#what does this man scale off of do I need to work for it pls I've been in marcheusse jail since the update | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allfandomstan · 2 years

Text

After Dark~(Batman x Vigilante reader), Chapter 2.

Read Chapter 1! Find it on my ‘posts’..

Genre: Action, Mystery, Crime, Noir.

Setting: The Iceberg Lounge from ‘The Batman’ 2022.

Warnings: Swearing, minor sexual harassment, minor violence, mention of adult themes, dark themes.

Word count: 4.6k

Author Notes: Hi guys, its me again! Back with another chap!! I was dying to get this one done cuz I’ve procrastinated enough😫…Anyways, this is kinda a chill chapter compared to the last one(Vengeance and reader get to know eachother a bit) and I hope you enjoy! Pls let me know what you guys think.

****

You were currently in your apartment, going through the events from the previous night. You just witnessed a high-scale murder of Gotham’s very own Mayor to be exact.

And you also ran into him..

You were still in your home clothes which was just an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You were slumped on the living room couch with a tub of instant noodles in hand. Quick fixes had to do. You wrote down the events from the previous night into your diary, the one you keep for your work. This way it allows you to recollect vital moments and distinguish key information you may need later. You had to force yourself to remember..

You kept writing and recollecting when you heard a loud buzz come from your burner phone. Putting down your pen slowly, you curiously picked up the phone.

The message came from an unknown number. Wait..

That must be him.

So, He did notice the tiny piece of paper that you slyly slid into the side of his belt after all?

Grinning you open up the message…

“It’s me”

Your grin widened upon the realisation that it was actually him. He actually bothered to contact you. Well, why wouldn’t he?

You start typing slowly.

You just have to hold your ground when it comes to him. You can’t risk giving away too much information.. Even though he probably did a whole-ass background check on you already.

“Who’s me?”, you respond back mockingly, even though you already knew who it was. Not a minute was wasted, as he responded right after:

“You know who it is”…

“Do I really?”

You chuckled to yourself at the way you teased him. Alright, maybe you should stop.

“Alright, alright I got you Bat”.

You gave up joking around and got down to business. Inhaling deeply, you ask:

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you”.

Ok, now you figured he was genuinely interested. Or maybe just curious.

“Why?”, you type, aiming to get a reason out of him even though you knew already. You had to admit, you wanted to hear it come from him.

“Because of what you said.. about cooperation. And because I know what you saw.”

“And?”

“And maybe we can get somewhere with it?”

Wow, he caught on rather fast. The little giving your number trick did work well, and it worked almost instantly. Shit, it worked like that most of the time when it came to men.

“Fine… where?”

Now this was getting serious. He wanted to see you again and you know he meant business. Well, so do you. ‘Was he gong to interrogate you even further or was he going to cooperate?’

Uncertainty filled you to the very core but you couldn’t miss the chance you get to know him even more. Not that you knew very much about him to begin with. You always wondered who the man behind the mask was.

‘Who was this caped crusader that head been haunting the nights of Gotham for the past two years?’

‘Who was he under there?’

‘What were his motives?’

‘Why did he love this godforsaken city so much?’

‘Why does he want to protect it?’

Oh what you would do to find out. The curiosity bubbling inside you must be subdued, but it only will when you find the truth. But you had to be patient. Couldn’t get too nosy or he just might shut you out completely and maybe call this whole thing off. Without pondering much further you decided to keep engaged in the conversation:

“Oh are you sure about that?”

“Yes”

“Fine, but where can we possibly meet up?”

“The Iceberg”

Ok, hold the fuck on right now. He wanted to meet up with you in the Iceberg Lounge? Where all the fucking crackheads, crime lords and corrupt cops go to? Shit, that’s the sketchiest place in Gotham. Or even the planet, in your opinion. But nevertheless, that place hit too close to home.. Way too close. And that’s exactly why you hated it.

“You want to meet up in the goddamn Iceberg Lounge?”

“Yes. I got some things to deal with”

“What things?”

“That’s none of your business”.

To be honest, when he put it that way you kind of knew what he was talking about. C’mon you knew that place way too well..

“It’s the Penguin, right?”. You waited for him to respond. He must be baffled. You were able to read right through him…

After a minute, he responds with:

“Like I said, that’s none of your business”.

Heh, how rude. But you didn’t blame him though. Anyone who came to deal with the Penguin had to keep it incognito.

“Fine”, you respond. You knew there was no use in trying to interrogate him. He just won’t budge.

“See you there at 9”

“Umm, where exactly?”

“The 44 below”

“Shit, you want me to venture into danger zone?. Damn, I won’t even be surprised if I were to be murdered in there. And besides, you’ll just walk into the 44?

“Just do as I say”

“You really don’t care what happens to me, don’t you sweetie?”

“Just.. trust me”.

****

Back at his cave, Bruce was watching you. He was watching what happened the previous night on his big computer, after attaching his eye lens to the flash drive. He was watching through what he saw with his own eyes. His eyes scanned your face seeking recognition, but he received nothing. He certainly haven’t seen you around and definitely not once in the two years he served as Batman.

‘Who was this mysterious woman and what did she want?’

He let his eyes wander over your features, letting his gaze linger a little longer. He took note of your eyes and how they had a beautiful darkness in them, very much like his own. You were clearly angry, hurt and disturbed in some way like him. But nevertheless, he found you quite beautiful, and he didn’t want to admit it. He let his eyes wander over your fierce eyes, your little pointed nose, your blush cheeks and your defined jawline. And then he caught sight of your lips. They were lush, plumped and a deep maroon in colour. They looked soft…

Shit. He was getting carried away.

“Stop It Bruce!”, he mutters to himself, frustrated because he was getting distracted by this woman who he doesn’t even know the name of..

“Is that a friend I see?”

upon the realisation of his butler in the room, Bruce whips his head around frantically, glaring at Alfred. “I didn’t see you there”

“And I didn’t see her before. Who is she?”

Bruce lets out a heavy exhale, clearly irritated by Alfred’s intrusion.

“I don’t know”, he responds, voice filled with hesitancy. The butler gave Bruce a long, searching look. “If you want to invite her over for tea or something I-“, Alfred was cut off by Bruce.

“It’s not like that, she’s not a friend”.

Cutting off all of Alfred’s suspicions. Well, at least now he’s clear. “Oh well, okay”, Alfred said, looking down at the dark, tiled floor.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on me like that”, Bruce said eyeing the butler.

“And you shouldn’t be caved up in this God forsaken terminal all day. You missed breakfast.”

Bruce let out a long and heavy sigh, indicating he was no longer interested in this conversation. “Alfred.. It’s what I do-“

“And It’s taking a toll on you!”, Alfred said out of pure frustration and concern.

“Alfred please..You’re not my Father”.

Fuck.. That wasn’t meant to come out like that. Yeah, the sleepless nights were really starting to take a toll on him. The butler just stared at him, wide-eyed and obviously a little hurt. But despite Bruce’s shockingly true statement, Alfred just responds with: “ Yes, that is very much understood”. By his strained voice, Bruce could very much understand that he has hurt Alfred. He’s gonna have to make up for it later. “Alfred, I-“

“No, no I insist. You carry on with your.. work”.

And with that, Alfred walks off to the elevator to leave. He spares Bruce one last glance over the shoulder and says:

“Hopefully we’ll see each other for dinner”…

Bruce lets out a heavy sigh. Again. Was his life really this dark and gloomy? He really needed to improve on his relationships, especially with the only family he had..

****

You stood outside the Iceberg Lounge, waiting to get in. You were standing in the queue for the club, which was filled with random civilians, most probably druggies and alcoholics who can’t get their life together. Here you were wearing a crimson red strapless corset top, with a black, tight mini skirt that showed off your curves spectacularly. You were wearing sky high black heels, and carried a elegant red handbag to carry your things in, including the little knife that you took with you everywhere. It had become a habit.. And it was part of your identity now. Besides, one can’t be too careful in a city like Gotham…

You had your hair down and styled to the side, and you had the perfect makeup for the occasion. Some smoky eyes and red lipstick did the job perfectly. It worked for the appeal. A little too well..

“Hey baby”.

A tall, lanky man with several golden teeth approached you. He smelt of cigarettes and weed. “Hey”, you say, trying to sound bored and aloof clearly not interested in further conversation. “You look nice tonight.. You single?” He snickered flirtatiously at the last line, inching closer to you. You could feel his hot cigar smelling breath on your face. It was sickening.

You moved back a bit, disgusted by the man’s advances. “Umm, no..”

You knew it was a lie, but you hoped it would falter his disgusting intentions ever so slightly. But you were wrong..

He hungrily eyed you up and down, his gaze penetrating your body and scanning over your features and curves, especially your ass. “Well that’s an awful shame.. I mean whoever that lucky bastard is, I envy him.. or her”. He let out a low chuckle.

“Heh, thanks for the compliment”.

“No problem, princess”.

you turned away from him, trying to put a stop to the conversation but then you felt a calloused hand grabbing your forearm. “And hey if you uh, ever feel lonely or just wanna have some fun.. Come over to Daddy, I’ll be right there waiting for you”.

You glared up at him, annoyed. Did this fucker not get the hint?

“Umm, thanks but I think I’m fine-“

“Oh are you sure, honey? You look like you could use some-“

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure thanks”..

You were now starting to lose patience with this guy. His grip on your arm grew ever so slightly.

You tried to yank your arm away but he wouldn’t let you. He grabbed on even tighter.

“Woah, woah, woah.. What’s the hurry for sweetheart?”

Grabbing your forearm, he brought you closer to him. His hand reached for your ass-

“Don’t touch me asshole!”

you tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go of your arm. As retaliation, his hand went up behind you to slap your bottom. He wanted to provoke you even further.

“What’s wrong babe? No one’s gotta find out!”. His voice was laced with pure cockiness.

With one swift move of your free hand, you punched the guy in the face. Instantly blood started leaking from the man’s nose, dripping down his mouth and chin and onto his brown leather jacket. Oof, that must’ve hurt. And that is what you intended, anyways.

“You little slut!”, screeched the man and lunged toward you. His hand latched onto your throat. “Listen here you-“

A hard slap right to the face was all he received from you.

He stumbled back, bumping into another man.

“Oi, watch were you’re going mate!”

Annoyed, the man pushed your attacker back. A fight ensued between them and all you could hear was yelling and shouting.

A crowd was beginning to form, encouraging the fight.

“Finish him!” “Take his eyes out!!” “C’mon dude, you can do it!”

You didn’t know who the crowd was rooting for but you didn’t want to stick around and find out. You just wanted to get into the nightclub and get your job done with. You’d much rather be with Vengeance than with these nut jobs.

You used the distraction as the perfect opportunity to cut ahead of people and get into the Lounge. There wasn’t a proper line anymore, as everyone was dispersed and running to get into the crowd to get a better look. “Losers”, you mumbled to yourself as you walked forward, towards the entrance of the Lounge. There you met two bouncers, who were clearly identical twins… Shit.. Not them again.

One of them caught sight of you walking up, and eyed you closely..

“Hey lady, you know what’s going on back there?”

“Nothing, just two dickheads getting it on”, you respond coolly, as if you totally didn’t cause the fight.

“Ahh ok.. Well then, what are you here for, ma’m?”

He eyed you up and down suspiciously.

“To have a good time like everyone else, obviously”, you say fluttering your lashes.

“She’s lying”, whispers the other twin into his ear.

“Yeah, you seem kinda fishy lady”.

You arch your brow. “Well, why?”

“Fuck I dunno, maybe cuz you’re the only one who didn’t run to join the crowd”

“Oh c’mon, why the fuck would I wanna see that?”

“Because you caused it?”

“Yeah, she caused it!” whispers the other twin a bit too loudly that you wondered why he even bothered to whisper. After what seemed like ages pass by, you were starting to get pretty restless. You had to make up an efficient lie that’ll convince these two bozos to let you in.. And Bingo. You knew exactly what to say.

You walked closer to them, slowly.. Lowering your voice to a sultry timbre, you say: “Hey, you wanna know something?”

The twins look at each other confused. One nods for you to continue.

“I’m actually here for Oz”.

“Here for Oz?”

“Yeah I’m here for him, if you know what I mean”, you chuckle playfully, fluttering your lashes.

They go still, trying to process what you said. You gave them a minute because you knew they were known to be a bit retarded.

“Ohhh” one of them speaks up after an eternity of thought. You fidget around, twirling your hair and fluttering your lashes. “Alright, sorry ma’m we didn’t know you were-“

“Oh it’s fine, it’s just that Oz doesn’t like his sessions delayed”, you chuckle.

“Yeah umm, come on right in”. One of them hastily holds the door open for you, consumed with guilt.

“Thanks boys!”.

****

“One martini coming right up!”, chirped the bartender rather gleefully. Damn, she was an awful lot positive for a Gothamer, it kind of creeped you out.

You were inside the club, after lying about being the Penguin’s prostitute which was fucking sadistic, but it served you good, nevertheless.

‘Where the hell is he?’. You were here for about 20 minutes and you were starting to get restless..

you suddenly heard loud screams and curses escaping people’s mouths.

“Get him!”

“Don’t let him fucking escape!!”.

you whipped your head around frantically to see what was causing all the commotion. You saw a black, armoured figure running around and beating the absolute shit out of people. Oh. That’s what he meant when he said he’ll meet you at the 44. Fucking lunatic.

He took the men down, one by one with such ease and grace. How did he fucking move like that? Especially in heavy plated armour? The man had to be some kind of combat God.

You see him abruptly come to a stop once he sees a round, plump man in front of him. Which was none other than Oswald fucking Cobblepot, a.k.a the notorious Penguin.

A conversation happens between them and then Vengeance heads up with Penguin to his dorm. You supposed it had to do with whatever he had to ‘deal’ with.

****

“I’m on the roof”

“How the hell am I supposed to get up there?”

“There’s stairs at the very back”.

Sighing, you walk towards the exit. Whatever dealings Batman was conducting in Cobblepot’s dorm was now dealt with and now he wanted to see you.

You exited the building and now the cold, night air stung you. It was so much different from the hot, moist and suffocating atmosphere inside the Lounge. You walked to the back of the building to find a long stairway which led to the roof of the building. This was going to be a pain in the ass, especially with heels.

Taking in a deep breath to soothe your nerves, you started going up the set of stairs. You climbed slowly up the stairs thinking about what you wanted to gain from the little meeting with Batman.

Once you reached the top, you slowly walked in, looking around yourself for any signs of human presence. He was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?

“Hello?”, you called out, hoping to get some form of response.

You looked around impatiently. The cold chilly air was getting to you, and you were underdressed for the weather. It was probably going to rain soon.

Letting out an irritated groan, you pull out your burner phone and start typing.

“Where are you for God’s sake?”

Just as you were about press send, you were startled by a voice talking to you.

“You actually came”.

You almost jumped out of your skin. It was him..

Whipping your head around frantically, you send him a panicked glare. You took a moment to take a deep breath and compose yourself before saying:

“Jesus Christ. You really know how to sneak up on girls in the dark”.

“Yeah.. I do”.

He walks closer to the light, out of the shadows and now you see him fully in view. He was still towering over you by a couple fucking feet. “So?”, You ask trying to get to the point.

“You never told me the truth about why you were at Mitchell’s house”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to go there”, you stated.

He gives you a hard stare, calculating and inspecting.

“What? You said our meeting was conclusion based, not a freaking interrogation!. How’d you feel if I asked why you’re doing all this?”, you rant.

He lets out a heavy exhale, and glares at you.

“Exactly, that’s what I thought”, you say crossing your arms over your chest. Bruce knew you were one stubborn bitch, so he decided to get to the questions about your choice of actions later..

“What do you know about him? What’d you see?”

"What do I get from you in return?"

You wanted to know what it had in it for you. There was no way you were simply going to ‘give’ him the info.

He took a step towards you, eyeing you menacingly.

He scoffs.

"I'll make sure not to hand you in to the cops".

"aww, what a pity.. You're threatening me?"

"What if I am?"…

A long pause ensued after that.

