#GOD we're SO CLOSE to her in the anime I NEED HER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nexusnyx · 1 year

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keep close | part II

joel miller x f!reader [5.2k] summary: It's the oldest case of blinded by love ever seen. All of the doubts and pining must have entertained the gods all this time. That's the explanation you settle for when you discover that just like you, Joel has been suffering in silence. Wanting. Craving you. 📝 This is the continuation of part 1 but it can be read as a stand-alone. If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. 🏷️ Pining, idiots to lovers, sexual tension, smut build-up.

masterlist | part one ←

Everything was so fucking green. You hated it.

"Why d'you hate it?" Joel asked.

Unlike you, his recovery advanced fast. Bruises and cuts had the 'fading to yellow' tonalities, and he was now hunting deer and other animals with Ellie so you three did more than just survive winter. "'Cause I never see it." It's so beautiful out there. "Ever stopped to think about how the world looks healthier and prettier than it has in thousands of years, and we're all stuck inside walls?"

Joel usually takes a moment or two to reply, but when those moments stretch on, you look up from the floor to where he's sitting on the couch and—oh.

He's doing it again. Looking. Staring at you as if he's thinking a hundred things. You freeze under his gaze again, waiting for it, begging in your mind that he'll do it...

His hand reaches out in direction of your face, and everything inside you lights up.

He touches your hair.

Ever since that incident where you two were sleeping together a little closer than ever before, Joel's taken a liking to your hair.

Usually, the idea of anyone touching you, let alone your hair, is enough to make you break out in hives.

With him, you lean against the touch.

The hand on the side of your head starts doing sweet, caring movements, and you force yourself to open your eyes.

Joel breaks you out of your thoughts by wondering, "What would you do if you were outside?"

That takes your memory back. You close your eyes, getting lost in his touch for a moment. "Probably... play something."

"Play what?"

Ignoring how his voice surrounds you when your vision is gone is difficult. "Anything that requires a ball." You somehow manage it. "My brothers and I—" their mention chokes you. Grips you by the throat.

As always, Joel waits.

"My brothers and I loved playing... anything," you chuckled. "It's the only time I wasn't bored."

"What did you enjoy the most?"

"Uh. Probably volley? I liked keeping the ball up high." You open your eyes then, missing the sight of his. Joel's watching his own hand in your hair and, in exchange, you get to watch his face. Before he can dive more into your past for his own distraction, you nudge his hand with your head. "I'm proud of you."

Joel knows exactly why, and still, "Why?"

You roll your eyes. "For making El believe in Santa Claus."

It happens again—Joel smiles. One week's passed since the incident and you're still mesmerized every time. "I don't think she'd believe him for too long."

"Joel."

He laughs through his nose, then places his gaze on your eyes. "I don't know why you'd be proud of me for that. It's stupid."

"Letting her go hunt on her own is stupid?"

"Sure is." He had a damn point, and you hated the world for it. "We both know how it could go."

"We do. And still, you allowed her to feel like a person who has some control over her life and who's capable of using her own hands to live." As someone who waited years for that same opportunity, you knew what it meant. "You don't know what this means to her, but I do."

Joel lived a life before chaos was the new natural order. He takes a second, his hand pausing its ministrations before he nods and continues his petting. "I believe you."

That means the world to me. "Thanks."

This time, Joel doesn't answer.

His hand keeps doing the thing it's grown fond of, and you keep pretending your body is not growing dependent on it like plants need air, water, and the Sun.

You think his hands and eyes on you might be your Sun.

You wish you could do the same for him.

The idea of rejection is what holds you back from so much.

Before last week, before he did this for the first time, the physical distance kept between you both was your seal of confirmation that Joel knew about your feelings. That he knew how much you burned for him, for a touch of his.

Now, you aren't so sure.

Then, you cried. Months ago, before this last ordeal of fuckery made your little triad retreat to a cold cabin in the mountains, you cried over the mere thought that Joel saw you as he did Ellie.

Like a daughter.

It plagued you until it showed up in your dreams and made you weep because of it.

All your life you waited for the moment when the desire for someone became real. When wanting and feeling a connection became as tangible as the tension that cloaked the quarantined city every day.

When it came, it was him.

Joel breaks you out of your thoughts with a chuckle, "You remind me of a cat."

You were leaning against his touch again. This time, you keep your eyes closed. "Feels nice." More than nice. "So nice."

He laughs again. "I can see that."

That pulls your eyes to open. Joel's face is fixed on you. His right hand is hidden by his shirt, tucked on top of the cloth soaked with medicinal paste. It's why he took the touch after a lot of arguments, minutes before Ellie left for the hunt. "You're a cat, too," you argue.

Joel raises one eyebrow at that. "How?"

"Skittish."

"I'm skittish?" the smile is making its way back to his lips.

You nod. "I'd pet you too if I didn't think you'd hiss and run for the hills."

Fuck. Barely are the words out of your mouth before you feel the heat creeping up your neck to cover your face. Out here, there are lamps with candles.

Joel sees you with clarity.

A deer caught under the spotlights. Not a cat, then.

It's his smile, opening slowly but surely, that makes the tension leave your shoulders. "Ellie says I can be a grouchy hedgehog with anger issues. One that stinks. And you... wanna pet my hair?"

Ellie's a child, Joel. I want you. "El is a sharp-tongued kid who loves making you frown." It's also the truth. "And yes. I do," in a much lower voice, you finish with, "it looks soft."

Joel shakes his head, his smile widening. "Unbelievable."

"What?"

"My dirty hair. It looks soft," he repeats, fixing you under his gaze.

You look away. "Nevermind," you mumble.

Joel should remain still on that couch, but he moves. Laughing, his hand goes back to what it did before, and pulls you closer as his upper body leans forward. He sort of—nuzzles. It's not a kiss—Joel just touches his nose to your hair, and you feel his laughing coming out through his nose.

When he stops laughing, he leans back down on the couch.

His tender touch on your hair continues.

"You're so..." he trails off, and you wished you were still looking at him. "I wouldn't run," he adds.

That gets your attention. Your eyes find his, and your heart seems to grow two sizes with the way it beats. "No?"

"No."

Immediately, your eyes fall to the couch he's lying on—you hate it. It's small. Old. With no room for another person there. "I'll show later that it's nice," you settle for.

Even if the couch could fit a whole family of three, you know that you'd remain where you are.

"Later?"

"Yeah. No space for me up there."

"Oh." Joel sits up in a single motion, causing you to sit up straight. Your cheek was resting on the small part of the couch his body wasn't, but now, you watch as he lifts up his shirt to inspect his bruised side.

The second you see skin, usually, you avert your gaze. This time, you inspect the colors and healing with him. It looks... ok. Still painful, just as your own body is, but no shooting pain with every move you make.

Joel places the rag on the couch without care and nods. "C'mon. We were up all night re-making the supplies, and El's only gonna be back in a couple of hours. We should rest."

Following Joel is the norm by now. Wordless, you walk behind him in direction of the room.

The mattresses are still pushed together.

There are three backpacks with several items placed in front of them on the other side of the room, a handful of handles spread around the corners, and on top of that old brown blanket, Ellie's drawing book.

"She was here again," you tell him.

Joel's kneeling in front of his backpack with the cassette player in hand. "I don't know why. Her room's the only one with an actual bed."

"She's restless," you say as you move her notebook to the floor, "and ever since you taught her how to scout perimeters, she uses that opportunity to find 'cool shit' around places."

Joel hums in reply, and then you hear a click.

In a very low volume—low enough that only these walls must be capturing sound, his tape Saxophone Colossus fills the air with a gorgeous sound.

He makes his way to the bed and lies right next to with you a grunt.

Your bodies' sides are touching. He places his left forearm under his head, using it as a pillow, and then turns his head to the side where your waiting eyes are already observing him.

"She found the water heater," Joel agrees.

His voice is always lower here. Either that or you're in closer chambers and always use that as an excuse to drown in it. "She did."

"Can you turn it on to heat up some water when she comes back?"

You nod, smiling at him. This part is so good. "'course," you want to scoot closer, but—always but. "I'd rather prepare three baths measuring the water with a coffee cup rather than skin animals alive."

Joel's side smile returns. He stares for a moment, and says, "I don't know how you learned it that well. You hate doing it."

"I learned it 'cause I had to." For her. For Ellie, it goes unsaid. "Doesn't mean I'll ever want to ever again."

"Thank gods they didn't butcher my arm, then."

You close your eyes, whining a little. "No. Please—don't even joke about it."

Joel laughs. "I'll make sure to keep my arm. For both of your sakes."

"Thank you," you open your eyes again.

"No problem," his grin is kind of intoxicating. From this up close, watching Joel smile does to you the same that a full glass of bourbon does. "C'mere," he tilts his chin down at the same time as he stretches his arm to your head, "there's space now."

It hits you what Joel's doing. Inviting you in.

Call it instinct. When you raise your upper body just enough for his arm not to linger awkwardly in the air, you're still registering what is going on, and then—

his chest.

Joel guides your head there, and as it's custom, you follow.

It lands you where you dreamt of being for months now.

His body adjusts underneath you, getting comfortable.

You're so lost in the feeling of his heat that you miss the beat. When you feel his breathing becoming even and his hand moving in your hair, you notice how comfortable you are.

How perfect it feels.

Joel pets your hair for a little while before you manage to find yourself again.

A song must pass and in it, your mind lives through the most blissful few moments of peace and quiet it's ever had.

Nothing happens. No thoughts, no doubts, just this.

When you come back to what is reality, no matter how dream-painted it looks, Joel's heart sings under your ears.

You can hear it beating.

Then, you remember why you're here now. "Can I do it?" you ask.

Your body remembers it can move and does something else it's been dreaming of for a while. It cuddles. It adjusts itself in order to be comfortably aligned with his, and your chin tilts upwards to get a look at his face.

From this angle, all your see is beard until he looks down. "Do what?" The question is betrayed by the hint of a smile on him. It might be a product of your own rapid heartbeat, but Joel seems to gain a little bit of color. "Pet my 'soft' hair?"

"I can hear the air quotes and I don't appreciate them."

You love to make him laugh. This time, you get to feel it. Even if it all goes down someday, at least you'll always have this memory. "You can," he replies once he's done laughing.

Breathe in, you decide this position is just fine, and move your right hand up until it finds his hair. Breathe out.

The angle is uncomfortable—not the best, nor the worst, but it does its job.

It feels greasy when your hands run through them, but not dirty. It is as soft as you imagined it.

It takes him some time too — one song and a half — before Joel's body is fully relaxed. His heartbeat takes the longest.

You feel the times when he lifts his left arm to check the clock to see if Ellie is still in her two-hours time.

None of you sleep, but that doesn't matter.

Rest nowadays goes beyond hours shutting down the brain. Laying there with Joel is the most you feel truly rested, even if the circumstances are these.

Whatever leads to you in his arms, you'll take it.

It's worth the wait. Makes you feel alive.

Ellie eats like a starved animal, every time.

"Slow down, kid, jesus fuck," you tell her, without fail, every single time.

By now, she does slow. It's like she needs a reminder—there is food, and we'll find you more if you need it.

Once, Joel wondered what the fuck did they feed her in that military school. You're unsure if you want to know.

"Did you two rest?" she asks with her mouth full.

"Really?" he gives her the look of 'gross, El', but she only rolls her eyes at him. "And yeah, we did."

"I already warmed up the water for showers." The wood bath structure was perfect for a shower, and heating up all of the baths inside that room already made the temperature rise a little. "You can go first."

"Telling me I stink?" she asks you.

You grin. "Always do, bug." Little bug. That's who she was to you—a nature's wonder. "Not enough showers in the world to change that."

"We should be honest with her," Ellie turns to Joel, and you think oh here it comes. "She can't smell herself."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel replies in faux seriousness. "I'm certain all three of us smell like fields of flowers. The one that's most us, y'know? Like me, for example, I'm clearly a blue orchid."

