Because obviously, your parents are not from the south."
It was a question Roxaene would have liked to have the answer to, to know the identity of her parents, to know where she was born, the house she belonged to.
"Unfortunately, my prince, I'm afraid I will disappoint you because I don't know. I was given to my father on the day of my birth, and I never had the chance to know those who conceived me, before abandoning me.”
A sigh escaped her, and he released her chin, deciding that she should continue to look at him even if he didn't force her, which she did, her gaze as audacious as the day before, even though it was clear she was drawing on her patience to answer him and stay still.
"You must know something, a detail, a place, a date?" Inquisitive and relentless, he would not let her leave that beach without something to reflect on her origins. 
Just as he began to consider the idea of keeping her locked in the Keep until he found a solution, Roxaene's sweet voice echoed again, capturing his attention and diverting him from his kidnapping plans.
"I was born in the year 111, the day the bells rang for the first nameday of one of the princes."
Aemond's gaze seemed to cloud, as if he were witnessing a scene playing out before his eyes, a memory he was trying to understand. But quickly, he snapped back, nodding with satisfaction.
"Can I go now?" Roxaene asked, trying not to appear too impatient or insolent, but it failed when Aemond raised his eyebrows.
"By all the gods, I don't know who raised you, nor where the blood flowing in your veins comes from, but you should learn to stay in your place."
The girl's cheeks flushed, and she turned on her knees in the hope of standing up and leaving, but the prince's hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to sit back down.
"I don't remember saying I was done with you."
"Well, I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I am done with you." She spat at him, her patience just surpassed. She stood up and turned away, starting to walk in the sand to reach the path, but soon he was behind her, making her turn around, grabbing her wrist tightly, wide-eyed.
"I could have your tongue cut out for daring to address me like that. I could do whatever I want with you since you seem to be nobody, and nobody will claim you." He began, leaning over her, his free hand putting a long silver strand behind her ear. 
"So don't show yourself so ungrateful. It wouldn't please me much to have to hurt you."
"As your reputation says, allow me to doubt that!"
If she could, Roxaene would have slapped her hand over her mouth to prevent other words as foolish as they were true from escaping. How could she say that, especially when they were alone and he had just threatened her? 
Expecting to be reprimanded, she opened her mouth again to apologize, to try to make him forget the words she had just spoken, but he spoke first, advancing towards her with such aplomb that she had no choice but to step back, again and again, letting him take her where he wanted without being able to escape.
"My reputation? I would be curious to hear it. What do they say about me behind the city walls? I don't mingle with the common folks and, therefore, am unaware, but you seem to know, Roxaene, enlighten my ignorance."
"Oh, you want to know what they say about you? A penchant for ferocity, bold but quarrelsome and capricious. Impetuous and insulting, and from what I've seen since I came across you, I wouldn't risk contradicting these rumors! You command me as if I owe you something, even though I told you I never wanted to harm your dragon or even you. For a reason I ignore, you take pleasure in trying to scare me!"
It was the first time someone had spoken to the prince like that, and he was so surprised that he was initially motionless before a slight and strange smile appeared on his too thin lips. It was at that moment that Roxaene's back collided with a warm and rumbling surface: Vhagar.
Like a predator on the hunt, he leaned his face towards hers, brushing her cheek with his nose, as if he were smelling her, as if he were trying to sense her fear but found none. It was anger, perhaps, but mostly audacity and a lack of fear that he felt, his lips brushing her delicate neck.
"You burn with a fiery flame, Roxaene, but believe me, there is no creature on this earth that I cannot tame."
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awkwardgtace · 8 months
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Dancing Hug
back in the universe where borrowers meet their perfect partner in a dream. I need to update my master list, but this is a little follow up to Mira and Corus meeting each other.
Corus wants to dance with Mira.
Dancing Hug
Mira and Corus stood close together in a ballroom. The spotlight on them as Corus led them in a waltz. Music crescendoed in time with each step. The light of the chandelier hanging over them changed colors as they moved. Red, blue, purple, and more. A scene that he’d created just for her. Where the dance lessons he’d taken as a child could finally be used. A thing Mira could-
“Ow!” Corus lost his thoughts as he winced. They’d been at this for hours, maybe hours. He hadn’t gotten a good idea of how time passed in the dreams yet. Mira always seemed to know.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“It’s ok, you’re getting better.” He smiled down at her. Continuing to try and lead her steps to the music that played from nothing. “Just follow my lead, we’ll get this.”
“You’ve said that every time we do this.” Mira’s hold on his hands tightened. A glint in her eyes followed by a huff only solidified her annoyance. “I don’t get this. Dancing is just weird. How are you leading me when I can’t even look down at your feet? All of this is just too…”
The silence hung heavy. Corus leaned his forehead against hers. “Too human?”
The pink of her eyes disappeared behind pale eyelids. She didn’t speak, merely let her tight hold on his hands ebb. Eventually her arms fell to her sides and Corus stood with his arms kept up in their poor attempt to waltz. Mira pulled away, creating the distance refused to close. Everything he tried to show her failed. Each time she wound up confused… The worst times she didn’t talk to him, barely slept, for days.
“Mira, I just wanted to show you something I had been taught,” he whispered. That didn’t change the distance. Mira’s hesitance reflected in the world. The music stuttered, constant stops and starts. The nice ballroom filled with cracks. Plaster fell to the ground, even the chandelier shattered into a glittering dust.
“It’s just a human thing. It wouldn’t matter in the real world,” she said while wrapping her arms around herself. A tight hug that closed off the progress the two were making. The life Corus wouldn’t stop trying to build. Times like this she looked as small as her true height.
“It’s not a human thing, it’s a me thing. I have another idea.”
Corus stepped forward and offered his hand. Mira stared at him, but the ballroom continued to fall apart. Eventually it even grew. Shadows came to tower over them. Turning their private dance into a spectacle. The spotlight on them burned his skin.
“Corus I don’t… I’m not going to get it. There’s just too much and I don’t-”
He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around her and placing his lips against her ear. “Wake up with me.”
Corus blinked, happy to see the real world again. The world where Mira slept on the pillow next to him. The precious seconds he could watch her sleep had no match. He’d never give them up. At these times, the stern look on her face disappeared. A soft smile, her brow relaxed, her posture calm. No hint of the nerves she held inside constantly.
Those same signs told him when she started to wake up. Slowly her posture tensed, making her look smaller. A crease he doubted made sense for him to see appeared on her brow. The smile changed into a thin line. Finally the pink eyes blinked open, adjusting to the world before landing on him. Corus used a finger to pet the hair splayed out around her. It caused a spark of fear until she realized it was just him, just the human she trusted… The one who loved her.
“So what’s the plan?” she croaked. The tiny voice always had an edge to it. A warning that she couldn’t be taken advantage of. Corus loved that edge, loved everything about her.
“Give me a second,” he whispered.
He reached over the pillow Mira laid upon to his desk. A few taps woke up the screen of his phone. He purposely left it leaning against the wall so he could do this, just in case. A swipe of his password and the music app appeared. One quick tap to hit play and the same waltz music from the dream started. The small noise from Mira made him smile.
Next he sat up. A few movements to bounce Mira, each made her glare at him. Each made him smirk at her. He climbed to his feet then placed his hand down next to her. If she couldn’t make dancing work in the dream world, he’d make it work in reality.
“May I have this dance?” he asked. Mira shook her head, he knew all the objections racing through her mind. “Trust me, give this dance a try.”
Mira huffed before climbing to her feet. Slow, stiff steps forward until she reached his fingers. A nervous glance followed by, “You may.” Then her miniscule weight landed on his palm.
Corus wasted no time in bringing her up from the bed. He placed her tiny body against his neck, hugging her tightly to himself. His other arm spread wide as though he had a partner. Then he danced, a simple one two movement. Mira stayed frozen for a short period, not long enough for the song to end.
“Corus, what are you doing?” she squirmed as she spoke.
“I’m dancing with you,” he hummed. The song stayed as the only noise for a minute. As it faded to a new one she squirmed more.
“This is ridiculous, you’re just dancing with yourself.”
“No, you’re my partner. Leaning against my neck. It’s the same as when I tried to slow dance with you and held you close.”
“It’s not the same!”
“Is it different because you can’t try to break my toes anymore?”
“No! Just…” The squirming stopped. Corus slowed his own steps. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around Mira and pulled her into his view. The damp spots on her face were almost too painful. “If anyone saw you they’d say you’re crazy. This… Maybe we shouldn’t be pushing this. We can both walk away still, a borrower will enter my dreams and you can forget about me. Meet someone the human way.”
“Mira, I don’t care what others see, what someone might say. The second we met I knew you were the only person I could love. I don’t plan to walk away from you.”
“I don’t… I’m not-”
“Don’t say it.” He brought his hand up to his eyes. A quick tilt of his palm left her sitting in the open. Just his fingers beneath her prone form. “Whatever it is, I know you’re wrong. You’re the only one I care about. I want to dance with you, the same dances I had been taught. The ones we will share in the dreams as I take you to all the things I want us to experience together.”
“I don’t understand you.”
Corus smiled. The smile turned to a smirk as he pulled his hand close. Mira’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t stop him. She had about one second to object before he made his decision. The hand holding her pressed against his cheek. As much pressure as she could handle. The strongest hug he could give her.
“What are you doing!?” she shouted. No squirms, no fighting, she wasn’t trying to get away.
“Hugging the best woman I’ve ever met,” he laughed. They stayed quietly like that. Corus knew if anyone walked in they’d see him holding his hand against his face. A strange sight for an outsider. That would never matter to him. Mira was more than he could have ever hoped to find.
She knew him. Knew the things he could do. Saw the darkest parts of humans. Even then she gave him a chance. She trusted his words about his anger. Slept next to him without fear. Blushed when he let his own steps grow heavier than they had to be. Worried about his own view of their relationship.
“...do you still want to dance?” she mumbled. Corus moved her away and smiled at her.
“If you’ll be my partner.”
“...I will.”
This time Corus moved slower. Carefully cupping his hand against his heart. Leaving her space to move a bit more, but still hugging her to him. Mira was perfect. That was the only thought in his head as he started to waltz once more with his tiny girlfriend hugged against his heart.
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bicycleboyblog · 1 year
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I would like to talk about my new favorite Webcomic - Bicycle Boy. A Review.
Submitted by @shakura-kazuki
The story is about a Cyborg named Poet who wakes up in the post apocalyptic desert surrounded by corpses with no memories of who he is. He starts wandering through the desert, finds a bike and just aimlessly travels around to find out what happened to him. He is then violently captured by bandits and from here on out, it just gets worse.
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At first, I was drawn in by the character design - Poet is cute, no doubt, and really cool looking. I mean, as cute as a man in his early 30s can be. I love human characters who are out of the ordinary. Stonehenge is big and scary, but she means well. Machk is a kind heart but strong and protective. Darla is crazy, but she has her reasons. I like Skip for no particular reason, or maybe I do. there is a character for everyone.
The characters are realistic, you can empathize with them and their actions make sense, they are diverse and every one of them has their own problems to deal with. You don’t know who is a villain and who is not until more things have happened. An enemy becomes a friend, an ally becomes an enemy.
The art is phenomenal - it starts out good and only becomes better, every page just as detailed as the previous one. Most of the pages are drawn traditionally, scanned in and colored digitally which is quite noticeable at the start of the story, but less so on the recent pages, It’s almost unbelievable that it’s traditionally inked. And the colors are great, setting the mood throughout the story and showing how gnarly red some wounds are. The setting is sci-fi and stays true to it, not delving too much into fantasy - the apocalypse was 10 years ago, many people died, many people lost someone or something and they suffer from cancer, leukemia and radiation poisoning. The characters get wounds and scratches which only heal slowly, they leave scars and aren’t just magically gone. Poet still has most of his torso to feed his organic brain and skin with oxygen, blood and nutrients. It is unlikely, but technically possible for him to exist in real life right now or in a realistic future.
The art style is semi realistic, but not too gritty, the characters still look like comic book characters while having body hair, skin folds, fat and muscles, scars and wounds. Nothings beautiful, nothings clean, but nothings ugly either. Poets mechanical parts mimic real human muscles groups, radius and ulna arm bones and he’s got bone-anchored hearing aids while also having stupidly oversized kneecaps and silly cartoon robot antennas which whip and wobble when he moves. Solles neck folds, Darlas tattoos, Machks scars, Stonehenges peg leg. They all tell stories. You want to know them. You can tell who each character is by their hands, each of them is unique.
Poet is very much the “special snowflake” kind of protagonist and even though that might not be for everyone, I personally quite enjoy it. He’s unique and mysterious and doesn’t want to talk about himself. He locks his feelings away to not bother others, but here and there he reveals his hurt and his frustrations during moments of peace.
What really gets me is that Poet is not “just a cyborg” - it becomes very clear that he doesn’t feel complete, he knows he has no limbs, he can not feel his hands or feet. He’s a stump and he’s aware of it. There is ugly scarring all around his robot parts which makes it look disconnected and less in unison. It makes you feel awful thinking about it, it fills you with dread. You can empathize with him as a human so much. And there is so little of him left. He’s hurt and confused, a disabled man looking for answers. And everyone just calls him a robot and slaps him in the face.
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And you, as a reader, do not know a lot more about Poets past OR the world he woke up in than Poet does himself. He is, kind of, the readers avatar so to speak of. Poet himself does not get flashbacks or suddenly remembers, unless in dreams and even then, they are mixed with recent memories and unclear. And that’s what I really like about this: the amnesia trope is there and is here to stay. No matter how disturbing or violent or how much his body remembers, his mind simply does not. He’s met with people of his past which make him trembling with fear, but he does not know why, the memories do not come back.
I told a friend of mine to read it and they told me “Poet isn’t talking a lot that’s boring” and while yes, Poet doesn’t speak a lot in the first 4 chapters, it gets better later. But also, he doesn’t need to talk. He speaks with his face, his emotions. There are many times where you can read his thoughts straight from his face. And that is also what makes him a good “readers avatar” because, you as a reader do not have much influence over the story either. That doesn’t mean Poet does not have any influence - his actions certainly cause him a lot of troubles. But he is not the one to tell the story, he narrates through it.
