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just-j-really · 2 months

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Unsolumates, part five:

Masterpost

“Have you found your person yet?” Morpheus asks. “Your- not your soulmate?”

It’s been a little over two months, since Hob and Audrey broke up. Somehow ‘getting dinner with Morpheus just after’ had turned into ‘additional drinks’ had turned into ‘brunch, a few days later,’ and now Hob doesn’t think a week has passed since the breakup that he hasn’t seen Morpheus, at least briefly. Morpheus has carefully avoided the subject of soulmates, of romance entirely, for the entire nine weeks, and Hob is a little ashamed and a lot grateful.

They aren’t… whatever they were, before. Hob still isn’t sure if ‘whatever’ was ‘experiment and mad scientist.’ He’s doesn’t really care, though, because whether or not he used to be Morpheus’ monster, he doesn’t think he is anymore. Not after two months of regular, friendly pleasantries and coaxing Morpheus into talking about the play he’s working on and Morpheus listening to him wax poetic about his new flat and its in-unit laundry and actual decent heat.

So it feels perfectly easy to say, “Haven’t really been looking for ‘em,” even if it aches a little. Morpheus looks a little startled by the admission, so Hob adds, “Morpheus. I just spent fifteen minutes explaining what I had for breakfast yesterday, I would have mentioned if I were seeing someone.”

In his defense, it had been a good breakfast. A breakfast worthy of fifteen minutes of conversation. He might have to steal Gwen’s soulmate solely to get her pancake recipe.

Morpheus stares at the table, twisting one cuff of his coat in his opposite hand. “But you’re certain,” he says to the table. If he were anyone else Hob would say he sounds hesitant. “You will look for them. Eventually.”

This means something to him, Hob realizes. Something more than research, or mad science, more than curiosity. Means something on a future-altering bone-deep soul-defining level.

The thought drops into Hob’s mind, like a dead bird dropped into his lap by a pet cat that genuinely thinks it’s being generous, that Morpheus’ soulmate may be dead. It would explain the coat, which he hasn’t taken off even though the White Horse is boilingly warm tonight. Would explain why Hob’s only ever seen him in sleeves that go down to, often past, his wrists. Scarred-over soulmarks don’t look terribly different from ordinary scars, at least not at a quick glance, which means that any suspiciously soulmark-shaped scar tends to draw prying glances and effusive pity, and people with actual soulmark scars do their best to hide them.

It would explain a lot about Morpheus, actually, from the distant intensity with which he’d approached the whole soulmate thing to his complete ignorance of how even normal dating works to the delicate way Will had gone about inviting him to his wedding, asking if Hob thought he was overstepping at least six times in the process.

And oh, god, Hob’s been staring at Morpheus’ arms like an asshole, hasn’t he? He consciously draws his eyes away from Morpheus’ sleeves, which means he ends up looking into his eyes instead. His eyes are so blue, a shade Hob isn’t sure how to describe as anything other than ‘pretty,’ somehow light and intense and warm all at once.

Mesmerizing, maybe. Hypnotic.

The truly off-putting combination of the disarming blue of Morpheus’ eyes and Hob’s own scramble not to think about dead soulmates is, possibly, why he says, “I’ll make you a bet,” before his brain has caught up with his mouth, or even finished trying to come up with synonyms for ‘blue.’

“Hmm?” Morpheus asks. His expression is cool, but there’s a teasing glint in those ultramarine eyes that goads Hob on.

“That you can keep asking me that, as long as you want, and one day the answer will be ‘yes, and we’re very happy together.’” Hob finishes off his drink, sets his glass down with just enough force to punctuate the challenge. “I’ll even stake something on it. You could shave my head.”

“Why would I want to shave your head?” Morpheus asks. His expression is still entirely bland, but his eyes- azure- are dancing.

“That’s not the point,” Hob informs him, leaning in. He might be a bit too enthusiastic about the idea, but he’s a little giddy for no specific reason, just a good day and good company. “The point is that I don’t want you to, and I’m still willing to bet on it because I’m going to win.”

“Fine,” Morpheus says, rolling his eyes, “I’ll take the bet.”

Hob can see right through him, though. More to the point, he can see the way Morpheus is biting at his lower lip, completely ineffectively hiding a smile, and he’s powerless not to smile back.

At first, Hob thinks Morpheus is going to take this bet as seriously as their initial Whatever That Was. The first thing out of his mouth, the next time he and Hob meet for drinks, is so have you met your person yet? And Hob says not yet, and Morpheus asks if that means he’s won, and Hob informs him that a ‘not yet’ is not a ‘no’ and also did Morpheus expect him to find the love of his life within a week? He is not the lead in one of Will’s plays, why would he do that.

For someone who looked so smug when he asked Hob if he’d won the bet, Morpheus looks- almost equally satisfied when he learns Hob hasn’t experienced a whirlwind six day long romance.

But he lets it drop, after that, and they fall back into their new-old pattern, and all is right with the world.

“You know I nearly drowned once?” Hob asks.

In hindsight, it’s not a thing he should have asked while leaning out over a large pond because he swears that’s an ancient, sunken paddleboat in the middle of it and he wants a better look. Morpheus grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backwards almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as though past near-drownings make Hob more susceptible to a watery grave.

“In a wave pool, yes,” Morpheus says, steering Hob away from the water’s edge. They’d been on their way to a museum, but Morpheus, for unknowable and mysterious reasons, had decided they should detour through this park on the way.

“Oh, no, after that,” Hob says, still craning his neck for a look at the sunken maybe-paddleboat. “I was like- sixteen? Got stuck under a boat when it flipped.” They reach the gravel path leading away from the water, and Morpheus lets Hob’s arm drop with noticeable reluctance.

“Just how many times have you nearly drowned?” Morpheus asks, as they trudge back toward the main path through the park.

“Uh. Two?” Hob replies. “The wave pool doesn’t count.”

“The fact that you think that is not reassuring,” Morpheus informs him, and will not budge on the issue no matter how much Hob tried to convince him that it doesn’t count as drowning as long as no one calls an ambulance.

The argument lasts them the rest of the way through the park, on a meandering route that doubles back on itself at least six times, across city streets to the museum, and through the queue for tickets. At that point Hob concedes. Not because he is wrong. He is not wrong, the other times didn’t count, but he has accepted the reality that he cannot possibly convince Morpheus of this fact.

Besides, the lure of keeping up a stupid argument shrivels and dies the moment Morpheus directs them out of the lobby area, past signs for the Theater Through the Ages exhibit, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. Hob doesn’t know what could have withstood the thrall of watching Morpheus stare at an old manuscript, a soft smile on his face. He wants to see Morpheus look this happy every day. He wants to be the reason for it.

He wants to soak in that expression for as long as he can, and that one he manages, trailing Morpheus through the exhibit like a lost puppy, absorbing exactly nothing of the room they’re in or the helpful signage or the contents of the cases. The windows could look out on the surface of Venus and there could be a sea monster in the corner giving directions and Hob would be none the wiser.

It takes Morpheus a while- Hob’s not keeping track of a stupid thing like time- to stop being dazzled by the exhibits and notice that Hob is dazzled for other reasons, but when he does he- crumples, just a little.

“You’re bored of this,” he says, as though this is an established fact Hob’s been politely not mentioning this whole time.

“No!” Hob says, “I’m not bored at all, just-” and then, thankfully, his mouth grinds to a halt before it can say any of the things his brain wants to. “A little lost?” he finally mumbles, once he’s managed to shove aside oh god please smile at me again and or climb me like a tree and actually have a conscious thought.

If nothing else, ‘lost’ has the benefit of being true, if not The Truth.

“Oh,” Morpheus says, somehow crumpling even further. A nauseous wave of self-loathing washes over Hob, for causing the light in Morpheus’ eyes to shrivel in on itself, he should have said all the stuff about oh god please smile at me again because at least that would be better than this-

“What’s that one about?” Hob says, a half step too loud, pointing at the nearest old book in a glass case.

He is, in hindsight, extremely lucky that he managed to point at a display and not a fire extinguisher.

Morpheus looks startled- Hob isn’t sure if that’s due to the words themselves, or just the volume- but turns to the case, Hob mirroring him, and begins to explain that it’s one of the few surviving volumes of a medieval playwright’s work. The explanation is stilted at first, Morpheus glancing over at Hob every few seconds as though expecting him to have turned away in disgust, but the smile slowly creeps back onto his face as Hob nods along, occasionally nudging at him to explain more.

It's Hob’s accomplishment of the year, maybe, coaxing that smile back to life, and he hangs onto Morpheus’ words like they’re oxygen as they meander through the rest of the exhibit.

The why of it all doesn’t phase him for the next several hours, because he doesn’t have time for intense self-examination. Not with Morpheus’ presence turning his mind into a dizzy slush, like his brain is made up of sunshine and honeybees and a persistent, thrumming notice me notice me notice me. Not with Morpheus failing to look aggrieved as they wander through a gallery of paintings, Hob critiquing each of them based on the presence of action and interesting animals.

Not when Morpheus grabs them each a drink at the museum café, giving Hob the chance to sneakily buy him a magnet from the gift shop, not when he looks so surprised when Hob hands him the little gift bag.

It’s only when they part ways that Hob catches himself smiling at his coffee cup, and the name Murphy in scratchy handwriting on the sleeve.

Well, shit, he thinks.

It had been easy, before, to let the tiny crush he’d been nursing wither and die. But now Morpheus is feeding it, refusing to let Hob pay for his own coffee and listening to him make stupid jokes about art history, and it has, accordingly, roared back to life, made itself comfortable in Hob’s heart.

#dreamling #my fic #unsoulmates au #we're back!

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sunnymainecoonx · 9 months

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I forgot I could put effort on shading(at least some kind of effort... shattered is a little chaotic but I'm too lazy to put a mind to that) it's still lazy but in the effort sense

Anyways, frozen stuff, I'm assuming Nightmares corruption is also just some sort of power(I kind of forgot how it worked but) and something like embracing it? Well, angst timeline, Dreams is more driven by hate and betrayal, and logically the kingdom also betrayed him(they betrayed Nightmare and thought Error as a hero aaand that's pretty bad in Dreams case...) soo he kills MOST of the kingdom along with Error.. some managed to evacuate. He's probably too kind a soul to do this but the corruption brought out all his hatred and.. that didn't end well for most ☺️ the x-tale people probably somehow got Cross to go there(I was too lazy for Epic, he's probably there too but this isn't the rizz timeline so Dream's just Cross' husband)(well that's a lie because Error was the one to marry Dream, but they had a nice and peaceful divorce so). I forgot how the trolls worked but come on.. like— leave me alone T-T Frozen came out in like 2013 how am I supposed to remember it

I imagine that Dreams corruption is slow, he doesn't want to do this but it hurts a little too much. Loss of his brother and friends with no one else to trust, probably some sort of abusive relationship(it is but I don't think in the physical way-) but like imagine having to marry the murderer of your sibling. Just constantly living in despair- no one believes in you?? Having nothing to make you happy?? Just, there, probably not even living just

He's just sad :( I would be too, probably do something... vile. Yeah. But then again, now that he's a monster, why would anyone love him now? How could his friends still like him. Cross is already looking at him with nothing but fear and pain. He killed almost an entire kingdom. How cruel

I ALMOST FORGOT THE TAGGING(that's the word right? This isn't being bad at English I'm just... I have a little memory and phrasing problem ☺️ I forgot a little of my own language too... but we don't talk about it) I WAS ABOUT TO POST IT HECK( @cakesmelons )

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betterbooktitles · 1 month

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What makes a Jesuit boys’ school so entertaining is the irreverence in the face of certain damnation. There were adult authority figures, some imbued with the ability to forgive Mortal Sin, telling us we were going to Hell if we didn’t take our morality seriously. In response, we laughed and cracked jokes. We laughed so hard, in part, because the stakes were so high. If you could mock the Most Important Question, you could likely laugh off anything.