Sighing, you decided to make a choice fast. What if you ask him directly if you could work on the case with him? It'd save a lot of time to just get to the point than trying to play mind games with this guy.

"If I tell you.. Will you let me work on the case with you undercover?"

He froze on the spot. ‘Did you take it too far?’ You didn’t care as long as it triggered some kind of outcome. You were getting tired just beating around the bush. After a minute of silence he spoke up, voice hesitant and cautious:

"It all depends on what your motives are.. So you're gonna have to answer my questions".

Damn it.. This again.

"Listen, I'm not just some creep trying to get info off the case so I could mishandle it. I'm trying to solve this case because I don't want this dick bag running around and doing the same to other people. Whoever did this, deserves to suffer.. And I will make them pay". Your voice was low and filled with hatred.

"Why do you bother?"

"I could ask the same for you"

"Don't try to dodge my questions!"

He grabbed you by the forearm to bring you closer to him so he can look straight into your eyes.

"I wanna know why a woman spies on Mitchell one day, witnesses his murder and then wants to avenge him so badly!"

"I don't give a fuck about that corrupt asshole!" you spit, your voice seething with venom.

"Then why?!"

"Because, this killer doesn't deserve no mercy!!"...

You yank your arm out of his grasp and take a step back, angrily.

"He doesn't deserve to take the lives of other people.. He can't have that power".

You looked down at the floor trying not to lose your cool. You held back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

Bruce stood still for a second, frozen in place. You looked broken.. You looked like you had the same reason he had and you wanted to unleash vengeance on those who did the wrong. You were trapped in your own hysteria of revenge.. Much like him.

He looked down, not knowing what to say.

"It's alright you don't gotta be sorry", you say sarcastically, wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

It looked like he was empathising with you because of his sudden lack of aggressiveness. He was docile, and willing to listen further in hopes you'd reveal your story. But you just couldn't give in. Not now anyways.

Bruce took a moment to recollect his thoughts and think. Whatever you were, villain or vigilante, you sure looked desperate to solve this case. On the plus side, you had witnessed a vital part of the crime. Maybe even the whole damn thing to be honest. You might prove to be very useful, so he can’t just let you go…

"Maybe you could work with me.. And my partner".

Bingo.

You'd just made him agree. In your own terms emotions were always stronger than intellect, no matter how irrational. But you just couldn't celebrate yet.. You didn't want to work with his 'partner'. Whoever the fuck he or she was(you were damn sure it was Gordon) you weren't interested in this 3rd party business.

"Heh, Honey no... I just want you alone. Let's just say I don't do threesomes".

As you said it, you stalked closer to him flirtatiously until you were able to stare at him in the eyes and asses his feelings. He didn't give into the temptations just yet.. Instead he took a step back clearly not wanting to engage in the flirting. When he finally regains his composure (after your little advance), he speaks up again, his voice low: "Whatever dealings you have with me, my partner knows.. Its either you stick around with him or you don't get involved at all".

“What is your partner? The freaking Pope?”, you say mockingly. Was Gordon really that important after all?

“You either go by my terms or you don’t stick around, it’s as simple as that”.

“Woah woah there, chill. If you wanna have your partner around you could, I’m not gonna bite your head off.. I’ll do anything to be with you even though it means we’ll have company”. You send him a wink after that comment.

He doesn’t look away irritated, but instead stares directly at you, eyes showing the slightest sign of fascination.. Damn, this always worked when it came to men. Always. Maybe you could keep it up? That’ll help you a lot in the long run. You also didn’t mind flirting with him because he wasn’t too bad himself..

But he wasn't done with you just yet..

Quickly he transitioned back to his intimidating demeanour and gave you a stern, hard look.

"But if I find out you're manipulating the case or screwing with the evidence, I’m calling this thing off”.

“Oh baby, me screwing with evidence? Please. Remember, I got your back and I’m not supposed to be betraying you?” Your tone was once again laced with cockiness, clearly irritating him.

“Yeah, I hope you won’t”, he said in a bland tone.

You scoffed at his rather blunt statement and smirked.

“And I look forward to working with you too, Bat”.

You eyed him up and down before finally settling in on his eyes. Once again you noticed with colour of them. A deep sea blue with tiny specks of marine-green. The shade stood out strikingly against the black of his eye paint. It looked beautifully ominous.. Your gaze moved down to the lower part of his face; You took in the sight of his sharp jaw and noticed the tiny stubble forming. Your gaze shifted again to look at his eyes.. Damn it, you couldn’t get enough of them.

“Are you just gonna let me stare?” You ask, arching a brow. Bruce didn’t say anything, instead just stared into your eyes, his gaze intense. What was it with this guy and talking? He only used words when absolutely necessary.. But his eyes expressed things more than words ever could. He was an intense man.

Breaking out of his trance, Batman took another step back. He titled his head down to look at the floor before he brought it back up to look at you..

“I’ll see you”

“Yeah.. Hopefully if this fucker decides to make an appearance again”.

The Bat signal was lit up in the sky tonight meaning he was needed. He couldn’t stick around long- he had places to be. After all, Gotham was a big city. Too big even for its own good.. That meant it was also a knife-up-the ass for the vigilante in front of you; The crime came back to haunt him every night, capturing his body, mind and soul and dragging him into the depths of its inner turmoil, much like the resentment that comes back to terrorise you, delving into your blood like an unwelcome parasite. You couldn’t help it.. That’s just the way you were.

“He’ll be back”, he said looking at the Bat symbol in the sky. “And if we’re lucky, we might have another high-profile victim on the way”. His voice was dark and gruff but a hint of resolve and enthusiasm was making its way through.

You hummed in agreement, your eyes also tuned in to the light up in the sky.

“We will see each other.. Again”, He said with conviction in his voice, sure that the sadistic killer will strike again. As he said that final statement, his gaze met yours, once again captivating you.

“Oh I suppose we will”, you smile..

“If you get anything, let me know”. He indicated to the burner phone still in your hand with his index finger.

“Oh yes, definitely”.

Another smile creeps its way onto you face.. You were actually going to work with him! The very masked vigilante that had been terrorising the nights of Gotham for the past two years. Wow.. You had gotten far.

And with that he walks towards the edge of the building.. As he stands on the edge, he gives you a look over his shoulder.

“I didn’t ask for your name”.

“Call me, Red”..

He gives you one last knowing look and nods, before turning to jump off the roof. You heard the sound of grappling hooks and you ran towards the edge..

He was gone. And once again you were left alone on the roof, with your thoughts racing…

***

#batman x reader #the batman #dcu #dc comcis #battinson #robert pattinson fanfiction #Robert pattinson #fanfic #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #Batman x vigilante reader #battinson imagine #battinson x reader #Battinsimp #dc fanfic #batman ff #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

46 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 4 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

2K notes · View notes

make-your-own-evil · 3 years

Note

Domestic Michael domestic Michael domestic Michael pls I'm craving domesticity😩 also just read your other hcs and 😙👌chefs kiss love your work

thank you bb!!! also im so fckn sorry im taling forever on anyone who has asks. i moved across country twice and enrolled in college. ANYWAYS here ya go!

Domestic!Michael Myers headcanons:

🗡 welp, our mikey boi isnt necessarily the person who would be considered the DOMESTIC type per se

🗡 if he has a s/o who does set the routine of a somewhat normal-ish domestic household then perfect! he's pretty passive as long as his basic needs are taken care of

🗡 michael doesnt do chores. period. even better he MAKES messes and leaves them. sometimes if hes upset with you he will purposely make messes to piss you off

🗡 homecooked meals are his JAM. you dont have to interact with the outside world at all and you just stay home.

🗡 michael "chooses" his meals by stealing ingredients or things that he THINKS is what you need to make him his food and setting them on the counter for you

🗡 greets you at the door when you come home with his forehead to yours. you can take this as your "welcome home" kiss

🗡 movie nights and tv!!!! likes the super gorey horror movies. lets you cuddle him. PLEASE make the popcorn for him bc he will burn it. he shoves the popcorn under his mask dont @ me

🗡 if you want to get him to shower you have to shower with him 🤷‍♀️ sorry i dont make the rules he does. wash his hair please!!!!

🗡 house husband except he literally doesnt do anything except steal stuff and act as a guard dog

🗡 at bedtime YOU are HIS teddy bear. you can start out sleeping with him being stiff as a board on his back and then youll somehow find yourself in his giant, man-killing arms

🗡 you can either wake up to him being already gone OR with him still holding you. if hes still holding you then you might as well just stay home for the day. he can be a needy man but doesnt like to admit it

🗡 7/10 on the domesticity scale. super passive and down for you to be his housewife, provider (even though most stuff is stolen), great guard too HOWEVER not terribly affectionate or great about helping out around the house

#michael myers headcanons #michael myers #halloween movie #halloween #domestic michael myers

37 notes · View notes

sweetsubharry · 4 years

Note

Can you rec some omega harry fics pls?

Yes I can!! ^-^ So because this is a particular favourite of mine I counted 68 fics in this list so as a warning it’s a long list!!

In case no one makes it to the bottom I’ll say it here too! Please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

'Cause Your Embrace Keeps Me Warmer by scribblewrite

Mates and soulmates are two completely different things. Mates are two people, an alpha and omega, who bond together while knotted together when the alpha bites a bond point on the omega’s body. It ties the two of them together forever or until one of them breaks the bond. It's normally the step after marriage. One could only hope to meet their soulmate.

You Could Be My Ever After by scribblewrite

His heat was gone, finally gone, and he'd been able to sleep for longer than thirty minute intervals. Not only that, but he was in his alpha's arms. He felt warm, and safe, and protected, and he honest to god didn't want to move. Harry and Louis spend the next couple days together after they've bonded with Louis taking care of Harry and the two of them getting to know each other better. Louis and Harry meet for the first time and, being soulmates, Louis's rut and Harry's heat are triggered.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by sweaterpawstyles

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account

Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.

“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”

Our Lips Are Made Of Candy by Waking_dreams

“Your knot, please, Louis,” he managed to whine. He needed it, that extra stretch and burn that made him Louis’.

“Fuck,” Louis moaned, and his thrusts became unsteady. “Can’t do it here, baby, Hazza, can’t—“

Or, Harry accidentally missed a few doses of his medicine that controls his heat and starts his heat in the middle of Biology. Oops

I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee

"I’m not supposed to be built this way!" Harry said. "I’m supposed to be shorter than you, and you’re supposed to be stronger than me and-“ “Harry!” Louis tried to interrupt. “And what if I’m not supposed to be an omega? What if my body screwed up somewhere or something? What if I’m not supposed to be your omega?” --- Or, the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

You Know I'll Be by JustAnotherShadow503

Louis Tomlinson, 27, is the personal photographer for well-known model Harry Styles, 21. Louis, an Alpha, has been in love with Harry for years, though the younger man has seemingly not presented yet.

Or, the one where Louis is in love with Harry, tries to be a martyr at his own expense, and is a hopeless romantic.

Or, the one where the author is shit at coming up with summaries and hopes you'll read the story anyways.

I'd Go Out of My Way To Make Sure That You're Okay by littlepinkbow

This was for this prompt: "Harry's embarrassed about going into heat, but Louis decides it's up to him to teach Harry to be more open about what he wants."

As Small As Possible by Mickey_D

Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.

Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.

Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by StripedAndBowtied

Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.

Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.

In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.

Boys Fall Like Dominoes by orphan_account

Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.

Looking In The Dark by orphan_account

Another self-indulgent a/b/o fic. This carries on from the same verse of Boys Fall Like Dominoes. As per always, you can find me on tumblr : domestic-harry

Enjoy! -Lis xx

Too Hot (Hot Damn) by louissass

“I’m what?”

“You’re in heat, baby,” He repeats, frowning when he catches the look on Harry’s face. “I thought you realised?”

Or, the one where Harry goes into heat in the middle of a concert but doesn't realise because of the heatwave.

i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.

The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

Drape Me In Your Warmth by fookinglousers

TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?

pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account

It’s when he’s frantically looking into the medicine cabinet for something to take that it hits him. He stares at the bottles of pills in horror, realizing what’s going on with him.

He’s completely forgotten about his suppressants. And he’s been spending so much time with Louis, too—of course the alpha’s constant proximity is going to trigger it.

He breaks into a sweat, now recognizing the hot feeling twisting inside him.

He’s going into heat.

(harry unexpectedly goes into heat in the middle of finals, and louis, being the good boyfriend that he is, helps harry through it.)

harry, you little shit by juliusschmidt

Harry’s an omega and he’s learning to like it. A lot.

All These Lights by MediaWhore

“People vote for alphas because they’re strong and they’re not only beautiful but also mesmerizing. They make you want to give them all of your attention, make you want to beg for some of theirs back. They’re shiny, oozing sex appeal and a commanding presence, and people always want more and more. Omegas are enticing too for sure, but it’s not the same. It makes people uncomfortable. It doesn’t make them want to root for you.”

the canon fic where Harry is an omega and dreams come with a price.

Pretend It's Okay by TheIfInLife

Harry and Louis are busy with life. Busy watching Zayn and Niall's twin boys, busy hanging out with friends, busy with life. And they forget Harry's suppressants.

taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you) by messyjessy08

“Babe?” Louis asks, running a hand through Harry’s hair, soothingly. “What is it?”

Harry shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sharply. “My—it’s—”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What, Harry?”

He pulls a hand up to his chest, pressing hard against one of his pecs, “My fucking—her crying’s making them—Lou.”

Louis gasps, understanding. He reaches a hand up, pushing Harry’s aside, and thumbs gently across Harry’s nipple, somehow already dark and swollen, without having touched them once. “Harry,” He says in a low voice, chest rumbling at the sharp gasp Harry makes.

“Lou, they’re fucking—’m leaking.”

(Harry and Louis just had a baby and it's been a while since they've had sex.)

you took your toll on me (you got a hold on me) by messyjessy08

“Well give us a twirl. Let’s look at you from every angle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, gaze heavy. “Alright.” Pulling back the tail of his shirt, he spins slowly, pausing when his back’s facing Louis.

“Harry.” Louis attempts to gather his wits, speechless. “Baby.”

“Thought you might like that part as well,” Harry says, a smirk in his voice.

Thick strips of lace drape delicately over his skin, just under the bottom of his spine, connecting with thin elastic straps that move across his arse, leaving little sections of bare skin showing. The straps connect to form a diamond pattern, creating an opening right over where his hole would be. The skin surrounding it is already shiny with slick. Louis’ breath gets trapped in his lungs.

(Harry and Louis have the weekend to themselves, they make the most of it.)

This Thing Upon Me (howls like a beast) by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis weren’t meant to be together. They’d met when they were put together through their university’s AO MatchUp, a program that set up alphas and omegas based on the schedules of their ruts and heats so they had someone to help them through it. It was pure luck that they were put together.

Lunch Break by purpleeyestelllies

Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.

drunk on rose water by brainwaves

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) by orphan_account

"We're...we're not the same," Harry says softly, looking at his hands. "I don't care," Louis replies back, fire and fury in his eyes.

or where Harry is just a little boy in a world full of arseholes, Louis is in way over his head, and destiny is a bunch of shit.

Everything I Do (I Do It For You) by LSFOREVER

"It's gonna be perfect," Harry whispers, taking Louis' face in both of his hands, nosing close but not yet kissing him. "Always is. You always make everything perfect."

"Good. Whenever your heat finally kicks in, I'll make sure to treat you perfectly too... I'm gonna bond you so hard."

or, Harry's heat is coming up and they've planned to finally bond, so Louis decides to plan a very eventful and loving week leading to said bonding.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

Make It Work by fanshae

Prompt: Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. Only the aristocratic omegas are exempt. His parents try to hide him but eventually the government gets word and in punishment, gives the omega to a spoiled aristocrat son of a lord, Louis. Louis is more than thrilled to have his own omega and once Harry goes into heat, he explores the boy with fascination and unintentionally impregnates him. This leads to a boy used to living carefree and drinking the day away with other nobles to having to face fatherhood.

This is only vaguely similar to the prompt so I'm sorry to OP in advance v.v

Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

Watch the Sun Coming Up by SadaVeniren

As Louis approaches his thirtieth birthday his pack is desperate for him to find a mate.