The story starts slow, but picks up in pace and gets more and more interesting the further it goes. The mystery of who Poet was and what happened to him to end up as a cyborg is, even after 450 pages, still a big question mark. We learn things about Machks and other characters past lives along the way. Things are implied, things are going forward and you want to know more, want to find out. There are no info-dumps and even if, they feel natural. But- and here’s the thing - you are not frustrated about it. The story goes it’s own pace and that’s good. It keeps you hooked BECAUSE it reveals only so little - and throws new questions at you with each reveal, like a hydra.
Your interest in the story isn’t driven by the question “what comes next?” but more about “what had happened before?” and the more you go towards the future the more you learn about the past.
And since I liked the comic so much, I read it again. And again. Until I slowly started to realize, that you can solve parts of the mystery yourself - almost every page has a little hint in it. These are scattered everywhere - from backgrounds, to dialogues, to gestures and visuals. If you know what you are looking for you will find them. Which is, simply said, AMAZING. The level of detail that this comic holds over the span of so many years is incredible. Every single page has a lot of thought put into it. Jackarais uses the visual and textual medium of a webcomic to full extent. Even in the alt text sometimes. 
So…
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…next time you re-read Bicycle Boy… make sure to pay attention to the details. And question all of them.
There is a lot to unpack. Disturbing things. The more you try to figure things out, the more fucked up it gets. 
I’m burning to know and excited to see how the story continues.
I love this comic 11/10. Would read again.
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jcniper-backup · 2 months
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i am hungry (i was born hungry) - (2/?)
backing up from ao3, link if you want to read and comment there
Summary: a dark urge/astarion au with a different meeting
Warnings: canon typical violence, bhaal typical shenanigans
Read from beginning
Vaelyn found herself in a bit of a situation. She woke up on a beach with a fuzzy memory of the nautiloid. She woke up on a beach with a fuzzy memory of the nautiloid. Before that – there was nothing. Her tongue felt too heavy in her mouth and her head pounded like molten lava was being poured into it. Acrid smoke burned her nostrils. 
Getting to her feet was a harrowing event all by itself. The sand seemed to be shifting just to spite her. “Pull yourself together,” She hissed. Vaelyn focused on a point in front of her, stilling her mind to the violent churning in her stomach. 
After a minute, the pain and nausea subsided to a dull ache that she ignored. Blood squelched under her shoe as she took a step forward. Vaelyn felt an errant thrill run through her as her eyes followed the blood trail to the mangled body ahead in her path. 
A broad shelf of alien metal cast a shadow over the nearest corpse. Vaelyn bent down  and rummaged through its pockets. All he had was four gold and the metal cup. She took the four gold. 
The pungent aroma of the dead body wafted up to meet her. 
What a fair perfume. 
Disgust and pleasure roiled up in her stomach. Vaelyn pushed herself up, deciding she needed to get as far away from the corpse as possible. 
A soft moan caught her attention. 
Just a few feet ahead of her laid the cleric who helped her on the nautiloid. She was still alive! 
Vaelyn stumbled away from the corpse, grateful to have a distraction. She’d wake her up, get an ally, and then figure out how it was going to go from there. 
Astarion expected burning. He woke with the warmth of the sun on his face and sand underneath his fingers. Fear clawed at his chest. Immediately he scrambled upwards, looking for some sort of shelter. He was just coming to the realization that there was none when he stopped in his tracks. 
How long had he been unconscious? 
If he was going to burn, wouldn’t he have done that already? 
He hadn’t burned. A memory of the nautiloid slammed to the forefront of his mind. The cramped space. The mindflayers glaring at him hungrily. The screaming. The panic as the ship filled with smoke and fire. The worm. 
The worm had to be the reason he wasn’t burning. 
He turned towards the sun, taking in the sight for the first time in two hundred years. The warmth on his face, the way the world around gim was bathed in light and color, couldn’t be replicated in any painting or book. 
Astarion listened to the sound of burning wreckage around him and the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shoreline and laughed. It was an incredulous one, as he realized that mindflayers had done something no handsome prince or cunning monster hunter could. They had inadvertently granted him freedom. 
Because of course the evil brain-eating monsters saved him– 
Astarion picked himself up, walking a little further up the path. He was hoping for a better vantage point, so he could spot any survivors before they spotted him. 
Astarion picked his way through the underbrush and bits of alien metal until he found the perfect spot. It was out in the open, but if something hostile was coming for him, he would see it. And if any kind-hearted survivors found him, he could find a way to take advantage of that. 
It didn’t take long for someone to show up. He stilled, hearing muffled voices before they even came into view. “So, how long do you think it will take before we see actual signs of civilization?” One woman asked. 
“Not long. I found fresh water and some notes that indicate that there might be a village nearby.” The other woman answered. There was a familiar tone about it that Astarion couldn’t quite place his finger on. He turned, catching a glance of them as he figured out what his next move was. One of them was a half-elf with a mace. A cleric – not what he wanted right now, but he could work with that. The other – 
Dread pooled in Astarion’s stomach as he looked upon the other woman. A drow monk, who looked exactly like the odd woman that he had met fifty years ago. 
Astarion turned, hoping that wasn’t her and returned to his plan.
The plan? 
Simple: play the damsel in distress, then when one of them was close enough to strike, he would threaten them with a knife for information. Their footsteps got closer. “Oh, looks like there’s someone up ahead.” The first woman – the possible cleric – said. 
“Maybe another survivor?” The second woman – whose voice was definitely familiar – replied. 
It was time. 
“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?” The longer he examined the drow woman in front of him, the more certain he was that they had met already. There was a small divot in her cheek where a blade had been pressed against it, much in the same way that he had done to her fifty years ago. 
“We both have masters that bind us, sweetling. I cannot help you out of your master’s grip without displeasing mine and…that would be bad for both of us. But–your kind murders so beautifully. I will let you go, and you may take one of my followers.”
She crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. The skepticism on her face… Did she recognize him too? He tried to glean some indication of familiarity in her eyes and found nothing. “Kill it yourself. You look more than capable,” With a curt turn on her heels, she started walking away. 
“I was hoping for a kinder soul, but…no matter.” 
Taking the monk down was surprisingly easy. She was covered in blood and tired from fighting already, so he had caught her unaware. She struggled against him instantly, and Astarion knew he needed to speak quickly. There was no way he could keep his hold on her. “Ssh, not another word. Not if you want to keep that pretty little neck of yours.” 
She gritted her teeth, the grip on the hand that held the dagger tightened. He still didn’t see a mote of recognition in her eyes. Good. “Now, I saw you on the ship, yes? Nod.”
Instead of nodding, the monk slammed her head into his. A white burst of stars exploded in front of his eyes as he reared back and lost his hold on her. “You wretched little–” He seethed. 
Blood streamed from her nose as she reeled back – cackling. “That’s certainly a way to make an introduction,” She barked, “although you should really work on your form. That restraint was shit.” 
Astarion lost his script. This was not how normal people reacted – she isn’t normal. This might be the wretched woman you met fifty years ago. “Enough! I will have – agh!” He doubled over in pain. Something alien tugged forcefully at his brain, as if a hand was physically trying to prise it open and take a look inside. A memory spilled out, one he couldn’t keep hidden. 
In return, an image was pushed in front of him – blood gushing forth onto the window of a mindflayer pod , and then it was gone. 
“What was that? What’s going on?” 
“It’s the tadpole…it connected us.” She said evenly. 
“The worm,” He faltered, “Of course. That explains things…well–somewhat. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies,” Astarion sheathed his knife. 
“It’s fine,” She shrugged, “I was looking forward to seeing yours.” There was still blood all over her nose and mouth, making the woman look almost monstrous. Crimson flecked most of her face and hair as well, the sight was absolutely sinful. 
“Ha! A kindred spirit. My name’s Astarion, I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me. And you are?” 
That was when the drow’s bravado faltered a little, as if he just asked her to solve a difficult riddle. “I am in quite a state, but…I think my name is Vaelyn?” 
____
The elf was staring at her like she had a third head. “Pleasure,” He said, and she thought she sensed some form of trepidation. “So, Vaelyn, do you know anything about these brain worms?” 
“Yes, unfortunately they’ll turn us into mindflayers.” 
“Mindflayers?” His eyes went wide and for a second, Vaelyn thought she saw the flash of a bite mark on his neck. A word came to mind – dhampir. That wasn’t exactly right though, was it? “Of course, it would turn me into a monster.” The dull ache in the back of her head was starting to get worse. She wasn’t sure how long she could stand this conversation. “Although there might still be time to control this thing–” 
“We should team up. We’re looking for a healer, but perhaps a healer also knows how to control it.” 
Astarion looked shocked that she offered, and then a smirk crossed his face. It was a touch too composed. “I was about to go it alone, but I suppose there’s strength in numbers. Lead on.” Something in her blood sang, and her brain was assaulted with pictures of how easily it might be to kill him. 
She sucked in a deep breath, and her mind stilled. 
Despite the pounding in her head and aching muscles, Vaelyn soldiered on. She added a very talkative wizard and the gith fighter from the ship to her list of companions before she retired for the night. They found a nice little field next to a stream and set up camp. 
The gith, Lae’zel, grumbled something about her being a weakling for calling it a night. “We have abominations growing inside us, we need to find a creche.” 
“And we’ll do that in the morning, clearly, none of us are as war-forged as you are. We need rest.” It took a lot to resist rolling her eyes. She glanced over at Gale, who was warming himself by the fire. She debated approaching the man to see if he had recovered from getting stuck in a stone earlier, but she thought better of it. 
The incessant ache in her head did not want an extensive conversation. She turned towards Astarion. Which was something she wouldn’t have done if she had known the man better, but he was also struggling with setting up his tent. “Need help?” 
“No,” He hissed. She watched as he tried for the third time to draw the final line taut – and failed, the middle of his tent sagged. Vaelyn could have sworn she smelt something bitter, almost metallic in there. It could have been her, though. She hadn’t put much effort into cleaning herself up yet. 
“You’re quite antisocial, aren’t you?” Vaelyn crossed her arms, deciding she would watch him suffer until he asked her for help. Politely. 
“And you’re still here,” He paused, crimson eyes taking her in, “forgive me if I’m not entirely pleasant, I just found out I’ve been infected with a tadpole that will turn me into a grotesque monster.” 
“Alright.” She shrugged. 
Astarion tried to finish his tent again. 
No luck. 
Silence. 
“You’re still standing there.” 
“Would you like me to stand somewhere else?” She asked. 
If this was anyone else, she probably would have left them to struggle with their own tent. There was just something about someone badly trying to hold her at knifepoint that amused her. Is that a normal reaction? Vaelyn swatted away the errant thought like a fly. 
“If you’re going to stand there and act smug, then yes. Don’t you have a tent of your own to set up?” 
“No. Didn’t come off the ship with anything but the clothes on my back, although the luxury of a tent would be nice, so would any material possessions that might give me a clue about who I am.” 
Another round of silence. 
He turned around and tried again. 
Vaelyn crossed her arms over her chest. Astarion turned around, seething. “You’re still here.” 
“Do you want–” 
“ Yes. ” 
“You need to ask nicely,” 
“ Please,” 
“Ah! Good boy, there you go.” Vaelyn finished his tent for him, reinforced all of the knots, made sure the canopy was on properly and turned back to him. He was no longer seething, the little divot that he got in his brow when his face got scrunched up from being mad was no longer there. 
Instead, he was staring at her again. There was some form of confusion on his face. “How do you have amnesia and know how to do that?” 
“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “but I’m a monk so…perhaps I was taught.” 
“Right,” He trailed off for a second. Vaelyn supposed asking for a thank you from him would be too much. “And are you sure that you really don’t remember anything? ” 
The pounding in her head was starting to worsen. “Yes, I’m sure. Why?” 
Whatever emotion: confusion, fear, anger, had been on his face was wiped clean in almost an instant. He smiled at her, practically leering now. “No reason, darling. No reason at all…sleep tight.” 
The tone of his voice made Vaelyn think he might know something. The little twerp is holding something back. You should teach him a lesson.  She took one large step backwards, the more rational part of her brain reminding her that the people in this camp were allies – for now. 
“Alright, you too.” With a curt turn of her heels, Vaelyn decided to put as much distance between her and Astarion as possible, so she could find a place to meditate. 
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novawitchy · 4 months
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Past Lives
This is a story(ish?) Based off of a dream I had a year ago. Im not the greatest writer but I really wanted to post this! Please go check out my post on @witchyclispe for the drawing and a small speedpaint!
You've heard of loves that are meant to be,but maybe in another universe. "I wish we had more time" "i will find you in the next life"
Atticus Selene, a man in the space program, happily married the love of his life Dottie, a sweet and gentle woman. . He adored her to pieces, having been in love with her since they met in college. She stood on a bench on the college campus, painting on a canvas. Curiously he stopped to talk with her. "Seems a bit high up there?" She looked at him with the most beautiful set of eyes he had ever seen. A bright smile captured on her face, her nose scrunched and smile lines clear upon her cheeks. "Nope! This is the perfect picture. Wanna see?"
And boy was he hooked on her. He found her doing that every day. Always coming to see her painting, being greeted by those glowing eyes and full faced smile.
The rest was history. They dated for 5 years, bought a home together, then eventually got married. Now they're hoping to grow their family, fill the empty corners of their home with kids of their own. The man had always loved space, similar to his wife. When he became an astronaut for NASA they were so ecstatic. He travelled the stars on many mission's, helping earths space programs with his discoveries, going farther and farther than any human had before.
Or so he believed.
This mission would be his last, he was sent to go to the outer edges of our solar system. Fly around pluto, and come back. Well a bit of a snag on the way turning around, he got caught in a tear in the reality of space, being ripped from his ship and inside the tear.