Humor was what opened me up to the idea that I didn’t share the values of the men teaching me to be a “good” person. Humor also taught me that I didn’t have to accept any of it.

The first time I heard shade thrown at the Theology department was during my freshman year when my favorite teacher sitting in a room in the fourth floor English department, in an entirely separate building from the Theology and History classrooms asked “what movie are they showing you over there this week?” It was true that for half the year, Theology teachers showed movies 40 minutes at a time to make important philosophical points. They screened The Matrix, Life is Beautiful (watched in tandem with our reading of Man’s Search for Meaning), and, my personal favorite The Shawshank Redemption which they showed to us in the summer before 9th grade to let us know what Jesuit school would resemble: something close to surviving solitary confinement. If you had music in your mind, you might make it out. I don’t doubt the efficacy of showing these movies to us to teach moral lessons. It was a better strategy than trying to force teenagers to read. I had never heard anyone mock the department, though, especially not another teacher.

To be clear, this scrutiny, at least of the lay teachers in the Theology department was justified. They fed us one-sided anti-intellectual drivel that had almost nothing to do with Catholic Dogma. Instead of learning about a biblical text, we spent hours listening to a guy tell us evolution was “just a theory,” that being gay was a choice, and that abortion was wrong in any instance (whatever your personal beliefs, understand that it’s kind of hard to hear both sides of that argument at an all-male school where the adult men were the authority on ethics). Then they showed us clips from Fox News of Terri Schiavo and told us the “correct” Christian response to the news.

One day, again in my freshman year when I was scared to question anything because of an inordinate fear that I could be thrown out of school at any moment, our Theology teacher pressed play on The Emperor’s Club (a 2002 Kevin Kline movie about a boy’s prep school that served in our teacher’s mind as some ethic antithesis to the more beloved (and frankly more entertaining) Dead Poets Society). A student in the back row raised his hand, and our teacher paused the movie. We sat in the dark room and rolled our eyes. Make this quick, buddy. We’ve got a movie to watch here!

“Jeff?” our teacher said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes, I was wondering about the prayer we read before class today,” Jeff said. He was a senior, a bit portly which was only noticeable because many kids did not bother buying new dress shirts every year. Once the stress of school forced you to eat your feelings four years in a row, you wound up with a gut putting pressure on your old shirts’ buttons. “It says in the prayer…” Jeff continued, “that Jesus descended into Hell. What’s that about?”

“Well,” our teacher said, looking excited to finally talk about religion instead of answering some weird kid’s question about the ethics of having sex with aliens should they ever land on Earth, “according to scripture, we know the gates of Heaven were closed for a time, so when Jesus died he descended into hell first to free other righteous souls…”

“Yeah, a quick follow-up on that,” Jeff said, sounding interested, “does anyone believe this shit?”

The cackles that erupted in the room nearly overwhelmed our teacher’s angry tirade. Jeff was sent to the Vice Principal’s office to await his judgment. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment you were allowed not only to question those teaching us about religion but you were allowed to reject the faith altogether.

From there, every argument began to collapse, mostly through funny moments:

A teacher tried to tell us IVF was wrong because “you have to jerk off into a cup. It’s not right.” One kid announced: “I’ve done weirder!” Guffaws. Cheers.

Another teacher claimed gay sex was always wrong because the sex itself was not ‘open to creating human life,’ to which a brave gay student volunteered “Oh, I’m open to it. I’ll keep trying and let you know if there’s a miracle.” Applause.

When a teacher said video games could be considered a sin if they distract you from work, someone, half-asleep in the front row, let out a loud “Ah, shut up!” that made us all giggle.

My fellow students weren’t playing the game, arguing with the teacher on his terms, using logic. They were dismissing the arguments flippantly, and no adult could reply unless they were funny themselves.

Read the rest here.

#funny #lit #lol #writing #dan wilbur #essays #essay #long post #long reads #atheist #atheism #religion #catholic #catholic school #literature #humor #better book titles #books #reading #memoir

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rshmra · 10 months

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PRETTY BOY!

plot: niki swears he met the girl of his dreams at the convenience store late one night- however, his discovery proves to be misguided. the "girl" he likes is actually just a really pretty boy, and he's the main vocalist of the new and wildly popular boy group of four, X_CAPE.

<- prev. masterlist. next. ->

written: 1.6k words

chapter ten: in front of eunchae's salad

"stop making tiktoks, chae, you're blasting that damn audio. aren't you supposed to be helping?"

"oh my god can you literally shut the fuck up for two seconds yn, i'm in the middle of something here!"

yn snickers at chaeri's agitated response (because if there's one thing he can be serious for, it's tiktoking.) the group and their staff are arranging the set for yn's newest vlog, but in reality only staff's being productive. kuli's absent-mindedly fiddling with a camera and its tripod by the side, ivory is sitting criss-cross by the door patiently waiting for the contestants to arrive, chaeri is putting his entire soul into passionately dancing to queencard, and yn's perched atop a wooden stool... blindfolded.

"you know, i still don't understand the point of this damn blindfold- i always have to sit for at least twenty minutes with nothing to do and i get BORED. can i take the stupid thing off now?"

"no you can't, because your guests get here soon and you don't get to see them yet." kuli subtly raises his voice a little louder than normal, so to cover the slight creak of the door's hinges as ivory shuts it as quietly as possible. said guests have just entered the massive filming studio, both whispering a silent greeting to the white-blonde male before tip-toeing to where chae's excitedly waving them over. "suck it up, it's only a little longer."

"fine, but i swear if my eyeliner gets fucked-"

"language!" one of the cameramen shouts lightheartedly.

"...you're kidding. so it's fine when chaeri swears but suddenly when i do it it's a federal crime-"

"you're so melodramatic." ivory shoves yn's shoulder lightly, the latter flailing about in an attempt to hit him back while the contestants (namely riki) have to smother a laugh at the sight.

"don't interrupt me!-"

"you can take the blindfold off now."

"fuck off."

"language!"

yn hurls the eyemask at kuli with a vengeance before raising a brow at the set's arrangement. a wide assortment of mats are scattered around the large three-wall space, a single panel missing to keep the area open and- is that a fucking dance dance revolution machine? a trio of differently shaded doors are to his right as usual, the last forest green, middle ruby red and the foremost pitch black. there's also an impressive television placed in the corner with "just dance" on the screen (today's focus is certainly on dancing), but the main attraction seems to be the oversized pad with several rows of multi-colored dots spread in the center of the floor.

"twister? seriously? i killed my back the last time we played this!" yn groans loudly, much to chaeri's delight. he's not left much time to mourn his poor bones, however, as a quick "quiet on set" is callex and the other X_CAPE members scramble to... well, escape the camera shot.

"we'll have fun, yn!" chae hollers as he scurries behind a wall. what the hell are you talking about? he's tempted to ask, but before he can manage a word-

"aaaaand action!"

shit. "we're live, and, uh, back. again. welcome to another episode of cyren says, i'm your host cyren as always-"

an unseen ivory collapses into a fit of laughter. "you are still so bad at this, my god. is this dateline or something..."

"y'know what would be funny? if you go and suck my-"

"cut! yn what the hell."

"can i go one minute without being interrupted?!"

five "cut!"s and multiple scoldings later, they've finally managed to settle down, get through the introduction and brief summary of the series ("you pick your favorites, they do some random activities chosen by my groupmates and i get to throw a wrench into whatever they're doing.") now, they're ready to announce the contestants, starting from third place.

"so this month's choices are all maknaes? well, coming in third will be the youngest of us today. his representative animal is a snake... and he's looking forward to 'beating me in twi'- nope. no, absolutely not." this time yn's the one cutting himself off, upper lip curling to form a judgmental look of absolute disgust. "due to undisclosed reasons we WON'T be having this person here today-"

"give it up for X_CAPE's viper!" the green door bursts open with a shit ton of zest to reveal the boy in question, who's infinitely pleased with himself. yn shoots him a withering glare.

"right. X_CAPE's, ew, maknae viper."

"hey!-"

"anyways. next up..." viper wrinkles his nose playfully as he makes his way to his designated seat, yn pretending not to notice as he peels the next envelope. a grin comes to his face as he reads off the card. "she's your favorite cat-chick, and one of our lovely mcs for music bank, please welcome le sserafim's eunchae!"

"EUNCHAE OH MY GOD." chaeri gasps as she opens her red door with a bright smile, the two exchanging a high five as she sits.

"thanks for having me again cyren," she greets politely, but the two are well acquainted with her to know that she'll loosen up soon enough.

"last episode doesn't count, you only made an appearance!"

"we had fun on your star diary by the way!" kuli yells from elsewhere.

"hey, you're not supposed to be talking." yn rolls his eyes. "all the way in first place now..." he carefully unfolds the paper, not-so-secretly hoping it's the person he thinks it is. the name pops out to him in large letters, and he has to hide his beam behind his hand.

"i'm sure we all know who it is already." viper deadpans at the camera, and eunchae snorts.

"shut it twig. voted in first is the ever-so-talented chick- i mean cheetah, our very own mini michael jackson, here's ni-ki of enhypen!"

"does this count as an official award?" riki steps in with a crooked smirk, and instantly they make eye contact.

throughout all the (many) occasions they've hung out, they kept it casual. at most, yn might have a light touch of blush brushed under his lower lids, but never any super noticable makeup. so, for riki to see him with eyeliner sharp enough to cut diamonds and contour rubbed upon his cheekbones, dressed more casually with white jeans and a cute sweater in his signature dark blue, it's a surprise- a good one at that, because he looks gorgeous.

yn could say the same for him. he has to bite his lip to hold in the compliment that immediately comes to mind after glancing at riki's light turtleneck and dark jacket, pants to match. he invites him to sit down next to him, though neither of them are unaware of the knowing side-eyes they're getting from their juniors.

"i told you i wasn't exaggerating!" viper whispers to eunchae.

"i feel like i'm intruding on something," she mumbles.

"cyren says quit the secrets."

ni-ki laughs. "you're just going to abuse your host power, aren't you?"

"only on viper."

"it's because i'm a better dancer, isn't it?"

"...that may be a stretch."