It's been like that since those guys jump you three. Whatever lock kept Joel doing his best to push you two out, was just gone.

He presses his makeshift plate closer to lean in your direction and say, "Do I smell like orchids? Is it amazing? Any hints of some type of wood underneath?"

Joel's silly.

It's not something either one of you expected but welcomed with open arms.

He'll say the stupidest things to make Ellie laugh. He acts, and then winks in your direction to say 'gotcha'.

Ellie leaves for her shower, and leaves you two alone.

The air's back to what it was before she arrived.

It's always been different without her around, but now it's this. Joel finishes his meat and cleans the tip of his fingers with his lips. You try to look away. You fail.

He pulls you back. "Can I ask you something?"

You're almost done with your meal, but now that he's talking and his whole focus is back on you, the hunger left. Switched. "Always."

"Do you feel... lonely?"

What a stupid, and painfully sharp question. "No." I'm scared to ask the same. "Of course I don't," you say. "There's you. El. I'm... well-accompanied."

Whatever he was looking for, the answer must deliver. "Okay." He looks in the direction of the bathroom —Ellie— and then back at you. This time, he scoots closer to you and fits himself to fit in your side.

You open up to him, happy to create more space.

You'd wrap yourself around his whole body if you could. Make a home somewhere between his arms and his thighs. His smile always in line of sight.

With arms wide open, Joel pulls his chair, screeching the floor until he's content with the proximity. His head lays on top of your chest, and your hands immediately go to his hair.

There's no music to measure time, but you've grown fond of the 'peace and quiet' he always went on about.

Eventually, he speaks. "We can't fall asleep here."

You laugh against his hair. "It hasn't been even five minutes. You know she's mixing cold and 'hot scalding water' until the temperature's just perfect like she's a mad scientist until now. We have at least twenty minutes."

"Hmmm." He nuzzles his head, and you pray your hummingbird of a heart won't disturb him.

Joel asked you about what you thought of his plans for once you two were healed. That's what you both discussed with Ellie as you ate.

The conversation changes two or three times before he lands on it.

"Well—after all of it. Tommy, or Fireflies—what do you want?"

You're still lost in the last topic, and the feeling of his hair running like silk through your fingers. "Do we even know if we trust them?"

"Trust who?"

"The Fireflies, obviously."

"Ah. Hm. I suppose we don't," on your arms, Joel nudges you with his body. "Forget 'em for a sec."

You open your eyes and his head is lying so nicely on your shoulder. He locks eyes with you, and asks. "What do you want after that?"

Like that. As if it's simple. "Are you asking if I want ice cream or move to the Arctic?" What an absurd. "I don't fuckin' know. I hope I'm alive. In one piece. And so are you two. The end."

"You don't want anythin'?"

It's infuriating. He is right there, looking up at you with those stupid gorgeous brown eyes and, "It's not that simple," comes out before something else does.

Not enough of an answer, apparently. Joel shakes his head. "'s just a scenario. A 'what if' for the future, since we can't do them about the past. Indulge me."

"So, like, a hypothetical world where you, and El, and I, we're all good. And we... found Tommy. Or maybe the Fireflies."

"Yeah."

"And they've given us a little more than just 'she's the cure' to work with... And we can—I don't know, sit back and watch some scientists do science? That's the scenario?"

"You're paitin' it much better than me," he smiles. "Go on."

You roll your eyes. "In that scenario—I want ice cream."

Joel groans. "Oh, c'mon." He sighs, and whispers your name under his breath. He leans close enough for his hair to tickle your cheeks. "Tell me. Somethin' you always wanted growing up, I don't know."

"It's a difficult question!" you defend yourself, smiling despite being cornered by his new musings.

"It is. And you can think on it, if you want," Joel nuzzles his head to comfort once again on your shoulder, then closes his eyes. "I'm just curious about the stuff you wanted to do before someone threw a mission on your lap, that's all."

"Okay. I'm thinkin'."

"I can hear the engines turning," he whispers. You poke the side of his body, because you know now that you can, and then—, "I already know you're gonna ask me the same so I'll start thinkin' about my own answer to. And don't bullshit me—if you tell me you'd rather have an x-burger instead of ice cream I'll poke a finger in one of your bruises."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me," he laughs.

"I'd kill for an x-burger, now that you mentioned," your voice lowers to a whisper too.

"Same. Now shhh and think. I'm sure you've had aspirations beyond babysitting the unique child and teaming up with my ugly mug."

That's what stops you. Ugly mug.

Your eyes open, and the intensity in them must pierce through his darkness, because Joel feels the eyes on him and looks straight at you. "What?" he looks confused.

Your first mental lap is to be angry—

how can he not see it? it's right in front of him—but then.

Insecurities.

The ones you have and cloud your thoughts with every rising Sun—of course Joel had them, too. He was older, this world was far from kind, and—

He gets up, looking every bit as lost in thoughts as you are, and starts gathering the things from around the fire.

You took too long to answer, and his nervousness always shows up in one of two ways: sleep, or organizing.

"You genuinely think that?" you ask after a second.

Joel gathers the plates in his hand and uses the snow water to rinse them. "Which part? That I think you deserve more or that my mug is ugly? 'Cause yes to both."

"That's—wow." Your laughter is dry, something very unusual.

It makes him look at you. "Wow what, woman?"

He only calls you that when he's getting impatient. "That's crazy to me."

"What is? I never asked you either one of these questions 'cause the first one could be misread—I don't want you thinkin' I'm tryna get rid of you—"

"Thank god."

"—and the second one." He sighs, and puts the plates together. Everything that's not being used always goes back to the backpacks in cases of emergency. Joel looms there over the sink with them in hand, and you wait. "I'd say something stupid like 'does that kind of thing ever matter anymore' but the truth is, I can't see a scenario that it doesn't, and I'd rather live without your honest opinion about this."

"I am always honest in my opinions," you agree.

"Exactly. That's why I never asked you what you thought of my face—I can sleep without that one," he concludes.

"You were right, too. Saying 'does beauty matter anymore' would be stupid 'cause we always looked and always will look for things that we think are pleasing to the eye. It's human nature, don't you think?"

He nods, and then moves to where the backpacks are to put away the cans and plates. "It is."

"I think a lot of things are beautiful. Mostly it's nature, though. And woman. D'you think I'm weird for that?"

Joel looks over his shoulders and the answer is written all over his face.

You shrug your shoulders. "I know some people who definitely would."

"I know some people who have fungi tentacles exiting their mouths. We've learned these past few years that our species isn't the smartest."

"Touché," you laugh. "I do think you're handsome, though."

It freezes the air as if someone opened a door and let the cold air inside.

"Not that you asked—but," you look away from his frame, losing the confidence to look at him as you go on, "you're... beautiful." Most men would hate that adjective. You know that because you heard it from your brothers—only women are 'beautiful'. "I know men don't like that word used to describe them, but—"

"What men?"

"I don't know," you shrug again, wanting to have a shell to retrieve out of nowhere. "Most men? It's what my brothers told me."

"Well—they don't speak for me, then."

It's the feeling of his eyes on you that makes you gaze in his direction. "I like the white hairs, too," for some reason, your voice dropped to a whisper, "and your beard. It's even. Frames your face well."

Joel looked frozen under a spell.

He stared at you with intent and focus you'd never seen before.

Since you started, you might as well finish. "The crinkles by your eyes are smile-made. I like that."

It works—it brings them out. Joel starts smiling, even if his eyes look a little lost. "Smile-made?" he echos.

"Yeah. They're there 'cause of your smile. Some people have lines 'cause they frown a lot, or grimace, or are always judging. I don't like those lines."

"I have worry lines."

"We all have worry lines, Jo. It's the end of the world."

He laughs. "Touché."

"That's my favorite part, though." He stops laughing at those words, and you miss it instantly. "Your smile."

His gaze softens. "You like my smile?"

"You almost never smile," you say, hating that sad truth, "and it's a beautiful smile," you think if anything else comes out, it might be too much. Too close to the truth, so, "in conclusion: handsome. So—I do think you're a little crazy. It might not be often, but we still see mirrors every now and then."

His silence as an answer made the jittery nerves climb up your legs, soothing like an ointment every bruise it found in its way.

Joel staring at you was the reason why you lacked sleep, sometimes.

Too many thoughts about what he was thinking. Too many scenarios about what it would be like to have the courage to make the first move.

It's he who does it.

When it comes, you're too lost in a trance to properly register his steps coming back to you.

He sits on the chair next to you again. Grabs your chair with one hand, and pulls it close to his until they're touching.

He's so close you could count the gray hairs you like so much on his beard.

When he leans in closer, you're breathing his air, and it makes goosebumps rise all over your skin. On your arms, your neck, your back.

Joel moves one hand to your neck at the same pace one moves when hunting wild animals.

As if every movement could result in being seen, and the prey running away.

When he's only a couple of inches away from your face, you feel the heat of his palm spread across your neck; his thumb caressing your cheek. He asks, "Talk to me. Is this—Am I reading it wrong?"

If you have a voice, it's gone. You shake your head and do the only thing you needed all this long—you lean, too.

Sometimes, things are so important that every second of it counts.

Joel's lips on yours are one of those things.

You're shaking, at first.

Although inexperience is part of the reason why you're so terrified of doing something, this part you know.

It's the only one you have confidence in, so you let all the worries on your shoulders go, and you kiss him back.

Joel wants you to.

The notion that he might've been as lost in his head as you were in yours makes you want to cry. You whimper against his mouth instead, pressing so much harder when the reality of what is happening catches up to you.

Joel pulls back for just a second, "It's okay, I got you," he seals the words by pressing his lips on yours again.

All of your reservations fly out of the window with those last three words.

You throw your arms around his neck, almost throwing yourself too in the process. Joel laughs right there, with his lips still on yours, and catches your weight.

With your fingers threaded through his hair and holding on for dear life, you let him do it—let him guide you.

Kissing Joel makes your head drown in every other moment you two shared and you could feel your heart beating in your throat.

He takes it slow with you, despite feeling the shivers all over your body.

Joel nips on your bottom lip until you open up for him.

He kisses by sucking, then pecking your lips, and when he finally pushes his tongue in your mouth, you forget where you two are for a moment.

The moan is involuntary, and even with eyes closed you feel them rolling to the back of your head.

Joel's hand on your nape starts massaging your neck and he says, "Shhh, gorgeous, 's okay," he licks into your mouth again.

Rewiring your brain is so easy for him. Gorgeous.

Just like when you two discovered that touching one another was an option a week ago, learning that this is on the table is almost comical. You feel like a starved person being delivered a feast, and stopping is far from an option.

When you pull back for air because there's none left in your body, the string of saliva connecting your mouth to Joel's makes you tremble again.

He needs to know. Tell him. If he knows he's the only man — or person — who's ever awakened desire in you, maybe he'll understand why you're like a leaf in his hands.

Joel's hand comes up to your cheek. It's huge, covering almost half of your face, and when he whispers, "Open your eyes," you realize that you'd closed them again.

His eyes are the warmest part of him. "Hi," you mumble. "Please tell me you'll do this again."

Joel smiles. "If you wait a few more hours, El will be asleep," he swallows visibly and you think what on Earth could he be nervous to, "I can help you... cleaning your wounds. You could help me."

Right. Bathing together, even if 'bathing' is a strong word for it.

Inexperienced. No knowledge whatsoever other than books you read in the abandoned library. What will you do with him? What will—

"We don't have to, obviously," he interrupts your thoughts. "And yeah. I wanna do this more. Of course I do," Joel kisses you again, and you hold his head in place for a few more moments, stealing more kisses to numb your mind. "God, I wanted this since I met you."

"Joel."

"It's true."

"I'm happy to know we're both idiots," and even happier that was behind. "And—I mean. A helping hand is always good... right?"

The look he gives you does it again—a shiver, and it's not from the cold.

The mere idea of his hands on you is enough to make you sweat.

Maybe that's the perfect timing and opportunity to lay it on him that he's signing up for something he might not want.