He woke up in an empty space, still in his flight suit. There was a wall in front of him, it glowed many different colors almost looking like a field of different cotton candy clouds. A enormous being, completely void of colors came out from inside the colors. Suddenly they only glowed a soft blue, the beings long hair draping over its face and outside the clouds, floating around the human.
"Am… I dead?. " Atticus asked, the being shook its head no. "Where am I?"
What sounded like a thousand different voices spoke all at once from the being "The light between infinity, Atticus"
The being explained themself to be a keeper, or guard of reality, not just one, but all reality. "Please, send me back home. I need to get back to my wife." The man spoke begging the being.
"I am only the keeper, I know not which universe you truly reside in. But, i can send you to the reality of your choosing. You must decide for yourself, which is your true home."
The man always kept a picture of his wife with him, back when they were young and their love had first been sewn into the fabric of time. "My true home is with her" he held the picture of his wife in his hands, showing it to the being. A tendril of hair brought the picture to their face. "My… I see. I will open the realities in which she resides." The being sounded quite sad, a hint of loneliness behind it all.
Tears appeared all around the floating astronaut. He peered into each one.
"I warn you, you might not like what you find in these worlds. Each reality you choose that is not yours will leave a mark on your soul i fear"
"As long as I'm with her, I don't care."
The rest of the story is his travels throughout these different universes. He feels her death in each and every one. Whether she is murdered, dies of disease, an accident, or even old age. He experiences it all. Never changing.
Still he hopes to see his love, those beautiful eyes and kind smile. He misses her. Soon minutes turn to days, days to years and years to centuries. Until the being gives him one final door. Excitedly he thinks this will be his universe at last.
He rips through the universe back to earth. Its his universe, though when he returned to his home, it had been that long. Centuries, his love long passed. It turns out her art had become huge in this future of his home. He goes to the city they lived in, its been turned into a memorial of her. Greeted by a wonderful mural of her, those same glowing eyes, that same perfect full faced smile.
It turns out with the rest of her life, she indeed filled the silent corners of their home. She opened an orphanage and school, teaching children art, science, space. She was a legend, a force for goodness and gentleness he always knew she was. At this time he heads to an exhibit with her works, and the final painting she had ever created in her life, was of him on the last day they spent together. It was a picture she had taken of him, he was smiling in his flight suit, wearing a pair of cloud shaped sunglasses , the clouds behind him all different colors and glowing bright in the picture.
He fell to his knees breaking down in tears, the tears seemed to float around him, as his body slowly started to turn void of color, the years catching up in seconds, he vanished
Back in the light between infinity. He woke up to look at himself, he was much larger, his hair long. No colors he could see. He was the keeper, doomed to be here for all infinity.
Finally the doorway to the clouds was open to him, as if it was a final tear for him to look through. He walked along the clouds for what seemed like ages, until he saw a familiar sight. A woman, standing, more like floating above the ground, painting clouds along the tear of the universe.
He ran and ran as fast as he could, soon his form started changing back, smaller, his colors came back, his hair the same length as before until he finally yelled "Dottie!" Jumping into the air to hold her.
She smiled, the one he had truly been looking for this entire time. "I told you my light, you will always find me in another life."
It ends with them turning into the light that glows in this tear, and slowly zooms out to the door, actually being a tear that completely heals itself. Healing the wound in reality.
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Ellie x Zaro Part 2
Word Count: 1,845
Warnings: Fear
Fandom: None
This story is kinda just something that came out of a bad depressive episode and I've discovered I enjoy writing it and wanted to write more. Hope you guys dont mind💕
Part 1
—————
At first the dragon can't figure out whats going on, but her eyes closing and her tiny body beginning to fall tells him everything he needs to know. Without thinking he brings a clawed hand under her small form, easily catching her and bringing her up to chest level so he can see her better. Just as beautiful as in her pictures but with one detail she never dared show him, her wings. He can't help staring at them, lost in the delicate designs on their clear surface. It never occurred to him that she would lie about this. Then again he knew how his kind treated them, having seen a fae or two be crushed and swallowed alive. People just seemed to get their kicks from hurting things smaller than them, It made him sick just thinking about it. He'd seen them as beautiful for most of his life, from their sparkly little wings to their colorful skin. He'd always wanted to meet one having desperately tried to talk to the ones he went to school with, but they all simply ran away and hid. Now here he is, staring at a being he'd only dreamt of even talking to as she sleeps in his gargantuan hand.
Then it hits him, what should he do? She'd just passed out from fear, he couldn't just keep her like this until she woke up she would freak out. His first instinct is to bring her home, but fae live in tiny secluded neighborhoods and a dragon coming into one would definitely cause a panic. He sighs, his only choice is to take her back to his apartment.
————
Hours later the tiny fae begins to regain consciousness. Her once dark world is soon filled with what looks like, wait…..a ceiling? She immediately sits up, checking her surroundings for any signs of danger. Sadly for her this also reveals the fact that she's laying on a couch ten times her size. Her heart begins to race once again as she looks around until she suddenly feels the fabric beneath her start trembling. Footsteps. Huge ones that are coming her way. Thinking fast Ellie flies over to the nearby tv stand, hiding between a gaming console and the wall of the compartment it's in. Sadly for her flying leaves a trail of a type of dust, pink in her case to match her skin. It glitters in front of her, reminding her that there's no way for her to truly be hidden with that there. Before she can do anything to hide it though the culprit of the booming footsteps enters the room, Zaro. At first her heart tells her to cry out to him, she loves him after all but her brain reminds her of what he is causing her to keep her mouth shut. Her heart races as he goes up to the couch, seeming to be checking for her. A gasp escapes his lips once he realizes she's missing, his face filling with panic as he looks around desperately for her. Then his red eyes land on the glittering trail, confusion overtaking him. It's clear he's never seen anything like it before.
"Ellie? Are you still here? Please come out, it's okay." He says, keeping his voice low and gentle. On his end he simply wants to make this work or at least talk to her. She on the other hand sees giving herself away as a death sentence. So they're at a sort of stalemate until he follows the tiny glittering trail. When those red eyes of his fall on her, her body goes cold. She backs up, further into the darkness of the compartment, feeling like trapped prey for the first time in her life. Zaro's eyes soften, realizing what must be going through her head. She's no bigger than his finger after all and his kind does have quite the reputation.
Ellie simply stares back, hands over her mouth, eyes tearing up, whole body trembling. After all they've been through, all those late night chats and drowsy I love yous, this is where it ends.
"Ellie, I just want to talk. I understand why you lied and I'm not angry with you for that. Just…..just please give me a chance. I know this is scary but I just want a chance." He says, desperation in his deep voice. Ellie can't believe her ears. Why would something like him ever want something like her. He could have anyone in the world, someone bigger, prettier, and yet he's begging her for a chance.
"H-How do I….H-How do I know this isn't a trick." She asks, tiny voice trembling. He can barely make out what she's saying but just the fact that she's saying anything means the world to him.
"I would never trick you. I know that seems unlikely given what you're probably used to from my species but……I don't want to hurt you. I suspected you were lying about being an elf but I couldn't help being shocked. I ran after you because I didn't want to lose you. I was afraid you'd block me or something and the thought of that was like getting stabbed in the heart." He explains, voice still desperate. He seems so genuine but she's just so afraid this is a trick.
"H-How did you know?" She asks, voice trembling as she lowers her hands. He pulls out his phone, seeming to open something and scroll for a moment before turning it to face her to reveal one of the many pictures of herself that she sent to him. It's a selfie, right at the shoulders so her wings would be cut out of frame.
"You never sent pictures of yourself that stopped below here and when you did you always wore baggy shirts. I figured you were hiding something but it didn't really hit me until I saw you for the first time, then it all made sense." He explains before turning off his phone and putting it in his black jean pocket. "I understand why you hid what you are, I'd be afraid too if I was in your shoes. I don't expect you to trust me but I do hope you can give me a chance." He finishes, never taking his eyes off of her as he speaks. At first her brain screams at her not to believe him, but once she thinks about it she realizes something. How could she have gotten here after fainting? He had to have carried her meaning he could have done anything he wanted during that time, yet he'd done nothing. She lets out a deep breath before stepping forward a bit.
"P-Please go sit on the couch. I'll come out but I don't feel safe being this close." This saddens Zaro but he understands, slowly getting up and walking over to the couch before sitting down on it. The fae then flies out of the hole and to the arm of the couch on the opposite side of the one he's sitting on, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. Zaro turns towards her, putting his legs up on the couch in a criss-cross position. His large black wings stay folded under his bright red jacket though Ellie notices them moving, putting two and two together rather quickly. The two sit in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity until Zaro speaks.
"What made you hide it? I could understand more if we were meeting physically but you didn't have much to lose online." He asks, trying to start some type of conversation. All the silence worried him.
"I…….I was afraid. I knew I barely had a chance with you from the beginning and revealing what I am was a risk I wasn't willing to take." She replies, taking a breath to calm down while also avoiding looking him in the eye. Its just too intimidating. Zaro thinks for a moment, playing what she says over and over again in his head. This must have all been so terrifying for her. After all, she even decided to give him the chance to meet her despite the fact that that could mean her death. His silence makes her more and more nervous, causing her to start to internally panic. "I knew this would be too good to be true…..thank you for not well…..you know the stories. I'm sorry I'm not what you thought I was…..I know things like this just can't work. Goodbye Zaro." She replies, begging to fly away.
At first Zaro doesn't know what to do. A dragon and a fae weren't supposed to be together, she's right. Especially not with the common interactions between their species often ending in death. The problem is, he didn't want to say goodbye. His mind goes back to him holding her in his hand only a few hours ago and his heart physically aches in response. He can't simply let her leave.
"Ellie wait!" He manages, not thinking through what to say next. Ellie stops in her tracks, glancing back at him with unsure eyes. Its clear her guard is up and he doesn't blame her. "I know this isn't normal….and I know how scary it must be for you….but I want to at least try. We've come this far….why stop now?" At first the fae agrees, why not see where it goes. Then the horror stories play in her head again and her fear returns.
"Zaro…..this isn't an easy thing to get around. This is hundreds of years of abuse and murder…..it's no simple fix." She replies, looking down at the ground below her. A part of her wants to stay here, give him the chance he's asking for, but her brain keeps reminding her of what could happen if she does that. "This….this could mean death for me……you have to realize that…." He looks down, trying to think of a way to show her he means well. He knows this is scary for her but he doesn't want to lose her.
"Ellie….how do you think you got here?" He asks, keeping his voice gentle. He knows this can sound like a confrontation but that's not his intention.
"I-I….I…." She replies, looking away. Of course he had to have carried her here and put her on the couch. There's no other way for her to have gotten here, but the thought of being carried by him scared her.
"I know how much is at stake for you but I just want a chance." He replies, red eyes finding her blue ones for a moment before she quickly looks away. All of her instincts scream at her to tell him no. Theres no way this could be safe. But if he took her here she was completely unconscious for hours and he did absolutely nothing to her. She bites her lip, struggling with herself and fighting to give the answer she does.
"Okay"
—————
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writing-protocol · 2 years
Text
Familiar Faces
At some point, the movie ended and another began. Keith dozed through some of it, exhausted almost despite himself, and woke just in time to see Shiro fiddling with his phone. The storm still raged, no quieter now than when he’d crashed an hour prior, and the world outside the window was dark.
Sitting up, he glanced at the easily-visible screen. A group chat was open, the conversation moving at a steady pace. The nicknames were unfamiliar, but they were color-coded so he could take a few educated guesses.
“We — me, the paladins, a few others — have a shared channel,” Shiro explained, hands hovering over the tiny keyboard. “I’ve been ignoring it since leaving the Atlas, and my friends are chatty.”
Shiro wanted to reassure them, but words wouldn’t come. What could he possibly tell the team if not the truth, and that truth involved Keith? Keith, who had asked for more time to think, who clearly wanted to lay low.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Shiro looked up into a pair of overwhelming eyes. They saw right through him, he was sure of it. Keith pointed at the small device, and Shiro handed it over.
A few taps later, Keith had the camera going and took a quick, rough selfie of the two of them. Shiro looked at the resulting picture and couldn’t help the warmth spreading across his face. Here was Shiro, expression pensive, looking over at Keith who made a silly face. The scars on his neck were partially obscured by the short beard, but not fully.
Keith handed the phone back to him. “You can tell them.”
“I know you don’t remember any of them, but the paladins… we think of you as a dear and precious friend. If I show them this picture, they’ll be here in the time it takes this storm to pass.” Shiro licked his chapped lips. “They can be a lot.”
The twisting, sinking feeling in Keith’s gut only worsened. “I’m not Keith from before. I’m just a person. With scars and missing memories. They need to understand.”
He ducked his head, hands curled into fists at his side.
After a momentary debate, Shiro reached out and touched the younger man’s nose.
“You’re still you, Keith. Memories or not. Still kind and selfless, still a tinkerer at heart, still in possession of your mother’s knife.” He nodded toward the sketchbook on the coffee table, open to a page filled with theoretical designs. “Please, no matter what you decide, don’t sell yourself short.”
Slowly the fists loosened, and stormy eyes looked up at this not-quite-stranger. Keith wanted to argue that Shiro had no right to upend his current life, but that didn’t ring true.
They’d just spent five hours on Keith’s lumpy couch, watching old movies and eating snacks while thunder roared overhead and lightning danced. Keith felt like a passing asteroid pulled into Shiro’s gravity well.
Did he want to escape?
Living this life meant reconciling his old one, whatever that ledger looked like.
“I’m willing to give whatever happens a chance.” He shrugged and pulled off his sweater.
Underneath he wore a black t-shirt, and Shiro got a good look at his friend’s body. It told its own story.
“I will tell them to take it easy.” Shiro knew a little something about surviving trauma, and a world turned suddenly busy and loud wasn’t his idea of a good time. “They mean well," he added.
Keith's lopsided smile didn't reach his eyes. “I knew I couldn’t hide forever.”
“But you wanted more time,” Shiro said.
“We all do.”
Shiro ended up settling for the facts.
Keith Kogane is alive and on Altea. He doesn’t remember us. There’s a lot to discuss, but not over chat.