"eunchae?! i thought you'd have my back!"

with the chaes jokingly bickering in the background, ni-ki takes the opportunity to look longer at yn. he swallows hard, taking in the glitter that litters his upper eyelids to fit with his golden jewelry, to the tint that turns his lips slightly rouge. just say whatever- sunghoon's advice repeats in his head as he discreetly turns off his mic, if only for a brief moment, gaze still fixated on the other boy.

yn takes note of this stare, silently switching off his microphone to return it. "what?" the corners of his mouth twitch with his teasing tone, and riki has to rack his brain for what to say.

you look-

well, great is way too half-assed, amazing is too vague, and nice is boring. so he ends up blurting the first word that he actually thought of.

"you look really pretty."

he curses internally, hoping he hasn't said the complete wrong thing- but according to the way yn's using his cards to hide the lower half of his face, he's done well.

the host turns to pay attention to the conversing younger duo for a minute to process the bold compliment, before returning his attention to riki. "are you insinuating that i don't look pretty all the time?"

"you know that's not what i meant."

"i'm kidding, i'm kidding, thank you." yn nudges him gently. "you look pretty too."

"thank you?"

filming wraps up in a few hours, each of the teens having had a blast. they're all a bit worn, though, after literally running around the entire time. riki shares a sideways smile with yn when it's time to exchange farewells, despite both knowing they're likely to see each other within the next two days at least.

"i had fun," he admits as he slides into his jacket, yn ready to see him out.

"of course you did, i'm wonderful to be with." he leers lopsidedly at the taller from beneath his lashes.

"yeah, okay," ni-ki laughs softly. "we still on for saturday?"

"when are we not?" yn rolls his eyes. "i'll text you."

"no, you'll call instead."

"you know me so well." he pushes riki's shoulder gently. "now go, stop stalling! i know you're getting picked up."

"so eager to get rid of me..." he pouts fakely as he finally exits, yn waving him all the way down. once he's out of sight, the boy turns to say goodbye to eunchae, only to find her giving him an unimpressed stare with her arms crossed.

"really? right in front of my salad?"

"so chaeri's recruited you to his cause, huh."

"would it kill you guys to keep your flirting PRIVATE?!"

"you want the honest answer to that or...?"

"i hate you."

notes: god tumblr pisses me off so bad it took me 30 MINUTES to add 3 images holy shit. anyways happy 4th of july to anyone the celebrates AMERICA RAHHH or wtv,,, i had no reason to add eunchae btw i js love her so much. also i know i know cyki hasnt made any REAL progress but i have plans believe me

taglist: @silkentides @nikikids @totoroblop @winter-world @phantom-butterfly @simsoobean @byu @noredplz @sh0uj0-r3i @onementally-unstabel-kid @thepeachyhub @enhypen-reblog @ao5riki @bearseulgs @le0-0nidas @gothhyucks @to-toad @ddeonubaby @nootnootpinguuu @sunseeking-cryptid @priochebun

bold can't be tagged!

#x reader #enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha x male reader #enha x reader #male reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #enha niki #niki x male reader #ni ki enhypen #enha riki #enhypen riki #enha smau #smau #ni ki #riki x reader

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aetheternity · 2 years

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Simply put, you are the man of my dreams~

A/N: Otherwise known as me projecting my wants in a relationship with modern day Venti and claiming it's a birthday post designed with readers in mind. HAPPY BIRTHDAY VENTI

Disclaimer: This post will have both sfw and nsfw in which the nsfw is afab reader and I'll place a warning accordingly. Minors don't engage with the smut.

We're past the talking stage, now all I want to do is fall in love with you~

Crushing on Venti had been so easy. His smile set your heart aflame, eyes filled with so much sparkle. Nearly glowing whenever he spoke. And watching his fingers dance along the keys of a piano of simply flicking the strings of a guitar were enough to mesmerize even the least interested soul.

You'd found it almost odd that a man such as him didn't have flocks of suitors at his doorstep. Though the silly persona he didn't pretend to hide made you realize there might've been a reason for it.

But it didn't affect you the way it seemed to drive off others. And you continued to watch him both from afar and up close. You'd sift through his books of poetry whenever he offered them to you. Allowed yourself to lay your head across his lap as those silk fingers tended to even the most difficult songs. And listened to him drone on about any topic currently suited to his interests because hearing his voice was something you could only grow more fond of.

The day you'd finally received confirmation that his feelings were indeed as true as yours was a couple days after you'd attended one of his concerts. A show in which among fourty others the only one you'd watched was Venti and his captivating violin. The only moment you ever got to witness serious Venti.

He'd stuffed a note underneath your phone on the table in your living room for you to find once you awoke. The calligraphy of his poetry bleeding into every word like he'd actually poured himself into them. The last of the words being a request: Let's return to the place that birthed our friendship, I wish to see you the way I did then.

Your heart clamored the entire way there and once you'd finally arrived you'd approached a Venti so deep within his guitar playing that you didn't think he could hear you walk up.

The music soon stopped however and those pretty eyes dawned on you with unprecedented adoration. Half lidded and stuck on you with the widest smile.

"You've come at long last! I was getting worried you hadn't received my poetry."

He maneuvered his guitar so that it rested snuggly against his back before retrieving the bouquet of flowers laid at his side. Despite the fact that everything around you was adorned in color, flowers of all kinds tickling the ankles and feet of anyone who walked through here the flowers he'd given you were wrapped in plastic decorated with the most gorgeous bow.

You sunk to your knees by his side, the shade of the tree he'd been sat under instantly cooling. You giggled at the thoughtfulness of his gift, tugging softly at the tips of the velvet red bow around your bouquet.

"I'm supposed to be the one that gifts you flowers." You say giving them a long sniff. The bridge of your nose soon comes in contact with an item beneath the petals. A piece that makes you remove your face with a single huff. "Ow, what's this?"

You slip your fingers in sifting around for the item that sliced your nose. "Seems like a card." Venti replied simply, the smile gracing his face laced his words.

The side you'd pulled it out on had been blank upon view and you quickly turned it over to read the words, We're well beyond the talking stage, now all I think of is you, can you find it in your heart to fall in love with me too?

Your head darted up to those piercing green eyes, the softest grin you'd ever seen Venti wear and the pink faintly dusting his cheeks.

"Venti.. th-this you're not.. if this is one of your practical jokes then that's just cruel."

The prick of tears in the corner of your eyes blurs your vision. You tilt your head down, note still pinched between your index and thumb. A feather light touch slides beneath your chin tilting your head high enough to receive a slow, yearning kiss.

"I don't want this to be a joke.." You whisper as he gives you the faintest second of air. Just as quickly slotting his lips with yours as fat tears roll along your nose and cheek. His hands cupping your face as though you were so so fragile.

"I love you so much.." You hum into his mouth taken aback by the noticeable tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I love you too."

Pampering your precious prince~

Being in love with Venti stays easy day after day it's hard not to spoil him at every chance that presents itself.

You rebraid his hair for him in the mornings and in the evenings you undo them taking the time to stare into those mesmerizing eyes of his as you do so. Dodging his kisses because if you indulge the two of you will definitely be late to whatever plans you have that day.

Within time you find yourself buying hair clips and ties. Your mini obsession with playing in his hair starting out pretty small before eventually divulging into needing to keep the assortment of hair accessories in a locked box for safe keeping. As they'd nearly taken over the bath/bedroom. Your favorites being the clip of the big white flower with accents of green beneath each smooth petal, that you often used to clip his bangs away from his face.

And the many many butterfly hair ties that you used to keep his braids pretty all day. You even have multi colored yarn that you twist into his braids every now and then to make them pop. Venti had of course been a bit worried about you spending so much money on little hair accessories for him but you'd quickly alleviated his worries with a melody of praises focused on his beauty.

Along with of course allowing him to return the favor. At first it's a little difficult for him to manage your hair the way you do. Though he's a very quick learner and once he's got it down he'll even offer to wash your hair for you on days when you're too tired to care for it yourself. You'll tell him the sink is a perfectly fine choice but he much prefers climbing into the shower with you so that once he's cleaned your hair he can clean the rest of your, "nooks and crannies." as he so eloquently puts it.

He compliments your beauty as well. Littering your notebooks (or sometimes the notes app on your phone). With tiny doodles of his smiling face and flowers he'd drawn coupled with the cutest love notes. Whether they'd fill an entire page or just be a couple lines was normally based on how crazy or laid back Venti's day was. Either way you always looked forward to his sonnets and sometimes quickly scribbled melodies about how you filled his stomach with butterflies.

Going to his concerts had always been some of your favorite ways to end your day before but now watching Venti's gorgeous fingers sift between keyboard keys while he wore the pins you'd recently brought and decorated his hair with just made it an extra special treat. Bonus points if he shifts his gaze to the audience just to capture the look on your face. The lighting making the pink of his cheeks so much more apparent.

Museum dates! Museum dates! Especially when it's too hot or too cold to be outside. Venti claims looking at art will help him appreciate the art before him all the better but a small part of him clearly just enjoys snickering at funnily worded labels and descriptions.

"This one has cock in its name." He snickers as other patrons stare at him.

"Not gonna even pretend to be mature?" You sigh, though the twitches of the corners of your lips are insanely hard to hide. Hard to be mad at someone that cute.

"We should go look at the homo sapiens again." He snorts

"We almost got kicked out of that section for good reason!"

Your Saturday nights during very early days of your relationship normally consist of Netflix on in the background of nail trimming/clipping and painting, mud masks and aimless conversations about your week. Or even aimless conversation in general. But that's how the two of you enjoyed it.

"Do you have enough time to get coffee with me first? Or is Signora forcing everyone to rush to the concert hall?"

He sighs wearily as you dig nail polish out of the grooves of his finger. "Rushing. Which means we're all going to get yelled at again.. I mean how is she still shocked when all fourty people don't show up on time for rehearsal? Does it even matter? We all sound amazing anyway.."

"I mean some people should get some kind of pass." You say finishing the green on his middle finger before grabbing the bottle of blue polish on the table. "There are guys that live super far away right?"

He nods, "Kazuha but he's actually on time more often than Yelan. I swear I'll never understand why that woman chose orchestra as a profession when she constantly shows up late and tired! Even worse she rarely brings her sheet music."

You tsk, blowing on his nail. "Some people are so unprofessional." You dip the brush back into the paint, reapplying a particularly badly colored spot. "What's she play again?"

"Violin." He can't help but giggle at the face you're pulling. Brows furrowed and eyes focused. "You look so serious."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you simply shake your head. "Well, I want your nails to be the neatest and prettiest there so everyone in the audience will know you have a loving partner who makes you look beautiful."

His smile is entrancing as he leans in to press a brief but grateful kiss upon your lips. "You know Signora is one hundred percent going to make me wipe this off before the next show right?" He mumbles still leaned in close enough for his breath to flutter across your lips.

"Witch."

Venti's laugh is uncontrolled. Forehead resting against yours as his shoulders shake and his fingers reach out to use your arms as supports. You groan, a huff similar to an ungrateful child's flooding from your nose.

"Can't you hide your nails till then?"

Venti's laugh dies with a happy sigh, "Love, you know that's impossible."

You sigh, "Ugggghhhh.."

"We'll enjoy it tonight though!" He lifts his hands towards his lips blowing on each nail one by one. Before latching a hand around your wrist.