"You want my help?" he asks. He nuzzles his face on yours, rubbing his beard on your cheek, down to your neck.

You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Yeah."

"I'll do my best."

It'll be more than enough. That is—if you can survive the next few hours. If his kisses alone are enough to almost bring you to a fever again, his hands might kill you.

You would die happy.

PART THREE →

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @bistarlight

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ladifaw · 3 months

Note

I need - not want - more bunny!user X wolf!Ghost and bear!Konig. Please I'm begging

Lena is at your service as long as you ask :) and I must confess I'm addicted to it 🐇

Tw: double penetrations, hybrids, large cock, group, user is female, user is a Dutch rabbit, unprotected sex, size kink, size difference, these guys are extremely cruel, Simon has large cock, konig has large cock, m/m/f ,talk of pregnancy

I used female pronouns I hope I disappointed you dear 😭

bunny!user X wolf!Ghost and bear ! Konig

All you had to do was be a good bunny and accept everything

When you think about it, both wild animals are close to their heat, and they want you, your curvy little body, and they plan to corrupt you without a second thought, just like they are doing right now.

Two huge cocks are rushing into your hole at almost racing speed, so fast that it's like they're fighting with each other.Your tiny hole can't even hold a normal rabbit, but with two giants and their huge cocks inside, you have a huge lump in your belly. You can hear the heavy thumping and the deep growling, tears come to your eyes and you almost cry.

Ghost and Konig are very happy to have the rights to your little bunny and they have told you that they will provide you with everything you need, but you have no choice but to believe them, even if you find it hard to believe.

Your cheeks are red, your lips are swollen, your lips are swollen, your pussy's stuck, how many times have you cumming? Believe me, you don't know, but they're just saying things to ease your pain.

"Jesus, schatz, you should get used to it, even though it's advisable," Konig mutters.

"Come on, accept your birth bunny, you should be used to giving birth, we're getting you ready!" Ghost mocks.

Yeah, you're a rabbit, you get used to it. you're gonna have to get used to two giant bores tearing you apart, Ghost and Konig talking to you like you're not even there when your eyes are almost closed.

"Oh, my God, Konig, this hole is so tight, it's gripping me so tight."

"look how she accepts us, she needs us, that tight hole wraps around my huge cock so tightly that she practically begs me to let go of my seed"

"We have to get her pregnant Konig"

"Exactly, Ghost, you rarely come up with great ideas."

"What do you mean, by 'rarely' ?"

"You know, you don't usually think about anything but your stomach" Konig mocks Ghost.

"You don't think about anything but your dick, Konig."

"It's not a lie, I never think"

Konig smirks.

I hope you like it, I'm sorry I just realised this. This is my first time using Tumblr!!! I honestly love it

Sorry for all the grammar mistakes!

Be well, little bunny rabbit🐇

#konig x reader #konig call of duty #call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #konig mw2 #konig smut #hybrid #group #big difference #size k!nk #size difference #big pen!ses #hot as fuck #like damn #cod modern warfare

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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🪀 werewolf soap who only shows up at readers door in his wolf form so she thinks hes just a wild animal but hes SO FUCKING SWEET that she just. can't help herself (im nonbinary but by god do I perpetuate the "white woman" stereotype when it comes to dangerous animals. wdym thats a wolf thats just a big puppy and i call him soap 💖) and just. reader just keeps feeding him. keeps petting him, never lets him in but one day he just bullies himself right past her into her home and lays in the middle of the floor and refuses to leave. Spends an obscene amount of time leaving his scent on anything and everything she owns before he returns to his den. slowly starts hiding his things in her home while shes sleeping. Keeps weaseling his way inside at any given opportunity, until one night theres a wild storm (snow or thunder doesnt matter) and reader just. keeps pacing by the front door because her poor wolf friend could be out there in this. And sure, hes an animal thats built for it, but she feels bad. He's SO HAPPY the moment she slams open her door amd ushers him inside out of the cold that he transforms, naked and taller than her, and wrangles reader into his arms, ignoring her shrieks of surprise as he claims her mouth with his. and probably goes further bc this is soap we're talkjng abt hes kinda like that.

anyway the point is mmmm werewolf soap

alright i have three - count em three! - asks in my inbox about werewolf soap x reader stuff and im soooo sorry for the delay my beloveds but! im answering them now! they're really good and fun and i've been hoarding them for myself

this ask is like actually perfect. this is a full fic idea. i'd read 10k of this and im so serious

i loove the potential domesticity here. you try to teach him a trick and are blown away by how smart he is when he gets it immediately! (johnny's insulted the first time you tell him to sit, but you get very excited and hug him so he's more than willing to amuse you for a bit)

you come out of your house one morning and see him sleeping in your flowerbeds. you nearly screech at him, storming over in your robe and glaring. he's very shocked to wake up to that sight, and scrambles away from your flowers as quickly as possible. brings you a bunch of wildflowers later as an apology <3

you let him sleep in your house one night and wake up the next morning with his muzzle under your sleepshirt, resting on your stomach. he huffs all amused when you yelp and jerk away, cause you're just so cute when you're sleepy <3

he likes surprising you. you're always so trusting around him (once you're convinced he won't hurt you). you never hold back your personality at all, no fear of judgement from an animal. and he loves seeing you be so genuine, and you're never as genuine as you are when he sneaks up on you. he loves the way you gasp, then make a little high pitched noise (anywhere from a squeal to a screech) and then a laugh when you recognize him. he loves loves loves it, takes every opportunity to surprise you he can

im soooo into the image of soap being too excited to keep his ruse up any longer. he's so so so happy to see you!!!! can't settle for licking you anymore, needs to kiss you!!!! and so he shifts and scoops you up in his arms, holds you close and laughs all loud and from the belly when you start screaming <3 he loves how surprised you sound, pulls you up enough that he can rub his cheek along yours, rumbling a low sound in his chest

yeah mmm werewolf soap <3

#🪀 anon #soap mactavish x reader #bo writes

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fooled-around-and-fell · 11 months

Note

Hi, could I request Joel Miller and reader fighting A LOT, and then reader saves his life by risking her own, but Joel thought it was so reckless and started scolding her. And then she just shut him up with a kiss and IT WORKED. And now he doesn't know what to do.

Love your work!

a/n: of course! hope you enjoy this 🖤 i may have changed the part where he doesn't know what to do lol

Warnings: cursing, kissing, making out, suggestive.

Masterlist

"That's 1 for me, and none for you." Joel smirks, watching as you kick your clicker aside.

The bet was 'who could kill a clicker first'. Winner gets... well, the title of a winner. You and Joel are just very competitive individuals, who for some reason need to prove yourself to the other person.

Normal people would call it flirting, but you and Joel curse out whoever dare accuse you of such heinous acts.

"God.. get a room." Tommy mutters.

"Shut up, Tommy." You glare.

Maria chuckles, leading the group back to the base. "Why do you always push their buttons?"

Tommy shrugs. "They look cute flustered like that. Look, Joel won't even know how to talk to her now."

It's true. Every time someone says something along the lines of "y'all look good together", Joel does not know how to act. Yes, he curses them out, but then gets quiet with you.

"So," Joel mutters. "Wanna wrap this up and grab a beer?"

You get on your horse. "Are you buying?"

"I make my own beer."

"Gah, no thanks then." You say, though you know damn well that you'll take that beer in a heartbeat.

He rolls his eyes. "You're impossible."

A smirk makes its way up to your lips when you see another abandoned cabin nearby. "Tell you what Joel, let's go for another round. Cabin at your 10."

"Yeah?" Joel looks at the cabin. "Are we bettin' for something real this time?"

"How 'bout you bet for a date?" Tommy chimes.

"Shut up, Tommy." Joel glares at his brother.

Maria chuckles at Tommy's little jabs towards the oblivious couple. "We're going to checkout that cabin tomorrow anyway, so go knock yourselves out. But be careful, it's getting dark out."

You raise your eyebrow at Joel, who looks doubtful.

"Scared you're gonna lose, Miller?"

Joel scoffs. "Careful there, sweetheart. You don't wanna tease me."

You and Joel take a turn towards the cabin, Tommy and Maria riding ahead. The cabin seems to be in pretty good shape, no sign of clickers. Until of course, you spot the ominous amount of blood seeping through the back door.

"That amount of blood," you whisper to Joel, "Gotta be a big animal. Maybe a horse."

"Or just a shit ton of humans." Joel adds.

As if things can't get worse.

And it does.

The sun's setting, but you can hear the sound of a clicker inside. You're sure it's just the one. You and Joel both agree that you should finish this quickly. Usually, a more silent approach is preferred, but since there's only one clicker, it can't hurt, right?

Joel kicks the door open and you make your way inside. The clicker's already running towards you, but with quick work, Joel shoots it down like nothing.

"That was easy." You comment.

"Too easy." Joel frowns. "Looks like it's two-nil, sweetheart."

You're about to roll your eyes when you catch a stalker unlatch itself from the wall and about to attack.

"Joel, watch out!"

You push Joel aside and let yourself get pushed down by it. Your arm is preventing it from getting close to you, and you shoot it dead. Joel kicks the stalker away from you and help you up.

"Fuck." He checks for any bite marks. "Tell me you didn't get bit. Or a-any scratches-"

"I'm fine, Joel-"

He checks again, and sighs in relief once he found nothing. "Why on earth would you do that?"

You frown. Still in shock, but Joel's comment shocks you more. "I just saved your life."

"No one asked you to." He quips. "You could've died- worse, it could've bit you."

"Yeah, it could've bit you, Joel." You say. "That's why I stopped it."

"You were reckless." Joel scolds.

You scoff. "You know what, let's just head back. I'm done having this conversation with you."

You try to stand up, only to almost fall. It seems like you've sprained your ankle when you taking the fall. Hoping Joel didn't notice, you slowly make your way to your horse.

But of course Joel notices.

"What's wrong with you?"

You glare at him, "I said, I don't want to-"

"No, what's wrong?" He frowns. "You're limping."

"..It's just a sprained ankle." You mutter.

And despite Joel's lack of hearing in his right ear, he picks that up perfectly clear. He hops off his horse and helps you get on yours before tying your lead to his.

He doesn't say anything else for the rest of the ride back home.

Once you've arrived at the stables, Joel picks you up and gets you down from your horse before you can do it yourself. The only problem is that he's not putting you down.

"Joel, I can walk by myself."

"The hell you can." He mutters.

You sigh. "Put me down, Joel."

"Can you quit fussin' around?" He frowns. "You're heavy."

You look at him in disbelief. "Put me down right now. No one asked you to carry me."

He fully ignores you. Once he's sure that the horses are good, he leaves with you in his arms, back to his place. All the while, you're still demanding him to put you down.

"Joel, honestly." You sigh again. "People are staring."

"You'd rather walk to your house with that sprained ankle?" He questions, "I know you're in pain."

"It's barely a sprained ankle." Lies.

"Probably just sore." More lies.

Joel sets you down on his couch and goes to get an ice pack. You took this chance to stand up and make your way towards the door - which, obviously, with your sprained ankle, you can't do very fast.

"Jesus Christ," Joel sighs. "Can you just sit down??"

You huff and sit back down. There's no winning against Joel now.

Joel kneels in front of you and takes off your boot. He examines your ankle and sighs. You won't be able to walk properly for the next 4 to 6 weeks.

You're in severe pain, but you're not about to let Joel know. You can see that your ankle is badly swollen, and when Joel tries to move it, you hiss in pain.

"You really shouldn't have been so reckless."

"Joel, please-"

"No, cause what if you'd gotten bit?" He looks at you. "I'd need to-" He doesn't even want to think of what he'd have to do.

"It's just a sprained ankle, Joel." You tell him. "I'm fine. I can handle it. I've been doing this just as long as you have."

He shakes his head. His face is all kinds of worry. Despite being so sour and sassy all the time, Joel actually has a soft heart. It's what draws you to him. He's very caring, he just hides it.