Harry has always expected one day he may settle down with a nice alpha and they would continue to live in his small hometown.

Together they somehow will make this work.

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

i'll be hurt from the heat (running from the heat) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

It's engrained into him, nothing else matters, protecting Harry at all costs is what pumps his heart and floods his veins. It’s just, he didn't count on the one thing Harry would need protecting from would be himself.

(Harry and Louis are in love, and they are probably soul mates. They just can’t be bond mates because despite the undeniable pull, it's them against the world.)

A Howl in the Night by emeraldharry

They've been trained to become Alpha protectors of their city, tasked to battle gruesome beasts and put their lives at risk on a daily basis.

Louis is a skilled warrior and dedicates his life for the protection of others, along with his four adopted brothers and comrades; Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry.

Troubles emerge when Harry proves to be a little less like the older Alphas, finding it hard to become who he's supposed to be and failing to reach other people's expectations towards him as a soldier.

Somewhere along the way, Louis and Harry realize that there's more than brotherly love between them, and that the world they live in requires a whole lot of suffering and sacrifices.

The biggest challenge yet arrives when the choice finally comes down between two things: their love for each other, or their responsibilities to the world.

[alpha/beta/omega dynamics with a twist]

Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

Peppermint and Lavender (and Coffee) by 2tiedships2

“He was there again,” Louis announced by way of greeting. “Lottie was right and she can never know.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall asked as he snapped his laptop closed.

“The omega, Niall. He was there today. Just sitting in the corner looking pretty. Or at least his back is. He hasn’t turned around when I’m available to see. I know he’s beautiful though.”

"Okay?” Niall questioned. “What does that have to do with Lottie?”

Louis let out a huff. "She told me I shouldn’t work at a coffee shop. She was right.”

Or the one where Louis might have met the love of his life in a coffee shop. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) by hlftanna

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

Home (It's You) by sunniskies

When Louis left his high-powered life in the city to settle down in the suburbs, he had hoped to one day fall in love and start a family. He certainly didn’t expect to meet the omega of his dreams within five minutes of moving in.

He also didn’t expect the love of his life to hate him so much.

Or, Louis and Harry are neighbors who can't seem to get along...until they fall in love.

sometimes green and sometimes blue by itsmiz

Harry's an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They're best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they've always been a bit more than friends.

little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true) by itsmiz

Louis and Harry are young mates in love. This is the story of them expanding their family, and all the love, hormones, and events that come with that.

cradles and crayons by itsmiz

Harry and Louis continue to expand their family.

Just Jump by jaerie

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles

Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Just a touch of your love by thegirlontheblackhoodie

“What if something happened to you? What would I say to Niall?”

“Nothing, he would have to wait to see my corpse on the news like everyone else.” Deadpanned Harry. Louis’ gasp was all the answer he got. Ok, so that might have been a bit too much. With a calmer voice, he said, “It’s really fine. I’ve walked to the tube countless times, I can handle myself. Just go home and tell Niall to stop mothering me.”

Louis was finally walking by his side and gave him a sideways glance before talking. “He doesn’t know, does he? Of your, uh, condition.” Harry tensed and his breath became erratic, but he didn’t say a word. Louis continued. “His nose probably hasn’t picked it up, and you’re lucky Liam’s also a beta, but it took me a minute to confirm it. Your scent is gettin’ so…” He seemed to struggle to find a word. He didn’t finish the sentence, but the emotion in his voice made Harry’s tummy churn.

Or, Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

I Just Want You to Stay by SadaVeniren

“Remember the vet job up in Edinburgh I interviewed for right before your rut?” Louis nodded. “She just called me back. I got the job. I start next year.” Harry let out a shriek as he said the word year and he clapped his hands in delight. “Isn’t that great! Full time vet job! New animals to meet! A new environment!” He settled his eyes back on Louis, who was still standing there in front of him with wide eyes. “Isn’t it great, Lou?”

That seemed to jolt Louis out of his thoughts and he nodded immediately, opening his arms up for Harry to dive into. “Holy shit, yes. Congratulations. Come here,” he wrapped his arms around Harry and cuddled him close, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

aka Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.

kiss with a fist (is better than none) by orphan_account

Harry and Louis don't get on at all.

BUT they do, in fact, do an awful lot of getting off~

Harry startled visibly, shaking off his deer in the headlights look and huffing quietly. Louis took a final, lingering glance along his scant frame, except the puppy chub at his hips, and then kept washing his hands with a faint sneer. He expected words, biting and sarcastic, as usual. Instead, he was met with silence. Confused, Louis turned back to him as he dried his hands, ready with a scathing remark. It died on his tongue. Harry's eyes were locked, very deliberately, on his crotch. His crotch, which was still unzipped, and therefore dick on display. Oh fuck.

“My eyes are up here, Styles,” Louis growled, cheeks flushing despite himself as he reached to do up his fly.

“Leave it.” It rasped from Harry's throat, thick and shaky. Louis froze, fingers cupping himself.

“Excuse me?”

Sigh Softly by aalexandravictoriaa

It was an unconventional nest, to say the least. Quite inconvenient too, not that Louis would ever dare admit that. The fact that his omega was nesting could only mean that he was pregnant and Louis’ chest rumbled at the mere thought. Harry stirred from his perch, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his growling alpha. Louis shushed him immediately and tucked him back into the safety of his nest. Louis just so happened to make up the majority of said nest.

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

a body wishes to be held & held by turnyourankle

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.”

the beast you made of me by orphan_account

The bell tinkled, and Harry froze as an overpowering scent, musky and thick, crisp and slightly sweet, yet utterly masculine, delightfully tickled his senses. Harry's eyes slowly slid up to see the source of this wonderful scent, and his breath was taken away at the sex god before him, all muscled and compact and utterly screaming of Alpha. Icy blue eyes stared him down, set off by sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw that looked yummy enough to nibble on, and caramel hair, which was lazily gelled, a few pieces falling over his forehead. His skin was tan, his hands strong and steady, his biceps still clearly visible even through his jacket. Every fiber of Harry's being stood at full alert.

The one where Harry's a vanilla-sweet Omega and Louis walks into his bakery one day.

How Much My Heart Depends by lululawrence

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

A Tentative Peace by colourexplosion

“I dunno.” Harry’s not whining, he’s not. He pulls himself free, finally, turns away and busies himself again with the dishes. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Louis says, appearing in Harry’s periphery when he leans against the sink. “Biology, innit? You know I’m always here for you.”

It stings. Louis won’t sit and have a conversation with Harry, but sure, he’ll fuck him through a heat like it’s nothing. “It’s a little more than biology,” he mumbles, but Louis either doesn’t hear him (not likely) or flat out ignores him (very likely).

(Or, A/B/O featuring omega!harry and alpha!louis.)

Seeing Blind by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)

A Distant Hazy Light by green_feelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

London Calls Me a Stranger by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry

"Hello, my beautiful, conceited coquette."

"Hi, daddy."

Or the one where Harry is a tease, and Louis is his new neighbour.

Between the Shadow and the Soul by orphan_account

“It’s just easier to stay in Donny and train, Haz,” Louis says quietly. “Two transatlantic flights in less than a week right before a big match is a terrible idea. We should have known that before, but...”

Harry nods. It’s reasonable. It’s totally, completely reasonable and Harry can support that. Another five or six days of not being able to hold Louis’ hand and kiss him sweetly is killing Harry, but he can handle it. “Okay, so that’s, what, the 20th that you’ll be coming over here?”

Louis hesitates, and Harry has to bite back a frustrated growl. “I’ve got writing sessions and time in the studio scheduled as of yesterday, plus I’m supposed to get papped clubbing in London again and just… it’s shit but there’s no time to make the trip until early May, at the least.”

Or, Harry and Louis spend a month apart.

Wonderland by jacaranda_bloom

Louis has always loved lazy mornings in bed with his mate, but now that his Omega is carrying their pup, they’ve reached a whole new level of wonderment.

OR the one where Louis loves to worship his Omega’s body and Harry loves to let him.

All I Needed by FallingLikeThis

Harry is the omega captain of the Slytherin quidditch team with a team that won't listen to him. Louis is the alpha captain of the Gryffindor team who doesn't know how to offer help without seeming like a knothead, pushing his opinions on Harry. When he comes up with a rather questionable plan to try and get Harry to ask him for help, they may just both get what they need.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

No Love Like Your Love by Rearviewdreamer

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

We Are Inevitable by mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.” . . . 30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.

Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

to wrap me in paper by juliusschmidt

Louis hasn't been keeping track of his ruts, but, it turns out, Harry has.

If you’ve made it to the end then congrats! and please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕

272 notes · View notes

bigowlenergy · 4 years

Note

📂 impart some wisdom

my wisdom is that jon IS hot and if he did anything about it he’d be devastating.

as a human, he’s hot but doesn’t know it and doesn’t do anything about it on purpose. this frustrates tim to no end. he just has decent skincare and is very particular about his hair routine. its part of his ‘im a normal, functional, totally knowledgeable person’ persona, to be really well put together at all times. He dresses well at work and gives off Hot Professor or Hot Librarian vibes depending on if hes wearing pants or a skirt. kind of intimidating especially when hes speaking, but hes also like 5′3″. everyone thinks he’s hamming up the #aesthetic but no he’s actually just unironically worn a glasses chain since he was like 17 bc his ADHD ass kept losing them and yeah ok his cane is carved wood but it was a gift from his grandma, sooooo.

he gets a solid 9.5/10 on the attractiveness scale on sheer accident and it makes everyone else in the institute big mad except for elias who thinks its funny

after Prentiss, he gets into makeup to cover his facial scars. never anything really fancy, and it turns into a crutch quickly. and when his hand gets burnt and things pile up it doesnt do anything but exhaust him to apply every day. but it does create the effect of him being untouchable and distant, when him and tim should have had matching scars. ok so thats more depressing than about hotness, but u know what i mean. no one has any clue that he’s going off the rails to the extent that he is and he works really hard to keep it that way. overpresents as Competent and Normal. Totally fools rosie every day. places more of his agency on it than whats healthy. georgie never saw him without it until he was in the hospital.

he uses it as a disguise in s2 so no one suspects him, then as an anchor to normalcy in s3 and eventually for fun in s4, when he bothers with it less due to Circumstances. him, melanie, and daisy sometimes have Girls Nights and he gives them makeovers

without makeup his scars are prominent and just make him look like a very tragic victim instead of Rugged Survivor Man like tim’s do. s4 jon is a tragic little waif with big doe eyes asking pls sir can i have ur trauma? and u just cant say no to that he clearly needs it look at him hes dying

but after his death/ascension as an avatar he’s uncannily attractive. Like nothing about him changed physically, but he draws eyes. people remember him. he’s compelling. it’s a little eerie bc he is not everyones type and not quite at instagram model levels of hotness, but theres just something about him thats magnetic. he walks in a room and conversation stops. david from HR adds him to his Cheat List. the grad students put him at 10/10 on the Naughty Librarian rating scale. it makes people want to trust him, talk to him, unable to ignore him...

he still doesnt know.

(martin is NOT about to tell him)

#hot jon rights #gnc jon rights #disabled jon rights #canon? i dont know her #watch how hard i can project on this character for no good reason #jonathan sims #tma #the magnus archives #existential-butterflies

181 notes · View notes

mimithings97 · 5 years

Text

ABSTRACT ft BOB ROSS (M) - JJK

Summary: Paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what Jeongguk wants. And what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

Genre: smutPWP, timid crack, established relationship

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: jeongguks horny! getting high, body painting, fingering, oral (both receiving), edging, slight subJK, unprotected sex, cockwarming, masturbation (fem), dry humping

A/N: Jeongguk being on his Bob Ross thing to help us through quarantine had me inspired. Fr Bob Ross was a legend. This gets steamy btw

Also pls stay safe everyone and don’t be selfish. Enjoy x

*Masterlist Link*

*Bold italic is JK speaking Korean*

“Tap it off… and just beat the devil out of it.”

“JEONGGUK FOR THE LOVE OF JESUSSS!”

“Isn’t that fun.”

“...What? Just doing what he tells me to do.”

And he persists, batting brush to easel with a rate of knots only a testament to how fast he jacks off. It sends diluted paint across the room so you’re left as a life size dot to dot, with splatters lining your lips down to the hem of your shirt and it’s cold and wet, and this isn’t what you signed up for when he said ‘couples bonding’.

“I’m fucking soaked.” He scoffs, that man sized brain of his conjuring a classic.

“That’s what she said.”

You’re four hours deep, and four hours too many by your standards. Jeongguk was always an avid painter at heart, finding joy in the freedom of all things creativity, but he was also a perfectionist, a competitor. It led him from tutorial to tutorial, because, whilst he’s got portraiture down, his landscaping needed a little brushing up - mind the pun - and it was only an amount of time before you stumbled across a Bob Ross tutorial in all things serene and panoramic.

You shake yourself off in some attempt to help the splay of wet paint and to ease your job with the washing machine later, and lean back on your heels to gather your bearings. Yet, Bob still drones on despite your misery, and your boyfriend’s all too eager to comply with his every word.

“Jeongguk!”

He’s laughing off to himself, easily pleased in the scheme of all things pensioner humour, but murmurs off a halfhearted ‘yeh’ in your direction to ease where he knows you’re about to nag.

“Look at me!”

He does. And it throws you off a little because he eyes you once over, twice and a third time before settling his gaze on your breasts - easily pleased for many more things than just Bob Ross.

“You’re messy.”

“Yeh fuck I am! You listen to Bob more than you listen to me, cockless.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and shuffles so the laptop settled between both your easels can be paused, leaving Bob frozen in time and you to deepen your scowl.

“Yeh, um, cockless, cool... Bob tells me how well I’m doing and lets me hit paint brushes on wooden sticks. You don’t even let me feed Sassy nugs of weed when you sure as hell fucking know she’s a stoner cat.”

Jeongguk was deep into his second joint after he fucked the first two paintings up enough he put a lighter to the edge of each. He even questioned using them as a roach, and you became one step closer to pleading insanity to your landlord and bolting the fuck out of you joint tenancy. But then he got you high and you persevered.

Four more questionable and highly abstract paintings later, he’s got the hots for Bob, and you're left staggering on your words to rope him into lucidity again.

“Guk, he’s a virtual man with 4 million followers, don’t take it personally and-.”

“But-” You deadpan, and point your paintbrush with emphasis.

“And you know full well Sassy gets baked anyways off of fumes. The smoke gets in her fur as well and it was me” he looks innocently at you, muted by your outburst, “who got clawed when she had to be bathed. So tuck your balls away from Bob, and sober up!”

He’s quiet. As are you. And even Bob lies dormant off in your peripherals.

The room grows small as you size each other up, paintings left aside with the sole purpose of being witness to argument, and you think he might just look hot with his nipples standing cold against the open air and abs rolling beneath the line of his sweats.

He’s on the same wavelength:

“I can see your tits through that shirt.”

You take a quick peak yourself, eyeing from one to the other, ignorant of the double chin you’re exposing, but all in the name of making sure the ladies stand perky. He’s got a glint beneath the surface now when he eyes your chest, and the paintbrush in his hand falls a little limper.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.” He tongues his lips. Hungry.

Self control in such a situation as this seems important. The ability to stand your ground no matter where your argument lies on the scale of idiocy. If you curtail into being seduced, he might still make you wash the shirt yourself, figure Bob Ross is a turn on and have Sassy seeing smoke rings by the end of the night. No. You’re not a pushover.

He’s an inch closer when you break the silence, the tumbleweed rolled aside.

“Turn it around. Let me see.”

“Ey?”

He’s horny and you’re not playing ball, something his brain can’t quite transfer to his dick yet.

“Turn yours around I wanna see how you did.” You give a nod in the direction of his painting. A spout of curiosity as to what monstrosity he’s conjured this time, but also a distraction, something for him to latch onto aside from your chest.

“I thought we wait til the end. It’s unfinished.” And one thing Jeongguk hates being is unfinished.

“Baby, Bob’s been overworked tonight and I wanna light the last spliff.” You air a finger and twizzle it, “give it a whirl.”