[Picture]
The steady flow of conversation exploded into mayhem. He saw a message from Keith’s mother, whose name was the same bright-red color as Keith’s had been, and couldn’t even begin to imagine what she must be thinking.
She’d lost her son twice now.
Krolia: Can I speak with him?
“Would you be up for a video chat?” Shiro asked his silent companion and showed him the message. “You can say no. I’m sure she would understand.”
“Yes.”
A few taps later, the face of a strong, stoic Galra woman appeared on the screen. Tears marred Krolia’s eyes as she saw her son and couldn’t help either the grin or the sadness.
Two years… a lifetime of pain crammed into mere moments.
Keith looked back and felt a wave of warmth, unlike his feelings for Shiro. Different but similar enough to recognize. They looked alike, he reflected, like mother like son.
“I love you, child,” she said softly as a doggy-shaped face shoved itself into the picture. “The space wolf misses you, too.”
The creature vanished in a puff of haze and smoke as Keith watched. Confused, he glanced at Shiro. An incoming burst of ozone was all the warning Keith got before a two-hundred-pound creature rammed into him at full speed. The wolf knocked him over and went straight for his face.
A new mind touched Keith’s, slipped easily past his shields, and settled in its familiar spot. Something clicked as the wolf nuzzled him.
“Kosmo, down!” Shiro practically yelled, horrified.
Keith grinned and nodded, and the wolf got off him as if by magic. It slid off the couch to examine the empty popcorn bowl for any signs of remaining butter.
“Good boy,” Keith signed.
The creature nuzzled his hands, begging for treats.
“I don’t have any,” the dark-haired soldier told the wolf, unsure how he knew what it wanted. To Shiro, he signed desperately, “He teleports?”
“Oh yes, your space wolf definitely teleports. He can even take people with him assuming he knows where to go.”
“I have a teleporting wolf?” Keith reiterated.
Krolia chuckled and wiped at her eyes. “Would you mind translating, Shiro? I don’t know enough sign language.”
“Of course. Uh, Keith was making sure the wolf was real.”
The wolf found a wall inside Keith's mind that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t remember coming across it in the past, and the wall felt wrong. Keith was pack, and the strange obstacle stood in the way of that.
Confused, the wolf whined at the humans.
“Hey, buddy,” Keith mouthed and scratched behind an ear. “My wolf?” he signed with utter disbelief when the furry menace calmed down enough to go explore the studio.
“You raised him,” Shiro acknowledged. “More than once he saved our collective behinds. He’s a very good boy indeed.”
He had a… pet? Keith looked at the giant creature and couldn’t shake the strange feeling that it had taken up residence in his brain. It settled on the couch beside him, head in Keith’s lap where it could get occasional pets, and closed its eyes. It took up all of the remaining sofa space and then some.
“When we lost track of you on that mission, Kosmo was with your mom on a mission. One of my biggest regrets was not insisting that he come with you,” the admiral explained.
“Kosmo?” Keith finger-spelled the name.
“You told us that he would tell you his name one day, but then… you were gone and we can’t talk to him like you can. Could. So, we had to improvise. Lance wouldn’t stop calling him Kosmo and the name stuck, eventually. He likes ‘buddy’ too, occasionally. When treats are involved.”
Krolia added, “He looked for you, for months.”
“I don’t know how to take care of him,” Keith signed and then scratched behind one enormous ear.
“He eats pretty much anything you give him and will sleep on any warm body he trusts.” His mother smiled. “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out quick. You were amazing with him when you first met him.”
if you want to read more, click on the memories tag.
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its-sheepe · 2 years
Text
Why Boogsnux isn’t Multiplayr
My name is Sheepe. I was walking down teh street one day with my absolute best friend, Beffica (her real name is Jessica Beffers but her nickname is a combination). We had been friends since kidgarden, when we met on the playground. I stared into her hyperrealistic eyes that day, and just like that we connected with one another, doing everyting!
Recently, we got into a game called Bugsnax on the PS5 and Pc, and it’s been grate! We found it so funneh a character in the game is named Beffica, so naurally she became her favorite. However, we don’t have te gam so we jus watch videos. We dream of Bugsnax in our dreams, wanting to play it so bad.
So we were walking down the street, and suddenly Beffica tripped! I helped her up, and suddenly she screemmed. “Bestie, look!!!!!! It’s a copy of Bugsnakx for the ps5!!!!!!” We hopped up and down in joy for we both had ps5s. I looked at the cover happily, Filbo was running down the path catching ugsnax while Lozbart took photos. “Let’s go to my house Beffica, we can have slepocer!!!!!!”
Later, at slepocer…
Me and Beffica we in my room, having bugskat themed sleepover. We was eating gummy wurmz, chocolate ants, and delcois fried cricket. She had her homemade hyperrealistic weenieworm stuffed animal (her mom is a seamstress) and we were prepared for playing Bugsnax on the ps5. I pooped in the disk and watched as it loaded…
It loaded! There was now a Bugsax icon on my home page. It was a picture of Filbo smiling happily. I clicked it and watched as the game booped up showing the title screen it was beautiful!!!! There was text near the logo saying: “Deloloper test: multiplaor”. Me and Beffica looked at each other in joj. Multiplayer?!!!! We could play togehter in the Bugsnax world!
So I sharted a new save file, and hit the multiplayer option. There were so many different characters to choose from, being journalist, Filbo, Beffica, Wambus, and even Climby! I chose the journalist cause I like the various colors while Beffica chose Beffica, her fav.
We loaded into the world, but something was off. We were in what looked like a horrible, skary tunnel of hyperrealistic blood and guts, with various foods thrown about in the tunnol. We walked down the tummel and found a hole. Walking into the hole, we teleported into Garden Grove. Weird, but then the game continued normally. Beffica as Beffica made fun of Filbo, then helped me collect the snax for Wamboy.
But then, things got weirder. We all headed to Snaxburg, but it was on fire!!! Everyone was running around screaming hyperrealistically and we watched as grumps heads fells off and we’re rolling around everywhere!!! I ran into a hut and tried to fall alseep, which I did. Then everytin was normal when I woke up. Except it wasn’t.
When I stepped outside, EVERONE WAS DEAD!!!! There was no blood, just hyperrealistic foods covering the bodyes. Suddenly, Chandlo appeared, his face twisted in a evil grun. His hat was brimless, and his tank top was covering up his arms. He spoke in a deep, angry voice, “BRAH, ITS YOUR FAULT FOR THE FOODS” and than ran as us.
A black void filled the screen. All the grumps were staring at us with the same expression Chandlo had! They all said, “soon we will become flesh, and take over everything!” We both vomited. Text appeared on the screen that said “Bye bye baffica.”
Beffica then screamed. Her hands began to elongate and so did her face! Her hair fell out and turned puprle and she got shorter, as if Beffica from the game was trying to load into Beffica’s body!!! I screamed and cried and vomited as Beffica was mutating in front of me.
I jumped out the window and ran down the street, fast as my little little legs could go. I could feel Beffica Beffica’s presence chasing me down the street, and I vomited again, slipping in it and falling down a manhole.
If you read this, DO NOT PLAY BUGSNAX IN MULTIPLAYER
Beffica WILL get you. Just like she’s about to get me…
(Sorry again, the bad creepypastas are just so funny to make lmao)
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chiro-asuta-vulpes · 2 years
Text
"A Dream or A Vision?"
Dear Diary,
is it just me or am i dreaming? Or hallucinating? Last night I have this strange but amazing wondrous dream. I saw myself in a mysterious ambient land. The surroundings is filled with serene plantation, fascinating meadows, upland mountains, overflowing lakes and falls, beautiful wildflowers, trees that are so tall with lots of vibrant leaves. There is much things in this place I'm so curious about...
What was this for? I may ask..I don't know why I'm seeing this...?
Then suddenly I saw a creature wearing a beautiful teal colored cloak covering her top. She's also wearing this elegant pale cyan, mint tulip colored dress. She seems like standing a bit further away from me. She looked at me with a smile. She looks like a human like me---but...that's what I thought...
I smiled back, but no clue what and why is this creature seem strange...I tried walking closer to her, and I was surprised of what I saw and found out. She have a horn on her forehead like a unicorn. Her body is half human like.
I didn't expect to see such a being. After seeing her she immediately left and I tried to chase and go after her thru the area,
Although I woke up, back to the waking world. Goodness...what a dream...or is it something else? That mythical creature I saw why is she showing herself to me? Was it telling me something? I don't understand.....but still... What a curious and strange experience...
I'm just a normal girl... studying in University and I love, adore and believe in magical, mystical creatures are real...
That dream...I want to see it again... I have the feeling this isn't the last I seen her..."
End of Entry
- Y/N (Forest Deities Au OC)
The Creature that Y/N meet in her dream is a beautiful elegant, calm woodland creature, who symbolizes purity, gentleness and grace (A Unicentaur)
"is this real? Or is it just a dream...? Or am I crazy?" --- Y/N
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jujywrites · 2 years
Note
Neil/Eva + 28
.......The prompt is skirts/thigh-high socks and i’m not sorry (smut prompts here)
Confusion
Eva actually looked damn good in a suit.
She posed at herself in the mirror, her critical eye giving way to an admiring one. Red was one of her colors? Who'd have thought.
Maybe Neil will wear green. The thought made her laugh, for some reason. She dusted off her top hat and started to daydream about what candy this outfit would get her.
"Neil," she called, "you done yet?"
"Uh, yeah..."
Why did he sound like that?
Then he entered the room, and she knew why.
"I lost a bet," he said, weakly enough that it was obvious he was lying.
He had his "single/taken/anime" shirt on, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was: he was wearing a very Sailor Moon style skirt, and it was short enough to show the tops of his thigh-high stockings. They were white, like his comparatively masculine loafers (but: white loafers????).
Suddenly she felt way too hot in her suit. "Um." Not that she could throw stones. But-- he was lying, which meant he'd chosen to wear them, and she really didn't expect Neil of all people to wear... that. "You look good."
"Uh, no, you do," he said with a sharp laugh. "Like. Really good."
"I'm not kidding, Neil." She swallowed, wet her dry lips. "Thanks," she added, face burning.
"But. I dunno." He fussed with the edge of his skirt. "It... feels nice?"
She was too close to him. When had she moved? Why did she... "Cute," she whispered.
"Come on, Eva," he said, laughing nervously. "Cut it out." He bit his lip, and said, "you're way cuter."
"Neil. Shut up."
When she kissed him, he grabbed for her shoulders, making the smallest of sounds. His knee pushed between her legs, and he kissed back so desperately her heart almost stopped--
She woke with a start on her stomach, a hand between her legs and her clit pulsing. what the hell what the hell what the actual fresh hell
She didn't stop moving, though, and what the fuck, why was she so close? She slid two fingers into herself, put her thumb on her clit and groaned into her pillow.
She thought about him lifting up that skirt and fucking her against the mirror and came like he was inside her.
"What... the fuck?" She panted, heart pounding, head spinning.
When uncomfortable clarity started filtering into her head, she rolled to her back with a groan, then went morosely to the bathroom. Her bedside clock reading 2AM was small comfort. While getting some water, her refection caught her eye in the night light and her brain started trying to Logic without her permission.
A: Neil wasn’t into that. B: Eva wasn’t into that. She wasn’t into Neil being into that, she’d never even thought about it, what the fuck was wrong with her subconscious? She knew fantasy didn’t necessarily translate into wanting it in reality, but she had no reason to even have such a fantasy and also, what the fuck?
Pieces of the dream filtered back to her: The look Neil had given her when he’d seen her. How she’d felt wearing that suit. The unbridled lust that had filled her until it spilled into the real world.
He’d felt… needy. And thinking about that was making her feel things. She’d liked that.
Unbidden, the image flashed into her head of Neil crawling to her with a wrecked tuxedo top, with that skirt and stockings, his gaze hungry.
God. Fuck. She needed to go back to sleep. Hopefully she’d pass out from the leftover oxytocin.
She flopped back into bed, trying and failing not to think about how weird tomorrow might be. But it wouldn’t be weird! Because she'd be an adult, a goddamn professional, and seeing Neil being his usual dumbass self would be a palate cleanser and she wouldn’t think about any stupid, weird, weirdly hot(no!!!) sex dreams.
Her brain was just being dumb. That was all.
...Besides, she would definitely look better in thigh-highs than he did.
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gustafsnightangel · 2 years
Text
Muse Part 10
He woke to an empty bed, it wasn’t unusual but he was hoping that with the exhibition open she would take a few days to rest at bare minimum. Smiling his ears picked up the sound of her quietly humming down the hall, the tinkle of brushes in her jar of turpentine as she cleaned them. He chuckled to himself and felt the overwhelming joy at the fact she was still here with him, painting, and happy. Climbing out of bed he pulled on some sweats and a shirt and made his way into the kitchen to set the kettle to boil. He busied himself with making coffee and a plate of eggs and toast for her. There is no way she’d eaten, he knew her too well for that. When she got the itch to paint nothing stopped her from getting in there and creating.
She was a sight as he filled the doorway with his frame. A canvas took up most of one wall, the setting sun filling it with vibrant purples and oranges. This was nothing like Twilight, it was… more. Twilight was soothing, relaxing, subdued, this was seductive and passionate, bright and sharp, much like it’s creator. She stood in nothing but his dress shirt, the one she’d enhanced in LA, her bare feet already paint stained. It was a permanent fixture now and he found it wholesome and endearing. Silently he set her breakfast and both coffees down on the floor and sat, leaning against the doorframe. Sipping his coffee he watched her, content to let her food go cold so not break her flow. It was like an intricate dance, the colors blooming on canvas, the picture in her mind coming to life before him. He lost himself in the beauty that was the painting and the artist. Both equally beautiful and unique, and thanked the universe for sending her his way. She was his salvation. Showed him he could love again, that he was needed not just for money and connections. And he was needed on an entirely different level with Helena. There was passion with her, an unwavering love, a desire to be everything she wanted, everything she’d never known.