"Oh? What'd you have in mind?" You ask though you'd already pieced it together before he'd even led you to your shared bedroom.

Pretty boys deserve pretty things~ {Nsfw from here on}

The one thing you can normally count on Venti to be is horny. He hid it surprisingly well for the first four to five months of your relationship. But once he'd finally seen you naked for the first time, the wandering touches began. Longer kisses when all the two of you had said you would do was cuddle. And you can't exactly be mad at your precious prince, he is a huge stress reliever.

After long days of dealing with Signora he likes to come home and bury his face deep in your cunt. He says it's completely for your pleasure but he's such a noisy eater and he doesn't come up for air till he's given you back to back orgasms. The tips of his braids always soaked from your orgasms and his mouth and chin still dripping. His favorite way to enjoy it is when you sit on his face so he can work his cock nice and fast to the pace of mouth.

He doesn't ask for head very often himself but if you offer his grin will be massive. He especially enjoys it when you kiss the tip of his cock and balls before plunging down. Never fails to get him riled up.

On certain occasions he'll ask for a quickie before you two leave for one of his shows. It's a nice compromise he'll wear the beautiful hair ties you bought him throughout his entire show and you'll sit in the audience still pumped full of his cum. Your pussy still aching from how rough he'd been.

Edge him! Edge him! Edge him! Venti's not opposed to being a bottom especially when he's being lazy but still wants to get off. While he complains and cries in the heat of the moment, he genuinely loves being edged. The way a weight lifts off his chest when he finally gets to climax, eyes forced to the back of his head and leg twitching in pure ecstasy. The softest whimpers piling off his lips as he pumps you nice and full before falling asleep beneath you.

"Sounds like someone's close." You tease positioning your hips to slide down quicker. Cunt molding around his cock like it'd been designed specially for him.

He doesn't even try to hide the hitch of his breath, the tug of his nails puncturing the fat of your hips. Even though he always keeps them short for work purposes. "Please.. please.. I need to cum.."

You pull a fake pout as your gaze meets glossed over green eyes. You can feel the struggle of his hips trying their best not to buck upwards into your delicious heat. All that floods from his lips are tiny whimpers pleading for even the tiniest bit of release. You reach down to cup his cheek, swiping a sympathizing thumb over the tears dripping down his face.

"Cum for me." You say simply nearly losing your balance as he tugs you into him tighter, pounding his hips forward with little restraint.

The gasp that floods your lips is almost completely inaudible over the chorus of appreciative moans spilling out with every pound of Venti's hips. One more word of warning leaves his mouth before he's finishing with a heavy sigh. A deep tremor settling through him from the tips of his fingers to the edges of his toes.

The two of you can't help but giggle as he slowly begins to come down from his high. His cock growing soft inside of you. You pepper kisses along the shell of his ear then over the tip of his nose to his cheek on the opposite side. His eyes soon shutting and you watch him slowly drift off while curling the tips of his sweaty bangs around your fingers. His arms stay draped around you and eventually you feel the lull of sleep taking you in as well.

"Good night Venti." One more kiss to his parted lips and you turn just enough to sleep comfortably without waking him.

Cockwarming happens a lot too. Sometimes out of necessity (that's what Venti calls it when he needs to be buried inside of you but he has a poems to finish) sometimes because Venti fell asleep right after an orgasm and sometimes just because he thinks he can last without fucking you throughout a two hour movie.

"Why was this something you absolutely had to do now?" You question raising your hips a little while Venti furiously scribbles.

"I promised I get Kazuha these stanzas by tomorrow. I swear I'm almost done so just don't move.." Try as you might you genuinely can't help but buck your hips back into him peeking behind you as he nearly punctures the page with his pen. "You're so gonna get it when I'm done with these."

Venti's not so secretly a pillow princess so more often than not the position he wants is you riding him. He can pound into you from below or just lay back while you make his head dizzy. How could he not enjoy it when it gives him an especially nice angle to watch your tits bounce from. But more likely it's just because he's being lazy again. It hardly matters though even when he's particularly sluggish he can still pound a couple of orgasms out of you.

Don't be surprised when one round turns into three with Venti. He loves breeding you so much. The way his cum flushes out of you when he's just finished stirring your guts. On special nights he'll get just a little more possessive and press his load right back into you before working himself up to give you another.

"I promise.. just one more load ok? Take my cum one more time.. just let me fill you.." He'll beg, when he does definitely prepare yourself for a couple hours and a swollen cunt pumped full of cum.

#venti x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader smut #venti x reader fluff #genshin fluff #genshin smut

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clarajohnson · 3 months

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the magicians s2e11

julia wanting to steal a kid's teeth but she promises she'd leave money she's the cutest oh my god

queen of the great worms, what if i need to borrow it super briefly

i think the underworld is very fun i always enjoy it in the magicians. well. Until I Don't.

some all time sleeves from margo

god literally every time i see idri i get mad which is not his fault but it does happen he is SUCH AN OBSTACLE !!!!!!!!!!

sphincter magic... we all need a healthy pelvic floor......... the chemistry jesus christ the chemistry

I FORGOT ABOUT SYLVIA oh what a gift this rewatch is

poor abigail being turned into a rat :-(

jeanbag chair yayyyyyyyyyyyy!

kady and penny the actual love story of the magicians

the senator plot is so fucking funny to me why did they think they had time for this

bowling incident my beloved. actually you know what entire bowling scene my beloved. richard my beloved. free trader beowulf my beloved. so many beloveds.

julia! i-- i got a strike! DWEEB !!!!!

whimsical is the mark of the stupid and the arrogant to attack what you can't comprehend. no i'm sorry you guys are whimsical as shit.

PENNY AND ZELDA PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

oh no, security!

oh senator john mulaney you scare me to look at too closely

oh my god i just remembered the alice's shade thing

shadeless julia is still so kind and wonderful which i think is a very important thing. i don't know what they mean for a shade to be, soul or something else, but i like seeing what julia is without hers.

WE WERE SO STUPID TO LOVE YOU !!!!!!!!

even when margo is just facing the consequences of actions she definitely took i'm like aw margo :-(

sylvia i am enchanted by you please say everything immediately

"truthied" one of those tiny worldbuilding details that scratches my brain so right

did not at all remember eliot putting her in the fucking dungeon oh my god? "make sure she gets the best room and see that she gets her coconut oil" WHAT IF I CRIED

qualice really not my favorite thing in this show but there is really something about the way his entire face crumples and softens any time he sees any version of her it's kind of insane

also forgot about reynard's awful misogynistic beef with olu like sure i'm not a big fan of her but you are a fucking creep little fox man

my god i remember NOTHING of this show even eliot getting booted from fillory was gone from my brain

free will, i exercise that shit

"i'm going to be back here for good one day and i am going to find you" is kind of unexpectedly destroying me this time oh christ on a cracker

#I CAUGHT UP !!!!!!!!!!#unauthorized magicians rewatch #the magicians #text

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sorayah2 · 1 year

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━Sensory Lovers| Neteyam x oc FF

@Sorayahluvs on Wattpad, I always post there days before posting on Tumblr!✨ Pls vote there too😘

✠ ┏━━━━━━━━Chapter 3

✩°̥࿐୨୧

Although she didn't say whether she accepted his apology or not, Saraïyah did appreciate the fact that he owned up to his actions despite the reasons he had. He acknowledged his mistake and apologized to her, something that the guys she's used to wouldn't bother doing. They would probably flip her off and she'd cussed them out.

The thought of some shameless creep spying on her with inappropriate intentions made her skin crawl in disgust. If that was truly the case, she would've killed him and buried his body deep under the ground. Then happily move on with her life. Who was going to find out when they were all by themselves? The creatures? Please.

But why didn't she take that action? Why did she allow him the luxury of hearing what she assumed would be pathetic nonsense as his justification?

Interestingly, it was his eyes.

His pure golden eyes, a perfect shade of yellow, and the most enchanting details she had ever seen in her entire life held her small reflection. Radiant and distinct.

The villagers often say that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. Like body language, the eyes say more than words ever could. The eyes can tell a lot about someone's emotional state. They don't lie. They show the truth, no matter what face they put on. By looking into the eyes of an individual, one can see their hidden emotions, attitudes, and thoughts.

She sees him.

She was able to read his emotions through those eyes. Even if she didn't want to believe him, he was telling the truth.

That intense eye contact snapped something inside that she never knew existed, which left her speechless and confused.

She was leading the way and Neteyam was following closely behind her, he skipped to be right beside her. Being taller than her required him to look at her from a lower angle.

"So, what's your name, Princess?"

Her ears perked up at the nickname he had just called her. Why would he even think to casually address her as such? And why does her entire body keep getting triggered by these weird sensations? It was a simple word that strangely flutters her heart and makes her feel like millions of Shimmyflies are dancing around in her belly.

Nicknames are normal between her and her friends. She shouldn't have been in any way affected by it. But his was different; it sent shivers down her spine.

Odd and unfamiliar. These confusing feelings, which still linger, had begun earlier. When she had him pinned against a tree with a knife to his throat. One wrong move sealed his fate.

He's too composed for a man who nearly lost his life.

Neteyam even surprised himself and didn't know why he said it. It slipped out. Either way he didn't mind and will continue calling her that.

Brushing her wavy wet hair off her shoulder, she replied. "Saraïyah, or Saïyah for short."

"Saraïyah." He repeated her name slowly at a low volume, paused for about two seconds, and then smiled genuinely while continuously staring at her. "It's beautiful, definitely suits you."

There's that feeling again.

"Thanks, what's yours?" She avoided Neteyam's gaze in the hopes that he wouldn't be able to see her tainted cheeks.

He did notice, and decided not to speak on it. At least for now.

"Neteyam Sully."

She, finally, raised her head to face him and asked, "The sixth Toruk Makto's oldest son?"

"You heard about me? I didn't know I was that popular. That's awesome-"

"Hold your tail, your parents are the legends, not you buddy. I only heard about you once." She diminished his enthusiasm, while thinking back to a random night. Although the memory was hazy, she can still recall portions of it.

"Buzzkiller." He playfully nudged her.

Snorting with a small smirk, she did the same to him. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,"

"You interrupted me."

"Be quiet, you." She hushed him, "As I was saying, I'd watch my back with Aonung if I were you mr 'Perfect' child. He despises you."

Saraïyah is certain that Aonung won't be hesitant to express his enduring hostility whenever he has the chance.

He noted the irony in her tone when she referred to him as 'Mr. Perfect.'

Neteyam raised an eyebrow, " Why though? I've only met him today."

Aonung having yet another unspoken hatred towards him was baffling. He was aware of the guy's resentment and annoyance when his father asked him to help him and his siblings adjust to the reef lifestyle.

"Well, his dad did compare him to you a few years ago. He was going on and on about how impressed he was with your achievements at a young age. I guess Aonung got hurt and jealous, so since then you've been dead to him."

"Really? Damn, no wonder he's acting like a jerk towards my siblings and I."

"That's how he is, a real jerk." A very annoying one she wishes she could beat up with a stick every single day.

When she spotted some Yovo bushes she moved towards them, signaling him to follow.