"All, I'm sayin' is, next time, just let me handle it, alright?" He says.

"Ugh, Joel-"

"No," He interrupts you. "I don't want to hear it. You keep doing this and I keep worryin' about you-" he rambles on and presses the ice pack on your ankle.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" You wince.

"See? This is why you-"

"Oh good God, just stop." You grab his face and kiss him before he can lecture you further.

Joel drops the ice pack and his hands find the back of your neck. Your legs spread and he places himself between them, pulling you closer to him.

There's a need of exploration and urgency. You don't even think about taking a breath because you don't want this to end.

"Joel." You moan softly when he pushes his tongue. His hands softly squeezes your waist and the other inching closer to your inner thigh.

You try to take charge, but Joel's having none of it. His hand travels up to your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze, reminding you who's in control. He smirks when a gasp escapes you.

You might've started this, but Joel is definitely winning.

"Too much for you, sweetheart?"

You're both left breathless. Touching Joel again feels electrifying, yet somehow the world surrounding you feels like a blur. It's making your head spin, and you want more.

Joel chuckles at your state and presses the ice pack on your ankle again. You moan out in pain, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smirks and whispers in your ear, "Save your moans, babygirl. You're gonna be doing a lot of that tonight."

a/n: I hate that I can't write smut :(

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #joel miller tlou #tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fic

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iamatinydinosaur · 5 months

Text

🌲John Dory🌲

I like you

You were in your pod tending to your flowers. You had a certain Troll on your mind. What you didn't know is that said Troll had snuck into your pod. "Y/N..." He whispered in your ear. You screamed and smacked him over the head with your watering can, not knowing who it was. John went flying into the wall. You both stared at each other in shock. "Oh my god! Are you okay?!" You ran over checking his head. "I'm fine!" He said pushing your hands away. You sighed in relief. Then you hit him. "Why the hell did you sneak in and scare me? Are you insane?!" You said in a stern voice. John laughed pushing you away. "Did you forget we're going for a drive in Rhonda?" He asked standing up, offering you his hand. You gladly took it and brushed your dress off. "No I didn't, I was just quickly watering my indoor flowers. You could've knocked on the door. Weirdo." You huffed.

You and John walked outside your pod to where Rhonda was waiting. You went over and patted her face, saying hello. John watched with a fond smile, he was glad you had a good relationship with her. You both climbed into her. "Where to?" He asked. You thought for a moment. "How about to that river!" You exclaimed sitting on the couch. John nodded typing in the coordinates and Rhonda set off. (I can't remember, she can just go somewhere without having to be driven right?) John sat next to you, after making you a tea. You smiled accepting it. You noticed a lot recently that he had been doing the smallest things for you. Like bringing you lunch, making you your favorite drinks, picking you flowers and taking an interest in the things you love.

You two spoke and joked about the whole journey. Rhonda came to a stop. You looked out the window and saw you were at the river. You scrambled out getting pumped. Your favourite thing was to spend time in a rowing boat. You ran down to the dock waiting for John jumping up and down. He ran after you carrying a picnic basket. You didn't even ask him, another one of the surprises he's been doing recently.

You sat in the back controlling the rudder while John rowed down the river. You smiled. All sorts of animals were out. "Should we stop for food?" He asked looking around for a place to dock. He rowed the the boat up to the bank, quickly jumped up and held the boat in place so you could get out. You grabbed the basket and jumped up. He pulled the boat onto the bank and you guys set up the picnic.

You were eating and laughing. The last few months you and John had really gotten close. You pretty much knew everything about each other. "I don't wanna go back, can we just live here?" He hummed laying on his back, arms behind his head, eyes closed. You looked down at him. You admired his face. He was perfect to you. You thought about the life you wanted with him. To marry, make a new pod big enough for a family and having 3 children. Then your mind went elsewhere. Yes you like him, but what if he only sees you as a friend?

You were too busy in thought that you didn't notice John was speaking to you. "Y/N?" He asked shaking you gently. You looked at him. "You okay?" He asked. You need to know. "John. I want to tell you something..." You muttered looking down. He placed a hand on yours. You looked up and saw the reassuring smile that graced his face.

You moved forward and kissed his lips softly. Before he had a chance to react you pulled away. "I like you." John eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. You started to fidget. Why wasn't he saying anything? You were about to move away, when he placed a hand on your cheek and kissed you passionately. Your lips moved in sync. They fit together like two puzzle pieces, like they were meant for each other. He pulled away slightly. "I like you too." Before going back in.

A/N: everyday I get even more of a soft spot for this one ✨✨✨✨

#john dory x reader #trolls band together #brozone #john dory trolls

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n4rval · 4 months

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hi I just wanted to say your tags on the gaster poll posts are so correct yessss (always enjoy your takes just in general). thank you for being one of the seemingly very few people out there who also believes there's no way the timeline works for gaster and alphys to have been colleagues. however, him haunting her benevolently is something I'm 1000% here for <3 (also I hope your finals went well and you get to have a nice relaxing break!)

HII HELLO HI im glad you like them!!! knowing you read these motivates me to keep being Absolutely Very Normal About Him on the internet

personally it's less of a believing thing and more of a come on it's written right there thing, but since we're here.

behold! dingus timeline. (and the hottest of takes with freshly baked personal headcanons otherwise what am i doing)

Not a skeleton?

Isn't 201X too early?

Indeed, not a skeleton, but rather, some guy. Something about how monster's bodies are manifestations of their SOUL, and him oddly resembling a strange looking man does well to represent his insatiable curiosity and love for creating. (things humans are known for in a better light)

On the other hand, you will be pleased with how fascinated he is by "FLESHLINGS AND THEIR CALCIUM DEPOSITS".

And then they fucking died.

201X is the year the first human fell into the underground, and shortly after, the royal family has moved to New Home. This means some decent exploration of the cavern has already been made. Scientists could very well already have been working on optimizing life underground, with special attention to the large and ever growing new capital.

My idea? As this idiot has been aiding exploration with his antics, Gerson was the one to appoint him to Asgore. Something about his talent with turning garbage into non-garbage. With a little patience and getting familiar with his odd manerisms, it was not too long until he got to be the prince's weird godfather.

Cracking already?

And everyone was devastated, mainly the close family. Not only that, but amidst your mourning, the one couple responsible for your unrealistically high standards for romance just divorced. Is love even real anymore. You eat ants with your cereal and your work consists mainly of convenience improvements and absolutely nothing groundbreaking. What's the point of breaking that pesky barrier again? Child murder? Come on.

That's the Wingdings PATIENCE and BRAVERY encountered in their adventure. Dear god, you're lame. Aren't you some kind of genius? Get yourself together! And together he got his self, now, he has children to look after. Surely there must be some other way. He must stop coming up with new flavours for chips and find some other way.

... Dear god, the King is going to kill them.

BONES and DT

Listen. He's old. You got your wrinkles, he's got his cracking. What? You meant to point out some major event of injury must have been responsible for his current state of deformity? Well, he's old AND heartbroken. That's a direct blow to the SOUL, okay.

Jokes aside (kind of), doing any lasting damage to a monster is quite difficult given their magic forms can easily be healed through, well, magic. They can, however, eventually "fall" (wink wink) and dust away with age - which cannot, however, be fixed with magic.

With a little determination however ...

Something about the anomaly.

He found it, the other way. It was the bones all along, the so needed sustainance for channelling such a high concentration of that power. Well, not necessarily, but a boney structure will endure much more and last much longer than a meaty one. Also, it looks so cool.

You know this guy, he gets first dibs on any and all dubious substances that might or might not deal the last hit to the nail on his coffin dust urn(?). And when it all works out (dubious), he might as well play a little. What kind of things can he make? With the material properties of these calcified remains infused with his own magic, animated with determination.

Some new, powerful magic tricks?

A new kind of monster, maybe?

DARK, DARKER, YET DARKER.

There is a lot of interesting things one can do with isolated DT, aside from making bones rattle with life - for example, peeking onto the complex layers and ramifications of what composes reality. This is when the already kooky scientist grows a little mad; manic, if you will. This is the Wingdings sans was familiar with.

Time travel this, resets that, blah blah blah alpha timeline, the anomaly, the angel, the anomaly again, all things that only make sense to him and his illegible mess on the black board. The lack of detail is killing him, he needs to know what it is - what it does, why it does, how it does. Not to stop it, no, there is no stopping it.

Rather, an overwhelming need to understand it.

He falls somewhere in recent history, details of it left ambiguous. The shattering, combined with the amount of DT running in his magical... mathematical physiology, rendered all of his self but an espectator of his reality; confined to the code and unable to do anything but watch, powerless before the nature of his very being, like a corrupted program.

It is all rather frustrating, besides the burden that is coming to terms with simply not existing anymore, watching was pretty much all this research was and now ever will be. That is, until something interacts with him. It is different from the tragic prince, whom no matter how much DT he's accumulated, he is just as confined to this world's rules as other elements. Not this one, not the force from beyond. Not "YOU".

He makes it a mission to reach out, despite the limits of the code, to give away bits and pieces of him and see if you bite. But not too much, he's seen how you tend to exhaust a world for knowledge, something he can oddly sympathize with. I mean, what will you do once you find everything? One cannot fully know a person.

Maybe in another world, prophetized by a cute, little white dog. A much better world for everyone, without so much as war or disease, his greatest creation yet. And he could invite you to it, to experience bewilderment, to be reminded of wonder. If it could even help you, wherever you are, to deem your own world worth of partaking ... then the experiment was a success.

#artwork #inbox #freakbullet #gaster #wd gaster #undertale #deltarune #character design is my passion #not so much graphic design i suck at this #WIPES SWEAT #happy new year!! i've been writing this since christmas!!!!!#sorry if you have to squint at my handwriting its a big canvas #just zoom in #also sorry if my writing lacks extensive details if you were looking for any #im one for visual narrative #so i tried my best to convey everything in the simplest structure i could #and cut short a lot of specifics that are not relevant for a timeline dissection #things like complex feelings and worldbuilding related shenanigans #i will definitely cover these in the future perhaps in the form of comics #this just isnt the place #this is all you need to get a grasp on the character :pray:#there is a lot of proportion inconsistencies on post tragedy old man dont point them out #its just that i've redrawn him like thrice and i was like. you know what? it doesnt have to be perfect #he'll make a cameo when i post fallen humans art

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cait-with-luv · 1 year

Text

ʜᴇᴀʟ ᴍᴇ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ. ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ

❝All you wanted was to help your best friend get over his ex-girlfriend. How did you manage to end up in bed with him?❞

Header Credit: Me

・❥ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

・❥ Genre: Best Friends To Lovers; Fluff; Humour; Smut; Angst (if you squint)

・❥ Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), NOT SAFE FOR RAMADAN

・❥ Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption/intoxication, little fight between his ex and Y/N, Jungkook can be a bit senseless but can't we all?, sexual tension, heavy makeout, explicit consensual sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, pet names, oral (Female and Male receiving), dom!JK, sub!Reader, unprotected sex, mentions of birth control, spanking, praise kink, rough sex, marking (hickeys, biting).

"Why are we here again?"

"Because you said we needed to let loose why else would we be here?"

"When I said let loose I meant in the comforts of our own homes. Not a random club that will end up with us kicked out like usual. We established we do not mix well with other people." Jungkook huffs rolling his eyes before downing the drink he cradled in his hands.

"Well shit dude, how was I supposed to know that? When you say let loose I'm gonna assume you mean in a club. Use specifics next time dumbass." You scoff, flicking his forehead making him hiss and glare at you, rubbing his forehead, grumbling under his breath.

He was right though, since college you two couldn't be trusted to be in a club without supervision from your friends. The pair of you were partners in crime. It didn't matter what the situation was, you'd always be there for each other. When it came to clubs you'd either be kicked out from dancing on tables or from getting in a fight. It didn't matter, it always happened. It was only a matter of time until you were kicked out.