She could feel him there, just on the edge of her bubble, waiting for her to come to him. It’s what she loved about him in relation to her work, he respected the process and it was a new turn of events that she was still acclimating to. When she was in the groove she didn’t want to stop and eat, or take a break, she wanted it to flow out of her, giving herself to the color and canvas before her. Gustaf understood that need, understood that she wasn’t ignoring him, she was working, defining what she saw in the world in a snapshot of raw emotion.
“You can come in you know.” She murmured as she streaked a brazen line of violet across the faded orange. He said nothing, but she soon felt him tower over her, a hand pressing against her belly as he kissed her temple, that massive frame sturdy at her back. Feeling safe around this man wasn’t difficult and as he held her she leaned back ever so slightly to have that massive chest press against her spine.
“I didn’t want to break your stride.” He moved with her as she continued to bring the sunset to life. “This is stunning.”
She snorted. “It’s not finished yet.”
“Doesn’t need to be, it’s stunning regardless.” He watched as she blended two colors to soften the transition. “This shows your passion, your love, your talent. It’s beautiful. It’ll be a shame to sell it.” His soft tone had her hand hesitate before she placed the pallet knife down and turned in his arms.
“It’s not for sale.” She said tenderly. “Because it’s for you.”
“For me?” He was confused.
“Since Dawn and Twilight will live at the gallery, this one and its sister when I paint it will be for you, to hang in your home wherever you want.” She explained.
“Helena I can’t...”
“I know how much you adore Dawn and Twilight but those are from my past. A past I have moved on from. They’re muted, stunted, shackled, much like I was. When I painted them I was with Michael, I wasn’t free to paint like I am now. Although I can’t erase my past, I no longer have to live with the oppressive weight of it.”
“They’re brighter than the other two.” His tone gentle.
“Because I feel and see the world differently after meeting you, after last night.” She stretched up on her tippy toes and kissed him. “When I ... when I finally stopped freaking out in the office there was a sense of clarity I’ve never felt. Everything became brighter, sharper, hyper focused, clear cut. You gave me that.” Her tone soft as the slight flush pinked her cheeks.
He stroked a finger down her jaw. “You fought for that, I didn’t give you that Helena, you fought your demons and won.”
“But don’t you see...” She started. “Without your support, your belief in me I would have never been able to stand up to him.” His smile made her frown.
“Sweet girl you are formidable when you are pissed. You should watch the tape and listen to the dressing down you gave him. I could have fixed it for you, but you did just fine.”
“It made me feel sick.” She admitted, bone deep sick.
“The truth and doing what’s right usually does because we know it has to be dealt with and no one in there right mind wants a confrontation like that. I’m proud of you.”
She turned back to the drying paint not sure of her emotions. “They’re for you, Gustaf. If I were to paint a sunset or a sunrise to reflect how I see you, see us, our future, this is it. The start of it at least.”
“Bright and colorful.” He kissed her hair. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her words choked him up. How did he deserve this sweet girl in his arms.
“Unless you don’t like it in which case I’ll sell it and paint you someth...” He turned her around sharply and devoured her mouth, cutting off the rest of her thought.
“Don’t you dare, I love it and it’ll look great in our living room.”
“You fill my life with emotions I’ve not felt before, were not allowed to feel before.” She smiled at his perplexed look. “You’ve given me a home, somewhere I can be myself, no pressure, no expectations, no stress. I’ve never had a place I can truly call home.”
“It’s what a home should be.” He kissed her tenderly. “A home should be your sanctuary, your peace and quiet. I’m just happy you decided to let me share it with you. This is our home sweet girl, not just my home.” He chuckled as her stomach growled. “And you need to eat.” He added at her sheepish grin. “Because someone didn’t this morning.” She scrunched up her face at him when he flicked her nose. “Come on, I’ll make you some fresh eggs because those will be stone cold by now.”
“Let me finish up here, another twenty minutes I promise and then I’ll be out.” The quick peck on his lips making him smile.
“Not a second longer.” He growled and cocked an eyebrow at her. “I really do like you in my shirt.” Hooking a finger in the front of her cleavage he pulled her to him. “Twenty minutes and then come and eat.” He kissed her, one that spoke of love and fire.
“Passion and Fire.” She murmured and grinned at his frown. “The name of this one, Passion and the one I have yet to paint, Fire.”
“I like that, us to perfection.” His world lit up at that smile, a smile that was pure joy, something he’d wanted for her since the day he’d met her. Leaving her to it he collected the dishes by the door and headed to the kitchen to make her another plate.
Forty minutes later she was cleaning her hands when she heard him calling for her, the stern tone making her shiver. There was no doubt he’d follow through on his threat of punishment if she didn’t come out and refuel, the thought making her grin. The mere suggestion of putting her over his knee and spanking her had a devilish smirk twitch her lips.
“You had double the time sweet girl.” The not so soft tap to her ass as she passed making her giggle. Fuck he loved that sound. “Go sit down, I’ll bring you breakfast.” His smile wide as she went to sit.
“Oh my god!” She squeaked, the rustling of paper clued him in to the fact she’d now seen the article on her exhibition he’d printed for her in English. “Have you seen this?” She asked as he sat with her, placing the eggs and toast beside her. “Of course you’ve seen it you printed it.” She mumbled.
“I have.” He smiled, damn he was so fucking proud of her.
“There’s no mention of...” Her voice trailed off and a smile lit up her face.
“No there’s not, not in there. Turn the page.” He watched her eyes go wide. The paper had done an exclusive article on the the fiasco of last night, highlighting Michael and what he’d subjected her to all those years ago. It was retribution of a different kind and the shoe was indeed on the other foot. The entire thing had come full circle to bite Michael in the ass. There wouldn’t be a corner of the world he could escape it. Gustaf wasn’t exactly sad about it, the asshole had it coming and Helena had served it up ice cold.
“It goes into detail about the entire thing, from start to finish.” He heard the disbelief in her tone. “They laid it all out.”
“There’s more about last night on the next page. Apparently there are a few agencies that want to talk to him, I believe a certain judge as well.” She blinked at him, stunned. “Lara from the gallery called earlier to let you know that they would be sending the security footage to the appropriate authorities and would back you one hundred percent if he tries to get you on assault.”
“Shit.” The nervous chew at her lip gave away how she was truly feeling about it all, stressed. “I didn’t even think of that.” Her voice shook as she went sheet white. “I can’t do that again, go through another round with him in court.” Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps as her anxiety flared. “I just can’t.”
“Look at me.” He said gently, the authoritative tone enough to snap her eyes to his. “It’ll be fine sweet girl, he’s got a lot more shit to worry about than tangling you up in court over a well deserved slap.” He sipped his coffee and waited for her to place the papers down on the table. “The gallery isn’t the only one that will back you one hundred percent if he’s stupid enough to try.” He let that sink in before continuing, the soft strokes of his thumb along her inner wrist visibly calming her. “Michael is toast, Helena, not just in the fine art world.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’ll never make another film, another commercial, nothing. My father has some weight in the industry and he is livid about what he did. Karma is coming to collect and collect in full.”
“He’ll... it’ll ruin him.”
“It will, much like he tried to do to you.”
“I... I can’t.” Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to speak, but she clammed up.
“Sweet girl look at me.” When her eyes found his again he saw her retreat inward. “This wasn’t your fault, he did this to himself. He came into the gallery last night to start shit and it didn’t end well for him, that’s on him. Don’t take on his grief.” You have enough of your own he added silently. He chose his next words carefully, knowing it was likely to freak her out. “Can I ask you about something you said to him last night?” His tone gentle, her eyes snapping to his as she sipped her coffee.
“Sure.” She had a feeling what it would be about and felt her tummy clench, the eggs she’d eaten making her feel suddenly very green.
“What happened to the sex tape of the two of you he recorded and distributed?” He watched her, fingers twitching against the cup, those little micro expressions as she turned it over in her mind. He didn’t want to push or bring up bad memories, but he had to know that he’d done everything in his power to help. “The only reason I want to know is if there’s anything else I can do to help keep it off the internet, out of the public realm, I’ll do it.”
Flushing scarlet she gave him a mumbled answer. “As far as I’m aware it’s in evidence lockup.” She blew a breath out. “Sorry, I really hate talking about this.” She couldn’t meet his gaze, it mortified her even now to think that anyone could be watching Michael fuck her.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to...” He should have kept quiet, her anxiety spiking again. “You don’t have to relive it for me Helena.”
Shaking her head she blew out another breath and continued. Suck it up princess, she said silently. “Better to get it out in the open. I’m not letting him hold that over me anymore.” It irritated her that her voice wasn’t steady.
“That’s my girl, my strong girl.” His murmured tone made a smile twitch her lips. Here was a man she trusted, a man that loved and supported her, and it was so foreign. “I don’t feel strong, I feel wrung out.” Taking a deep breath she dug deep and gave him the nutshell version. “As I did not give consent to its taping or the attempt to distribute the judge classed it as non-consensual. However there wasn’t much I could do about it as the sex itself was consensual. A whole lot of legal grey area. The sex was consensual, the filming was not.” She shrugged. “One sort of wipes out the other.” She hated the fact her voice trembled as she explained.
“That’s fucked up. Did it ever get released?” He asked as she nibbled on her toast.
“A few short clips, showing more of him than me, but you can see… you came see it’s me.” Her tone quiet, he could see her reliving the moment on her face. “It was humiliating being seen in public, knowing that those in the Hollywood scene had all seen it. The whispers, the sniggers behind my back.”
“I’m so sorry sweet girl.” She shrugged at his words.
“There’s not much else I can do about it now. Wasn’t much I could do back then either.” She looked up at him and saw the fury simmering beneath his skin. It was the reason she hadn’t told him before now. She knew without a doubt if he’d known last night he would have laid Michael out with a broken jaw and quite possibly more. Michael would have deserved it, but Gustaf didn’t deserve the lawsuit that would follow. “I’m sure if you Googled it you could find something, but I’ve been told that when it surfaces every so often it’s taken down or disappears soon after.” Picking up another piece of toast she breathed slow and steady to let her tummy settle as she chewed. She would not allow this to make her hurl. “People lost interest after the second year, it became old news that the gossip channels just rehashed to make it look shiny. The scandal and air time enough to gat Michael in the screen again.”
“Do you want me to peruse it? See what’s going on, maybe get something done about it?” He wanted to hunt Michael down and kill him for real at doing that to her.
She shook her head. “I understand why you want to, but don’t go wasting time and money on it.” Putting her hand up she stopped his retort cold. “I get it, I understand, and if this was the other way around I would be asking the same questions.” She squeezed his hand and took a steadying breath. “I’m grateful that you would move heaven and earth if I asked you, but in all honesty I just want to move on from it. It was bad enough revisiting it last night.” Revisiting it right now, she added silently.
Lifting her hand to his lips he kissed her knuckles, and smiled at the purple and orange splotches she’d missed. “Message received, I’ll leave it be.” It came out curtly and he saw her take the hit, her body flinching.
“I’m not angry Gustaf, not at you, or you wanting to help. I just... I just can’t go there again.” She mumbled, and withdrew into herself a little more. “I was angry at Michael once and I had every right to be. But now? Last night turned a page for me. I realized that there is so much more living to do without dwelling on shit I can’t change, a past that can now be laid to rest. I’ve been given this incredible opportunity, I’m with a wonderful man that wants me as much as I want him. I’m finally free of Michael and his shadow. And I’m free to paint, to be the artist I want to be. That’s all that matters to me now.” She said it quickly, as if the words would die before she was able to speak them.
“Fair enough. I was just...” He shook his head. “I felt it was worth the conversation about it.”
She nodded as he kissed her knuckles again. “You’ve been righting a lot of wrongs in my world Gustaf.”
“Because I love you sweet girl and I will do everything in my power to see you safe and happy.” It was said without hesitation which made it easier for her to accept as truth.
“Protecting me from the big bad world.” She smiled. “You know you’re the first person in my life to do that, to protect me. You give me so much.”
“Because I love you.” He repeated, stroking her inner wrist with his thumb he let the vulnerability show. “You turned the page for me too. Up until we smacked into each other I was so lost, almost at the bottom of a bottle again.”
“But you didn’t.” She murmured.
“No, I didn’t. Because of what you gave me.” He smiled at her confused look. “You showed me that there’s more to me than money and fame and connections. That if I were to lose those three things overnight, you would still be here in the morning.” His voice cracked and he took a shuddered breath in.
“Because I love you.” She said, echoing his words back to him. “Because I see you, want to be with you, as a person, not just the crazy good actor that you are. Or that your family is acting royalty.” Gustaf snorted at her comment and smiled, her smirk lightening his heart.
He chose his next words carefully. “I like coming home to you and I know that originally you said you were only going to stay while you got back on your feet, but I’d like you to stay with me, live here with me.” He risked a glance at her, those eyes of smoke and rain held a love he wasn’t sure he’d earned yet.
“I’d like to live with you, if you still...” She shook her head, eyes downcast.
“If I still want you?” He finished, the defeated nod of her head a sign that it was all too much for her. “Sweet girl, come here.” He said gently.
Moving to sit on his lap he kissed her tenderly, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close. It would take time for her to be settled and truly know he wanted her, that this was her home, their forever.
“Sorry, it’s so ingrained.” Her voice threatened tears.
Taking her face in his hands he kissed her thoroughly, that slow devastating kiss that blanked her mind. “I will always want you sweet girl.”
“It’s still so surreal.”
“The painting?” He asked and her eyes flicked to his before she answered.
“Everything. Painting, being here in Stockholm, being here with you. I often wonder if I’m not just batshit crazy and this is all an illusion in a fucked up fantasy.” Her tone was soft as she fiddled with his shirt collar the deep V something she had a weakness for. He was the only one she could talk to like this, because he listened, really listened.
Gripping her chin gently he kissed her tenderly. “It’s no illusion sweet girl.”
“No it’s not.” The breathless whisper made his cock twitch. “But... but it just seems too good to be true. And I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop... where it all crashes down and I’m back in a tiny apartment in shitty LA and...” She blurted out. He gripped her chin tightly and waited for her to look at him, the flush of embarrassment pinking her skin.