The bushes have large tufts of green leaves at the top and clusters of Yovo fruits underneath the leaves, and the purple fruit itself is small enough to fit several of them onto the palm of a Na'vi hand.

She started collecting the leaves and the fruits. "He just wants his father to recognize him. But, I suppose you do have to live up to yours too, don't you?"

"Yeah." Neteyam slowly nodded as he assisted her. "I kinda relate to him on that part."

"I feel for you guys, honestly. It must be a nightmare, constantly trying to prove your worth with all of those expectations and standards. That all sounds exhausting. I'd rather sleep."

He chuckled, "Right, it's fortunate and unfortunate. My parents don't exactly force them upon us...It's more like a self-obligation for me. I mainly want to set an example for my siblings and help them."

Neteyam cares greatly for his siblings, he supports them all so they can shine and succeed. To him, they're special and amazing in their own way.

"Don't mind me asking, why would your family come here when you have your own land? Did you get kicked out of your clan?"

"No, it was our choice. The guy my dad fought and my mom killed in the past is somehow back from the dead, and now he's after us for revenge. Dad decided that we should escape and hide among a different tribe. Our escape would also protect the rest of our tribe since they are the primary target for him."

He gave a brief explanation of the situation, including how it all began and how it should have ended. But fate says otherwise. Given that this is his family's business, he kept it to a minimum. She's still a stranger at the moment.

"You said that man is obsessed with tracking and capturing your father and that his cruelty has no bounds, where do you think the Metkayina clan will stand if he manages to reach our villages?" She pressed the matter.

Saraïyah was neither gullible nor clueless; she easily caught on to the dilemma. The Sully's understandably ran away on their own and with their tribe's favor, but by coming here, they also brought danger to another tribe, who are not in war or direct conflict with those Sky people personally. The people would undoubtedly fall victim to that man's cruelty, meaning that even if they are innocent, they may lose their lives.

Tonowari's sympathy for the family wasn't unexpected; what's surprising is Ronal herself complied. Saraïyah wasn't opposed to their decision, to say the least, she probably would've accepted them as well. She's naturally concerned about their safety, especially the children.

"We'll stay and fight." Neteyam stated with assurance and confidence.

However, despite their arms' strength and hearts' bravery, they will not be able to repel the determined assault without suffering fatalities. That was something he was conscious of.

"Is that so. There's not much of a choice, is there." She simply said this and looked further ahead of them.

Neteyam was about to respond when Saraïyah suddenly gasped, her jaw dropping.

"Oh my Eywa."

"What? What is it, what's wrong?" He scans the area, trying to figure out what startled her.

"Shh, come on." She dragged him behind the bushes.

"See that over there?" He looks at where she was pointing to, nodding.

"A Slinth? If it attacks, we can just kill it."

He reached for his knife but she intervened, shaking her head.

"Helloo? We're not gonna do such a thing. It's sleeping, we mustn't disturb it. I want you to be as stealthy as you can so we don't end up as the next course meals."

Neteyam shrugged, his idea is more reasonable. "Yes, ma'am."

Eywa and luck are on vacation, while unlucky was having a satisfying field day with two teenagers who thought their stealth skills were useful against the sharp predator and are currently regretting their live decisions.

The cunning creature had long been awake; it sensed the free meals from miles away and pretended to still be asleep. Until it needs to feed, it spends the majority of the day sleeping in the forest. When this occurs, it is among the fastest land predators on Pandora and is known for injecting its prey with a powerful poison before devouring them alive.

Once they moved close enough, the Slinth jumped to attack with an opened mouth and claws. Thanks to Neteyam's rapid reflex as he quickly grabbed a branch and swung, the Slinth was launched into the air and struck a tree. Right away, he started dragging Saraïyah after him as they ran in a different direction.

The Slinth screamed in agony and became enraged. Its speed was less effective because of the discomfort, but it was unaffected by this.

Unlike the previous occasion, Saraïyah is not being saved by her aunt. Back then, she was sad that the creature died despite the traumatic event she experienced. Now, deep down, she wished she had listened to Neteyam's proposition.

Gut-wrenching, heart pumping-after several thrusts forward, her legs started hurting, but she couldn't slow down. She was running so fast that she thought her legs were going to explode. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins as she forces her legs to push harder, anticipating the relief of lying in her warm bed if they escape this mess.

"I think this is the waterfall!" Neteyam said through sharp breaths. He's still holding her hand securely in his.

Saraïyah heaved out a long relieved sigh.

The waterfall was another option for them to return because it is partially connected to the ocean. Compared to the alternative route they were travelling, it does take longer.

Finally, they made it to the stony peak of the waterfall, panting from fatigue. They gaze back toward the Slinth as it draws closer, then down at the streaming water.

"You ready for it, Princess?"

They exchanged smirks while looking at one another.

"Heck yeah!"

With both safety precautions and fun in mind, they went for it and plunged off the edge. Saraïyah maintained a perfect form and pointed toes, while Neteyam had a much more laid-back attitude to the whole thing, having to perform multiple flips and twists from the spectacular heights.

All they could hear during the loud and exciting trip was the constant boom of water pounding into the stream and their screams. Plus, the bubbly rush of being one with the falls. The harsh smash landing that a several-foot fall may have caused was softened by the swirling water at the base of the waterfall.

"That was insane!"

"And dangerous!"

Plunging into a cool, fresh, tropical waterfall pool is one of the most exhilarating experiences imaginable for the two. Saraïyah never imagined herself engaging in such activities with a boy she had just met and had been threatening not long ago, on a random day like this.

This isn't a place that she often comes to, she was spending time with her Ilu and the scenery simply captured her attention. She planned on swimming for a short while and then possibly collecting weaving materials on the way home.

Never expected to be chased by a deadly beast.

Never expected to even cross paths with this Omaticaya Na'vi. And him saving her.

Obviously, she wouldn't stand by and let that Slinth kill her and carry on with its life or the next prey, just because she has it in her to oppose violence against creatures. She could have undoubtedly defended herself in some way if she had been alone, and if push came to shove, she would've set her merciful heart aside.

But in any case, Saraïyah was rather impressed by his rapid control of the situation. To a certain extent.

"You okay there, Princess?" Her wavy, dispersed hair was sticking to her face and blocking her eyesight, which made him chuckle amusingly.

"Not funny Skxawng," She scolds him, smiling as she fixes her hair.

That smile.

Her smile is so contagious to him.

"I'm fine, kinda bummed out about my materials, they're all soaked and ruined." She pursed her lips into a slight pout.

"Look on the bright side, at least we survived." He glanced up, finding out that the creature was gone. "Do you wanna try another spot? I'm sure that beast is still lurking near."

"It's whatever, I'm too tired. I think I'll have time to hunt tomorrow."

He nodded.

Saraïyah made a tongue-clicking noise, calling out to her Ilu.

The Ilu are social by nature, smart, and easy to domesticate. Like direhorses serve the Na'vi clans of the forests, jungles, and plains, it serves the reef clans, particularly the Metkayina. They can be found in groups close to the settlements of oceanic Na'vi clans and are as common in the ocean as Ikrans are in the sky.

"I still can't believe we just did that. My veins are shaking."

"I've jumped from taller ones." He spoke of it as if it were a simple and normal activity.

"I could tell, showoff." She playfully rolled her eyes.

Neteyam smirked. "We should go for another round."

"Absolutely not, I'm never doing this again." She waved him off.

Saraïyah spotted her Ilu swimming at full speed in their direction, her eyes lit up. Chichi emerged from beneath the waves to the surface in a dramatic entrance. Circling Saraïyah was what she first did.

"Hey Stargirl!" Her smile grew.

The creature was only concerned about whether Saraïyah suffered from any injuries.

"We're alright, don't worry." Saraïyah reassured her and petted her skin to alleviate her anxiety.

Chichi's a creature of rare beauty, adored by her Saraïyah.

Unlike an ikran, Ilu do not develop individual bonds with riders, so a skilled rider can mount any ilu that has been familiarized with the kuru bond. Chichi chose Saraïyah solely as her bond; hence, that fact didn't apply to them.

Saraïyah turned to Neteyam, "This is Chichi, she's my big spoiled baby."

"Hi Chichi," He greeted her.

Chichi slapped her tail against the water in response, splashing him in the face.

He wiped his face and said, "I guess I didn't pass her vibe check."

"Quite the opposite, actually, she thinks you're handsome. She'd bite you if you didn't." Like she always does to Aonung and Rotxo. And Saraïyah couldn't agree more with that statement.

"Oh yeah? Are you speaking for her or through her?" Neteyam swam a little bit closer, taking pleasure in the reddening of her cheeks as she realized what he meant.

"It's her opinion!" Saraïyah gasped, and mentality cursed herself for how hyper her voice sounded.

"Sure, thanks Chichi." He spoke to Chichi while maintaining eye contact with the flustered girl next to her.

"You're such a tease!"

He shrugged, smirking.

"Argh! Let's take his ass back to the village, Stargirl. I'm sure your parents are worrying sick while their eldest son is over here acting like a playboy."

After they bonded, Saraïyah climbed onto the creature's back.

"That was so flexible."

"Boy I'll leave you behind if you don't stop talking and get on." She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest, earning Neteyam's attention there for a fleeting second.

He hummed, doing as she says.

Saraïyah advised him to hang on to her since Chichi swims however she pleases in order to prevent him from sliding off. He hesitated to touch her waist, which she recognized, but she assured him that she didn't mind.

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A/n; I feel like the more I write the more it takes for me to update, I don't wanna rush the story, but I also don't wanna take too long to update. I think I need some sort of deadline like updating after 100 reads...idk omggg y'all!!

Comment. Vote. Share♡

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iwonderwh0 · 1 year

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"The usual" Hank ordered, then glanced at Connor, who stood quietly next to him, watching, hands behind his back.

"You want anything?" Hank asked.

Connor frowned turning his head as he was about to say something, but Hank chuckled.

"Just kidding."

"Still follows you?" asked the owner of the "Chicken feed", indicating Connor with a nod.

"It's consensual."

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Hank bit into his burger as Connor stared at him, leaning on the stand-up table. Although he wasn't making any remarks about Hank's habits it became quickly uncomfortable as Connor's eyes continued to follow his every movement with a look of intense curiosity.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" asked Hank with a slight frown.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Do you always look at people like you're watching zoo animals?"

"Sorry," said Connor looking away from Hank, but barely a minute has passed before his eyes were drawn back to where they were before.

Hank slurped with his drink trying to make an eye contact intense enough for Connor to take a hint, but he seemed rather clueless, or maybe just pretended to be this way.

"Gee, I wish you could eat something so you wouldn't just stare at me the entire time." said Hank putting his drink down.

"How does it taste?" asked Connor eye-pointing at the burger.

"Is that what you've been thinking?"

He nodded.

Hank looked at the burger, thinking about how can it be best described, but not finding the right words he just shrugged.

"Tastes like a burger to me."

Connor thought about something for a moment and finally looked away.

"Have you thought about changing anything?" Hank asked, trying to make up for his failed attempt at describing food, "Like trying new clothes or... going somewhere, watching a movie or something." Hank stopped for a moment thinking what else to add to that list.