Being the competitor he is, Jeongguk plasters a smile and spins his easel, the pride practically radiating from him with the way he eyes the two trees and awkwardly sculpted sky. The clouds are askew and the lighting is directioned all wrong, in fact, it’s more a Picasso than a Mozart, blocks of colour screaming attention rather than the realism Bob was hoping for.

“What’s it abstract for.”

Jeongguk frowns because your tone clearly isn’t close to praise and that’s what he’s learnt to expect. What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. Tonight's seen enough of your short fuse, however, that he’s not in the running for your good books.

“Jagi-ya,” he pleads, “you know I speak in small English only when I’m stoned.”

You don’t even attempt to stifle the giggle. His eyes are round and his neck’s falling into his shoulders. A defence mechanism he’s well versed in because he knows it gets you in the feels. The jagi too.

“Yeh and this is how you paint when you’re stoned,” he eyes the work he’s made like your words have got him curious, like he’s never seen the capability of a weed induced state on canvas, “your lines get all boxy.”

He shifts, putting criticism to the test as he takes in his artwork from a new vantage point. In the meantime, the final joint lays naked and unused, almost sculpted like it was made for your fingertips. So you appease it’s calling and bringing tip to mouth, lighting the end until the embers begin to wisp away into smoke. Jeongguk breaths in like he wants it, but there’s an epiphany in sights instead.

“Mmm, it’s more like Picasso,” that’s my boy.

“Exactly!”

“...Bob doesn’t accommodate for high people.” He takes the joint when you offer it.

“Guk! That was a big word!” And he earns himself a kiss on the cheek, perhaps a hand to fiddle with his shoulders too, because those muscles aren’t gonna touch themselves.

He drags long and hard. A third joint kind of high taking hold from where his eyes grow thinning and his posture caves into your touch.

“Heard it on University Challenge,” you scoff at him. Since when was that on cable, “figure if I watch it enough I’ll be just as smart as them.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, bubs.”

Your hands grow fond of his skin, and it’s only when he leans away to trash the fumes away on a burnt out scrapped painting that you realise he finished all the weed. Guk’s a kid in a pram when it comes to sharing his green goods. He compensates with good sex though.

And it’s where his mind lies - beneath the thin layer of your white painting top, a scrap piece of clothing donned for only the messiest of times. He seems to find inspiration in the idea.

“Jagi.”

“Mmm,” the air buzzes somewhere between stoned and excited with how he eyes you.

“Let me paint you like one of my Korean girls.” It’s said in a tone laced with enough lust that you ignore the reference and are turned on by the novelty of being painted. And you know he doesn’t mean Jack and Rose kind of style.

You offer him a smirk.

“How d’you want me.”

Jeongguk nips at his bottom lip and lets his mind and dick go wild at the thought of free reign. The contemplating drags on, but when his eyes settle on how your pussy lies just south of the hem of your shirt, he’s struck a vision.

“Back, legs spread, and shirt off- wait, no, actually, shirt on.”

He’s easy to comply with in the circumstances of things stoned and shirtless.

Your head is light, limbs soft when they stretch against the carpeted floor and you’re so prepared to be a canvas you’re wondering if maybe Bob had turned you on a little. And everything grows that bit more ambient, strewn into background noise. The paints you’d used now only exist with purpose of your skin, the Sam Cooke vinyl, now on its fifth round, is merely a melody to curl your toes to and the chiaroscuro lighting serves for the curve of your cheekbones only.

He’d call you artwork if only it did you justice.

“It’s cold.” He readies you.

His forth fingertip is crimson red. You think it’s a tester for temperature until he runs it down your thigh. A bold stroke for a starting place, but Jeongguk was never shy with paints.

“Mmm, yeh, cold.”

“You like it?” He asks like he wants to be in tune with you.

“I can get to like it.”

What you mean is you can get to like your boyfriend, in his half naked glory, playing temperature torture on your skin.

He’s beautiful like this. A little lost in the high, but even deeper in the depths of you and your body and your lips and how you lay for him. A shy boy at first now with the pick of the litter. And he’ll take his pick wisely.

“So pretty.” You’ve got enough understanding to writhe in the praise, “Can I ruin your top?”

You are high, careless and ultimately curious.

“Yeh,” and the shirt was fucked anyways.

He pulls up the palette next to him, drawing a sketch with his eyes because paint doesn’t allow for takebacks and twiddles the brush in circles with practised ease.

“Close your eyes for me?”

“Ey?” You question.

“Please, just, for now.”

And you’ll blind yourself for the sake of surprise, but now you’re sure you’ll just end up playing guess the drawing through touch alone, a mimic of what Jeongguk does on your naked spine in the mornings when you’re allowed a lie in.

It’s cold, he’s right, that first stroke. And it dances close to where your breasts hang.

“Can I touch you down there too?”

OH fuck yes. Multitasking you can get on board with.

“Please.”

He’s straight to it. A quirk on the line he was painting down you because suddenly he’s got you pleading and wet in unintentional places.

“You plead so nicely for me, jagi. So good.” You gush to the tune of his native tongue.

It’s all at once. An overload of the senses. Sam Cooke a soulful prayer in time with your boyfriends hum. There’s a perfect juxtaposition of nimble fingers on your clit and a flat planed brush streaking unabashedly on the cotton against your nipples. It’s cold and hot and light and dark and everything in between. It’s sexy.

You delve headfirst into the pleasure of it all, throwing an arm over your eyes and allowing the moans to spew and your body to convulse a little every time you’re hit with a newly loaded brush. Your body brews up a tempest and yo-

“DONE!”

Oh.

You’re panting. Soaked to the bone beneath your silk panties, and when you open your eyes, everything is in disarray.

The lust felt when in the thrones of your imagination is suddenly scattered, albeit, Jeongguk still looks like a feast. Because Sam Cooke doesn’t sound so harmonic and your skin doesn’t glow as bright when you assess the masterpiece you’d been distracted by.

“YOU GAVE ME PICASSO TITS!”

Fucking Picasso tits!

You’re horrified. And Jeongguk looks like he’s won the lottery.

“Yeh. Jagi! Abstact!”

“It’s abstract…” you whine.

Tugging and pulling at the hem of the cotton in some attempt to render the mess undone is your stress ball . Something to help it or just unsee it. Anything. But it’s useless, because the display is etched in primary colours only, a demand for attention that your Vanish Ultra won’t even touch the sides on.

Your eyes fume when they meet his crescents, “and you gave me square tits you freak! I have perfectly good tits, underneath, and this top was clean before you violated it!”

There’s enough rage in you to stand and peel the wet shirt from your body, only to find a coloured imprint on your skin and bra that seeped through the thin fabric. Pick a younger man, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Hildy can shove fun up her ass.

“Baby, it’s kind of funny.”

“Its not- its-,” he’s laughing. You’re exasperated. Both high. And maybe Hildy had a point once you let go of the burdens of sensibility and just crave what he’s having. Go, fat, high, fun.

“Gukkkkkkk.” So you end up whining. And, you don’t resist when he’s off his feet and drowning you in his chest, muscles vibrating to the tune of his giggles.

“Like, now, whenever we Bob Ross paint, I get to be reminded of the time I squared off your boobs then sexed you real good.”

You scoff from under his armpit, but refuse to depart from the embrace. He’s got a sweaty smell you only like on him and there’s nothing like Jeontits in your face.

“Never Bob Ross painting again and you’re not sexing anything, perv.”

“No?”

“Mm-hm,” he giggles over your dramatic head shaking, a true fan of you when he’s got you swaddled and in that high happy place. Jeongguk also, whilst he won’t admit it, likes owing you something. Likes poking and prodding at your sensitivity until he’s got something to make up for - he’s a people pleaser, what can he say.

So it’s a kiss here and a peck there. A mouthed map from shoulder to jaw before you’re the one to shift until your mouths align.

“I’mhard y’know.” Tongue deep into yours because he’s got nothing to hide.

“Mmm, and you’ll stay that way.”

But he really is oh so hard. His sweats hold little surprise under the surface because Jeongguk forgoes underwear on his days off and there’s a perk to his chest from his lunchtime weights set. It’s a self control that the weed in your brain isn’t quite abiding to.

“Jagi, come on,” the way his stance has a gain on your height means he can find friction where your groin lays. The perfect snuggle for his length to cant up into. He’s teasing himself, and pining for the quirk in you that’ll have him squirming later.

“Guk. You’ve stained my top. You’re not about to cum on my La Perla panties.” Yet he’s driving himself deeper into a painful withdrawal. And he can’t wait.

“You wore them without anything on your legs. You should know the risk,” his lips dance from collarbones to shoulder as he indulges in your skin, “You get me so hard, Jagi. So hard it hurts,” he’s biting whilst he ruts, “yet you tease me. How can you do that?”

Your resolve won’t crumble, but you may indulge a little. Press encouragement beneath his boxers and under the small of his back so he can carry himself away in the friction. He glows in it.

“Urgh, god.”

“Mmm, you still can’t cum you know that.”

Frantic. He nods frantic, and rolls his eyes back harder. He’s got balls so tight from the weed induced delusion that he’s lost in, but he knows you’ll have them blue and him mewling soon.

“Want it.” Submissive Korean sounds almost too good on him. He bows into your shoulder and grunts words, understandable in content, but so much more in context. An unfiltered, raw need he can only express in his way.

You almost give in.

Almost.

“Jeongguk, stop- stop.” He stills, and is pliable enough that you can cup his jaw tightly and meet him at eye level where he’s hazy. There’s a smirk nestled deep too because you let him go this far. And you got riled up in the process.

You eye him. Hairs flicking out from the thin headband he donned for painting and painting only. There’s a shine on his skin you can’t ignore and he’s so damn beautiful when he glows with want. Your man. A ‘my eyes only’ specimen except you get to touch.

So you do, hands to peck that draw up and down until you play peek a boo with his tip between the flap of his sweats. It’s the crimson that stains your thigh and the glossy look he’s edged himself to. You’re ravenous.

“Jagi, don’t just look. I’m dying here.”

You take one final glance, watch it bob when your nails scrape his abs and then quirk a look his way.

“Mmm, I’m still angry at you.” You’re not. Not really and never were. Just wanted something on him so you’d have him like you do now:

“Take it out on me” He doesn’t stutter. Doesn’t smile, smirk or indicate humour. Ready to risk it all.

“Lie on the sofa how you want it then… and them,” you once over the material on his legs with your finger, “off.”

He’s so compliant when he’s hard and no one will ever find you complaining at the notion.

There’s easles to dodge and paints that threaten to brim onto the wooden floors, but your apartment never had ‘perfect’ written on the lease, so you’ll let him settle his clothes haphazardly - teetering on messy.

You follow the path he’s strewn, bra off to join his boxers, until you settle your knees against his, shadow elongated on his face by the direction of the sunlight and hair swept over to one shoulder. His eyes follow your curves.

“Will you touch me now?” He’s craving and the concept has your mind whirling and eyes stuck on where he’s hard. You’ve only now come to notice the way he sits on his hands, wrists dug into the sofa from the pressure of his thighs. Filthy. It’s filthy that he edges himself for sport.

With a twitch at the side of your mouth because there’s a million and one different ways to have him crying, you descend so skin is on skin and he’s captive to you. Drunk in the way he looks. Nervous in the way his dick twitches.

“How d’you want me to touch you?”

“Any way, fuck, any way.. Please.” The pleasantries aren’t necessary. He’s at your mercy physically but this boy’s got a hold on you like no other, enough that what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

“Here?” His dick is expecting when he sees your hand move in his peripherals. It’s sure and ready for your touch. But then you moan. Eyes roll back just like when he touches your cl-, “Is here good, Guk?”

“Oh fuck.” You’re two fingers deep and a palm to your clit. He’s taken note in the way you touch yourself before, mutual masturbation a 2 month-in kind of job, but this is different. Your pussy makes him salivate and the way you touch yourself makes him feel all too primitive. Like he’s never heard a girl moan before. “Jagi. Come on.”

It’s so damn hot to you that his dick sits there untouched, hips still glued as though he’s unaffected. You’re tuned in, though, to those things that tell you otherwise. The strain on his neck from where his bottom jaw clenches. English sidelined because he can’t think straight. His dick bobbing every time you hit an upstroke into yourself and the squelch rings out. He’s so damn horny, but he’ll wait on you. Knows seeking the end untouched is like drinking water after parching in the desert.

“So beautiful. You’re so beautiful. The way you touch yourself is beautiful too.” His eyes are fluttering and he can’t look away from you. It has you shamelessly moaning. “God I’m hard.”

You laugh, knuckle deep and feel the spasm of your walls. He’s really hard with precum immodest and when you meet his eyes again he’s vulnerable, too thirsty, maybe, for what he’s subjected himself to.

You’re left wanting, “I really wanna taste.”

“Jesus.” Jeongguk whispers under his breath, throws his head back for good measure because he’s got a visual before the main course has even happened. “You can’t be so shameless, it has me thinking things.” Vivid, things.

And his imagination plays out in real time when you descend onto the wooded floor. He stutters, splutters on his tongue when you’ve got long nails all up in his groin.

“F-fu- wait, Jagi, wait wait wait, jagi.” You’re an inch off, breath catching his tip and so close you can smell him. God you want a taste. “I’m- You can’t just.”

Ohhhh.

“You’ll cum?”

He’s not ashamed, embarrassed or anything in between. Just the longing for more, eating away at him, and knowing he’s a gonner in less than a minute if you’re to lick him.

“Just, fuck, Y/N. Just kiss me.”

You do. The head of his dick too appealing not to offer a peck to.

“Fuck.” He hisses it between his teeth and seeks refuge under an arm as to not concern himself with the way your tits look under him. “Not ther-” but not all cravings can be fixed, and you’ve got a mouthful.

His hand jerks out from where it situates beneath him. The dilemma as to whether his dick can handle the back of your throat, seemingly easier to combat if he can claw at his thighs. But you’ve fallen into a rhythm despite the discomfort of hard floorboards and empty walls, and he’s keening for it, low moans and harsh breaths when your throat constricts.

“Jagi, I real- oh shit, I really might cum.” You want him to. But the look that glazes over him when he’s edged is too good to wait for. Hit hits your throat deep, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” hands thrown into your hair because he thinks maybe he wants you to stop.

But there’s the edge, and for a second he thinks he’s too far past it, balls tightened and his chest caves at the promise of lodging a load in your throat.

“Fuck!” You’re off him and shuffled back before he can cry wolf. Jeongguk helplessly grasps at his base, and screws his eyes tight to curb the feeling of blood rushing everywhere.

You’ve got a vantage point like no other. A vista genuinely for the ‘my eyes only’.

His chest violently rises and falls and his thighs shake at the same rate. It’s hard to reserve yourself from kissing up his legs, so you don’t, soft nips where the seam of his trousers would run and even though he was driven to maximum sensitivity, he wants you as close as you are.

You litter the expanse of his body until he can vent the lost orgasm into your mouth. A rage of tongues and spit that has your centre warm again. But he mellows out into you and plays seduction.

“Jagi.”

“Mmm,” you speak amongst the twine of lips.

“Let me kiss you.. Down there.” His eyes plague with sincerity. A wholehearted desire to taste you and taste you again, and you’re one to oblige.

The sofa, whilst a two generation hand-me-down, offers more comfort than the floor and you bask in being pampered when Jeongguk lowers your front to it, situating a littered pillow below you to accentuate the curve of your back. Your behind sits bare with panties discarded and you look beautiful enough he’ll tell you.

“Look at your body Jagi. How can you be mine?”

It’s unnerving being like this. Subject to alien words and a stare you can’t dilute. But it’s a package deal and Jeongguk doesn’t take long to offer the incentive.

“Smell nice too.”

He traces the curve of your back with his palm the same way he strokes you between your legs. Fluid and warm and...

“Goddd, that’s good.”

Jeongguk basks in all things praise. An inflation to his own high. So he hums approval into you as you begin to writhe.

You bite back the urge to push into him and seek a salacious end, frantic in the heat of lust, but Jeongguk keeps a controlled hold on you and eases the pressure away from the good spots, just so it’s better when he comes back for more.