“I’m not going anywhere without you, Helena. I want you here with me, to protect you, to care for you, to love you.” He kissed her again until she went lax. “I often wonder when history will repeat for me and you walk away from all this, us. Me.” He looked at her, the shake of her head as her bottom lip trembled making his heart heavy. “At times I wonder what you see in me too.”
“I can’t walk away from you.” She said, her voice shaky. “I don’t think I’d survive it.”
He stroked a thumb along her bottom lip before kissing her again. “I don’t think I’d survive it either. You know I’d do anything for you sweet girl.” He murmured against her lips.
“I know.” Her soft whisper ghosted his cheek. “It’s not the same but... but I’d do anything for you too.” A shiver skittered over her when his hands stroked along her spine.
“Sweet girl.” He breathed, the feel of her under his hands spiking his arousal. “I know you would, and you already give so much of yourself to me.” He laid a trail of kisses along her neck, those soft sighs making him harden. “You trust me.” His hand drifted under the paint stained dress shirt to palm a breast, the weight and feel causing his blood to heat.
“I trust you.” She sighed as he pinched her nipple, the bud hardening. “I trust you because you trust me.” She sucked in a breath as her arousal swamped her.
He looked into those eyes he found so alluring, her body arching as his hand splayed out over the swell of her spine. “You’re the only woman I’m able to trust sweet girl.” The emotion caught in his throat. He loved this woman as much as life itself. “You’re soul speaks to mine, heals mine.”
She heard the emotion, her eyes finding his. They were the windows to his soul and she saw the pain, the vulnerability he only let her see. “Like calls to like.” Her tone tender as she stroked a finger down his jaw.
“It certainly does.” The kiss was tender, hands stroking along her thighs. “Let me show you how much I need you.” He whispered. Gripping her ass he pulled her flush to him, those soft curves pressing against him as she burrowed her face into his neck. “How much I want you.” He wrapped his arms around her and caged her in, he could tell when she’d started to slip, the need for her to get small to let the emotional storms roll over her while she had someone here to protect her. He’d always protect her.
There was no need for words, she could feel the love pour out of him as those talented fingers undid each button, the gentle caresses against her skin igniting a fire inside her. The fabric at her shoulders slid down her arms as he kissed her collarbone, the tenderness causing her to shiver. He made her feel so deeply, a love she didn’t know she had for a man she still didn’t think she deserved. Naked in his lap his mouth claimed hers, the kiss unhurried but nothing short of devastating. Fingers teased every inch of her skin, each touch stoking the fire inside to a raging inferno, she would never get enough of him.
“Hold on.” He murmured, and as she sat there clinging to him he stood enough to shimmy out of his sweats. Relaxing back he used gentle strokes along her thighs and arms to soothe her, their conversation about difficult topics had sent her spiraling down. Now he would show her how much he wanted her, needed her, and how much she needed him.
Kissing a trail over her dips and curves he lost himself in her. The unhurried journey to pleasure, to love, only the beginning of what he’d do to her today. He felt the slight flinch as he stroked a finger along her belly. “So beautiful.” He hummed against her skin, paying attention to those areas she’d been told were chunky or fat. One day he hoped she wouldn’t feel that way, but he knew it was unlikely. “I love your curves.” He purred. “I’ve loved them since we crashed into each other.” Kissing her tenderly he continued his trail of devastation with his finger as he lightly brushed her inner thighs. She trembled under his touch, those soft sighs making his cock twitch begging to be buried inside her. “So beautiful.” He praised, her wet heat inviting him to take the plunge.
Large hands stroked her while that sinful mouth kissed and toyed with the sensitive parts of her neck. She couldn’t help the moan escape as he stroked the sensitive flesh at the apex of her inner thigh. “Gustaf.” Her cry was indecent as he took his cock in his hand and swiped the tip from entrance to clit.
“Mmmm sweet girl you feel so good.” With a low growl he kissed her and had her arching into him, those whimpers sending an aching need to his stiffening member. He feasted, the taste and scent of her sending his arousal into the stratosphere, his engorged tip igniting every cell and nerve ending.
It was a slow build for her, the unhurried almost lazy devastation of her body easing her self consciousness. Each stroke of his cock, kiss of those lips she craved pushed each negative thought further and further away. Until he stopped. She’d peaked and he stopped. What did I do wrong, she thought?
“Look at me sweet girl.” He commanded gently. When her eyes met his he continued. “I want to be inside you when you come, that’s all. You did nothing wrong.” He murmured, the soft kiss easing the tension he’d felt in her body the second he stopped. “You’re so beautiful.” This lifetime would never be long enough to touch her. “You were never a fling for me. It was always something real, a love that would last.” She went lax as he deepened the kiss, swept her up in the passion and love he had for her. Hooking a hand behind her knee he instructed her to rest her foot on his hip, the movement opening her to him. He did the same to the other and groaned as he looked down at her spread wide for him. Teasing her with the tip, his lips ghosted hers as she whimpered, those pleas tumbling out. “Look at me.” He murmured and when her eyes locked with his he gripped her ass with one hand and fed her the tip of his thick cock with the other. “I love you sweet girl, only you.” At his words he gripped her ass with both hands and sheathed himself inside her, the tight wet heat making him groan.
“Gustaf.” She gasped as he flexed his hips and buried himself to his hilt. The slow subtle movements filled her, stretched her open. “So big.” She moaned and dropped her head to the side offering him her throat to feast on.
With her hips pinned by his hands he thrust up, her tightness gripping at him. His tender kisses tortured the soft skin at her throat as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, kisses of her own ravaging his system. He felt her get small, her emotions retreating as she gave herself over to him. The timid offering of her body asking him to take care of her, to be gentle. “Sweet girl.” He purred as he filled her, the whimper something he couldn’t deny was the best sound in the universe.
“Gustaf.” Her gasp had her clutching at him as she peaked.
“Look at me Helena.” He commanded gently. “I love you sweet girl, come for me.” His voice tender as she hovered on the edge.
“Too big. Gustaf.” Her hands were franticly trying to find purchase to find that glorious friction.
Holding her close he devoured her mouth, his hips flexing as he circled them. He felt her come, the euphoric scream of his name as it flooded her system urging him to take more. “That’s my good girl.” He praised, hips flexing as he took her apart in a slow dance of ecstasy. “Relax your hips.” He instructed, she had tensed which he’d been expecting. Intimacy like this was new for her. She glanced at him and then away as he thrust in and held her onto him, letting her rest a moment with him nestled inside her. “Look at me sweet girl.” She dropped her arms and placed them palm down on his chest, before looking at him. The flush to her cheeks told him enough, the embarrassment of the position and being so open to him. “You’re in control Helena.” Her eyes dropped as she nodded her head. “Eyes on me sweet girl.” Only when she was looking at him did he continue. “Do you like what we’re doing? Does it feel good?”
“Yes.” Her soft tone only just audible.
“Then that’s all that matters.” He kissed her forehead and nudged it for her to lift it. “Do you want to keep going?” Her nod making him smile. “Relax and let your knees drop out to the side, let me take care of you and your body sweet girl. I only want to make you feel good.”
Her tiny gasp as she did as he asked set his dominance to nuclear levels. “You’re too big.” Her whimper wasn’t one of pain but of realization.
“No sweet girl, you can just feel all of me now.” He kissed her tenderly and flexed his hips, the small amount of friction enough to have her tremble. “Feels good?”
“Yes.”
“Let me make you feel good.” He murmured as he kissed her, tongue demanding entry as he gripped her hips and thrust.
“Gustaf. Oh god.” Her brain was being fried so deliciously, she couldn’t form a thought.
“That’s my good girl, just like that.” He felt her begin to yield, felt her body yield. As he held her ass he used his elbows to gently push down on her knees guiding them open. When he thrust in he bottomed out and her gasped cry turned to an obscene moan. “Sweet girl.” He sighed. “So good for me, taking me so deep.”
“So big.” She murmured against his lips as they ghosted hers.
“You’ll feel every inch of me like this.” Pinning her open he found his rhythm, one of euphoric devastation. “Submit to me sweet girl, let me have you.”
“Yes.” She choked as her release built, the feel of his thick length caressing her scrambling what was left of her brain.
“That’s my good girl.” Shifting in his seat he widened his knees, the movement stretching her as wide as her body would allow. “Relax.” He purred, lips teasing the column of her throat and hummed his approval when she finally submitted to him. Keeping her close he pulled her on and off him, the thrusts deep.
“Gustaf.” She whimpered as her climax teetered on the edge. “Oh god.”
“Mmm sweet girl you feel so good, so tight when I fuck you.”
Her body went taught, the erotic pleasure surging through her like a freight train, another orgasm hot on its heels. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he continued his torturous assault on her senses. The feel of his chest hair against her nipples pebbling them, those large hands holding her right where he wanted her, his thickness stretching her as he bottomed out caressing the one spot inside her only he could touch. “Gustaf.”
Her breathy cry of his name as she peaked made his cock throb as he quickened his thrusts. He let the groan escape as her pussy clenched around him, the pulsing squeezing his cock as he moved inside her. “Look at me sweet girl.” He instructed, the tone gentle but leaving no room for misinterpretation of who was in control. As her gaze found his he felt the shot of pleasure to his core. This beautiful woman was all his, all he’d ever wanted. “So beautiful.” He purred. “Put your hands down by your side.”
She heard the command in his tone and let her arms fall, each hand at her side. Without breaking his rhythm he pinned her wrists to her hips and plunged into her deeply.
“So good for me.” He growled, his hips snapping, his cock bottoming out with every thrust. He was mesmerized by eyes of smoke and rain, glazed over with pleasure as he pinned her to him and fucked her. As she crested again she struggled against his grip which he only held her tighter. “Look down sweet girl, look at how well you take me.”
She whimpered as she dropped her gaze, the sight of him holding her, fucking her, those slim hips, strong and powerful flexing to fill her. There was a rush of heat before her climax pounced, the soft scream as she came dissolving into a moan as he kissed her neck, teeth grazing.
“Keep watching sweet girl, I know you like watching me fuck you.” He growled softly and nipped the tender flesh at her shoulder.
His words were enough to have her teetering on the edge again, as was the constant stimuli to her pussy, her clit. Being open this wide while he claimed her was an experience she’d never have with anyone else. Resting her forehead on his shoulder she couldn’t take her eyes off their joining, the soft grunts and groans he made at her ear emboldening her. Only she could make him lose control, only she could make him feel this good. Their mating turned rough, the frenzied movement a need, a desire to find release, to pleasure, to give. “Gustaf, please.” She begged as he pounded into her, the savage bite to her shoulder making her wince but in turn sending a spike of arousal to her clit. “Harder. Please.” Her whimper ended on a choked cry as he did as she asked. She came so hard she saw stars, the sounds of him fucking her euphoric in their own right.
“Such a good girl for me. A few more just like that sweet girl.” He kissed her from shoulder to neck and up the column of her throat until his mouth was near her ear. “Can you see me slide into you. My thick cock filling your tight pussy?” Her whimpered yes had his own release surge forward. “That’s it sweet girl, I want to hear you scream for me this time.” He commanded as her body tensed. Her scream was muffled as she came, her mouth pressed against his shoulder while he continued to fuck her hard. “Good girl and again.”
She didn’t know when the last one finished and the next one began. Her system was doing its own thing now and she was just along for the ride.
“Look at me sweet girl.” Her head came up as another climax hit her, the ripple of pleasure as she bucked and writhed against him had his own release peak. “Like calls to like.” His soft tone as she came again causing her to cry out. “I’ll never stop wanting you Helena. Never stop needing you.” Keeping his thrusts even and deep he kissed her tenderly and felt her orgasm rocket through her as her pussy gripped him tightly.
“You’re too big.” She cried as another orgasm built lightning quick.
“Take all of me like a good girl, come for me and take me with you.” He grunted between clenched teeth determined to see her come before he erupted. His thrust were a brutal erotic torture as he pistoned his hips as hard as he could in the position they were in. She screamed his name as she climaxed, her pussy throbbing around him. He ravaged her mouth as he found his release, his fingers digging into the meat of her ass painfully as he rode them through the pleasure. Spent, he released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her as she went limp. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He soothed, her hands balling in front of her as she burrowed into his chest.
She was floating, the way he had fucked her into oblivion reset her system so she could find her control again, at least it would after she slept.
Holding her to him with one arm his hand drifted over her body, soothing strokes before he massaged one hip and then the other. Her legs shook violently from the exertion as he lowered them, the soft whimper concerning him. “Did that hurt sweet girl? Did I hurt you?” She shook her head and burrowed into his chest. “Just stiff?” A nod this time confirmed it, words were beyond her capability for the moment.
It was in these moments when she let her guard down, handed him control of everything that she felt the most at peace. To just be held, those large hands brushing soothing strokes along her spine, those strong fingers combing through her hair, the gentle kisses to the top of her head. She didn’t know why the tears fell, she was deliriously happy.
“You’re ok sweet girl, you’re safe.” He murmured as he felt the soft sob wrack her body before he heard it. “My brave girl.” He tightened his hold on her, the pressure easing the tension that had crept in. “It’s all done now sweet girl, you are free of his shadow.” He said the words she needed to hear, the ones that reassured her. “So strong.” He smiled against her hair as she wrapped her slender arms around him and held on, he was her rock in the storm.
Clinging to him like a wounded child she purged it from her system. All the hostility and negativity she’d felt last night because of Michael started to flow out of her. “I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled along with her body as she spoke.
“It’s ok, let it all go.” He’d been expecting a meltdown at some point, her system overwhelmed by the events of last night, the articles this morning. It was better for them to ride it out now than have it fester to a larger explosion later on.
He held her for what felt like an hour, curled up against his chest, the tears purging the last of Michael’s shadow from her system. When she’d cried the last of it he continued to hold her, in no rush or need to be anywhere except right where he was. This was what she needed from him, a partner that listened and supported. “It’ll get better Helena.” He soothed, long strokes along her spine forcing the shuddered breath out as she grappled to regain control of her emotions.