"If you're interested I can change my hair colour." Connor said.

"That's...not what I was thinking, but whatever works for you."

Hank took another bite thinking about this weird offer, but Connor kept looking at him as if waiting for a response.

"You mean like now?"

He nodded.

"Watch this."

Connor's hair gradually started to turn from dark brown into light shade of blond.

"What the..." Hank put his burger aside and reached his hand to touch Connor's head, "Now you can just turn blond on command?"

"For example," Connor tilted his head as his hair colour changed once again from blond to to black, "Or I can turn them pretty much any other colour. Like black. Or ginger."

Hank took a sip from his drink, looking at yet another change in Connor's hair colour. It involuntarily reminded him of some sailor-moon type of transformations. The thought made him smile.

"I think I should actually keep them this way," said Connor as his hair turned fully ginger, "It suits me."

"Why?" Hank frowned, confused with this sudden decision.

"Isn't it obvious?" Connor smiled expectedly, but Hank's expression turned even more confused.

"What part of it is supposed to be obvious?"

Connor's smile became slightly bigger.

"Gingers have no soul."

Hank didn't laugh. He looked at him seriously, almost disgusted.

"Very funny, Connor. Very." He put his drink down.

"You won't finish your meal?" asked Connor as Hank walked away from the table.

"No, you can have it."

------------

This scene was originally part of the fic (which I now feel like I'll never finish since my perception of the story and characters changed and now I can't feel them the same way I used to), but this scene can exist perfectly fine without any additional context so I decided to share it. I died laughing when I first thought of that, so I hope some of you will enjoy it as well.

#dbh #dbh connor #detroit become human #dbh hank #dbh fanfiction #just a short scene I wanted to share #snippets from my notes #platoniconk

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soft-for-yoongi · 1 year

Text

Sick Tae-bear (vmin)

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Sick person: Taehyung

Caretaker: Jimin

Tw: emeto, vom*****, mentions of nausea, stomach pain, minor burping, stomach ache

Word count: 885

(Taehyung has an upset stomach. It doesn't take much for his soul mate, Jimin, to find out)

I actually really like this so I hope you enjoy 🫶🥹

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Jimin tuts in sympathy as he watches from the dining table, Taehyung washing the dishes and his face screwing up from some pain he's not telling him about. Jimin studies his best friend, the problem finally clicking when the younger removes a rubber glove to bring his hand to his middle, frowning miserably.

Jimin coos, feeling bad for his soul mate. Jimin stands up and walks over to the kitchen, coming behind Taehyung and wrapping his arms around his chest. "Hey Taehyungie." Jimin says, head resting on the latter's shoulder. "Hey Jiminie.." Taehyung replies, continuing with the dishes.

Jimin says nothing for a little before he lowers his arms from Taehyung's chest to his stomach, giving it a soft rub and finding the surface to be rounded and hard. "Tummy bothering you, Taetae?" Jimin offers and Taehyung puts down a plate. "Yeah... gosh Jiminie–I don't know what it is but my belly is really hurting.." Taehyung groans, stomach gurgling under Jimin's palm.

"Here, leave the dishes, I'll do them later and let's lie down, yeah?" Jimin suggests, breaking away from the back hug and they both depart from the kitchen and make their way to Taehyung's bed.

Taehyung curses the ache that plagues his entire middle as he slowly situates himself on his bed, trying not to disturb his stomach more. Jimin watches warily, concerned for Taehyung. Jimin follows Taehyung onto his bed and lays down next to the singer. "Lie on your back so I can rub your poor tummy." Jimin instructs and Taehyung complies.

He gets a cramp right when Jimin touches his middle and can't help but wince. "Am I hurting you, Taetae?" Jimin worries, pausing his movements. "No– just had a cramp." Taehyung clenches his jaw, resting his head back on his pillow. Jimin lifts up Taehyung's shirt gently, giving way for his hand to trace patterns on the sensitive middle. Jimin can feel how upset Taehyung's stomach is from the churning and bubbling sounds it's emitting.

Jimin presses down lightly on Taehyung's bloated stomach, causing him to burp. Taehyung covers his mouth and Jimin thinks for a second that he's about to vomit but he murmurs a quiet, "excuse me.."

"Oh Taehyung.. don't be embarrassed, here sit up. It sounds like you need to burp." Jimin says, giving Taehyung's exposed middle a tiny pat before helping his 95' member pull himself upright. Taehyung is greeted with a harsh contraction from the movement and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Relax, Tae-bear." Jimin smiles gently, beginning to rub large circles on Taehyung's back.

Taehyung closes his eyes and tries to focus on the ministrations. Jimin goes from the large circles to small tiny ones between Taehyung's shoulder blades. Taehyung feels his stomach swirling with trapped air and some makes it's way up. Taehyung's breath hitches before a burp forces itself out. "There we go." Jimin coos, seeing how Taehyung's cheeks go a cute shade of crimson.

Taehyung's stomach is still as hard and full as it was before and Jimin continues with the rhythmic rubbing, big to small circles. Taehyung chirps out a few more hiccuping burps, starting to worry as each one becomes wetter, bringing a sour taste. Jimin's got a crease of worry between his eyebrows and stills his hand.

"Hey, you okay Taetae?" Jimin brushes the brunettes hair out of his eyes. Taehyung swallows hard, "I feel like I'm gonna puke, Jiminie.." he sighs, hand to his middle. "Right now?? Hold on- let me get you something." Jimin rushes to grab a small bin tucked in the corner of Taehyung's bedroom.

Taehyung mumbles something but gets cut off by a gag, and Jimin shoves the bin into Taehyung's lap. "What's got your tummy so upset, Taehyungie?" Jimin ponders, rubbing the younger's back as a stream of spew leaves Taehyung's mouth. "I don—huurrkk—know." Taehyung responds, or tries to.

He feels his stomach lurch with each successful heave and Jimin clicks his tongue, "Breathe Taetae, take your time." Jimin presses a kiss to Taehyung's temple, massaging his nape. Taehyung's gags echo loudly in the bin, much like his sneezes that can shake a whole room.

Taehyung whines and groans, low vibrations in his throat before he dry heaves, spitting out saliva. Taehyung slips a hand under his shirt and holds his menacing middle. "Almost done, Tae-bear?" Jimin says gently. Taehyung stays quiet, eyes lulling shut as he tries to block the smell emitting from the bins contents.

Jimin runs his thumb over Taehyung's knuckles that grip the bin tightly. "I think my stomach has settled.. can you leave the bin here just in case? I feel like I'll throw up again—" Taehyung hiccups, lifting his head to look at his friend. "Of course, let me just change the bag." Jimin says, swiftly removing the plastic lining without making a face of disgust, despite the smell and appearance of the inside.

Taehyung slumps back, energy drained from the vomit-sesh. His arms feel empty without Jimin to hold onto, so he's glad Jimin comes back within a few minutes. "You're a clingy one, aren't you?" Jimin giggles playfully when the taller imidiantly wraps his arms around his waist.

Taehyung just nods, unable to deny. Who wouldn't want to cuddle with the sweet angel, Park Jimin? Exactly.

#bts #soft-for-yoongi writes #bts!sickfic #emeto #emeto fic #sick #sickfic #sick!taehyung #nausea #stomach ache #vmin #vomiting #bangtan #jimin #taehyung #im in love with park jimin #emeto mention #comfort

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all-things-fandomstuck-writes · 2 years

Text

Not All Dreams Have a Happy Ending. (The Corinthian x GN! Reader)

Hey everyone! Welcome to my first published fanfic on Tumblr! I’m not quite sure I like the beginning very much, but I will say that I think it gets better further into it.

And yes, I did use the dialogue from episode 10. I felt as if paraphrasing it would make it less impactful.

TW: Mentions of death, mentions of murder, slight body horror,

I do use (y/n). I know some people don’t like that, but I think it was the best I could do with what I was going for. Now, without further ado, on with the fic!

He never intended for it to end like this. One Moment, he was on the cusp of greatness. The next, he was nothing more than a pile of sand, and a small skull. However, in the moments before the darkness took him, the Corinthian’s mind wasn’t focused on his defeat. No. Instead, his thoughts drifted to his partner. His (y/n). Everything that had happened to them since the fateful day they first met, and now, all the things that would never come to pass.

It had been a particularly warm August evening. The summer month was more than half done, and yet the heat persisted. Many residences were hosting gatherings to celebrate one last time before the cooler weather started up again. And it was at one such gathering, that (y/n) met the Corinthian.

Dozens of people milled about the grounds of a small manor, while many more threw themselves about to the various songs that poured from the speakers. The Corinthian, not that anyone there knew that was his name, stood upon the second story balcony, and looked out into the back garden. The festivities had begun to bore him long ago. Drink no longer interested him, nor did any of the guests that had tried so desperately to get his attention.

He knew he possessed a certain magnetism, a charm that drew people to him. And, while this ability usually made his work all the easier, tonight, the Corinthian was in no mood for games. Well, not in the beginning, at least. He was debating on leaving the crowd of wanton souls for something more his tastes when he spotted a lone figure tucked away into the back corner of the garden.

“Now”, he thought, “this evening might just get interesting after all”. He made his way down to the garden, believing he had found the perfect playmate for his next game. He wove through the crowd of party goers, careful to avoid stepping on anyone’s toes as he waved off unwanted advances. The Corinthian was focused on one thing and one thing only.

His prey.

For a while watched them from a distance, analyzing his approach. He wanted to appear calm, and charming, not like some drunkard looking for a good time. Not that he was capable of getting drunk, but it was usually a safe bet not to play that way. No, the Corinthian wanted to put their mind completely at ease, so that he might gain their trust. However, that tactic seemed to fail as they happened to glance upwards in his direction, seemingly startled by his closeness.

“I thought no one would notice me all the way out here”, they said. The Corinthian grinned, assuming a gentlemanly manner, as not to scare them. “Oh,” he began. “I had no intentions of startling you. I was just looking for a place to get away from the party for a bit.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, for just enough of the truth remained to make it convincing. He was glad to see that his new conversation partner had donned a small smile, while beautiful (e/c) irises met his shaded ones. He was thinking of what to say next when he noticed the book that they held in their lap.

“Whatcha reading there?”, he asked, pointing towards the volume.

“Oh”, they started, not quite certain if it was worth discussing at all. However, they were glad to have someone who didn’t seem to be wanting to push booze or themselves onto them. “It’s just some story about dreams coming true.” At this they frowned, the subject matter clearly no to their liking. “It was all I could manage to sneak out without getting caught”.

The Corinthian let out a small chuckle. “I take it you’re not fond of parties then?”, he questioned.

“Not at all”, the mortal replied. They looked around a bit, as if to assure that they were alone, before letting out a sheepish grin. “Can I let you in on a little secret?”

“Of course”, the Corinthian said as he nodded. He was pleasantly surprised by the fact that they seemed to trust him, but not as surprised as he was by what they said next.

“I was never one for what other’s would call ‘sweet dreams’. I’ve always been more fascinated by nightmares.”

The Corinthian’s smile faltered, but only for a moment before becoming wider at the thought.