“Mmmm, good, good there.” Where he’s spreading you and planting muscle deep. He doesn’t resist the temptation to go north either and explore tighter areas, and he hums a smile when he garners an entirely different noise from you because, fuck, that’s sensitive.

“Jeongguk, oh- I might cum.”

“Yeh?” He’s in you and around you and kneading at your cheeks like he’s rallying himself up. He is. Running his body in time with your movement so there’s a subtle rut to edge himself to.

“Yeh.”

“I want that. Bad.”

You’re loud and knocking on the door of something breathtaking, now that he’s left romance for dead. He wants you to cum, and hard

Fumbling an arm behind you until you can grapple onto the hairs of his head does little to prevent the sensation, the quaking and the tightening. He’s sinking a thumb against your rim and a tongue in your pussy and you indulge in it all.

“Shitshit oh my fucking god.”

He moans when you strike gold and pulse from every point of your being. Entrapped in that disembodied feeling where everything’s too good and all at once. It lags and Jeongguk’s hands purchase hard when you clench on his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lets you down easy though, mindful of all of the places that could be a cause for over-sensitivity - save that for another day - and nuzzles into your thigh.

The need to move lingers whilst you carry yourself away into the thrones of exhaustion, mind fizzing as you boyfriend sucks the meat of your ass with tempt. He’s wanting and you’ve got a craving to see him cum, but everything's numb.

“Jagi.”

“Mmm.”

You feel him before see him crawling up you, his front flush to you just as a means of exaggerating where he lays hard and in wait. He let you edge him and made you cum, a cause for a gold star among other things, so you flip over, careful not to knock him where it hurts, and pull at the straggling hairs the band can’t accommodate for.

“I want you. I want you really bad.” He feels selfish for feeling like it’s his right to claim an end. But there’s a genuine cause for concern that he’s been hard for so long, and will be as long as you lay bare and beautiful, and the biology of the situation isn’t just coincidental with his want.

But he kisses you soft and the sense of obligation dissipates into the desire to see him undone.

“You gonna fuck me?” He’s desperate to, and you laying pliant beneath him has his lust escalating quickly.

“Yes, yesyesyes jagi.” But as to not cum to quick he settles into stroking his length between where you’re wet. The sensitivity has lessened, but the rush of blood still is a cause for a grimace. Jeongguk kisses it out of you, settling into a rhythm of tongue then teeth then tongue then teeth. You’re lost enough, he’s sinking into your walls unhinged.

“Fuck.”

“God, how can you feel like this every time.” He’s driven to the edge of insanity with every feel of your walls, like a first time every time, uncharted territory he wants to explore as soon as he’s explored.

You grapple from the sweaty hairs that line his neck to where his muscles contract and sink now that he’s easing you into compliance. Not that it wasn’t easy to. But your walls, spent previously, make the glide a little harder in the promise that it’ll make him cum quick.

“You good? This good?” He caters for you in a strained plea.

“Amazing. God. A little faster.”

He’s sure to combust, purchasing his mouth on your neck and choking grunts into the skins there when his hips begin to snap and balls begin to ring an echo onto the four walls.

“Fuck jagi. Thank you. God, thank you.” He prays to your pussy as his abs clench in the knowledge that he’s teetering on the edge. Every run against you has him keening.

“Hold me.” He nestles his cheek to your hair until your breaths are synced, “don’t cum yet. Please, god-hm,” you choke, “don’t cum.”

“Oh god, oh god,” he’ll get you there, but he’s sweating out the urge to spill into you. He wants to see you done, hear you moan, have you every kind of euphoric. So he licks his thumb quick and has it in between you and on your clit quicker. A pressure and nothing more because he knows what hurts you.

He’s hissing at the strain, but you’re left in hopeless moans.

“Cumming, baby, cu- fuck.” There’s nothing stopping the assault of your walls on him as everything tightens and then releases. You quiver into him.

“Oh, you got so tight. Fuckfuck, oh god.” Jeongguk gives into it, too, when his body shudders and he pulls you tight, “ah,” spilling everything and it’s so hot but he’s heady enough that none of it matters.

You bask in that feeling for however long, lulling his shakes with a trail of nails through his hair down to his back, and nuzzle where your cheeks meet.

His back rises and falls and rises and falls and it’s all things soothing.

So you whisper lowly, “Guk.”

He shifts fractionally and huffs at the exertion of it all, body pliable and soft in and around you.

“Baby, we can’t fall asleep here.”

You know he’ll ask for a few more minutes, the true post orgasm baby that he is.

“Just a few more minutes.”

You laugh in the way of your predictable boy and snuggle him further now that he’s cocooned, the tingles in your toes eases and he might lay heavy on you but it’s comforting that his body moves to the puff of your chest. It’s like watching the clouds in the sky morph from one figure to another. Like the soft ticking of a metronome. Like counting sheep. And it’s easy to let ‘just a few more minutes’ trickle on and on.

What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

#uneditedddd #bts #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #bts jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jungkook #taehyung smut #filth #abstract #ripbobross #stay safe everyone #jungkook things

859 notes · View notes

bard-llama · 3 years

Text

Nilfgaard and International Relations

I’m in a rambling kind of mood, so I’ve decided I want to talk about Nilfgaard and part of why I think Emhyr did what he does. So, first off: this post will DEFINITELY have some spoilers for, in particular, How to Fluster an Elf, but it’s also my general canon for what’s up on the continent (except when it’s convenient for the plot that it be different lol)

So, first off, here is a map of the continent. I’m sharing this both because I’ll probably talk about some details with borders, but also because, as you can see, even before the Third Nilfgaardian War (the one that starts at the end of W2 and ends at the end of W3), the Nilfgaardian Empire is MASSIVE. And that’s important, because the more land and people you manage, the more work you gotta do to ensure that they can eat and prosper. (Like, seriously, I would NOT want Emhyr or Ciri’s jobs.) Additionally, every part of the Empire has its own culture and potentially language (I’m not sure who speaks Nilfgaardian vs ‘Common’ vs their own regional languages. Not every author can be Tolkien and develop an entire thesis on the history of language in their world lol).

Now, this part is just a headcanon, but I LOVE the idea that the warming and cooling cycles of the globe are triggered by events like the Conjunction of the Spheres and the White Frost (and, to a lesser extent, Ciri using her powers). Now, what am I talking about re: warming and cooling periods? Specifically, I am talking about glacial and interglacial periods (not the same as ice ages, which might happen within those periods), which are basically two parts of a cycle that changes over thousands of years. On Earth, we are in an interglacial period (which literally means that the glaciers are retreating) and the last glacial period (aka glaciers expanding and covering more land) ended 15000 years ago. So like, we are very much talking about change over time.

Why is any of this important? For two reasons:

The transition between periods is marked by climate extremes. As we’re discovering in reality, this can be really damaging - too much rain kills crops, too little kills crops. Unstable weather conditions tend to lead to storms, which can do a great deal of damage. Both temperature extremes can do their own damage as well. People can dye of exposure, but on a larger scale, crops and water access very much depend on consistent weather patterns. Additionally, these conditions are ripe for the spread of disease, which can devastate kingdoms and populations. tldr: the climate gets very unpredictable over the course of many years (like decades, not like centuries or millenia) and this leads to extreme weather events, famine, plague, drought, etc.

Once the changes settle, then, generally speaking (and pls note: i am not a scientist, this is stuff I learned from research and interpreted myself) - warming/interglacial periods can lead to population booms and expansion, because the glaciers withdraw, which means new land is available and habitable. When a society has a surplus of resources, it expands. When it doesn’t, when there are limited supplies and everyone has to fight over them, population decreases, because there isn’t enough to go around and because birth rates tend to be lower (at least, in a world with accessible birth control where people can choose if they want to have a child or not). Warmer temperatures also means that more diseases can thrive, so it’s not like interglacial periods are automatically paradise. But, typically speaking, interglacial periods are associated with more land and more food, which leads more people.

On the flipside, a glacial period (i.e. glaciers expand across the land) is associated with more limited resources and less habitable land (because it’s covered by glaciers).

Now here’s the really important thing. These periods (interglacial and glacial) are correlated with the earth’s tilt and orbit. Which means that while the northern hemisphere (i.e. Cintra and north thereabouts) is experiencing one thing, the southern hemisphere (i.e. Nilfgaard and all it’s conquered lands) is experiencing the opposite.

So how does any of this connect back to my headcanons for the Witcher? Well, I like the idea that the Conjunction of the Spheres triggered a glacial period in the north and an interglacial period in the south. I’ll go into more details under the cut, but the follow up to this is that the White Frost that Ciri defeats in the game triggers the change over again. And what did we say happens when one period transitions into another? Weather instability and all of its effects.

What does this mean broadly? Well, really it means two major things:

The actual transition from glacial to interglacial (for the north) and interglacial to glacial (for the south) would be marked by extreme climate changes, which leads to political unrest because crops are ruined and people starve. For both the north and south, this is bad news, but probably the north would be affected worse, simply because there’s already famine.

After the transition, the north would theoretically prosper as new land becomes available and more resources are found. The south, on the other hand, would lose land and resources as glaciers extend.

Now, all of this is significant because we KNOW that Nilfgaard studies science differently than the north. They know that the earth revolves around the sun. Do they also know that the orbit affects the climate? Maybe. If they don’t their elven ancestors probably did, simply because they live long enough to experience these changes (in my canon. Sapko’s elves only live a few hundred years, I think). The point is - Emhyr appears to be pretty well-studied (despite spending his formative years as a hedgehog), so when he starts seeing the extreme weather affecting the south, he could put two and two together and decide that he has to conquer the north, because the north has resources! And if a HUGE portion of his empire is experiencing extreme weather that destroys their crops, then he NEEDS the North’s resources! Which, yes, is ironic, because his invasion causes famine, but he probably dismisses that as the ‘casualties of war’.

Another factor is that Nilfgaard drafted pretty much every able-bodied man in the empire to serve in the war. Which is great, because numbers do make a huge difference in war, buuuuut it’s also bad, because now... who’s gonna harvest all the crops? Who’s gonna sow the fields for next year?

I feel like I was gonna say more, something about supply lines and Nilfgaard’s expansion plans, but I don’t really remember. The point is - Emhyr acts like he’s working on a deadline. Some of that is probably because of the political enemies he has back home (you know, those he didn’t murder and dance over their graves), but I wonder if some of it might not be because he sees the change coming and he wants to set up Nilfgaard to survive. And to do that, he needs the resources the north has.

Okay, here’s the part that’s a spoiler for How to Fluster an Elf - okay, so Ciri is Empress and Nilfgaard now owns 80% of the continent east of the Blue Mountains. But even with the resources from the war-torn north, I doubt it’s enough to keep things from getting... difficult. But here’s the important thing - Ciri is not Emhyr. So when Ciri sees what’s coming and worries about how to feed her people, her response isn’t “let’s conquer others who have food”, it’s “let’s ask for help and work together”. A novel idea, isn’t it? Actually ASKING for HELP. But you know what? Once that ask is out there, the rest is diplomacy. And diplomacy isn’t easy, but it’s sure as hell less costly than war (though ultimately may lead to war itself). I don’t know if Ciri would make a good war commander. But I do know that she could make an excellent diplomat if she tried. Because she’s been exposed to a LOT in her life and has learned how to accept people without trying to change them and how to see the world from their point of view. And honestly, that’s all diplomacy really is - figuring out what drives each actor and working on a compromise that meets as many of those needs as possible.

Anyway, this is a really long post basically saying that global change is on the horizon for the continent and it has and will continue to affect the decisions rulers make. Because a good ruler looks after their land and their people - which means feeding their people.

Plus, you know, armies also gotta eat.

#the witcher #nilfgaard #international politics #global climate periods #headcanons

9 notes · View notes

ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

angel (chilling adventures of sabrina)

summary: as the only pure mortal in the fright club, there seems to be an influx of interesting things happening in greendale that you are unaware of. a certain prince of hell happens to find that interesting.

warnings: typos, probably.

a/n: ummm maybe i binge watched caos this past week and maybe i’ve fallen in love. i’ll let you figure that out. also this is my first time writing for caos (and not marvel, lol) so let me know what you think!!’ pls give feedback thank u.

add yourself to my tasglist!

ps: this gif is mine so if you use it, please credit!

When all was said and done, Sabrina and Caliban had come to amicable terms regarding the shared responsibility of ruling Hell.

It didn’t take much convincing for Caliban to relinquish his prior ambition after learning his rule would end within a day, as the Pagans would have defeated him and taken Earth for themselves. Sabrina’s ability to show him the time loop she was once trapped in gave him a reason to quit the fighting and rule Hell on an equal scale, no questions asked.

Plus, he started to like the bleach blonde witch.

You, on the other hand, felt like you had missed out on the most important plot piece of the greatest film of all time.

While Harvey, Theo, and Roz had known about Sabrina’s secret since her sixteenth birthday, you were left in the dust about the shenanigans that went on around Greendale. You were truly the only mortal with no magic or witch ties, but the other four couldn’t say the same. Sabrina was a witch, Theo’s ancestor Dorothea often visited him in time of need, Harvey’s family had a history of witch hunting (which he does not partake), and Roz’s ability to foreshadow the future with a simple touch proved to be more useful than she had originally thought.

You were a mortal. A regular high school student whose biggest problems were studying for four AP classes every day while balancing cheerleading and other extracurriculars.

It wasn’t until recently that the strangeness came to light. What the Fright Club had failed to mention was that Sabrina had continuously hexed you in order to keep you out of harm’s way by leaving a small bag filled with her Aunt Hilda’s concoctions in your bedroom. It worked its magic when you slept, an invisible blanket covering your eyes that made their strange disappearances seem normal.

But it seems like that hex was fading. Sabrina neglected to change it out every other week due to being preoccupied by Caliban’s yearning, the Dark Lord’s agenda, and Lilith’s drama regarding Hell. Now you sat with wonder and couldn’t help but feel left out of a great adventure that your friends embarked on.

A month had passed since Sabrina and Caliban had made amends. You grew to understand the nature of it and the four filled you in on all you had missed with a guilt hanging over their heads. It was hard to hear and understand, but ultimately you couldn’t hate your best friends for wanting to keep you safe.

You knew not to question Sabrina’s whereabouts if you weren’t able to find her because she was most likely taking care of business down below. You still had yet to meet Caliban and the only information you gathered from him was what the gang caught you up on and Sabrina’s grievances whenever she felt annoyed by him.

“You know, this is all a weird concept,” you said. “I mean, I guess I always had my faith and doubt kept me guessing about what’s really out there, and it’s really out there,” you said, stealing a fry from Theo’s plate. The five of you sat in Dr. Cerberus’s diner and decided you weren’t going to do anything that wasn’t normal for teenagers.

“It still creeps me out,” Harvey admitted. “Hell was worse than I could’ve imagined.”

“Caliban’s got things under control and Lilith’s doing just fine being an advisor,” Sabrina said. “I don’t think she’s mad about the ruling situation anymore. Lucifer’s still doing his bidding but I think they’ve reconnected.”

“That’s...good?”

Sabrina chuckled. “Trust me, it’ll take some getting used to.”

“That is an absolute understatement.”

The door to the diner chimed while you fished inside of your purse for a quarter.

“I’m gonna go pick out a song, any requests?”

“You’re the music genius,” said Roz. You smiled and walked towards the front of the diner.

As you approached the machine and put the quarter inside of the slot, a tall man with sand colored hair loomed over you and watched.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“Not really. Just observing.” You quirked an eyebrow, not recognizing his face despite knowing everyone in the small town.

“You’re not from here, are you?” you asked.

He chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”

“Greendale’s a pretty small town. It’s easy to spot someone who’s not a local,” you replied.

“Well in that case, I’m not from around these parts. Far from, actually.” He looked at your hand and then the juke box. “What song are you choosing?”

You pried your gaze away from him to look back at the machine and put the coin in the slot, choosing “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” before looking back at him.

“Satisfied?”

The handsome stranger looked at you and didn’t try to hide the face that he was checking you out by letting his eyes look at your body up and down. Not that you minded.