"Wanna bet on the reason we end up kicked out this time?" Jungkook says in amusement, waving the bartender over to order another drink.

You raise an eyebrow before grinning and shrugging. It really could be anything at this point.

"Hmm, I think it's gonna be a fight. I'm feeling...violent tonight. You gonna have my back?" You tease taking a sip of your drink as he shakes his head.

"You know I always have your back Bug, you're my ride or die." He affirms, patting your bare shoulder before ordering you both another drink. You shudder from the contact of his warm slender hand on your shoulder, placing a hand on your racing heart, taking a deep breath. You hated how he had this effect on you, he was your best friend. You couldn't have him. You'd never have him. He didn't see you how you saw him. Well, so you thought.

"Ditto honey bun, ditto."

"Here, now let's go find somewhere to sit in this god-forsaken place." He groans, handing you your drink before wrapping his arm around your shoulders to keep you close as he pushes through the waves of bodies to find a seat until he finally finds one and plops down.

"We're so boring. What happened to us two little party animals?" You laugh, nodding your head to the music. Jungkook practically snorts, shaking his head,

"We grew up and got bored of the partying."

You sit in a comforting silence, dancing along to the music and continuing to down drinks to the point where you both could feel the slight buzz of intoxication, confidence, and mischief. You were both beginning to enjoy yourselves, that was until your reason to get kicked out waltzed in, hanging off a clearly well-off man's arm, rolling your eyes and nudging Jungkook, shamelessly pointing to behind him.

"Hey Kook, looks like your ex moved on pretty quick for someone pressuring you to marry them." You say in annoyed amusement, letting out a laugh of disbelief. You really despised the woman. She used Jungkook purely for her own leisure, she didn't deserve him, he was a gentleman, caring, loyal. You hate how she broke his heart.

Jungkook peers over before looking back at you and shrugs nonchalantly a teasing smile on his face. With the alcohol in his system, he felt like he had the courage of ten men. If he didn't do this now, he never would.

"Yeah well so have I." He smirks, leaning back in his seat and taking a swig of his drink. You tilt your head in confusion. Your heart sank a little. You hadn't been told that he was interested in someone else. You really needed to get over your feelings for him. You had no chance with him. You were just best friends after all.

"Oh really? You got proof of that, Honey Bun?" You tease trying to keep your composure, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand, playfully wiggling your eyebrows. He snorts and places his drink down before leaning forward too, licking his lips to wet them, tilting his head, a smug smile on his face before blurting out,

"Well, the proof...would ruin our friendship."

Your breath hitches, your cheeks flushing as you begin to get flustered, your heart racing as you look down to the table to break eye contact with him. He couldn't be insinuating what you thought right? Maybe you were misunderstanding? Right?

He chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips, he could see the doubt and the inner monologue you were practically having as he gently grabs your chin and lifts your head up to look at him and coos,

"We don't want to ruin it now do we, pretty girl?"

MY FIRST ONE-SHOT AND SMUT ON THIS BLOG, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE SNEAK PEAK?

I didn't wanna give to much away, just give you an insight into their friendship but trust me this will get heated, it's gonna be super long so bear with me cause I have a lot to edit and still need to finish it!

《Full Oneshot Here》

HEAL ME, KISS ME. COMING OUT 9TH APRIL AT 9PM (BST!) TIME ZONE ADJUSTMENTS BELOW!

🇹🇦🇬🇱🇮🇸🇹

@sophiaj650 @bbgniecyy @littlebaby-bunbun @driftapart @kalala22 @pb-n-juju @sugarrush-blush @cryingpages @avadakadabra93

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n

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autistichalsin · 5 months

Note

Both Karlach and Halsin are buff capable adults with strong morality, but inside THEY ARE KIDS FULL OF JOY TO BE ALIVE IN THE WORLD FULL OF WONDERS as Oak Father Intended

So strong, so fragile, as life itself LET THEM LOVE LET THEM BE

GOD BUT THIS PART.

They're adults, traumatized, with both having experienced the worst the world can offer, having their freedom and autonomy denied to them, socially isolated. Both have the Outlander background. Both lost their families, both are war veterans.

Yet they both are still so full of love and joy. Halsin is unable to show it the way he wants to when we meet him, while Karlach never wavers from it, yet at the end they're both able to show who they are. How they love LIFE itself more than anything, how they're so full of kindness and compassion and love to protect the weak.

Karlach isn't certain she wants kids at first, but Halsin is- yet when you bring the idea up to her, she warms to it at once. She also teases the idea of getting a "really mean goat." You know who loves all life, all animals? Halsin.

If you bring Karlach to the love dryad and are asked where she'll be in 10 years, you can say "worshipping Selune"; Karlach responds that she's nice, but Karlach is more of a sunshine girl herself.

Sunshine.

What is Halsin's quest about again? Bringing something back to a certain cursed land?

... Right. SUNLIGHT. "If the sun shines on this place once more..."

Sunlight is essential for life. Essential for plants to grow. Halsin wants to infuse life and light back into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and Karlach alludes to the god of sunlight as being perhaps the only one she'd consider becoming a follower of.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? If Karlach asks Halsin for stories, he mentions how while everyone wants the most exciting chapters, he spends plenty of time hibernating in bear form. Karlach gets excited, saying "sleep AND adventure! Maybe I'll come back as a bear in some future life!"

IF THAT ISN'T SYMBOLISM, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!

Both are protective of those who need it most. Both have a great deal of empathy. Karlach is more childish in many ways than Halsin, but this could help him let his playful side out more, while Halsin's maturity could help ground Karlach when she needs it. Karlach is always raring to go for a good fight, never straying from what needs to be done, while Halsin is more pragmatic and able to understand when a fight will accomplish nothing. They offset each other in so many good ways while retaining the same core personality- warm, loving, full of life and care and compassion.

Both are touch-starved; you can see how Halsin reacts to being hugged in the epilogue, stating that he always needs a hug and if he ever refuses one, to assume he's been replaced by a doppelganger, while Karlach went without for TEN YEARS. Both are socially isolated, Halsin having been made a sex slave, lost his family, endured the Shadow Curse, and then forced into a leadership role, while Karlach lost her family too, was dragged into hell to fight for ten years where none of her "comrades" would have been worth talking to, and now faces a terminal illness on top of that.

In all the party banters in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, it's KARLACH who shows the most concern for Halsin's mental state, who is horrified when he talks about what he witnessed and how it still affects him. A soft "poor man" in one, and a "stay strong, bear man, we're still here" in another. Karlach is able to see that just once, Halsin wants to be soothed the way he does for others. And similarly, it's Halsin to tell her he "will not try to soothe her with gilded words" but that he "is still here" for her when Karlach finally realizes the truth of her impending death, because Halsin can see that in that moment, Karlach doesn't want to be told it'll be okay; she wants to be told that she isn't alone, that her presence, for however short a time it'll linger, will be cherished by those close to her. Instinctively, they understand these needs the other has at their worst, darkest moments.

I just love them a lot, okay?

#halsin #halsin silverbough #karlach #karlach cliffgate #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #furioso

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #fanfiction

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sadisticsongbird · 30 days

Text

playing god's game

five

warnings: nothin much

word count: 4.7k

a/n: thank you to those who have enjoyed the series so far! i've decided to change up the taglist a little bit. if you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment the series masterlist (below) so its all in one place. i'll also add people that interact regularly with the series. thank you!

series masterlist

When you arrived at the steps of the school, half the peacekeepers abandoned the group of you, leaving you and Coriolanus with two to escort you to your class.

“This is your fault, you know,” you whispered to Coriolanus.

“Mine!?” he attempted to yell softly. “You were just as much involved as I was.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t jump into the cage with the tributes.”

He opened his mouth to say something at your retort, but chose to keep silent. He didn’t want to argue with you, as much as he wanted to see you shy away at his insults again.

The peacekeepers walked ahead of the two of you, opening the doors to your classroom. Being a mentor in the Games meant that your class load had been trimmed down to a singular class personally taught by the dean. All you would do until the timer went off in the arena was learn more about the history of the Games and work on how to apply strategy to your mentoring assignment. The open doors revealed your classroom set up with two seats empty in between Clemensia and Sejanus, saved for the two of you no doubt. The dean began to speak from his place in the middle of the room without looking up at you or Coriolanus.

“Miss Stillwater, I expected better of you. And your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow. Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student.”

“What? Who?” you and Coriolanus said at the same time. Both of you looked at one another, faces filled with embarrassment, raising a snicker throughout the rest of the room.

“You. I'm moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you both as mentors immediately.”

“You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away,” Coriolanus argued as the two of you shuffled in front of Sejanus to find your seats. You sat next to your best friend, giving him a faint smile as you passed him.

“I'll add insubordination as well.”

“Shaking her hand, Y/N? And Coryo, introducing her to people? You make it look as if we're one and the same as those animals,” Arachne mocked the two of you.

“Coriolanus didn't show those people anything they didn't already know,” Sejanus spoke up.

“I don't need your help, Sejanus,” Coriolanus whispered loud enough only for Sejanus and you to hear. Regardless of his comment, Sejanus continued.

“That the tributes are human beings. Just like us. That's why nobody wants to watch the Games. It's because people know deep down that winning a war 10 years ago doesn't justify starving people's children, taking away their freedoms, their rights.”

Before he could argue another word, a dark voice that you recognized sounded from behind the students, heels clicking as they walked down the aisle of stairs you and Coriolanus had just walked up. “Snow fell down in the cage. It fell down in the cage but it landed…” Gaul.

“On stage.”

She laughed at his comment. You couldn’t tell if it was in mockery or in praise, though. “You're good at Games. Maybe one day, you'll be a Gamemaker like me.”

Her comments kind of enraged you. You were at the zoo too, but where was your validation? As scared as you were to be singled out by the looming woman, you hated that Coriolanus was eating up all of the compliments for something you were BOTH getting into trouble for.

“If the Games continue at all,” Highbottom replied with a dull tone.

“Oh, they'll continue,” Gaul reassured. “With performances like young Mr. Snow's and Miss Stillwater’s in that zoo. Miss Stillwater, how did it feel to be so close to someone from the districts?”

You didn’t know how to answer her question when the truth was, it didn’t feel any different than when you would talk to Sejanus. “It was…enlightening.”

“Enlightening?” the doctor laughed. “How so?”

“Like Sejanus said. They are human beings. They’ve been painted as these monsters to us for so long, but perhaps they aren’t all like that. Maybe we’re wrong.”

Coriolanus chuckled beside you, whispering to himself. “I beg to differ.”

“Do you have something to say, Snow?” you jeered at him.

“You weren’t in that cage with them. I could practically feel the anger radiating off of them. They would’ve ripped my head off if it weren’t for…” he trailed off. “The point is, they are all the same. They hate us and we hate them.”

“You didn’t have to jump in the truck with them,” you argued. “You could have simply just come to watch like I did.”

“Enough.” Gaul’s voice thundered around the room. “This..bickering…can happen later. I’ve come here to ask you star mentors a question.” The students murmured around the two of you. Star mentor. You liked it. “What are the Hunger Games for?”

You sat, debating how to answer this. Harboring about as much hate for the games as Sejanus, you didn’t know what you could say about the games that wouldn’t offend the Head Gamemaker herself. You were always told as a little kid when you asked about it that it was simply a means of keeping order, to show the districts that the Capitol won the war. But you knew that for those in power it ran deeper than that. Before you could answer, Coriolanus spoke up.

“They're to punish the districts for their uprising, to commemorate the end of the war…” he answered naively when Gaul interrupted him.

"’Commemorate the…’ Dull, dull, dull,” she almost reprimanded. Coriolanus looked down into his lap, embarrassed. “Punishment can take myriad forms. Why not drop bombs, cancel food shipments, stage executions? Why Games?” she emphasized.

“Shouldn't we be asking ourselves whether or not they're right in the first place?” Sejanus asked beside you. You set a hand on his shoulder to try and signal him to stop, but he shrugged it off.