“Is that so? Well, in that case, I suppose I could a thing or two about nightmares.”

That evening was the start of something truly wonderful. The pair discussed their strange fascination with the horrors from the dreaming world well into the night, and long, long after the party had come to an end. The Corinthian found himself escorting them back to their residence, with promises to visit the following evening. Before he left, he managed to get their name, (y/n), and their phone number.

Weeks past, and most of their nights were spent in each other’s company. It always intrigued (y/n) that their companion never seemed to take off his shades, even while he was inside their home. They eventually passed it off as an issue with light sensitivity. What really began to get their curiosity, and sometimes their annoyance, going, was that he would never just give them his name. In time, he became known to them as their “Nightmare Man”. It was like a game for them. But, all games must eventually come to an end.

It’d been six months since they began seeing one another before the Corinthian decided to tell his partner the truth. They had scheduled a night in, and if there was ever going to be a time for honesty, it felt like it should be then. That night, while they laid as a mess of tangled limbs underneath a large blanket, he told them everything. He told them about Morpheus, about the Dreaming, about everything that he had ever seen and done.

“You weren’t to far off in calling me your Nightmare Man”, he started.

(Y/N) could only stare at him.

“You’re”, they began, “You’re joking right?”

“ ‘Fraid not, sweetheart”, he said, as the corner of his mouth lifted into a sly grin. “I am one bona-fide, genuine Nightmare”. One of his hands moved towards his glasses, but stopped short just before he could remove them.

“Prove it”, (y/n) breathed, scarcely trusting their own ears.

That was all it took. In one swift motion, time seemed to stand still. Instead of peering into what should have been a pair of eyes, (y/n) found themselves staring at two sets of teeth set into their partner’s eyelids.

Never before had they been more haunted, nor had they ever been more intrigued. A shaky hand reached up to cup his face, and once it was there, (y/n)’s thumb began to gently stroke his cheek. His hand came up to meet theirs, slowly wrapping it in a gentle hold. (Y/N) simply stared in awe, drinking in the sight of him.

“You like what you see, babe?”, the Corinthian asked, drawing them out of their trance.

“I don’t know whether to be awed or alarmed”, they grinned. “Though, I’m more curious than ever to know your name. Your real name, not whatever alias you can think to come up with”

“You just told me that you’re a nightmare from a place called the Dreaming, which is ruled by a being called Morpheus. Try me.”

There was a pause, and the very air seemed to hang with palpable tension, the silence nearly deafening. It seemed to drag on for eons. When the reply came, (y/n) felt a chill run down their spine.

“The Corinthian”, he breathed, barely above a whisper. The shock settled into their bones, and hardened into a knot in their stomach.

“The Corinthian?”, they paused, as if they couldn’t stand to ask their next question out of fear of the answer. “You mean, like, the serial killer who takes people’s eyes?”

The Corinthian let out a laugh.

“The very same, doll. Why? Scared that I’ll do the same to you?”

Now it was (y/n)’s turn to laugh.

“Nah, if you really wanted me dead, you would have killed me already, and my eyes wouldn’t be in my head.” Their grin widened as they continued, “besides, living with your victim for several months doesn’t seem to fit your MO.” Their expression turned quizzical. “Though, I do have to ask, What made you choose me? You could have had anyone you wanted. What made me so special?”

The Corinthian let out a sigh, and took the hand that wasn’t holding his significant other’s, and began to trace their fingers along their arm.

“Remember that night in the garden? At that party that we both just happened to be at?”

(Y/N) nodded in response, and snuggled into their lover’s chest.

“You were the first person to truly understand. You see nightmares as something to be relished, savored even.” He stopped just long enough to plant a kiss on his beloved’s head, before continuing in an almost reverent tone. “You see me for what I am, and you’re not afraid.” The hand that was stroking (y/n)’s arm stopped, and he used it to gently lift their chin, allowing their lips to meet in blissful harmony. He pulled away, and gazed lovingly into their (e/c) eyes.

“I’ve been on this Earth a very long time, and I have never met anyone like you. In fact, I’d say that if you were a dream, then you’d be the sweetest one that ever existed.”

(Y/N) could only smile lovingly at their boyfriend. “Well, if I’m your sweet dream, the you’re my beautiful nightmare.” They snuggled back into their dearest’s arms, and they remained that way for the rest of the evening.

It was a very strange day when the Corinthian announced that they had to leave for a while.

“Take me with you?”, (y/n) asked, their bottom lip jutted out into a pout.

“I wish I could sweetheart”, the Corinthian sighed. “I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can”. He sauntered over to them, and wrapped his arms around their waist from behind. “I promise”, he repeated, planting a kiss on their shoulder.

“I’m holding you to that”, (y/n) murmured, and turned their head to catch their lover’s lips with their own. The tender moment was cut short by the chimes of the nightmare’s cell phone. He stepped away to answer, while (y/n)’s eyes followed him to his new position across the room. The call was brief, and when their boyfriend’s lips curled into a smile, they couldn’t help but smile as well. A few moments later, the call was ended, and the Corinthian turned to his partner.

“Change of plans, babe. Looks like you’re coming with me after all.”

And that was the beginning of the end.The pair had traveled to pick up a young boy to deliver him to his sister. Or, rather, that was the story that they told him and his sister. The Corinthian had explained to (y/n) that Rose, the boy’s sister, to break the barrier between dreams, ensuring their future together, among many other things.

(Y/N) had been tasked with making sure that the boy didn’t escape; a task that proved to be much more difficult than it should have been. The boy led (y/n) on a wild goose chase. He managed to catch up to his sister, but not before the Corinthian managed to catch up with them. While his smile seemed quite charming to the children, (y/n) was well aware of the dangers that lurked there. They herded the children back to the room, before heading down to the conference hall where the Corinthian was going to give his speech.

“While I’m talking, don’t you dare close your eyes. There are too many dangerous people in there, and I don’t want to see you get hurt”. His tone was equal parts demanding and concerned. “Do you understand me?

(Y/n) nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it dearest. Though, if you wanted to keep me safe, why take me to a serial killer convention?”

The Corinthian ignored his lover’s little joke, and chose to answer their question instead.

“I want you to be there to witness the new world we create. Besides, I wouldn’t bring you along if I wasn’t certain that I could protect you.” He gripped their arm and and spun them to face him. “I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather share this moment with.” He flashed his lover a brief smile, before crashing his lips to theirs. Passion and fire ignited in both of them as the kiss deepened, but was cut all to short for their liking by the need for air. Ragged breaths left both of them as they straightened their attire, and headed into the conference hall. They made their way to their seats as the announcer took his time in announcing the Corinthian.

When the time came, (y/n) focused all their attention on their lover. They hung onto every word, relishing in the feeling of a world on the brink of major change. When the Corinthian instructed everyone to close their eyes, (Y/N) trained theirs on their partner. They thought of a world where they succeeded, where they were together, reveling in a new world order. However, a new presence swept into the room, one that the Corinthian seemed highly displeased by.

(Y/N) heard the newcomer’s voice before they saw him.

“You disappoint me, Corinthian”. They turned to view the owner of the voice, a pale man with raven locks, and what appeared to be galaxies in his eyes.

“That must be Morpheus”, (y/n) thought, having recalled the conversation they had with the Corinthian several weeks prior.

The King of Dreams continued. “You and these humans you’ve inspired and created,” he turned his head, and in that moment, (y/n) could have sworn that it was purely directed towards them. His gaze turned back, eyes burning with something unnameable. “You disappoint me.”

“I’ve done my best to be what you made me”, the nightmare responded.

“No, you’ve your worst”, (y/n)’s eyes snapped back to their beloved, and they saw the pain, the anguish he tried to conceal. If they could, they would rush to his side, but they seemed to be frozen in place. Whether it was through fear or magic, (y/n) couldn’t tell, but the desire to get to their lover increased with each passing second. As it grew, so did the knot of anxiety within their stomach.

Dream of the Endless continued his monologue, moving ever towards the Corinthian.

“Which was in so many ways what I had hoped. You were my masterpiece. A dark mirror made to reflect everything that humanity will not confront.”

(Y/N) wanted to scream. They wanted to shout and make it known to the Dream King that yes, someone had taken a look in that dark mirror. Yes, someone looked. And they saw love reflected back at them. Their thoughts were cut off by their lover’s words.

“That’s what I am”. There was a tinge of pride in his voice. “That’s what I’ve done.”

“No”, Morpheus countered. “Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century, infecting others with your joy of death”. The Endless being paused very briefly to glance in (y/n)’s direction. “But what have you given them? What have you wrought? Nothing.” If (y/n) had known Morpheus better, they would have sworn that they would have heard something akin to pity in his voice. “Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all”

The Corinthian dared a brief glaze into the eyes of his beloved, eyes that once held all the possibilities of a world made anew. Of a world where there was love for someone like him. Now, all he saw was terror and sorrow.

“So, what now?” It took a great deal of effort to tear his gaze away from theirs, and to look once more at the King of Dreams. “You send me back into their dreams?” Maybe he was blinded by the rage he had towards his former master. Perhaps it was the fear of losing the person he trusted, the person he loved, the most. Whatever the reason, the Corinthian drew his knife, intent to kill, no, rather, to end that which would stop them. He spared one last glance at the person he loved more than anything in all the worlds. He took in what details he could, trying to commit them to memory.

“Cause I won’t go willingly”

“A knife, against a dream?,”Morpheus questioned. And in that moment, (y/n) knew, they truly knew, that their love would not survive this. Try as they might, however, they could not free themselves from their seated prison.

“You don’t think dreams can die? Let’s find out”

“Enough.” The calm severity of Morpheus’s voice made it clear that the Corinthian was going back, one way, or another. He extended his right palm, drawing the sand that formed (y/n)��s beloved towards him.

The Corinthian, on the other hand, wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, the knife tore through Morpheus’s palm, stopping the transfer in its tracks.

Morpheus fell to one knee, stunned, examining his now bloodied palm with confusion. He slowly raised his head, the one question that he could think to ask falling from his lips. “How?”

The grin in the Corinthian’s voice was almost palpable.

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker.” The pride returned to his voice, and all the smug satisfaction of a man who believes that he had won came with it.

“She’s taking your place at the center of the Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleeper’s minds”

(Y/N) wouldn’t rationalize it until later, but that had been the precise reason the Corinthian had wanted them to keep their eyes open. It was far to risky for them to be in the dream of the others, where they could very easily be harmed.

“And now, they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired!”

“No”, the voice of the Sandman was weak with disbelief.

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.” (Y/N) could scarce believe the arrogance of the nightmare that they had claimed as theirs. Though, in truth, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise to them. They knew that he had only sealed his fate, and the fate of their love, when Morpheus gave his respond.

“Then she’s not beyond my reach”

“Oh, I think she is.” He paused briefly, almost as if for dramatic effect. “Now that she knows that you’re planning to kill her.

(Y/n) couldn’t see what transpired in the following minutes. Both men disappeared, but just as suddenly reappeared, as if they hadn’t vanished at all.