“Very,” he said with a sail try voice before walking around the corner. “The name’s Caliban.”

“Y/N,” you replied. You raised your eyebrow before walking back to the other four and sat down in your previous seat only for the handsome stranger to approach the table.

“Caliban,” Sabrina greeted. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Nice choice,” Roz commented, hearing the song play throughout the diner.

“That’s Caliban, as in the Caliban?” you asked.

“It’s good to know you lot have been talking about me,” he said, crossing his hands over his chest. “I decided to take a break from, you know, and come see what you love so much about Greendale.”

“She knows about Hell,” said Sabrina.

“Funny how I’ve never seen her there, or anywhere with you four, as a matter of fact,” Caliban replied.

“It’s a long story,” you said, sipping on your chocolate milkshake. “Not an important one, though.”

“Contrary,” he began. “You’re the first purely true mortal I’ve met in Hell or otherwise with no ancestral ties to witches or greater magic. That’s pretty important to me.” You blushed, not knowing what to say or do next.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Harvey asked with a slight attitude. Caliban shifted his focus from you to him, which made your body relax a little bit.

“I didn’t come here for business or to whisk Sabrina away, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just here to see what makes Greendale so special, though I think I’m starting to see why.” Caliban spared no expense and was not shy about looking in your direction as he spoke his last statement.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sabrina said sternly. “You are not going to get any ideas, are you?”

Caliban chuckled and put his hands up in defense. “Whatever you say, Sabrina.” He began to walk away but not before turning around and winking at you. “See you around.”

Caliban walked out the door and you didn’t bother asking where he was going next.

“Dear Satan, he’s so annoying,” Sabrina said, exasperated. “It’s like he’s made it his personal mission to make my life, well, a living Hell for lack of a better term.”

“At least he’s not hellbent on defeating you anymore,” Theo reasoned. “I think he’s trying to get to know you a little bit better.”

“And he’s doing it by flirting with my best friend?” Sabrina asked. She put her head on your shoulder and and ate a fry from her plate. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not saying you need to stay away from Caliban, but you need to be careful around him. At least until we’ve worked together long enough for me to trust him completely.”

“Loud and clear, Brina,” you said. “I still can’t really wrap my head around this whole thing. I can’t watch horror films about Hell and witches the same ever again.”

The Fright Club laughed.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” Harvey said. “I mean, I was pretty apprehensive at first. Remember when Brina and I broke up and I spent every day at your place after school?” You nodded. “That’s when she told me she was a witch. It was kind of hard to wrap my head around until everything with the Pagans and angels happened.” You nodded, soaking in his words. “Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with feeling like you don’t understand. I don’t even understand most of it, if I’m being completely honest.”

“In think that’s enough food for me,” said Roz who pushed her plate to the middle. “Seeing Hell with my own eyes really suppressed my appetite.”

”Oh, shoot,” you said, looking at the clock mounted on the wall. “I have to head home and help my mom. I promised her I’d help clean the kitchen and I’ve got to be home in ten minutes. Can I pay you guys back?”

“Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow?” said Theo.

“Count on it!”

***

You saw Caliban not long after your first encounter with him. The idea of him being the ruler of Hell (alongside Sabrina) was still a hard concept to understand and you weren’t quite sure if you were supposed to bow in his presence or not.

“Unnecessary,” he said when you asked. Caliban sat across from you at the local coffee shop, offering to walk you when you had caught his eye. You harbored a hot latte and he held a blueberry scone in his hand. “I think you mortals like that glory.”

You shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Hell doesn’t have formalities when it comes to celebration other than referring to each other by one’s title,” he explained. “It’s just easier that way.”

“You make it seem like Hell’s a relaxed place to be.”

He pinched a piece of his scone off at put it in his mouth, smirking at your statement.

“Oh, far from it. As righteous as demons are, we’re not that shallow.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe you’re made out of clay,” you said, taking a sip of your latte.

“Why do you say that?”

“I dunno,” you said. You reached over the table to poke his bicep. “You seem so real. So human.”

Normally, Caliban would’ve been offended by such a comparison. But he smiled.

“I suppose. I don’t question my creation. I accept it and try to live as adventurously as I can.”

“I hope to,” you said. “Getting out of Greendale, I mean. It’s my biggest dream.”

“You’d want to leave this town?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” you replied. “I have nothing going for me here. I’m powerless and there’s no reason for me to stay where I’m not needed.”

To his surprise, Caliban felt his heart jolt at your comment. He was wordless for a moment.

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Maybe somewhere on the west coast. Maybe I’ll still be in New England. College is the perfect opportunity to explore the world and come back home for a few weeks at a time.”

“This is where Lucifer fell, you know,” said Caliban. “The sacred place is hidden deep in the woods where there’s a clearing of rocks and stone. That’s why this place is driven by witches of the Church of Night.”

“I still can’t believe the Devil is walking among us,” you said, shaking your head. “My mom used to force me to go to Sunday school, and I suppose I did have faith. It’s all meta now.”

“Are you still a believer?” he asked.

“I kind of have to be, considering you’re here.”

Caliban smiled.

“Do Heaven and Hell ever interact withe each other?”

“Not exactly,” he began. “We’re on civil relations but don’t want anything to do with each other. They stay up there so long as we stay down here. I’ve never encountered an angel before.”

“You haven’t?”

“They aren’t allowed to come down to Earth unless absolutely necessary,” he explained. “Not really sure why but it’s one of their more important rules.”

“I think I have a headache,” you teased. All of this knowledge about celestial beings truly made your senses adapt to your surroundings in Greendale and you were more than aware of the fact that God was real.

“I should go,” Caliban said, standing up. “I need to escort some souls back to Hell and send some up north.”

“You mean not all souls who are sold to the Devil go to Hell?”

“Sabrina and I negotiated that,” he said. “No more soul-selling. The ones that preexist will be discussed by her and I, and we decide if the punishment is worth the crime. I don’t think someone who sold their soul for a good cause needs to spend all eternity down in Hell. That’s why she comes down there all the time.”

“Huh,” you said at a loss for words.

Caliban smiled. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

***

The next time you see Caliban was with the rest of the Fright Club. He was wearing a linen button down with several buttons popped open, exposing his bare chest with black slacks and white sneakers. His hair was tousled and you swore this was the most human you had ever seen him.

“Ambrose is being a little paranoid and wants me to check out the edge of Greendale for threats,” Sabrina said. “I think he’s just worried about me co-ruling Hell while living on Earth. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“You say that like it’s just another day in Greendale,” you said.

Sabrina shrugged. “I mean, it kind of is.”

“Well, do you need us to do anything?” Roz asked.

“I want you to come with me, if that’s okay. Harvey, Theo, and Y/N, you don’t need to come. I’m sure this is Ambrose being Ambrose.”

“Are you sure, Brina?” Harvey asked.

She waved him off. “It’s fine, really. Roz and I will spend a few hours making sure things are normal and we’ll meet back at my place for dinner? Aunt Hilda’s kind of expecting us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Theo said enthusiastically.

Sabrina gave the group one last smile before she took Roz’s hands and teleported out of the room, which left the four of you.

“I can give you a ride, Theo,” Harvey offered before looking at you. “And you too. I don’t mind driving to the other side of town.”

“I can take her home,” Caliban said. Harvey looked at you and Caliban spoke again, noticing his hesitation. “Part of our deal was that I made sure her friends remain unharmed. That includes Y/N.”

Harvey seemed to accepted this answer and grabbed his keys from his pocket before bidding you a goodbye. He and Theo drove off in his truck before you and Caliban left in the opposite direction.

“So, uh, do you want to come in?” you asked, awkwardly standing by the front door after he insisted on walking you in.

“I don’t mind,” he said. You fumbled with the keys before opening the door with a shaky hand and let him inside. It was the first time you were letting a boy into your home (other than Harvey and Theo, but your relationship with them was strictly platonic) and you felt a little more nervous than usual. After figuring out you had liked Caliban more than you originally expected, there was nothing you could do to stop your heart from beating just a little too fast when we he was around. Him being in your house did nothing to help the situation.

As for Caliban, his usual overwhelming desire for a carnal relationship was nowhere to be found when he stepped into your house. He looked at the white walls decorated with family photos and admired the ones with you as a child. Caliban watched as you put the house keys in a glass dish and followed you to your bedroom.

It was odd, Caliban thought, to feel nothing but tranquility. He was almost always hyperaware of his surroundings and wary of demons and souls roaming past him in Hell, but it was just the two of you. Two bodies under one roof.

“My parents won’t be home until later tonight. N-Not that we have to do anything!” you added. “I just mean they’d freak out because they haven’t met you before.”

Caliban chuckled. “I wasn’t planning on making a move, if that’s what you were wondering.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Your room suits you,” he said. Caliban admired the photos on your nightstand and polaroids pinned to a brown board on the wall filled with memories from your past with the Fright Club and other friends and family members. He saw a stack of books beside your bed and a fish tank sitting by the window, your closet doors closed, and decorative pieces that highlighted your personality.

“Thanks,” you said, laying down on your best. “You can sit, you know.”

Caliban took this opportunity to lay next to you. When you felt the bed dip, you averted your eyes to the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?” Caliban asked after a long pause of silence.

“How fast life changes,” you replied. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, but with all that I know, how can I keep all of this celestial knowledge a secret from my parents? The world is always doubting Heaven and Hell but I know the truth. I don’t know if being purely mortal is helping me out in this situation either.”

“You’re an innocent,” Caliban said, turning his head to look at you. “So pure and clean. Your soul has been untouched by neither light or night and it’s probably the one thing that’s going to save you in the future.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze. “I’m still powerless.”

“Maybe in one way, but not completely. You have no witchcraft magic but you have intelligence and intuition. You know not to meddle with things that aren’t of your concern.”

You were silent.

“What else are you thinking about?”

“How much I like spending time with you,” you confessed. “But it’s hard, you know. You’ll be in Hell most of the time and you’re made of clay, for crying out loud.” Caliban chuckled. “I didn’t really think you’d be around as often as you are.”

Caliban was silent.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” he replied. “I’m always thinking about you. I used to think morality was a disease, but it’s not. It’s a rationale, just like any demonic presence.” Caliban moved closed to you.

“I think about what love is and how I don’t know what it really means.”

“I think love means different things to different people,” you said. “I think it’s mutual respect and loyalty. It’s knowing details about someone, big and small. It’s about being together but knowing you can be independent. Love is hard and it takes time. Love is not instant.”

“You’re pretty wise for an innocent,” he said.

You laughed. “Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic.”

“Maybe not.”

Caliban lifted his body to hover above yours, your chests barely touching as his eyes gazed right over your lips. You dared not to move and Caliban hesitantly leaned down further so that your lips barely brushed against one another, the goosebumps on your skin taking affect. Because you weren’t pulling away, he took it as a silent signal and pressed his chaste lips against your soft ones.

There was no spark. No magic and no fireworks. There was only you and Caliban, and there was no other way you would’ve wanted your first kiss to feel like. Time slowed down as Caliban relaxed by your touch and your hands roamed his neck. The cold outdoor air was replaced by the warmth of Caliban’s body and when he pulled away, he let his thumb stroke your cheek as he cupped the side of your face.

“You are, dare I say, an angel.

“That’s a compliment, considering I know how much you despise them.”

He laughed. “Perhaps I’ll make an exception.”

Caliban leaned down once more to press a tender kiss to your forehead and you closed your eyes in bliss, happy to accept the good that came with the craziness of the last month. You looked at his structured jaw and grinned at his loving gaze, letting out a tired laugh.

“Perhaps.”

#caliban x reader #caos caliban #caliban #caos caliban x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos x reader #sabrina spellman #my writing #angel

349 notes · View notes

border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord - First impressions

Ven:

For the first couple of months after he swanned into the COV, Seifa is 110% convinced he's just a con artist - and a shit one at that.

"Oooohh I can see the future with my magical arm, pls hire me oh majesties and I'll guide you to your destiny UwU"

Righhhht...

Then again.. the twins did fall for it, so... 😒

She won't rat him out though, that’s not her style. Ven’s just another Pandoran trying to survive out here, and whatever risk he's decided to take ain't her business, is it. The twins are according to themselves, grown ass adults “With money and power an' shit, yoooo” so need to learn how to not be taken advantage of one way or another, and he seems an easy first lesson in her eyes.

Either he'll play his game well and leave them frustrated, a hell of a lot poorer, and with slapped egos, or his gamble will turn sour and he’ll end up getting ripped apart by Troy when Calypso grows a brain that’s not located in his pants and works out he's being taken for a run by the slimy shite-hawk.

She won't be part of it either way.

Sei likes him though, right from the get go. It's impossible not to have some admiration for a man this self confident and thick-cheeked to pull a scam on this scale, I mean, are the twins really Gods? Fuck no. Do they already have the support and control over billions? Yes. He’s admirable, and while she's not on 1v1 friendly terms with him, she'll chat. She'll stop and play along, poke gentle fun with him in a Cathedral hallway, ask how he's settling, if he's seen anything interesting, when’s he going to feel alright exploring the city, if Troy has decided he needs an escort or not.

She's rooting for him really, he's funny, he's clever, and he's got heart. Hopes she won't wake up to him being a well dressed smear across the throne room's floor one day. He’s too good looking for that, would be a reaaaal shame.

Seifa’s opinion of him takes a massive shift a few months after he takes his position as Oracle, when while eventually trying to work out if the striped git is getting paid more than her (unacceptable), Troy lazily mentions he's not really getting paid... at all. He’s taking down a basic enough salary for someone in touching distance of the Holy Twins most days, cash wasn’t part of his negotiation. His contract is for med tech access... And suddenly Ven becomes a lot more interesting.

Eli:

She likes him immediately. The man has that effect on people it seems.

There's something untouchable about someone delicate enough to shatter who somehow radiates positivity the way he does, and while she's got no claws in the broadcast department and tries to avoid Mouthpiece as much as any sane person would, the little run-ins with his latest staff member have been memorable.

A genuine "How are you today?" from someone who wants nothing from you bar a smile in return and a chat is... rare here.

Its rare for her, ever.

She'd liked Eli before she found out who he was, why he was here. She'd remember him, and Sei has trouble recalling any of the Mechanicum’s acolytes let alone staff in other Saint’s departments.

Hes special. How Ven’s face lit up whenever he spoke of his brother was something he couldn’t hide, even under the practiced smarm and confidence of his act. Eli feels like he doesn’t belong in this place, good people rarely do, but he is shockingly thankful for his position in broadcasting, and the respect in how he speaks of the twins and other Saints warms her heart.

And maybe Sei has a soft spot for tall, dark skinned, delicate men with smiles wide enough to beam joy through like sunlight.

Best not to think about it.

Jak-Knife:

She’d not come into direct contact with them till Troy had elevated them from their position as a raid leader to one of his personal guards, about a year after she’d taken his invite to accept her Saint role. They scared her for longer than she'd admit, and it wasn't for the reasons people generally would assume..

Yeah they were massive, yeah they were a dominating presence regardless of their movement or reassuring silence, yeah the mask made getting a read difficult.. but.. that’s baby mode for her.

That's easy to deal with, she's been around people who ticked those boxes for years, and running parts deals with Bandits have never been an issue for Seifa.

Regardless of their relatively deserved reputation, Bandits are excellent traders, she'd take 50 over some smug fucking suit from Harrier any day. Superstition and a penchant for honorable fairness make them easy to work with, and there's a reason so many trade towns have off record areas for Bandit caravan docks that aren't hassled out of the area when they set down. She doesn't mind Bandits. She likes them more than half the people she's forced to deal with in the COV, that’s not what scared her about JK.

It was how they carried themself.

It was the coiled, tense control in their limbs. The practiced "relaxed" stance that was anything but. The way their mask would tilt subtly as they'd scope out every room they entered, count and note weapons. The way their open palm was always inches from a relatively concealed blade under their well kept hand crafted gear.

How clean they were, how quiet they were. The way this person listened and pretended they were too dumb to understand. Saw so much and acted like they hadn't picked things up...

That's terrifying when you appreciate what it means about the mind behind these actions.