“Sejanus, don’t-” you started.

“You have a problem with my Games?” Gaul asked.

“Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended. The oldest of them were only eight. The Capitol is supposed to be everyone's government now. It is supposed to protect all of us. I don't see how making children fight each other to the death is protecting anyone,” he announced to the entire classroom. His head moved, like he was giving a speech to everyone, trying to see if anyone had even the slightest bit of compassion that he held toward these tributes.

“That sort of sympathy might interfere with your mentoring assignment,” Gaul taunted.

“Perhaps the Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the Game's time has passed.” Highbottom seemed to be on everyone’s tails about this. Did he not want the Games to continue? He was the creator of them, afterall. His ride to fame at the creation of them was likely the only reason that he even became the dean at the Academy in the first place.

Coriolanus stood up beside you. “Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates, too,” he said. “Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. Maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings. I mean, you saw those kids in the zoo, they just…” he paused, looking at Sejanus past you. “They just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the Games. To make the stakes personal.”

For as long as you knew the boy, he always seemed to twist others words to exactly to his benefit. He knew that Sejanus didn’t mean for these tributes to be used to benefit the view of the Games. Sejanus only wanted these tributes to be safe, to be viewed as someone worth getting to know rather than as a form of entertainment. But you were also annoyed with Coriolanus, once again digging up all of the attention.

“Who will watch the Games if they care what happens to the tributes?”

“Everyone,” you said, standing up. It surprised just about everyone else in the room. You already weren’t one to speak in class, this day being abnormal for you. But to see you defending the Games was another thing. Sejanus spoke highly against it and you seemed to always agree with his opinions, but here you were, defending Coriolanus. Just for attention. What has become of you? “If they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning. People need someone to root for and someone to root against. We need them to invest. And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets.” You looked down at Sejanus, hoping that he wouldn’t be angry with you. When you met his eyes, it wasn’t anger, but disappointment.

“Lucy Gray may not win in the arena, I know that,” Coriolanus cut in. “But if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win people's attention.

Gaul stayed silent for a moment, deciding whether to weigh in about your ideas. Finally, she cleared her throat, making sure that everyone still had her attention. “I'd like you both to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight.”

“Wait. You mean y-you m-might…” Clemensia stuttered, “...you might actually use their ideas?”

“If it'll help the ratings, why not.” Gaul shrugged.

“Coriolanus and I are class partners, Dr. Gaul,” the dark haired girl said, standing up and grasping onto Coriolanus arm like she had a few mornings before. You scoffed at the interaction. “We do all of our assignments together.”

Gaul’s sinister laugh rang through the room. “Ms. Dovecote, Mr Plinth. Since you both seem so…eager to share your ideas too. I’ll expect them on my desk tomorrow morning.” She made eye contact with you, making your bones go rigid. “It'll be an interesting test,” she said, smirking.

The few moments you and her stared at one another seemed to go on before she turned, exiting the classroom the way she just came. When the door closed behind her, Highbottom cleared his throat, seemingly unsure what to say.

“I-I think that we’ve all had enough of the Games this morning. You may go to lunch.”

You turned to Sejanus, anticipating to talk to him as you walked to lunch, but the moment Highbottom finished his announcement, Sejanus left, swinging his bag around his body without another look at you. He left his books on his desk that you assumed that he would use to write up his proposal.

“Sejanus,” you started. But it was too late. He was already out the door.

Coriolanus watched the entire interaction, silently praising you for pissing Sejanus off, putting him in his place about the Games. He had no idea you supported the Games so much, but maybe you truly didn’t. And that was what was truly pissing the district boy off.

He thought back to what Tigris had told him about trust last night. Although he needed Lucy Gray’s trust the most in order to help him succeed, he saw how well you and Lucy Gray connected this morning. You couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything for him unless he could trust you. It would be even easier to manipulate you into benefitting him if you were right under his nose.

“Y/N.”

You turned around, surprised that he was talking to you. He didn’t say anything else, just gesture for you to follow him. As much as you didn’t want to follow Coriolanus, Sejanus didn’t seem eager to talk to you right now. You figured it was better to sit with him than sit alone. Gathering up Sejanus’s things that he abandoned, you followed him down the stairs. He was ahead of you slightly, but you caught up to him in no time.

“What do you want, Coriolanus?”

He smiled, genuinely. “What makes you think I want something from you?”

“This is the most we’ve talked to one another in one day. Ever. And the only times before that have been you picking on me or needing something from me. Why would now be any different?”

He seemed hurt at the comment, something in his face changing. Coriolanus didn’t think that he picked on you all that often, Clemensia always being the one to speak up first. It was true that you got on his nerves and vice versa, but it was only to get under your skin. He didn’t know that you took most of it to heart. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About this morning. It was my fault we got in trouble. You were right. I was the one that got in the cage.”

You were genuinely shocked at his apology. He prided himself on being right and worthy in everyone’s eyes and discrediting himself to anyone was always out of the question. Yet here he was, apologizing to you.

“Thank you?” you said, still unsure if he meant it or not.

“W-would you want to eat lunch with me today? Maybe talk through some of the ideas?” Why was he so nervous about asking you this?

“Why? You want to steal some of my ideas?” you said as seriously as you could.

He stuttered over his words. While he didn’t think of that, he didn’t want you assuming that either. “N-no, I jus-”

You cut him off in laughter. “I’m kidding. I’d love to have lunch with you, Coriolanus. As long as it’s all in business,” you joked.

“It’s all in business, I can assure you.”

Both of you went through the line, putting high amounts of food on your trays. You got enough for yourself to fill yourself up and to bring to Mizzen. You wouldn’t have enough time to grab any when you ran home later to check up on your mother. When you looked over on Coriolanus’s tray, you assumed he had the same idea. Before long, the two of you were sitting at a small table in the middle of the luncheon room, yourself sitting across from the blonde boy. You had barely gotten a word in to one another nor taken a bite before a tray slammed down on the table to your left.

“You trying to fatten that poor girl up so you can finally start taking bets?” Sejanus spat at you.

“Sej, I didn’t mean-” you muttered, leaning back away from the boy. You could never be scared of him, but it didn’t stop you from feeling the need to protect yourself.

“Sejanus, enough,” Coriolanus said, standing up and pulling the dark haired boy back, away from you. Sejanus lost his balance briefly, but Coriolanus poked him in the chest as soon as he was stable. “You think they'll give those kids a scrap if we don't give them a reason to do it? How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can't eat?” Sejanus was still looking over at you with a dark look in his eyes, disappointment gone, replaced by sheer anger. “Hey,” Coriolanus said again, turning Sejanus’s jaw to look at him instead of you. “Maybe instead of yelling at her, you should be thanking her.”

It was odd to see Coriolanus defending you to Sejanus, the roles normally reversed. If you would have been told two days ago that one of your biggest enemies would be supporting you over your best friend, you would have laughed in their faces, but you did suppose that a lot had been changing these past couple of days. It made your head spin.

Coriolanus sat down back in his chair across from you, giving you a sympathetic look. He looked back up at your best friend, gesturing for him to take a seat. You flinched slightly when Sejanus pulled the chair out. He was clearly still angry, but at least it wasn’t being aimed directly at you anymore. All three of you picked up your silverware, beginning to pick at your food.

“He was my classmate. Back in 2.”

“It's not your fault it's him,” you said.

“See, I know. I'm so blameless, I'm choking on it,” Sejanus spat out before taking a deep breath and turning to Coriolanus. “My father bought him for me, you know, at the Reaping, Just so he could show me that I could never go back to 2.” Sejanus set his fork down. “But being Capitol is gonna kill me.”

“So do something about it,” Coriolanus said, shaking his napkin out onto his lap, beginning to set food into it. As soon as you realized what he was doing, you followed suit, placing the extra sandwiches and blocks of cheese into your own cloth.

“Quite the rebels,” Sejanus half-smiled, watching you both steal school food for your tributes.

“Oh, yeah,” Coriolanus said, picking up Sejanus’s napkin and throwing it at his chest, urging him to do the same with his food for his tribute. “I'm bad news,” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

You wondered why you had never conversed like this before, the three of you. You supposed that Coriolanus was too busy trying to blend in with the other students, to avoid being different. In a bad way at least. Maybe in another life, it could be like this, the three of you, joking around, laughing with one another. You smiled to yourself as your mind created a fantasy of this. But before you could get too happy about it, you were reminded of the person that Coriolanus Snow truly was. He was cold to you and Sejanus. All he wanted was attention from those around it and here you were giving it to him. But you couldn’t let him have it anymore.

However, you could live in the fantasy of it for just a little while longer, meeting Coriolanus’s blue eyes and smiling.

You left the Academy earlier than the boys did, making enough time for you to run home to see your mother. She was still sleeping, his roll from this morning still untouched, but you figured you’d set out a fresh apple you had taken from the cafeteria for her. When you left her again, you hoped that you would still have enough time to maybe talk to Lucy Gray before Coriolanus showed up. You had some questions for her about this morning and you figured that it’d be better to ask them without the cameras around. And without Coriolanus.

She was sitting against a rock, Jessup sleeping on her shoulder when you walked up to the gate. There was a small crowd gathered at the zoo, staying back from the bars and simply admiring the tributes rather than interacting. You hoped that whatever proposal you could come up with tonight would allow them to quit being gawked at by the citizens of the Capitol and instead interacted with like normal human beings.

You brushed through the small crowd, gaining attention with your red uniform, but they paid little mind to you. “Lucy Gray,” you said through the bars, trying to get her attention.

She had her eyes closed, much like Jessup did. But when she heard your voice, she opened them, searching around groggily before finding you. Lucy Gray shook Jessup’s shoulder, waking him up and letting her know where she was going. Lysistrata was Jessup’s mentor and you had no idea if she would be coming to visit him. So you figured you could share a little bit of your food with him. They both walked over to you, Lucy Gray grasping the bars while Jessup kept his distance. Not all of the tributes trusted you or any Capitol citizen for that matter as much as Lucy Gray did.

“You’re back,” she said with a smile. “Did you bring any food?”

You nodded your head, taking out the small cloth to hand her a sandwich and a few things of cheese. “I gotta feed my own tribute. Coriolanus will be here with some more later.”

She held her hands out as you gave the food to her. “Thank you,” she said, giving you a warm smile. “Jessup.” She gestured for him to get closer as she held out the cheese to him.

“I'm not hungry,” he replied, keeping his eyes on you.

“You think I can't hear your stomach growling, Jessup Diggs?” she scolded. He hesitantly took the food from her hands. She proceeded to split the sandwich, giving him the other half while she was at it. She turned back to you, her eyes flitting all over your face as if she was trying to commit your face to memory.

“What?” you asked. “Do I have something?” You moved your hands over your cheeks and mouth, perhaps leaving a crumb behind from lunch.

“No! No, I just-” She stopped herself. “Can I ask why you’re here instead of my mentor?”

“Oh,” you exclaimed. “I just wanted to ask you about this morning…” Would she even remember the encounter as you did? After all, maybe it was just the sunlight glinting off of her glowing face to make her appear pale. “When you looked at me, you looked as if I was a ghost.”

“You kinda are, in a way.” Realizing what she said, she tried to steer the conversation. “I mean that you just remind me of someone I knew a time ago.”

You knew there was more to it, but decided not to push. There were more pressing concerns taking place right now. “Coriolanus is going to want you to sing again,” you admitted to her.

“Why? Whatta you mean?” she asked.

“In case you didn’t know, you put on quite a show for the Capitol,” you joked. “The Gamemakers are putting new things in place to help you out before and during the Games and singing just might help.”

“It might. But I don't sing when I'm told. I sing when I have something to say.”

Your conversation was interrupted by Arachne screaming into the zoo, calling for her tribute.

“Oh, Brandy,” she teased. “You want something to eat? Come and get it.”

You rolled your eyes at the action, turning back to face Lucy Gray but her gaze was behind you.