“Can we just stay like this for a bit?” She mumbled, her hand fanning out over his chest.
“For as long as you like sweet girl.” He kissed the top of her head and continued on his path to soothe her. “I’m in no hurry to be anywhere else.”
“Like calls to like.” Her soft tone made him smile.
“Yours calls to mine, it always has.” Holding her he realized that this was the start of their forever, both souls laid bare, both with a need to handle with care. “I’ll never stop wanting you, wanting this. I love you Helena.” He looked down into soulful eyes of smoke and rain as she looked up at him.
“I love you too.” Her finger trailed the scruff at his jaw. “So much.”
********************
It was some months later that she began to truly settle, in her painting and in her personal life. Gone we’re the days of fear and ridicule, the constant barrage of negativity, that looming shadow no longer eclipsing her world. No, it was Gustaf that eclipsed her world now. Her muse, larger than life, kind and gentle. Her muse, that had pulled her from the abyss of despair. Her muse, that inspired more than just paintings, he inspired passion, life, love. A love she was worthy of and did deserve. It was with those thoughts she signed Passion and Fire, and felt him at the doorway.
“They’re more beautiful than Dawn and Twilight.” He murmured as she came to him.
“That’s because of you.” She smiled, and giggled when he looked at her baffled. “You’re my muse.”
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introducingtay · 16 days
Text
The North 40
Most would be thrown off by the heavy gloom. The murkiness felt familiar to me. Some might say the gloom seemed to eat up its surroundings, disguising its previous location as a blinding cloud of… mist? Is that what it is? When I looked closely, I could make out some shapes; leaves, indicative of plants. Phallic shapes that one would only assume were mushrooms, actually, and not genitalia sprouting from the ground. I stepped further into the gloom, allowing it to envelop me, adding me to the list of hidden items within its domain. As I wandered, I kept track of my observations, as though they were breadcrumbs for me to follow if I ever chose to leave the gloom. Splitting wood. Damp moss. Even a vine or a branch could be seen, if you were to squint. The spiderwebs were invisible within the gloom, but the feeling of them molding to my arms as I walked through them was easily identifiable. The grass and dirt were slightly damp underfoot – not squishy, not giving way to my weight, but I could tell by the texture of my steps that I’d need to hose these boots down before I went back inside. Suddenly I’m by the flowers and their brilliant colors, their gentle petal patterns almost imperceivable in these conditions. 
Of course, none of this was truly a guessing game for me; I knew every plant that was here, the name of each occupant of every plot. I rub the waxy leaves to my right. I’d grown up here, in this garden. Watched my father carefully plan out, build out, and plant out every quadrant. I trace my hand over the rusted nails. He’d chosen good quality wood for his planting boxes; I’ve had to repair very little since he passed. The color had faded, there were dings and dents and tiny gnaw marks where ambitious creatures had let out their frustration. The wood is cool under my palms. My father used the soil as his outlet, his boredom and frustration and loneliness finding company in the relative wilds of our backyard. I’d helped him build this sanctuary – his sanctuary. I spin slowly, taking in every sector of the garden from where I stood in the center, ending with my feet facing north. He had no idea it had also become mine in the process, that it allowed me access to a piece of him, his inner world. He had no idea I ever wanted a piece of him. Now it holds the only piece of him left, and I can’t let it go.
Suddenly I’m jerked out of my thoughts and self-pity as my wife called out from the edge of the gloom. She wasn’t willing to enter the garden on the gloomy days. Those were mine to wander alone. I supposed she needed me now. She only interrupts me in the gloom when I’m needed. I trudged back through the garden, leaving my boots on the back porch. The water dripping off my boots made them seem like a mirage next to his bone-dry pair to their left. I found myself pulled into a rather morbid game of Spot-The-Difference. I’m not sure I could find twenty if I tried. They were the same brand, same model. The same burnt sienna boot laces winding through the same rust-resistant eyelets, the same brown soles worn down by similar use. But now mine were more worn, the arch making more of a mold to my foot than providing actual support. The stitching on my pair was fraying in spots that were near-pristine on his boots. Mine sported dark stains from puddles of liquids his had never touched. Mine held experiences he wasn’t here to share. Children are meant to bury their parents, though. And I’ve buried two.
Inside, I opened the blasted jar for her, and decided to stay. The gloom can wait until another day. So, we ate dinner, watched our nightly show, tangled together just likes the vines around the garden gate, filling the empty spaces between each other with ourselves. This was our normal nightly routine. I woke up in the mornings, had my coffee, downed a protein shake if I can tolerate the taste of substance. Headed to work, did my job, came home and gave her a kiss. Checked the garden. Appreciated the sunshine. Joined her while she made dinner, offered my help, knowing it would be declined. Tossed spare pieces of banter across our island counter from my place on the barstool. I like our little routine. It sped by. It keeps me out of the gloom – at least, until something comes along to spark the gloom once again. 
“There’s a message on the machine. I think it’s too late to call back today.” I checked my watch. 5:13pm. I’d been in the garden longer than usual today. I had no doubt she’d remind me of the message again tomorrow, in fact I was so sure of it that I almost didn’t bother to press play – until I saw a flicker of annoyance cross her face as she glanced at the light blinking on the machine. 
I pressed the playback button. The machine clicked once. “Hi, this is Gerry, calling from Dr. Marsh’s office for Benton Bernard. You missed your 2:45pm appointment. I hope everything’s alright, please call us to reschedule when you get a chance, and be aware that you’ll see the cancellation charge on your card on file. Our hours are 8am to 4:30pm. Again, hope you’re alright! Have a good day.” 
The machine beeped and announced the end of new messages before instructing us to press 2 if we wanted to listen to saved messages.
The silence that followed the machine’s final click held heavy, threatening to layer the gloom over top of my world once again. I could see my wife shifting from foot to foot in my peripheral. She always avoided bringing him up. Either of my parents, really. I suppose today’s appointment had been his six-month neurologist check-up. In the early days after his diagnosis, he said he was lucky to have lived long enough to get dementia. If he had known then what the later days would look like, I think he would’ve called it his comeuppance, and insisted luck wasn’t a factor.
“Is that something you can handle?” Her voice interrupts my thoughts. A thinly veiled double entendre, a coward’s attempt to ask how I’m feeling. I answered the face-value question instead.
“Yeah, he gave me access and authority over his medical case after my mother. I’ll call in the morning, let them know he’ll be missing all future appointments, too.” It was meant as a joke, an attempt to lighten the mood, but as I heard the words leave my lips – the flat tone of my voice reverberating through the tension in the air – I knew the gloom was back. I kissed her forehead, turned heel, and stepped out into the gloomy air once more. At least the interlude was longer this time. I’d need to rinse my boots off again tonight. She tolerates my gloom, but not dirt on the freshly mopped floors. 
The garden seemed different when the gloom was here. The obfuscation of all my efforts had an almost protective feeling, the mist and fog swirling around the fruits of my labor. Hidden from view. What is normally a bright, beautiful, peaceful refuge for animals and humans alike suddenly becomes unsettling, secretive – still peaceful, though. I’m safe here. My fears are buried here, allowing me to visit them on my own terms. Laying them to rest in my own backyard meant I grieved on my own schedule. That was the thought, anyway. Of course, I could never have true control. The control is an illusion, no more tangible than the gloom that swarms my consciousness and envelops the world around me, dictating my actions, dictating my thoughts. 
I tightened the last screw and gave the new garden bench a stiff tug. Seems solid. I stood back to examine my handiwork. It was fine. A sturdy place for my wife and I to sit was the only goal, and that’s the only function this bench had. The center of the garden wasn’t a particularly special place. Just a square of packed dirt, walkways leading from each corner, planting boxes and plots angling out from the sides. The only notable feature of the garden’s center was the boot prints implanted into the dirt – a set facing each cardinal direction. I carefully slid my feet into the deepest tracks, facing north. I’d placed the bench perfectly; if I popped a squat, my ass would meet seat.
I could just barely make out the jagged shape jutting from the ground a few yards ahead; if I were to sit, it’d be hidden behind shrubbery. I found myself immersed in the shadowed shape, examining the angle of each edge, meandering in its direction as though entranced. I hadn’t visited this plot in… how long had it been now? When my father first passed, I’d come to this plot weekly. I ran my hand across the rough surface as though the tree stump could tell me when I last visited. The only date this tree knew was the one recklessly carved into its bark. I had always intended to add more to it, something to honor him. The thought that I still could causes me to hesitate before I turn heel and walk out of the garden, mindful of where I place my feet.
This time, I just placed my boots right next to the hose to drip dry. My socked feet weaved their way across the screen porch towards the sliding glass door, where I peeled the dirtied socks off my feet and stepped inside. I’m surrounded by the smell of fresh aromatics and the sizzling sound of a pan-seared protein. I could see potato slices roasting, the harsh oven light beating down on the crisping skins. The clock reads 6:57pm. 
“You have time to shower before dinner, if you’d like.” She knows how important routine has been to me, and how routine is what keeps the gloom tolerable. The last thing I want to do in this moment is take care of myself, but I do for her. I’d do anything for her. 
I pulled her into a bear hug, planted a firm kiss on the top of her head as my arms encased her. I looked down as she looked up. There was a faint smile on her lips that didn’t quite connect to her eyes. The thought that I don’t hold her enough passed through my mind as I head to the bathroom, but washed with the suds down the shower drain. 
The table is set, drinks poured, food served by the time I sat down. 
“Did you call them back?”
“Yep.”
“Did they ask any questions?”
“Nope.” I chewed slowly, hoping to keep my mouth busy for as long as possible. I savored the taste of the roasted potatoes, careful not to burn the roof of my mouth. To my surprise, my wife stays silent, too. I missed when she used to leave no silences in the household, filling our home with constant activity and vibrancy. 
“I want to hear it from you, now.” 
“We’ll sit out on the bench after dinner.” I owed her this. We made small talk through the rest of the meal. We talked of the weather (how the recent rains were ahead of the seasonal cycle) and the food (yes, I do like the new flavor profile she’s trying, yes, her food is delicious, yes, I’ve had enough to eat). We both offered to do the dishes even though we knew I would do them in the end, ‘winning’ (if you could call it that) with the logic that she cooked, so the dishes are my job. We made eye contact as I loaded the last dish into the dishwasher, as though the longer we lingered the more prepared we would be for this conversation to begin. This was her first time wearing her boots. I laced them for her, careful to make them snug without squeezing her feet too tightly. We slipped our jackets on and our hands together, our fingers intertwining.
As she entered the gloom with me for the first time, her boot prints wore their own distinct path into the damp sod next to my long-worn tracks. We took our time, winding our way through the circular rows, quadrant to quadrant. I answered her various trivial questions.
“Is this an heirloom tomato or green zebra? Is that zucchini or cucumber? Is that the edible flower patch? Is the herb garden nearby?” They’re Santorini’s. Those are cucumbers, but both are grown here. That is the flower patch, and the herbs are set towards the outer southern edge in thick stone boxes, we passed them on the way in. 
Her questions paved our pathway to the center, to the bench I just installed this afternoon. Silence fell after we sat. I looked down, where my boots filled the same heavily indented north-facing prints I’d been observing earlier. I could see the edge of her left boot without shifting my gaze. My eyes made their way from her boots to her braided hair, where her expression confirmed she’d seen the shadow of the stump. I began to talk.
I spoke of when my mother fell ill. A respiratory virus turned pneumonia turned organ damage. Exhaustion turned fatigue turned 18 hours of sleep a day. Discomfort turned pain turned agony. This part she knew. I kept talking. Hope turned suffering turned… mercy. The garden was borne, starting with those stone-edged herb gardens lining the house’s side of the garden. Within those plant beds lie remedies for nausea, fever, muscle tension. She knew of the herb gardens, visible from the kitchen window. I told her the history of the now-empty herb plot. It held a cure for any ailment – at least, that’s how my father described it to me back then. We’d include a few leaves in her evening salad every day. She kept sleeping, more and more. “It’ll help her feel better. The sleep means it’s working. It’s a miracle, a mercy,” he would say. Then one evening, she slept right through dinner. And the next day’s dinner. And the next. After those three days I helped him bury her in his garden, underneath the tree they’d carved their initials into all those years ago. 
And the years went on. The plot that had grown her mercy now laid empty, irredeemably contaminated by the very presence of the plant. We never spoke of it, of her. He expanded the garden from the herb boxes to her grave, channeling his grief into this garden. I was his silent helper, until I left for college, where I met her, and oh well, she remembers how we met and how life followed on.
And the years went on. His dementia came, and we moved in as his caretakers. In the early days, he had a humor about him. The dementia seemed to eat that away alongside the memories it devoured. He came to believe his beloved wife had left him, the memories of the mercy he and I provided lost to him forever. One day, in a fit of grief and rage about how terribly his wife had betrayed him, he chopped down the tree that displayed their initials. Then, he had a moment of clarity that broke through the disease like an unwelcome headlight would through a residential window at 2am. I found him, knelt barefoot in front of the jagged stump, knees upon her grave. Broken, hollow, defeated. I grabbed the axe he had used. I thought he deserved a mercy.
I buried him at that tree stump – with her. Resting, together, forever in the garden. Built for her, nourished by him. The gloom came for the first time that day, settling over me like the dirt onto their grave. 
My wife sat still, listening, absorbing every word. At some point, while I was lost in the whirlwind of context and timeline in my head, she placed her hand on my forearm. When I was done speaking, she held me, my tears slithering their way down her waterproof jacket as I sobbed into her shoulder. I was no longer alone.
I had planned to carve their initials into the tree’s bark once again, even with the stump being dead long ago. We carved our own in silence instead. She returned to her seat on the bench, able to admire our handiwork engraving the wooden headstone. I returned to my seat next to her. The shrubbery blocked my view, but I was looking at my boots instead, noting how his boot prints were too big for me to fill.
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noblesixjm04 · 2 months
Text
Forget Me Not
Tumblr media
Pairing: N/A
Characters: Master Chief/John-117 Cortana
Warnings: Character Death
Song: Skin and Bones- David Kushner
An: Hi yes. Hello. I wanted to work on something else. This happened instead. Enjoy.