She saw plenty of her own tricks but in a body three times her strength and speed. Jak-Knife was someone she'd prefer to not be alone with regardless of Troy's insistence they would behave, that they were completely trustworthy and someone he'd stake his life on. She remained polite but distant with them for months, till he sent them to guard her that night and they were forced into a closer conversation.

They click, neither quite what the other had expected. By the time years later when they spend the evening in his quarters, discussing concerns neither had raised but both had been worried by, she'd firmly slotted them into one of the empty spaces she hadn't been aware was so close to her heart.

Ven and Eli belong to @hieroglyphix and JK belongs to @godkingsanointed

Asks are open!

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypsto #oc: ven #oc: eli #oc: jak-knife #jak-knife #ven #eli #seifa #leech lord #my hcs #my writing

26 notes · View notes

dragynkeep · 3 years

Note

The dad man for the character meme pls

meme, not accepting.

my top three ships for the character.

seasonal depression ( taiyang / summer. ) pre canon phoenix ( taiyang / raven. ) yellow jacket ( taiyang / blake. )

my three least favourite ships for the character.

canon phoenix ( taiyang / raven. ) canon fireball ( taiyang / qrow. ) lost lovers ( taiyang / jaune. )

my biggest criticism for the character.

the lack of development in both his character’s story & his development in worldbuilding. we don’t even have a canon allusion for taiyang, let alone anything like weapon, concrete fighting style, what he does with his life outside of watering sunflowers. it feels like a common issue that has definitely popped up in intensity in the last two volumes that characters aren’t even meeting the basic requirements needed to make a character in rwby now — a colour name, an allusion, a semblance & a weapon. we have one of these for taiyang, & he’s two of the main’s father ! the rest of his team outranks him in this, & one of them is dead!

it’s just overall very frustrating for a core character of a dead legacy team & shows off how little crwby actually put into their worldbuilding for the character. especially with what we’re meant to believe taiyang is doing after the focus is off him when yang leaves like ; did he go back to work? is he helping out in vale? is he a more active huntsman now, like full time? we don’t know & the show never gives any hints as to otherwise which sucks cause it’s so easy to fix.

my favourite thing about the character.

burnie is amazing as his va, for not being a professional voice actor himself — & he sounds so much like a dad, it’s incredibly on point. especially for a character like taiyang who seems to share a lot of similarities with him.

a headcanon i have about them.

definitely my second skin headcanon for his semblance, where his aura forms into the shape of secondary armour over his body with the pattern of golden dragon scales. i think it fits really well into his mentality that he tried to teach yang that you can’t just go swinging blindly because if he fought an enemy who was stronger, who broke his semblance ; he was then completely out of aura & had no defence.

what i would change about them if i was making a re-write.

flesh him out further as a character. a lot of what we learn about taiyang comes from secondary sources like ruby, yang or qrow — that’s how we learn about his depressive state after losing summer, how he’s still an active huntsman but also a teacher, his relationships with others — but what we actually get in scenes with taiyang is very little because the focus is on yang. this could be solved with him featuring more in the show, & also providing us on screen reasoning for why he isn’t going with yang to find ruby ; like that he’s still an active huntsman, he’s being roped into the efforts in vale, etc etc. small moments like that help flesh him out as a character, torn between his children or his responsibilities, & help bridge those gaps between his decisions.

what i think of their character allusion and what (if anything) i would change about it.

lmao what allusion. he literally doesn’t have one, has never been given one & i don’t think mkek have ever pondered it in any way besides saying that he’s vaguely based off of bruce lee which ?? i guess. don’t look at me for comparisons on fighting styles, it’s not my area of expertise.

but there are also a million chinese poems about dragons that would allow taiyang to have an allusion tying into him as a character & fit into strq’s themes of being poems. pick one, mkek. stop being fucking lazy about this important character for gods sake.

#rwby #taiyang xiao long #owl.txt #answered #q

8 notes · View notes

kissesandcream · 3 years

Note

so I did some digging through the internet to help u build baal anD I have some stuff that may or may not be helpful <3 ✿. raidens burst damage is based on how many resolve stacks you get from other party members resolve is like the stuff u get from using your other party members bursts so use your other party members burst first and then activate baal's burst last :D ✿. and her normal attacks when u use her burst also count as burst dmg so use your other party members bursts before using baal's and you will do big pp dmg ✿. ooo you can try the 'Emblem of Severed Fate' set for baal, since her e has a long cool down and the 2pc of that set has energy recharge while the 4pc increases elemental burst dmg by 25% of energy recharge and a maximum of 75% bonus dmg can be obtained that way ✿. hmmm okok I think I have a grasp with how she works now ✿. use her elemental skill first to buff your other characters bursts, and then after you use all of your characters bursts - switch back to baal and use her burst so basically baal elemental skill -> other party members elemental burst -> baal elemental burst I hope you understood this omg, the first thing I did this morning was research for baal builds JSHDVF I still dont know what her actual attack scales off of but I would go with just the usual atk%, crit rate, crit dmg stuff - omg idk, why are her talent descriptions so confusing HJDSGH BUT YES, these are the stuff I learned with my 1 braincell at 7am this morning🍵 ill send u an ask once I know what she scales off of but its atk% for now HJGSH

OMG KOI THIS IS AMAZING TY <333

i was following this when i was farming today she does do bigger dmg when i use her burst after everyone else's 😌 also her eye thing is great for superconduct my physical kaeya is thriving 💃

artifact grinding <///3 im prolly gonna do that tomorrow, for now im stalling by farming her talent books 😃 HELP THE RONIN GUYS DROP SO LITTLE. LIKE BRO I NEED MORE THAN UR SINGLE STUPID GREY HANDGUARD PLS

i might give her an energy recharge artifact but idk,,, ive got the favonius lance on her rn since i lack better polearms so i prolly wont need an artifact for energy recharge too but IDK BUILDS MAN <//3

BUT TY KOI THIS IS GREAT <333 ilyvm 😌

#; nymph chatter #🐚 ; fairy circle #itll take all of our braincells at max potential to decode her talents pls

3 notes · View notes

crackcrocs · 4 years

Text

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿ if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

9 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

indruck volcano pls?

Here you go! I based Indrid’s mer-design on a Chinook Salmon.

Duck’s search history is getting weird.

In his defense, the last few weeks have been pretty damn weird.

It started two weeks ago, when he was checking tree specimens along the river. One minute he was engrossed in his work, birds chirping and the sky blue above him. The next the hair on the back of his neck was straight up, and he was positive someone, or something, was watching him.

Gradually, the feeling subsided, and he chalked it up to random case of the heebie-jeebies.

Except, two days later, it happened again. And then again the day after that. Each time he looked around, kept his ears on high-alert, and came up with nothing. The fourth time it happened, he got a glimpse of the back and tail of something human-sized and pinkish-red disappearing beneath the water.

He knows his wildlife well, but he’d never seen anything like that. That night, he sat down at his computer for research.

River fish of the pacific northwest?

Biggest species of freshwater fish in pacific northwest?

Are there pink sturgeon?

Pink fish near Mt. Saint Helen's?

How to report illegal, exotic pet selling ring?

The next day, he was leading a tour around the river walk, when something pink-red caught his attention. He kept one eye on it as he spoke, noticed it disappeared under the surface whenever anyone else turned to look it’s way. Towards the end of the tour, he glanced over to find, instead of reddish scales, red eyes watching him from a definitely human face. It blinks, then ducks beneath the current.

Mermaid sightings in Washington?

Animals commonly mistaken for mermaids?

Are mermaids real?

Proof of mermaids other than that freaking discovery channel mockumentary?

Two days later, he’d been bending over the embankment to see if that was a native turtle or a released pet in the water when his hat dropped of his head and into the water, rushing away before he had a chance to go in after it. It was, as his friend Aubrey would put it, a bummer. That hat had pins from all the parks he’d been too, and the first nametag he was ever given as an official member of the park service.

Just before his rounds took him away from the river, he spotted something on a rock at the edge of the water.

His hat.

He was about to thank his luck that it got caught on the stone when he noticed that it had clearly been placed there, and that there wasn’t a speck of mud or dead leaves on it. And whoever put it there had thoughtfully weighed it down with several colorful rocks.

And there were no recent footprints on the shore save for his own.

“Uh, thanks?” He called out over the water, feeling sillier by the second. No response came.

He turned, headed up the bank, and swore he heard over the burble, “You are welcome.”

Can mermaids talk?

Are mermaids friendly?

Which brings him to now, several days later, as he’s back in the same patch of water, trying to fish out the turtles that were, indeed, someone’s non-native pet that had been turned loose.

“You are going to lose your hat again.”

“FUCK!” He stumbles back, landing on his ass in the shallow water. Across from him, peering around a rock, the man who definitely has a fishtail, looks concerned

“Oh dear, in most futures you did not fall.”

“You’re a fuckin’ mermaid. I ain’t crazy! Wait, futures?”

“I can see the future. And no, that is not a thing all merfolk can do, since you were about to ask.”

“I...how...god what the fuck is goin’ on?” His pants are taking on water at an alarming rate, but that is the least of his worries.

“I am introducing myself to you. I thought that was a custom merfolk and humans had in common?”

“It, uh, it is, but, uh, see, most humans don’t expect to ever meet a merperson on account of we assume you ain’t real.”

The merman sighs, “I know. And those who do see us are often frightened. Or try to capture us for money.” Cautiously, he swims away from the rock and over to Duck, stopping a few feet away, water shallow enough that he can keep his arms resting on the pebbly sand and tail flicking drops of water into the air, “but you are not one such human. Which is why I wanted to know you.”

“You, uh, you wanna know me because I don’t seem like I’m gonna sell you off to a sideshow?”

“Among other things. I have been the steward of this portion of river for years, seen many tend to these woods. You have such an air of caring to you when you work, and such competence, it is fascinating to watch. Also I enjoy that you sometimes speak to the trees.”

“I just want ‘em to know they’re grownin’ well.” Duck mumbles, blushing.

“It is charming. If it is alright, I would like to continue watching you when you work. Perhaps I could even talk to you while you do, if it is only you and I around?”

“Uh, sure?” Duck shrugs, “can’t promise sparklin conversation, but I ain’t opposed to the company. Might learn more about trees than you ever care to know.”

“Splendid!” The merman claps his hands together, “some day, in return, you can come swim with me and you can learn more about fish and current than you care to know.”

His enthusiasm skips across the water and Duck catches it.

“You got a deal. Name’s Duck, by the way.”

The merman grins, teeth sharper than Duck expects, “It is nice to meet you Duck. I am Indrid.”

Mermaids carnivorous?

Should you offer to share your lunch with a mermaid?

Indrid, true to his word, appears now and then over the next few days. Sometimes, if the trails or river are busy, Duck will just see flashes of tail, or a flicker of a face peeking around a rock.

Other times Indrid will float on his back or even climb up onto a rock to watch him work. He asks Duck questions about birds, and trees, the various behaviors of humans that confound him. Duck, in turn, asks him about his life in the river, about the layout of merfolk up and down this part of the state.

Some days, Indrid is nowhere to be seen. But on those days, Duck will spot pictures drawn into the mud or sand of the riverbank, as high up as Indrid was able to manage. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a drawing of a merperson waving. Others it tells Duck where to spot a rare salamander or songbird. Once or twice, it’s reminder of something Duck needs to do that day after work, something he meant to write down but didn’t and is glad for the reminder of. He assumes Indrid must use his future sight for those.

On the days when it’s only messages in the sand, he’s always sure to leave a happy face (or the words “thank you” once he teaches Indrid how to recognize it).

It’s been three days of sand messages, the longest stretch yet (Duck misses him, keeps hoping he’ll turn and see that toothy smile) when Indrid finally appears and asks, “would you like to swim with me tonight?”

Given that it’s pushing a hundred degrees (the kind of day that makes him feel as though the mountain will erupt at any moment) and he’s fairly certain Indrid either can’t or won’t eat him, Duck says yes.

When his shift is over, he heads down to their agreed meeting space, an inlet that’s off limits to the public and has a calm current.

“I assume you wear those because otherwise the water is too cold for you?” He points at Duck’s swimtrunks, the spare pair he keeps in the car.

“Kinda. Mostly to, uh, preserve our modesty.”

“Ah.” Indrid says with the tone and nod that Duck knows means, “I understand but think it is a bit silly.”

As soon as he’s up to his chest in the water, Indrid is swimming around him, talking animatedly and brushing his body along Duck’s back. Duck shivers at the contact, tells himself it’s from the unfamiliar, cool scales.

Their conversation turns to Indrid’s younger years, and he admits to harassing a flock of college students who were tubing and kept chucking their beer cans into the water.”

“How’d you get ‘em to stop?”

“My tail is rather strong, so I got it under their tubes and just-” he flicks his tail out of the water with a huge splash, the bulk of which hits Duck.

“Ackhey!” He splutters, giggling.

“ApologiesAH!” Indrid shakes his head in surprise when Duck splashes him back. The human gets another wave directed at him by Indrid’s tail, and when his vision clears the merman is gone.

“Uh oh.” He says just as Indrid pops out of the water in front of him, drenching him as he does. The tail sneaks behind his legs and knocks them out from beneath him. But before he goes under, willowy arms grab him.

“I win.” Indrid grins.

“Guhhuh.” He flails a bit, trying to right himself, and his hand slides up Indrid’s tail.

“Mmmmmm.” Indrid sighs as he helps him up, “that feels nice.”

“Is it, uh, can I do it again? It’s kinda cool, never felt anythin’ quite like it.”

“Of course.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder as the human runs his hand up and down his tail, noting the dark flecks in the red.

“It been the same color all these years, or does it change?”

“That’s a fascinating question….”

They talk until the sun goes down, resting against each other all the while.

Merman tail sexual thing?

Can a human fall in love with a merman?

Can a merman love a human?

Merman porn?

Two days later, Duck is just starting his rounds by the river when Indrid emerges, eyes frantic.

“Duck, Duck, the volcano-”

“Oh fuck me, is it-”

“No, it is not erupting again, but, but there will be an earthquake on account of it’s seismic activity. You need to clear the visitor center, the roof is going to come down and it will kill twenty five people. You have fifteen minutes.

Duck runs, is winded by the time he reaches the center, and no matter how he tries, his coworkers will not listen to him (he wishes Juno was working today, he might be able to tell her the whole truth).

Out of ideas and time, he pulls the fire alarm.

The center evacuates in a hurry, and just as his boss is about to ask what the hell he’s doing, the ground shudders once beneath them. Then again, more violently, thirty seconds and an eternity all once of cracking and shaking and shouts of alarm.

The visitor center is ruins.

But everybody is alive.

-------------------------------------

Duck rolls his pants up, wading a little ways into the water as he chucks stones into it

“You did it.” Indrid surfaces, swimming over to float off to his left.

“Yeah. Guess I did. Got two days suspension for pullin’ the fire alarm though.”

“I am sorry.”

“Ain’t the end of the world. Uh, are there any more of those comin’?”

Indrid thinks for a moment, “No, none so severe in the forseeable future.”

“And the volcano?” He steps into deeper water.

“Still not erupting any time soon.”

“Can, uh, can I ask you the odds of one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Uh, what, what are the chances of you and I kissin’?”

Indrid swims the few feet between them, looping his arms around Duck’s shoulders and planting a single, cool kiss on his lips.

“Indrid.” Duck whispers, ready to wade in over his head just for another kiss, knowing for certain Indrid would never ask him to.

“Before you ask: yes, my sweet, I do see many more of those in our future.”

#indruck #mermay #mermaid au #mermay fills #indrid cold/duck newton

42 notes · View notes

haec-est-fides · 4 years

Text

Filodox’s Trials of Apollo Reactions [Part I]

Welcome to part one of a reflective journey through Trials of Apollo ft. my original ebook annotations! I’ll be your host, 2020!filodox.

For this first episode, we’ll be going back to May 2016, the beginning of it all: The Hidden Oracle.

Annotations for this round are brought to you by 2016!filodox.

Is there anything we should know before we begin, 2016!me?