“Feeding my tribute, Stillwater?” Coriolanus asked, walking up behind you. “You really are making this easy for me.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said sarcastically. Facing Lucy Gray again, you thanked her for her conversation before bidding them both goodbye to find Mizzen.

You passed Arachne who was kneeling on the ground with a bottle, teasing her tribute by hanging the bottle just out of reach. You couldn’t believe her, using hunger as a weapon. You knew it was personally from during the war. With barely a scrap to quench the hunger in your stomach, you often turned to sleeping to pass your time without food. You knew that you’d probably be in the same circumstances right now if it weren’t for Sejanus’s family.

“Can you take it? Come on, try harder than that,” Arachne tormented.

Sejanus was by then at the cage too. His arm was stuck in the cage, reaching a sandwich out for nearly anyone to come and grab. “Marcus. Hey. It's me. Marcus, look. Here, I got some food for you. Here.” He pleaded with his tribute, but Marcus didn’t spare him more than a glance. “Come on. Marcus.”

You stood next to Sejanus, placing a hand on his shoulder. You knew that he was probably still mad at you, but you had to try something. He looked over at your hand on his shoulder, pulling his arm in the cage back to his body. Without a word to him, you took the sandwich from his hand, walking a few feet away from him.

“Marcus,” you said through the bars. The tribute spun his head in your direction, watching you watch him. “It’s food. We don’t want you to go hungry.”

You placed your arm through the cage like Sejanus had been, waiting for the boy to get up. Marcus looked back over at Sejanus, who was watching the interaction, and glared before getting up and walking toward you. He looked at your food-filled hand for an extra moment before roughly grabbing its contents.

“You keep him,” he pointed to Sejanus, “away from me.” The boy bit into the food while making his way back over to the rock he had been sitting on before.

You had no idea if it was simply the fact that Sejanus now lived in the Capitol or if something else had happened between the boys when Sejnaus still lived in the districts, but whatever it was ran deep. Making your way back to Sejanus, he whispered a quiet thank you. You gave him a small smile before calling out to Mizzen.

Despite the fact that you hadn’t met him yet, you hoped that it would be easy to build a relationship with him as it had with Lucy Gray. If you couldn’t get him to trust you, then there was no point in you trying. A small boy perked up, a flat cap upon his head. “Mizzen?” you asked.

He looked over at a red headed girl who you recognized as Festus’s tribute. She gave him a small nod before he looked back over at you. He and the girl were tucked in the back of the zoo, as far away from their audience as possible, so it took a moment for him to make his way over to you. When he finally got to a good distance, we stopped, keeping a few feet back. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m Y/N. I’m your mentor. You might’ve met Coriolanus the other day,” you gestured over to him. “He’s also a mentor.”

“Yeah. I gathered that,” he retorted. “What are you s’pposed to do as my…mentor?”

You didn’t know exactly what you could do to help him yet. You still had to figure out how you could possibly provide him with what he needs, but Highbottom did say that your job was to make the tributes interesting to the Capitol before the Games.

“Introduce you to the people of the Capitol, I guess.”

“You guess?” he laughed, spitting on the ground in front of you. You took a step back. “Seems like you aren’t quite sure. I can’t let you ‘help,’” he said, using air quotes, “if you don’t know what you’re doing. Besides, you seem much more invested in the singer.”

“She’s intriguing. Like you need to be. Interact with the people for a start,” you suggested. “Don’t hide in the back with the girl-”

“Coral,” he interrupted.

“Coral,” you corrected. “Come talk to the people. I’m sure they have questions for you. I know I do,” you said, holding out your last bit of food in the cloth to him. He picked up only the food, careful to avoid touching your hand through the cloth.

“Come on,” Arachne said, lightly tapping the same bottle she had been teasing Brandy with against the bars.

“Give me something. I've been sitting here for 15 minutes!” Brandy complained.

“Thank you,” Mizzen said, drawing your eyes back to him. “Some of you are kind enough.”

He began to walk backwards away from you and back to Cora, bidding you goodbye. You were sure he would share with Coral like Lucy Gray had. With no sign of Festus, you were okay with that. It was wrong to let them starve. You knew that personally. Directing your attention over to Coriolanus and Lucy Gray, you watched as they both laughed with one another, crouched down in the dirt and eating with one another.

Screams pulled you out of your stares as you watched Brandy grab the bottle from Arachne’s hands and smash it against the bars, making the glass shatter. With the tributes free hand, she grabbed Arachne’s collar pulling her close and stabbing the bottle into Arachne’s throat.

taglist: @gracieroxzy @poppyflower-22 @hungergamesfantatic @becauseseaotters @tyjanelle @ganana @immyowndefender @edb954 @haroldpotterson @bitterplacebrokendreamsmaegan @undeadtears66 @astarborntowrite @marvelescvpe @ems-st @blythlover @tinyhumanoidclodhorse

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth angst #tom blyth smut #tom blyth imagine

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aha-chuu · 1 year

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Alhaitham and Kaveh's dynamic is interesting, because I've seen a lot of people say either "oh my god Kaveh is so mean" or "oh my god Alhaitham treats Kaveh terribly". But, quite importantly imo, in this quest Paimon remarks that she "doesn't know which one of them is more problematic".

I think when considering their relationship you need to look at intention. Do Hoyo want to villainise one of their popular husnandoes as a toxic asshole? No. Even the "villain" playable characters like Childe and Wanderer are nice/funny on occasion. Kaveh and Alhaitham's interactions are intended to be humorous, to make you gasp and say "oh wow I can't believe he just said that!".

Like, during the most recent story quest, for example. Kaveh accusing Alhaitham of having no empathy when he's clearly pretty emotionally stunted and decently moral is mean. But saying "At least I'd be a fungus with empathy!" Undercuts that - it's clear neither Alhaitham nor the player are suppose to take those words seriously.

Alhaitham dismissing Kaveh's field of work with "you work yourself to death just for a smile" is so belittling, but it's a retort to Kaveh saying his scribe job is at "rock bottom" in the Akademiya. Alhaitham isn't lashing out or trying to demean Kaveh in front of others (this interaction happens after the player has "left"); he's just continuing their verbal sparring match. I think people take this jab so seriously because it can be seen as a jab at a lot of people working out of passion, but in the context of the dialogue we're not supposed to regard it so deeply.

It's also fairly clear that nobody in game takes them seriously either. Tighnari says Kaveh is "as pent up as an anemo slime" in his Alhaitham voiceline - another funny quip - and Collei details how hard it was to suppress her laughter when Kaveh was talking about Alhaitham. Nobody thinks they're genuinely bad for one another, or that getting them separated is all that crucial.

Even the interactions in this story quest are just so silly and domestic: Kaveh can't get the painting straight, Alhaitham buys ugly furniture, they're arguing about rent and drink tabs, Kaveh is doing an unfair amount of housework and Alhaitham fucks off without entertaining his own guests. it's funny, or at least it is clearly intended to be.

I've heard that in the other dubs the VAs tones are different and it makes the lightheartedness clearer. Personally I've thought since their first interaction in the AQ that Alhaitham is having fun during their quarrels, and Kaveh is just melodramatic enough to act traumatised even if he isn't truly offended.

Then when it comes to whether their dynamic is supposed to be read platonically or romantically... Well Hoyo won't do anything canon, but it's hard to argue that there is no intentionality in how their relationship is portrayed. What other character(s) has an idle animation directly referencing their relationship with another character? How many other voicelines explicitly reference two characters as a pair? Nahida's Kaveh voiceline, Collei's, Tighnari's - I'm sure there are more. "Roommates" "senior & junior" "academic rivals" -> certainly there's a case to be made that they're just very close, but Kaveh and Alhaitham getting fifteen minutes of epilogue interaction in two different quests (where none of the content is related to either quest) says something. Fanservice, quite possibly.

Also Kaveh's line "We used to be friends, but not anymore"; I've seen plenty of people interpret this as "oh we're not friends, we're dating*". I think this is fun in fanon, but on a canon level it's basically a promise by Hoyo to fix (or explain) their current dynamic. Hoyo, for all their many faults, are detail orientated enough to follow up on such a line. Perhaps it will just be in Kaveh's voicelines/character stories, but I anticipate a future event or Kaveh hangout in relation to their bond. Nothing explicit, but more exploration. It's fairly clear Alhaitham and Kaveh are popular enough characters to warrant it.

All this to say: I have lots of thoughts. I have seen people call them toxic and (while idm the drama of that in fanon shipping) that isn't really the intended case in canon. Or, at the very least, the intention is not to to take their squabbling so seriously.

#genshin impact #alhaitham #al haitham #kaveh #kavetham #alhaitham story quest #also pls don't somehow take this as ship bashing for other pairings #this is NOT: oh my ship is canon everyone else stfu #i just wanted to discuss how interesting Hoyo's approach to their dynamic has been #and how polarising the fandom's reaction has been #it's not supposed to be taken seriously #i think kaveh is leaked for 3.6 #which should be new desert area #i would not be surprised if we have a desert quest with him #considering how he has had a significant amount of screentime already #in comparison to Faruzan and Layla and even Candace #we don't know what his rarity is yet #but he's had a lot of build up #when most characters not directly involved in archon quests #only debut in their release patches #with rumours of them beforehand #think ayato think itto think eula #i wonder what Hoyo will do with Kaveh #and haitham might end up as the Sumeru Albedo #considering he's already a front runner for most dialogue out of the Sumeru characters #maybe he'll get an event before Fontaine

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thewertsearch · 11 months

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Becquerel, I have a feeling we're not in Prospit anymore...

Seems like she's just having a normal dream.

I mean, the Squiddles are an obvious red flag, but they are toys from her childhood, after all. Maybe they're just coming from her subconscious.

I'm kidding, of course - you all know the cacophony I'm hearing right now. Jade is screwed.

See? That one's trying to sell her drugs!

So Jade's literally in the Furthest Ring - or, at least, her pseudo-Dream Self is.

I wonder what would happen to her if Jade died now?

We all know this is a bad idea, but Dave has clearly made up his mind. Let's see where he - and the Gods - are going with this.

They're not what you think they are, Jade Harley.

Hey there, Feferi. Come here often?

Actually, this is pretty interesting, since it implies that Horrorterror dreams can transcend sessions. If Jade's willing to risk her sanity, she can rendezvous with the trolls 'in person'.

...wait, is this what John meant by see you soon? I certainly hope not.

The dream is collapsing, and another kind of unreality is setting in.

Lovecraft my Squiddle.

Here's where you really are, Jade.

Oh god, they just keep coming! That one's going right for my face!

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. This is going on for an... unnervingly long time.

Don't. Turn. Around.