"Let me sit here, on the threshold of two worlds. Lost in the eloquence of silence.
-Jalalud'din Rumi (1207-1273), 13th century mystic and poet.
It was something only she could see. These little holographic creations of her own. They surrounded him. The soft blue and lavender flowers draped over his shoulders. The only hues of color she could conjure up.
It was supposed to be a one time thing. Something born out of boredom. They had only lasted a few brief moments. Nearly a lifetime in the eyes of an AI.
The first time it had been butterflies. The small things fluttering around his head in shades of lavender. Their movements, though chaotic, were still calculated. Nothing more than a light filled series on ones and zeros. Data only she could see.
It was still beautiful though. These creations.
"You're amused." Came Johns voice. She almost startled. Almost.\
"You could say that." Her lips pulled into an almost smile. One that John couldn't see. But more so one he could feel.
John let out a soft breath of air. Then responded with. "You're buzzing." She tinged to almost pink. As did the butterflies. And as she slipped back into her normal hue, the butterflies left in little bursts of light.
Any response she could have had was halted by the arrival of the comander.
Other moments had been brief. Little moments of laxed time when the world seemed to still before her. She experimented with flowers, insects. She had given him a halo of the palest blue at one point. And just as quickly she had taken it away. It had been so bright. Looked so right resting on his head.
If possible. The sight of it had broke her heart.
The second to last time. It...
It hurt. John was in cryostasis. She had never been this alone before. This...
"Wake me. When you need me." She needed him the moment he had went inside that cryotube. That moment it had locked and hissed. Stealing him away from her.
She had covered him and the cryotube in a Boquete of flowers. Iris, mountain ash, blue violets, zinnin, poppies, and phlox. John was bathed in them to the point that all she could see was his helmet through the frost covered window. And when he woke. A singular crown of mayflower and rose rested on his helmet.
She wished she could tell him. Show him. But this was in her own world. Not his.
Even still. Her. Now. There were the flowers.
Forget me nots draped upon his shoulders. Fell down like a robe to his waist. They wound down his arms. Dangled from his wrists. She had just enough left in her to make the petals fall. Only to disappear before they hit the floor.
"It was my job to take care of you." She could see her reflection in his visor. Could hear the almost hurt in his voice. The hurt he didn't want her to hear.
"We were supposed to take care of each other." She pressed her palm to his chest. Firm and unmoving. Grounding her to this moment when every inch of data within her wanted to just. Disappear.
She brushed a few of the holographic flowers away. To him it looked as if she were trailing her fingers on his battered amor. Carefully she traced over the numbers. 117.
"And we did." The flowers flickered and faded as she looked back up. Pressing her palm flat over the numbers.
"Take care of yourself John. And remember me." And so did she.
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Text
Kuroshitsuji: Sisters in hell, in heaven and purgatory.
Music9abril
Summary:
Jenny, Sam and Isabela are three very close sisters, with joys and joys. But not everything is rosy color for the three are unaware of their origins and why they are so different from others.
Suddenly the three of them were divided. Isabela woke up without her sisters and her ruined but unknown world found Ciel Phantomhive and her butler Sebastian Michaelis. Maybe it was to help him at once ... for his plans.
Little by little he encountered extravagant and strange people: William t. Spears, Grell Sutcliff, Ronald Knox, Alan Humphries and Eric Slighby from a headquarters in England. Undertaker, a simple gravedigger, right? All of these will fill your life with love and help you rediscover yourself with your sisters and ... reveal your dark past.
Notes:
(See the end of the work for notes.)
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 / Everything Started ...
Chapter Text
Sebastian:
It was always the same old routine, wake up and attend the young master, tell him what is on his agenda, verify that the servants do not burn or destroy the mansion. But today was going to be different I hope .... This day I did my tasks with more care and caution, since I wanted everything to be perfect for her and surprise her. Everything was in order and clean so I went to see the young master to know if I wanted something. When I had nothing to do I went to make up, I went down the stairs with a black box with a red ribbon to her favorite tone.
Sebastian: Why did not he come? I'm sure he'll come this time. "I looked at my watch and it was late, it had taken a long time, but wait for me since she always makes me jokes.
It was time to go with the young master to enlist him to sleep, I went to my room and left in the closet the box next to the other boxes I make every year for her. When he enters my master's room, he was Angry as it had taken a while.
Ciel: Sebastian, why did you take so long? -Ann-angry Sebastian, shouting.
Sebastian: Eh ...... or I'm sorry Bocchan.- With my hand on my chest I leaned.
Ciel: What's wrong? , This day you have been very distracted and worried .- * I had not realized that I was distracted, maybe it was because I was afraid that she would not come.
Sebastian: young master, I must say I have a sister.-This made Bocchan be surprised.- Today is her birthday, she is my younger sister.
Ciel: What's your sister's name? - with some curiosity.
Sebastian: It's called Lucy Morgan, she and I are children of Lucifer, the King of Demons, but I have not seen her since the eclipse Vita et Mors Semper .- * I will never forget that day because I found maybe My soul mate
Ciel: Sebastian, I want you to tell me what happened in the epoch of Vita et Mors Semper. Show me the contract in your left eye.
Sebastian: As ordered, It was in the year 1866 ....
In 1866 ..... London
Those days I was with my sister, we were very close we were always going to look for souls to devour them but I was tired of eating souls with low quality, so we started looking for souls with a hatred and spite. But there were not so many that my sister He was starting to get fed up.
Lucy: I'm hungry already, Brother.-watching people pass from the ceiling.
Sebastian: Calm down, little sister, you just have to wait and .....
Lucy: Hey look, in that alley a group of novice demons, let's see.-jumps off the roof and runs off.
Sebastian: Lucy waits .... arg .... it's serious.- * always the demons are more disorderly killing who they please, only those who are born demons or children of Lucifer are very powerful, but they are not and interfere In all, that annoys me.
As we approached we saw the group beat and trampled a young shimigami, but I could see that he had his glasses personalized so he was a recent graduate. But I was surprised how that shimigami got up and tried to use his scythe but one backyard, Though he recovered; That was weird, my sister did not like that since she does not like to be created much since they are not demons completely. I saw that the biggest of them hit his face so hard that he fell to the ground, shot his scythe along with his glasses began to bleed his nose.
Demon: That you are no longer brave without your glasses, useless. -the yard and then spat.
XX: I'm never going to fall so low, moust .... -that's the devil I grab it from the throat and lift it.
Then I saw what I never imagined, the face of the shimigami was of fear and panic, suddenly his eyes closed due to lack of air, I felt like something I had never experienced was concern for him and I was very angry, I approached the Demon, Lucy tried to stop me.
Sebastian: Put it down or you do not know who I am. - My eyes turned pink.
He released him and told everyone to withdraw and they did so with a terror in them as they knew the consequence of facing Lucifer's son. Lucy approached the shimigami checked it, since he saw me very worried about him, he turned to see me.
Lucy: He is stable but has several wounds and needs rest, What do we do? .- Seriously.
Sebatian: Let's heal his wounds and when he wakes up, we'll take him into his world to take over. -I'll grab him as a bride's style and Lucy helps me grab his scythe and his glasses.
We took him to an abandoned house, where I laid him in bed, while Lucy grabbed things to heal her wounds, after she wrapped her wounds, we let him rest, while preparing some food for him. That Lucy approached to me.
Lucy: What did you see? - With some intrigue.
Sebastian: I do not know and ... - I heard the shimigami woke up so I went to the room, I saw how scared and disoriented, grabbed his glasses and put them on, he panicked.
Sebatian: Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, my name is Sebastian Michaelis. - Suddenly my sister comes in and he tries to get up but the blows and injuries do not leave him.
Sebatian: do not move or hurt yourself more. "He turned to see me and I saw emerald eyes, I feel.
XX: My name is William T Spears. "Something flushed and serious.
---------------------------------------------- º
Ciel: Wait, you fell in love with William-surprised.
Seabastian: If I fall in love with him, but it was not all ..... - serious.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 / The Encounter
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Sebastian:
Sebastian: If I fell in love with him, but it was not all ..... - serious.
---------------------------------------------- º
After that we helped them to improve since it was a shimigami recover fast, but little by little I felt something I never had, same day at night I went to make dinner, while Lucy changed the bandages to new ones. When He left the room and looked at me with a serious look. But I did not take it seriously.
Sebastian: I brought you some food, since you need to eat. "I approached to give him the meal.
William: Thank you very much. "A serious tone, he was a little flushed.
He tried to take the plate but it started to hurt the stomach where he had been kicked, so I sat on the bed next to him, help him feed him, it was rare for sure my father would get angry since he is a shimigami and we are natural enemies, but I did not care I only thought of him. Until Lucy came in, I knew something I knew.
Lucy: Brother, you're not going to bring him something to drink. He must be thirsty. It was true, as I had forgotten, so I stopped and went fast for water.
Arrive fast because I did not know what my sister was going to do and I heard what I said to William.
Lucy: You know? I know you feel something for my brother so I'll just tell you a little thing I do not want you to take it as a threat rather take it as a warning, if I see you hurt him, I swear you will not finish it. "He smiles sweetly.
In that enter with the glass of water, soon I'll talk to her, this is not going to stay that way.
Lucy: Well, I'm going now, can you keep Sebastian eating? I'm going to fix some issues .- I agreed, it goes but I saw that she gives him a serious look and william swallows with a little fear.
Sebastian: Calm down, she's like this with all the people I know. "He smiled at her, so he would calm down.
William: Thanks for everything, I thought you demons were cruel creatures that only care about themselves and that they had no feelings .- * it hurt me and that was true everyone was almost like that * -.
Sebastian: Well ....... in the morning we are going to go to the Shimigami Kingdom, so rest.- I got up and let him sleep, although he was surprised -.
The next morning we went to the Shimigami kingdom, it was totally different from what I thought was more modern in the human world, but we had to be on the roofs because they could not see us demons in their kingdom. Lucy could not stop admiring the place because it was something that never saw in her life another kingdom apart from ours and humans.
William: You can tell they have never seen anything like this. "Watching as my sister smiled, watching the shimigamis pass with their books and scythes.
Sebastian: Well, she never leaves our kingdom if she does not go out with me, our father adores her very much since she is the only child in our family, since our mother died.-She was special to our father, but I had no envy since I I love her too.
Willliam: Oh sorry, actually I ........-In that appeared a boy reddish hair, a sharp denture, lenses by some more refined crimson red, with a typical suit of shimigami and heels red and black.
XX: Wirus! It's meGrell Sutcliff, where you were. - rushing to embrace William, but I pushed him since he still did not recover from his wounds.
That made him fall to the ground, but he got up angrily.
XX: How dare you treat a lady, you ...... - angry, but he saw me and his cheeks turned pink.
Lucy: Perfect what I needed, another that goes for my brother. - angry, since she saw that scene -.
Grell: Who is this? Well, there are demons in the kingdom, if they are not from here. - scratching his head.
XX: That's what I was wondering too. - an orange-haired shimigami appeared, her eyes emerald like all shimigami, light-blue lenses and her shimigami suit with a straight skirt and black heels. Spears that has happened I worry when you did not come back from your collection.
William: Excuse Elisa Carson, I was ambushed by demons, I was not here if it was not for Sebastian Michaelis and Lucy Morgan who saved me. - serious and formal, towards her, but she looked at him with tenderness until she saw more of my sister.
Elisa: You were the one who stole a soul, because of you I had my first extra hour.-angry with my sister.
Lucy: But it already happened and it was good too. - I was challenging her, I tried to stop her but she was already in harm's way.
In that, Elisa invoked her scythe was an ounce but double-leafed, tried to attack Lucy but opened a portal to London and pushed her sister was not going to stay behind knew her.
Sebastian: What I lack. - I came back to see William, it was not right, so help him to go and stop them.
William: Come on, I have a feeling. - I opened a portal.
Grell: Wait, a lady can not run with heels. - running to go with us -.
In London....
We arrived in time a little. It was a close combat between two immortal beings almost destroying everything in their path, did not care if someone discovered them only cared about destroying themselves.
Elisa: What's wrong with you ?! Why you rob me, demons like you, are horrible and repugnant beings who only think of each other, making deals to humans when they are in their vulnerable state.-Trying to hurt Lucy with his double-leafed scythe with fury- .
Lucy: Oh come on, but I saw her first and it's not my fault that you were waiting ridiculously on that roof. - Dodging easily and making fun of her, * that's why I just let her out with me since she's impulsive * -.
We were looking at me and william, also Grell. Elisa hits Lucy tightly, but Lucy hit her back. And this was probably Lucy was going to be transformed into her true self and still does not control her powers.
William: Elisa, please stop fighting, please remember that we made that promise when I was in the academy, remember we're like brothers.-trying to make her voice calm.
Elisa: Not now William, they did this to me and I will not allow it. -I attacked Lucy but my sister did not elusive made a cut in his arm, suddenly came a Cinematic Record, of her and I playing when we were more little ones-.
I had to do something or if they were not going to destroy the whole city or worse lose my sister, so do not hesitate to push Elisa and push Lucy away, but she pushed me mad.
Lucy: What do you do, I had it all controlled. "Furious.
Sebastian: You were not, you know what happens when you become angry in your true self and ..... in that she exploded.
Lucy: Of course I must be the weak one, while you handle everything to perfection since you are the exemplary demon and I.-In that appeared an angel with long white hair, violet eyes, with a white dress, too appeared a gray-haired shimigami with a black sack.
XXX: We hope not to interrupt this fight, but please we need the world are in danger. - said it with so much concern the angel, that we all care.
Notes:
Hello everyone, I hope you like this second part, comment if you like and please share it. And I ask an apology if I have a little spelling, English is not my mother tongue
Notes:
Hello everyone this is my first story of Kuroshitsuji and I hope you like the story I do with the heart comment if they like it or not and why, to change it or not.And I hope you like this story. This story contains homosexual couples.
Thank you for helping me give me strength to my friends for giving me the idea of making the story.
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