2016!filodox: I swore on the Styx never to read another Riordan book after he killed Octavian. And yet here we are.

... Alright then! Let’s get started.

But first, a more detailed overview on how this series will work: I will excerpt bits and pieces of the books based on what I highlighted / annotated on my first read. Beneath each quote, I will share what I wrote in the annotation. Below that, I will (occasionally) laugh at my past self, clarify the note, or say how my view has changed.

I encourage questions, comments, and concerns (of which there may be many), so go ahead and use that replies feature if you feel so inclined! However, these are just my opinions and (occasionally) emotional reactions, so no hate pls. <3 (Or, if you do send hate, pls make it funny.)

Now, diving right in with Riordan’s dedication!

To The Muse Calliope. This is long overdue. Please don’t hurt me.

2016!filodox: Hurt him. He didn’t even name the chapters.

As you can see, I had yet to experience Lester’s haiku and was already mad based on the table of contents alone. I went into this series very salty...

I inflicted a plague on the Greeks who besieged Troy.

2016!filodox: At least he did something right. Once.

I was just,,,extremely ready to die on Octavian’s hill. (Though I was a huge Troy / Aeneas stan before all this, just to be clear.)

Is anything sadder than the sound of a god hitting a pile of garbage bags?

2016!filodox: I actually find this particular god crashing into a dumpster quite amusing.

I also blamed Apollo for what happened to Octavian. I think that had a lot to do with how Apollo acted on Delos in Heroes of Olympus, basically disowning Octavian and whining about how some “creature” scammed him? That was bullshit. Apollo needed to own the fact that he blessed Octavian, but he just abandoned him and denied all the blame. TL;DR I had a grudge, okay?

My mind stewed in confusion, but one memory floated to the surface -- the voice of my father, Zeus: YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.

2016!filodox: Wait, is this bc everyone blames Octavian and therefore Apollo? Bc lol but also no?

*cough* Octavian did nothing wrong 2k16 *cough*

Zeus will reconsider, I told myself. He’s just trying to scare me. Any moment, he will yank me back to Olympus and let me off with a warning.

“Yes...” My voice sounded hollow and desperate. “Yes, that’s it.”

2016!filodox: Apollo is a self centered frat boy, I forgot...but it is slightly...endearing? *narrows eyes*

Ah, how close I was to stanning Lester in the first chapter, when he was at his most “goddy”. You know, I actually made a rule for myself when I started reading Trials of Apollo that I would not under any circumstances stan Apollo. That was a naive goal, because it was never really a danger.

Regardless, Zeus had held me responsible for Octavian’s delusions of grandeur. Zeus seemed to consider egotism a trait the boy had inherited from me. Which is ridiculous. I am much too self-aware to be egotistical.

2016!filodox: I am going to Murder him.

*chef kiss* the hypocrisy ! the lack of self-awareness !

“I just...I assumed -- I hoped this would be taken care of by now.”

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?”

2016!filodox: That sounds like a decent quest, or you know, QUESTING FOR THE SIBYLLINE BOOKS

I’ve always said I can see the future but an inch to the left. Also, I don’t like Ella.

It warmed my heart that my children had the right priorities: their skills, their images, their views on YouTube. Say what you will about gods being absentee parents; our children inherit many of our finest personality traits.

2016!filodox: AND HE’S MAD ABOUT OCTAVIAN?!

I mean ?

Apollo, when Austin and Kayla show ambition: THEY GOT THAT FROM ME <3

Apollo, when Octavian (or Nero, or Caligula) shows ambition: srry i don’t know him ??

He had a weak jawline, an overlarge nose, and a beard that wrapped around his double chin like a helmet strap. His hair was curly and dark like mine, except not as fashionably tousled or luxuriant. His lips curled as if he smelled something unpleasant. Perhaps it was the burning seats of the bus.

2016!filodox: Nero ???

Not quite sure how to feel looking back at this moment. Call out post @ myself for instantly recognizing Nero, when afaik this scene was before we had any hints that Roman emperors were even a plot point? But here’s the thing: I don’t remember why I could recognize him so easily. I don’t remember where 2016!me obtained this ancient Rome knowledge. A mystery.

On another note entirely, did Nero really like,,,astral project into Apollo’s fever dream to address him directly? Because Rhea does. And sometimes Python does. But Nero? Can he do that?

The man laughed as flames licked at his purple sleeves. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be. Find me the gates. Lead me to the Oracle. I’ll enjoy burning it down!”

2016!filodox: I too enjoy burning things down. # Nero confirmed

My only comment here is “oh you sweet summer child,,,”

Oh. Perhaps some of you are wondering how I felt seeing [Will] with a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend.

2016!filodox: No, actually. I wasn’t wondering. I was plotting how to kill you, them, and quite a few other people. Do you think I could trade you for Octavian?

Oh man, back at it again with the salt. XD

I could only remember my conversations with Octavian, the way he’d turned my head with his flattery and promises. That stupid boy...it was his fault I was here.

A voice whispered in the back of my mind. This time I thought it might be my conscience: Who was the stupid boy? It wasn’t Octavian.

2016!filodox: I can’t really...explain my emotions upon reading this. I’m still not quite okay, but this...it’s bittersweet in a way. I don’t know if this is a poor attempt at a proper closure, the author’s way of beating a dead horse, or just a way to make Apollo seem pitiable. Whatever it is... Octavian was important enough to remain in Apollo’s mortal memory. He somehow made promises to a god and had Apollo wrapped around his finger. And despite being so much like Apollo, the god blames him. Like everyone blames him. But Apollo also realizes, accepts on an infinitesimal scale, that “it wasn’t Octavian”. He wasn’t perfect, but neither is Apollo. Apollo is (at least) subconsciously admitting his own guilt in the whole affair.

...yeah. I will note that this bit isn’t meant to develop Octavian, but rather uses Octavian as a prop to support Apollo’s development? Which is why it still stings. Like thanks, I guess.

“Your judgement in the past has been...questionable. I wonder if you have chosen the right tools for this job. Have you learned from your past mistakes?”

2016!filodox: Nero has made plenty of mistakes to learn from

Love how I just assumed it was Nero back in chapter 10 and went with it, zero hesitation. Also love how I heard Python say Nero has made mistakes and went “oh absolutely”. In fact, here’s something funny in retrospect that will become more and more apparent: I did not like Nero in 2016. Or, at least, I thought I didn’t. There’s something really odd going on here that baffles me, looking back...

“A triumvirate is a ruling council of three,” I said. “At least, that’s what it meant in ancient Rome.”

“Which is interesting,” Rachel said, “because of this next shot.” She tapped her screen. The new photo zoomed in on the building’s penthouse terrace, where three shadowy figures stood talking together....

2016!filodox: Is it bad that I’m smirking? Because it’s getting interesting ~ *clear malicious intent*

Wow, edgy. Triumvirates are just a neat, Roman thing and I stanned.

“The last triumvirate I dealt with included Lepidus, Marc Antony, and my son, the original Octavian. A triumvirate is a very Roman concept...like patriotism, skullduggery, and assassination.”

2016!filodox: THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL EVERYONE. MODERN OCTAVIAN IS A VERY GOOD ANCIENT ROMAN. POLITICS, ESPECIALLY SHADY AF POLITICS AND POWERPLAYS, ARE QUINTESSENTIALLY ROMAN. Also, I’d like to note that it’s confirmed, in this universe’s canon, that Augustus was a son of Apollo.

Ohhhh, wait. I think I’d watched the HBO series Rome by 2016, which would at least partially explain my ancient Rome knowledge. (Amazing tv show btw!)

“He heard them talking in Latin.”

“Latin? Were they campers?”

Pete spread his hands. “I--I don’t think so. Paulie described them like they were adults. He said one of them was the leader. The other two addressed him as imperator.”

2016!filodox: !!!! (obligatory 💕)

I was such a simp for Latin in high school. And the Roman Empire. Still am, but hey.

“The Beast is planning some kind of attack on your camp. I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to be big.”

2016!filodox: Runs in the family I guess

The Octavian / Triumvirate parallels are everywhere... 👀

“The emperors made themselves gods. They had their own temples and altars. They encouraged the people to worship them.”

2016!filodox: # deify me

*smacking my past self with a stick* You stop that! Edgy child!

Anyway, a much better point here is like,,,the Imperial cult was huge in the ancient Roman world. Looking at Apollo’s explanation here, why did only the “worst” three emperors get to be immortal? Did famously “good” emperors like Augustus and Marcus Aurelius have the option of becoming minor gods, but they chose Elysium or something? Are there slightly less infamous emperors just hanging around anywhere as minor gods? A lot of Roman emperors live on in human memory is all I’m saying.

“Wait!” Will said as I reached the door. “Who is the Beast? Which emperor are we dealing with?”

“The worst of my descendants.” My fingers dug into the doorframe. “The Christians called him the Beast because he burned them alive. Our enemy is Emperor Nero.”

2016!filodox: I honestly can’t believe it took this long to reveal this? Was anyone surprised?

Nero’s reveal is rather late in the book compared to Commodus, Caligula, and even Tarquin iirc? But it makes sense, being the first book of the series. Also love how 16-year-old me was like “this reveal is silly because everyone, like me, recognizes Nero on sight” and didn’t question that assumption at all.

“Germani.” Instinctively, I moved in front of Meg. The elite imperial bodyguards had been cold-blooded death reapers in ancient Rome. I doubted they’d gotten any sweeter over the centuries.

2016!filodox: BITCH. See? This is why I love Rome. They knew what they were doing.

Ngl, as someone of Germanic heritage, I felt really represented by the Germani, which is hilarious on so many levels.

He tried to compensate for his ugliness with an expensive Italian suit of purple wool, his gray shirt open to display gold chains. His shoes were hand-tooled leather, not the sort of thing to wear while stomping around in an ant pile. Then again, Nero had always had expensive, impractical tastes.

2016!filodox: I don’t exactly like Nero, and actually think he was quite the shitty emperor, but I guess I mildly respect and “like” him on principle (in this book at least).

OH YOU SWEET SUMMER CHILD. I was so convinced that I didn’t actually like Nero, despite all of the lowkey evidence to the contrary? Who hurt you, past me? (Lmao, it was Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio.) My working theory is that I was too much of an Emperor Augustus stan at the time to admit liking Nero. It’s hysterical. Look at me equivocating like a champ.

I’d been so proud of my son, the original Octavian, later Caesar Augustus. After his death, his descendants became increasingly arrogant and unstable (which I blamed on their mortal DNA; they certainly didn’t get those qualities from me).

2016!filodox: I’m glad Apollo and I can agree on something. Augustus was amazing and those who came after him...significantly less so.

See! The propaganda really got to me, what can I say?

Nero clasped his hands as if in prayer. “Oh, my. It seems we’ve had a slight miscommunication. You see, Apollo, Meg brought you here, just as I asked her to. Well done, my sweet.”

2016!filodox: This was obvious but I still find it...gods, the only word I can think of is “delicious”

. . .

“The Beast killed my father. This is Nero. He’s -- he’s my stepfather.”

I could not fully grasp this before Nero spread his arms.

“That’s right, my darling,” he said. “And you’ve done a wonderful job. Come to Papa.”

2016!filodox: Okay, but we should have known this since it became apparent her weapons were Roman. Also, oof. Also also, WHY did Riordan feel the need to add that last line? Why?

ASDFGHJKL: I CAN’T

“After the fire, we’ll rebuild,” he said. “It will be glorious!”

2016!filodox: The amount of times I have used this very logic is worrying.

For (some) context, Firelord Ozai is my favorite character from AtLA. <3

The scene might have been funny except that the Germani were now back on their feet, five demigods and a geyser spirit were still tied to highly flammable posts, and Nero still had a box of matches.

2016!filodox: Oh, I find this plenty amusing!

The emperor stared at his empty hand. “Meg...?” His voice was as cold as an icicle.

2016!filodox: The various ways his tone / voice have been described throughout this conversation are just 💕

*looks at camera like I’m on The Office*

Seriously, though. Nero’s voice is like the central descriptive element of his character because he’s so manipulative. It’s really cool and a great use of detail.

[Meg] turned to Nero. “You told me never to lower myself to my enemies’ level.”

“No, indeed.” Nero’s tone had frayed like a weathered rope. “We are better. We are stronger. We will build a glorious new world. But these nonsense-spewing trees stand in our way, Meg. Like any invasive weeds, they must be burned. And the only way to do that is with a true conflagration -- flames stoked by blood.”

2016!filodox: Real 👏🏻 Gods 👏🏻 Require 👏🏻 Blood👏🏻

I was way too enthusiastic about this whole situation, wasn’t I?

Nero grinned. “Good-bye, Apollo. Only eleven more Olympians to go.”

2016!filodox: Wait, shit, WHAT

Having read Tower of Nero, this probably had something to do with Python interfering with the Fates, huh? But does that mean it’s more Python’s plan or Nero’s? If this was Nero’s plan (with his 12 kids literally replacing the Olympians) that’s,,,really fucking bold.

Then I heard the screaming from Camp Half-Blood.

2016!filodox: Music to my ears ~

I’m presenting every edgy detail of my annotations so I have a proper case file when I inevitably have to face the question “On a scale of one to ten, how relatable is Emperor Nero and why should you have realized it’s a ten sooner?”

In a flash of silver light, the camp’s magical barriers collapsed. The Colossus lurched forward and brought his foot down on the dining pavilion, smashing it to rubble like so many children’s blocks.

2016!filodox: Payback! Dear gods, I can’t stop smiling! I’m just like “YES!” I know this will all probably get fixed or whatever but I’M HAVING A MOMENT.

I’ve learned to appreciate the small wins. <3

Percy grabbed one of the crown’s sunray spikes. He sliced it off at the base, then jabbed it into the Colossus’ forehead.

2016!filodox: As much as Nero is FAR from my favorite, I really don’t like defacing ancient (or replicas of ancient) statues and art...

This is where I just start laughing at myself tbh. I was so insistent on not liking Nero. Like, I sound like I’m in denial. Peak equivocation. What happened to that heart emoji a few chapters back? Why did I suddenly make it about *checks notes* ancient art? Updated translation: nooo don’t ruin the Colossus Neronis it’s so sexy aha

Just as the [arrow] reached its apex and was about to fall back to earth, a gust of wind caught it...perhaps Zephyros looking kindly on my pitiful attempt. The arrow sailed into the Colossus’ ear canal and rattled in his head with a clink, clink, clink like a pachinko machine.

2016!filodox: HOW MANY EX MACHINAS IS THIS ?! The dryads, the arrow, Percy, the enchantment, and THIS ?

One of my criticisms of Trials of Apollo in general is just that the stakes are so much higher and Riordan usually solves that problem by having his heroes win on long odds. The chances of them succeeding at like,,,anything they attempt are astronomical, but of course they manage. It’s not surprising but it does get a little tiring.

“Yo, Nico,” Leo called, “please tell me that’s it for the physical abuse.”

“For now.” Nico smiled. “We’re still trying to get in touch with the West Coast. You’ll have a few dozen people out there who will definitely want to hit you.”

2016!filodox: Oh I’d love to hit him. With the flaming, Imperial gold payload of an onager. Preferably WITHOUT the Pontifex Maximus attached to it -- unless of course you mean the false pontifex, Jason Grace.

Leo was the salt in the wound for this one, ngl. He rekindled my undying ire over Octavian’s death. As I said at the beginning of this, I was extremely ready to die on Octavian’s hill after Heroes of Olympus. That sentiment sticks around for a while...

And we can call that a wrap!

Though it may seem like it, my annotations are not, in fact, a compilation of Nero’s greatest hits. There are a lot of scenes of his that I love (naturally) but I didn’t have anything to say about them when I first read the series. Maybe I’ll share those another time.

In any case, I hope you got something out of this ridiculously long post! Until next time! <3

#trials of apollo #toa #filodox!#I don't know what any of you were expecting but this is what I've got #no these are not all of my annotations #I tried to pick the best ones #oh also #I'm sorry to everyone with hard copies of the books #since I have ebooks it's no problem to search for quotes and page numbers are imaginary #if you want me to put chapters with the quotes I can

4 notes · View notes