This is the first time we've seen a Horrorterror up close, unless you count the facehugger from earlier in the animation. It's pretty much what I expected - apart from the singing, which Jade can still hear in the 'real' Furthest Ring. It probably carries some sort of message, so I'm going to need to transcribe it.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s79 #2848

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stars-n-spice · 2 months

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Thoughts on s3 ep 07!

fuckin bitchass episode broke my "no crying streak" of fuckin,, one episode, fuck you

anyways,, y'all know the drill,, spoilers and me screaming under the cut!

i love commander wolffe so much

when the clone assassin (who is Tech,, let's just be honest here,,) got out from under the rocks I was like, "Hey what the fuck,, that should've KILLED you" and was also like "ok so that's definitely Tech, why the fuck does he keep coming back??"

wolffe being like "these are clones" gave me so much hope,, baby I hope you come around and join your brothers,, I am BEGGING

something something,, being defective,, not following orders,, the clone assassin operative,, yeah,,

uGH wolffe looks so so so good in TBB animation

Batcher licking Nemec :(

Crosshair does a lot of,,, "I'll handle it",, he wants to feel useful I'm - :(((((

shakey hands,, ughhhh

the "operative" is surviving WAY too much for him not to be important

"we need to go" - "we're waitin on you" :(((

"she only bites half of the time" OH MY GOD,, PLEASE

I love you Batcher, you are the best girl

GET YOUR FUCKING DOG BITCH - IT DON'T BITE - YES IT DO,,

lmao i really thought they were going to get away and then they got fucking shot down,,

Wrecker's groan when Batcher jumped on him to get out of the ship asldkf;a

I'm so happy about Wrecker not getting a lot of screen time but I'm also not,, because to me less screen time means less of a chance of him dying or something but it also means less of me getting to see him

but everything he does on screen is wonderful,, he's amazing and I love him and he could just be standing there in the background just breathing and i'll be acting like he just blew up the death star or something

CROSSHAIR IS SUCH A GIRL DAD

I cannot get over Crosshair and Omega's dynamic oh my GOD

Star wars, you can't give us this good of a dynamic for only ONE season,, PLEASE let them survive

him checking up on her,, making sure she has all her things and sticks close :((( FUCK

I love how it sounds like it's physically hurting Crosshair to ask Omega if she's good and has her things together,, that's so funny to me

"You're just as bad as Hunter" - "Oh, I'm much worse." OH MY GOD.

screaming crying throwing up

i went, "Nemec and Howzer better not die" AND THEN LIKE TWO MINUTES LATER NEMEC GOT FUCKING SNIPED

i was so mad

CMON

Howzer changing his mind about Crosshair :(( wondering if he's thinking about Hera :((((

"Loyalty meant something to me" UGHHHHH, fucking,, AGGUHHH,, the essays that could be written on Crosshair and loyalty,, FUCK

oh the way Crosshair is as open as he is to talk about what happened :(((

godDAAMMNN

when Wrecker did the thing,, where,, he like,,, he um,, y'know,, like the,, move where,, and he,, he bashes,, bashes uh the two,,, bashes two heads together,, and knocks them unconscious,, hmm, yeah,,,

WRECKER PROTECTING BATCHER?!?!

that man is perfect oh my god,, fucking HELL,, I want him so badly,,

"I don't like that idea" - "too bad" AGHHHH YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

something something Crosshair doing the most to feel useful and needed UGGHHH

hey is it just me or did the animation for the water with the waterfall look,, like,, weird?? or strange?? idk,, it just seemed off to me

ALSO THAT FIGHT?? fuck that was cool

also if that really is Tech,, Crosshair got his ass handed to him by Tech lmao

BUT ALSO IF THAT WAS TECH,, the fucking angst man,, he seriously almost killed Crosshair,, holy shit

Howzer's new look is so,, MMh,, the,, fuck,, the holster straps on his thighs,,, the pouch on his chest,, ughh

the fact that these operatives like,, KNOW Crosshair,, they KNOW he went through the program and didn't comply the way he should've,, idk,, it's just,,

"you chose the wrong side" FUCKING LEAVE HIM ALONE MAN YOU'RE GOING TO KEEP MAKING HIM QUESTION SHIT AND HIS PLACE IN EVERYTHING FUUUCCCKK

Crosshair looked fucking terrified during that fight and for good reason too he was getting his ASS handed to him (granted he doesn't have much of one but still-)

also,, him being not super great in hand to hand combat got me thinking because,, dude's a sniper,, he keeps his distance,, his thing is long range shit,, and fucking,, boy if that doesn't reflect on his character,, not wanting to get close,, keeping a distance,, MAN

HOWZER TO THE RESCUE <33

for the like,, third time my assurance that this operative is Tech was ruined as he fell down that waterfall but I am a fucking FOOL

Crosshair said "thanks" that's fucking crazy

OH I'M SO HAPPY ABOUT REX AND WOLFFE HAVING A FACE TO FACE TALK (hunter and Cross take notes)

UGGHHH SO HAPPY I GOT TO SEE WOLFFE'S BEAUTIFUL FACE

i was so scared when Wolffe was like "I'm a soldier of the Empire" BABY YOU'RE NOT

PLO KOON COME GET YOUR SON AND FORCE GHOST TALK SOME SENSE INTO HIS FINE ASS

but then he let them go :((

Gregor showed up on the screen and I fucking,,, I fucking swooned

wolffe is going to be in SO much trouble after this,, oh my god,, I'm so scared for him

BUT THAT BETTER NOT BE THE LAST TIME WE SEE HIM FUCKING HELL

did i mention how fucking fine Wolffe looks in TBB animation??

there's so many fucking wide shots of,, characters on opposite ends of each other,, like,, fucking hell,, i get it

WE GOT THE SEELOS TRIO IN A SCENE TOGETHER AGUUHHHH

Gregor you are so fine

his new armor,, ughh

WOLFFE fucking,, mmmh,, shit

fucking knew the operative would survive that shit,, fucking hell

alrighty folk BUCKLE up,, seems like the next episodes we're going to start getting some confirmations about Omega!

cried when Rex and Wolffe were talking to each other

i was so happy the "i thought the end of the war would be the end to losing our brothers" conversation from the trailer was here because I was scared it was going to be a conversation that was going to happen after losing Echo or something,,, for now he's safe

ugh,, i already miss wolffe

#tbb #tbb s3 #tbb spoilers #tbb s3 spoilers #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #captain rex #captain howzer #commander wolffe

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podcastenthusiast · 2 years

Text

Three little drabbles featuring Geralt "Horse Girl" of Rivia and different animals, from Jaskier's POV.

---

1. Horse

Jaskier realized it a few weeks into this new witcher-following, song-composing venture. Specifically, when he went to eat the last apple and was told in no uncertain terms that it's for Roach, even though their food rations were running worringly low and they were a day's ride from the next village. Even though he's a fragile human. Even though she could literally just eat grass.

The mare outranked him. She had seniority.

He tried to befriend the horse, with middling success.

He tried to befriend the witcher, too.

At least Roach could be bribed with a carrot or a handful of raisins.

People project a lot of their own feelings onto animals, he supposed. It's a relationship designed to be unequal. As complex or as simple as a person wants it to be.

For a while, he had started to resent her a little, as pathetic as that may sound. That is, until he woke in the middle of the night and overheard a murmured, rather one-sided conversation.

"I worry about him, though," Geralt was saying. "Can't exactly just find a new bard and start calling him Jaskier if something happens, can I."

What?

"Wish he'd shut up sometimes, but... I guess it's been kind of nice having someone around who talks back."

Jaskier's heart felt like it might burst or break. Or both.

"Not that you aren't good company, old girl."

Roach gave a quiet snort.

That was all years ago, now. The horse is different, but still somehow Roach.

He is different, too, but somehow still Jaskier. Still the reliable bard his friend needs him to be.

Now, he watches from his spot by the campfire as Geralt brushes through Roach's mane. The witcher's got drowner brains in his own hair but gods forbid he has a wash before his trusty companion is completely tended to. He's very gentle with her, which is probably why she tolerates it as well as she does. He's heard tales of stablehands losing fingers to routine grooming before.

Jaskier wishes he could write a ballad about this without potentially damaging his fearsome reputation-- the unbreakable bond between a witcher and his horse. The unexpected tenderness of hands made to kill.

He reaches for his quill to jot down a few ideas. Something something the mighty wolf and the wild horse, loyal and brave companions defending their forest home together. Keep it vague enough. Maybe a folktale vibe.

Besides, Jaskier thinks with a touch of bitterness, the wolf's tongue is the real danger. His jaws that snap at anyone foolish enough to get too close, to offer help when he's caught in a trap.

...Maybe he still has some feelings to work through.

The wolf also has a heart he tries so hard to bury. Jaskier can see it. Always has.

"You spoil her rotten, you know," he remarks lightly, plucking on his lute strings. "She eats better than we do."

"It's like sharpening my swords. I have to keep Roach in good condition, or we don't eat at all."

"Mhm. And it's very sweet."

He no longer begrudges Roach her well-earned place at Geralt's side. The witcher had been alone out here for such a long time before he came along, probably will be again after he's dead and buried. Even if Jaskier does wish that he could be the one Geralt trusts with his innermost thoughts and secrets and sleepless night fears, he is glad the man has someone in whom he can confide.

They all have their roles in this story. Perhaps he ought to accept his as its scribe, and let that be enough.

But Jaskier's greatest fault, he knows, is an always has been his refusal to accept things as they are.

2. Cat

"Oh, look at that. Someone's cat has gone missing. Poor thing."

"We're here for real work, Jaskier," Geralt says, scanning a contract notice. Recent plague. Graves disturbed. Ghouls. See alderman for details. Bit dull.

"They're offering a reward. See?"

"Somehow I doubt a small child has enough coin to justify ignoring the ghouls."

"Says here you'll get their eternal gratitude and-- oh! The lady of the house will darn your socks free of charge for a full year. Any additional mending at a discount. Now that's a good deal."

"Hm."

"Geralt, as you know my favorite doublet is in a sorry state after that minor werewolf incident--"

"I told you to stay with Roach."

"--All water under the bridge now, of course, and what an adventure! Worthy of a fine ballad--"

"Jaskier."

"--as this would be. Can't you at least keep one keen witchery eye out for the cat?"

"And risk a ghoul catching me off guard? Sure."

"Well, now you're just being silly. Don't tell me you're a dog person. Or are you allergic?"

Geralt sighs, realizing now that only the truth will free him from this conversation.

"Don't mind cats," he mutters. "But they don't like me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Cats don't like me," he repeats. "They start hissing whenever I get too close."

Jaskier's expression is caught somewhere between disbelief and sadness. "Why?"

"I insulted their king. Why do you think? They've got more sense than certain humans, I guess."

It's a veiled remark. Jaskier sees right through it.

"You're not a monster, Geralt," he says, achingly sincere. Then, in a lighter tone, "Does that mean you've never pet a cat before?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I was very young. I can't remember."

Jaskier mercifully drops the subject after a quiet and thoughtful walk back to the village's tavern.

He doesn't fail to notice Geralt buying extra scraps of meat from the innkeeper, or how he sneaks away at night to set them like snares in promising locations near the village. He'd probably say it's for the ghoul contract if asked, but Jaskier knows better.

Even if he didn't, there is really no other explanation for Geralt returning to the inn on the second night, covered in claw marks, carrying a ghoul's severed head in one hand and a bag containing one squirming, hissing feline in the other.

3. Spider

"GERALT!"

Every witcher in Kaer Morhen hears the bard's scream, but Geralt reaches the room in moments, his silver sword already drawn.

"Jaskier, what--"

"Kill it!"

The bard is standing on his bed, pointing frantically at something. Geralt follows his panicked gaze and sees--

"Really, Jaskier?" He sighs.

"What are you waiting for? It's a monster! Kill it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not a monster. Just a spider. Not even poisonous."

"How do you know?"

"I read." Geralt crouches down for a closer look at the spider. "Might look scary but it's harmless. Probably sought shelter from the cold."

"Well, then it can go right back outside."

"Jaskier, be reasonable."

"I am. Either the spider goes or I do."

The witcher looks thoughtful. Says nothing.

"Oh, thanks, Geralt! I feel so loved."

The spider crawls onto Geralt's hand and Jaskier almost screams again, shrinking back even farther. Gods, it has so many legs!

"Pretend it's a kikimora or something," he pleads. "Why won't you kill one little spider for your very dearest old friend in the world?"

"Because kikimoras have no niche. They're invasive, and need to be dealt with to maintain balance in the ecosystem. Spiders aren't like that; they do belong. A monster, fundamentally, is any creature that doesn't."

Jaskier just stares at him, speechless. He's not sure he has ever heard Geralt say that many words all at once.

Geralt's eyes remain on the spider. "Witchers aren't sent out on the Path not knowing why we kill; we're not soldiers."

"I never thought of it like that," Jaskier admits. "That spider's still fucking terrifying, though."

"Hm. I'll take it outside."

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"I know what scared, stupid people say about witchers sometimes. But I-- You do belong. You're important. Just want you to know that."

"...Thank you, Jaskier," he says. Then, quieter, "You too."

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier fic #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher fic #I'm sad i can't pet cats in witcher 3 okay #horse girl geralt

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