(Y/N) watched as Morpheus’s hand healed itself. They watched as the me they loved removed his glasses, and with a shaky voice began, “If you think I’m going back to the Dreaming with you-”

The master of the Dreaming swiftly cut the nightmare off.

“You’re not going back”. (Y/N) felt hot tears begin to roll down their face. It was too late now. No time for a final goodbye. Within that one sentence, Morpheus made it clear that they were about to lose everything.

“I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“Do you know why I do it?”, the Corinthian started, trying to keep the beginning of the end at bay for as long as possible. He did not want his love to bear witness to what was about to happen.

“So I can taste what it’s like to be human. And you don’t care about humanity. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.” The Corinthian felt his heart break, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing he said would be enough to keep Dream of the Endless from unmaking him, and breaking his lover’s heart. Yet, he tried anyway. He tried, because if there was a sliver of a chance to keep that from happening, he was going to take it.

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or, you might actually feel something”.

‘Something like what I feel for (y/n)’, the Corinthian thought, though he wouldn’t dare to say it aloud, for fear of what Morpheus might do to them.

“I am not the problem, Dream”

“You’re right.” A small glimmer of hope welled between the nightmare and his dreamer. “This was all my fault. Not yours. I had so much hope for you.” And as quickly as that glimmer was built, it was broken. “But I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

Tears rolled down both the Corinthian’s and (y/n)’s faces as Dream once again raised his right hand.Red light consumed the Corinthian, and as he crumbled, he spoke his last words.

“I am only sorry I won’t be here to see Rose Walker do the same to you”. Though the sentence was directed at Morpheus, (y/n) understood all that was left unsaid. How their love was sorry, sorry for all the time they could not spend together. How he was sorry that it had to end this way. How he was sorry that he couldn't kiss them one last time.

All that was left of the Corinthian now was a pile of sand, and a skull with teeth within the eye sockets. Dream moved towards the pile slowly, and gently knelt before it, before picking up the skull, and rising with it in his hand. He held it aloft in his palm. (Y/N) dared not to think what he would do with it then. The shock came when they heard him utter his next words.

“Next time I make you, you will not be so flawed, and petty, little dream.” The King of Dreams and Nightmares turned to the convention attendees, who had just began to awaken.

“And you”, he said, addressing the collective, “who call yourselves ‘collectors’, until now, you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right.” Most could only stare at the being before them, truly unaware of all that he could do. But the tears that poured from (y/n)’s eyes as they mourned. Mourned for the loss of the one person who cared for them, even if he did happen to be a nightmare. They scarcely heard as Morpheus continued.

“But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgement upon you, that you shall know from this moment on, exactly how craven and selfish, and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those who mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time”

(Y/N) felt every word sink into their heart. Truly, a world without their nightmare was too terrible a thought to bear. That night, for the first time in their life, (y/n) was afraid to close their eyes, for who knows what the King of Dreams and Nightmares had in store for them beyond the safety of the waking world.

What horrors would await them inside his realm? There were some things, they thought, that were best left unanswered.

For not all dreams have a happy ending.

#fandom writes #writing #the corinthian #the sandman corinthian #the sandman #corinthian x reader #not all dreams have a happy ending #tales from the dreaming

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lydiaas · 1 year

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✨ Theory time ✨ (or clowning o’clock depends on the time zone)

Just thinking about how maybe Luke and Anna don’t have any history at all but it’s Mike and Luke who used to be friends. Mike grew up as a pogue as well and there’s a fat chance they went to school together, it’s not hard to imagine Mike and Luke being just like John B and JJ in their youth, messing around, smoking weed, surfing and going to the boneyard, he said so himself “I like you JJ, I’m sure you’re fun to party and smoke with, I was just like you” which also makes me think about his obsession to distance himself and his family from the people in the cut, if he comes from the same background what drastically changed his judgment over the pogues? In the theory I have in my mind I see Luke starting to fuck up with drugs and illegal shit very young roughly at the same time Anna came in the picture for Mike and his friend group and that’s where Luke’s resentment for her comes from, in his head he sees Anna as someone who betrayed them, they welcomed her into their group and she took Mike away, she’s the one who put Mike against him, she’s the “ungrateful bitch” who took Mike away for the cut and “brainwashed” him to change, she took his friend and turned him into a preppy kook.

It would explain a lot why Mike goes so fiercely against the idea of Kiara being near JJ who he strongly associates with Luke, why he said to JJ “but then I learned about hard work” which surely a shade thrown at the image of Luke he associates JJ with (‘cause let’s be real, there probably isn’t a soul in the OBX who doesn’t know about JJ actually working hard since a young age, Mike knows) and it would explain why when Luke sees Kiara with JJ he’s so shady towards her and says things like “preach to me, set me straight you sound just like your mama” “she thought she was better than anyone else in school, the Kook Princess” “slumming with the bad boys like your mama, are you an ungrateful little bitch like she was?” “Tell your mama I say hi”…he probably thinks of Kie as the little nurse treating JJ like a “charity work” and made her mission to save him, like he thinks Anna did with Mike.

I’m gonna be honest, the Pates are known to throw hints on something and then dropping it entirely for it to never come back again so it’s not like I truly expect to ever know much about the parents past, I think us the fans put much more thought into it than them and they don’t even have a real story set in place but I think this kind of scenario would be so interesting, it would be such a nice parallel: Luke, Mike and who knows maybe ever Heyward being friends, Anna coming into the picture and all of them being a group for a while and then everyone going their own way ‘cause they didn’t fight for each other tooootally opposite to their children who also found each other but would put their lives on the line for their group. Two generations, same story with different endings.

How dare you just come into my inbox and drop this amazing fanfic worthy theory.

Totally agree the Pates probably don’t have a whole backstory plotted out between the parents but there is obviously a history. I think at the very least Mike and Luke ran in the same circle and Luke had a front row seat to Anna coming in and changing Mike’s trajectory. Actor ages aside, I’ve always pegged Luke and Heyward as being older than the Carreras just because we know Kie was born when they were pretty young. So I could see Mike being this young pogue that Luke could push around and push into trouble. There definitely seems to be some serious cross over between Kie and JJs parents in a way you don’t see with the other adults (what a perfect angsty set up, OH MY GOD!).

The Heywards are more mysterious to me because we don’t really get much interaction between them and the others. I don’t really know how they fit in. And I’m not going touch Big John because they threw in some random facts about him this season that I struggle to reconcile with my S1 impression of him (grad school wtf?). We know Ward was also from the Cut but he’s also probably the oldest of the parents so he might have left for college and had no interaction with the others (but then again he and Big John….wait did they meet at college and bond over treasure hunting? joking...mostly)

I do love the idea of the parents and children's stories running parallel until they don’t anymore. The young pogues forge their own path and don’t make the same mistakes. That's such a fun concept and if the show had the time I'd have loved to see it.

#I do need to do a rewatch because some details on the parents are fuzzy #obx #jj x kie #jiara #it's clown o'clock every hour of the day here

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kiekiecarrera · 1 year

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✨Theory time✨(or clowning o'clock depends on the time zone)

Just thinking about how maybe Luke and Anna don't have any history at all but it's Mike and Luke who used to be friends. Mike grew up as a pogue as well and there's a fat chance they went to school together, it's not hard to imagine Mike and Luke being just like John B and JJ in their youth, messing around, smoking weed, surfing and going to the boneyard, he said so himself "I like you JJ, l'm sure you're fun to party and smoke with, I was just like you" which also makes me think about his obsession to distance himself and his family from the people in the cut, if he comes from the same background what drastically changed his judgment over the pogues? In the theory I have in my mind I see Luke starting to fuck up with drugs and illegal shit very young roughly at the same time Anna came in the picture for Mike and his friend group and that's where Luke's resentment for her comes from, in his head he sees Anna as someone who betrayed them, they welcomed her into their group and she took Mike away, she's the one who put Mike against him, she's the "ungrateful bitch" who took Mike away for the cut and "brainwashed" him to change, she took his friend away and turned him into a preppy kook disgusted by him.

It would explain a lot why Mike goes so fiercely against the idea of Kiara being near JJ who he strongly associates with Luke, why he said to JJ "but then I learned about hard work" which surely is a shade thrown at the image of Luke he associates JJ with ('cause let's be real, there probably isn't a soul in the OBX who doesn't know about JJ actually working hard since a young age, Mike knows) and it would explain why when Luke sees Kiara with JJ he's so shady towards her and says things like "preach to me, set me straight you sound just like your mama" "she thought she was better than anyone else in school, the Kook Princess" "slumming with the bad boys like your mama, are you an ungrateful little bitch like she was?" "Tell your mama I say hi"…..he probably thinks of Kie as the little nurse treating JJ like a "charity work" and made her mission to save him, like he thinks Anna did with Mike.

I'm gonna be honest, the Pates are known to throw hints on something and then dropping it entirely for it to never come back again so it's not like I truly expect to ever know much about the parents past, I think us the fans put much more thought into it than them and they don't even have a real story set in place but I think this kind of scenario would be so interesting, it would be such a nice parallel: Luke, Mike and who knows maybe ever Heyward being friends, Anna coming into the picture and all of them being a group for a while and then everyone going their own way 'cause they didn't fight for each other tooootally opposite to their children who also found each other but would put their lives on the line for their group. Two generations, same story with different endings.

I literally have nothing to say other than I love clown o'clock because this theory makes perfect sense and I absolutely love it. If I had to say one thing it's if Mike knows JJ has had to work since he was a little kid, then it would make his comments to JJ even worse (not that his comments weren't pretty shit to start with) but other than that a+ clowning 10/10 would recommend

#answered #so like #are you gonna write the fic anon?#jiara #otp; did you tell jj

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years

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Chapter 5: Lost and Found

-- I don't know what I'm doing but I know I have never written something so easily in my life... --

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2

@rachelccollier

Rooster's eye had required ice and by morning had turned a lovely shade of plum. It throbbed and stung, and the swelling made it hard to see.

Hangman woke up groggy and with a splitting headache to find Rooster looking at Hangman from his desk chair. He was wearing his regular civillian clothes, a hawaiian shirt, a wifebeater underneath and some shorts. His sun glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.

"Rise and shine Jackass." Rooster told him, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a seat. Hangman's entire body hurt.

"You gave me a nice shiner last night. Now, we're going to make a bargain, I don't tell on Cyclone that you injured one of his best pilots and you tell me what the fuck is going on with you and the rookie and what you're going to do about it. Deal? Deal."

Hangman groaned.

"Like I told Penny, we dated, I cheated, we broke up, I regret it."

"Nice to know you've always been an ass, Hangman." They both chuckled. "But not getting over a crush doesn't put you in tge state you're in currently, buddy. So clearly that's not all of it."

Hangman agreed, there was more.

There were the flings they had before the 4rth of July party, the no strings attached, the pregnancy scares, the midnight phone calls when Y/n shitty car broke down by the roadside and she needed someone to pick her up, and even the sobbing call he got when her grandmother died, and then, there was the big one. The time he called Y/n when he applied to Top Gun and needed reassurance that he was good enough. The first - and last - time he had ever expressed doubts in his abilities.

But Hangman also agreed that that didn't explain why he felt the way he felt, why he came undone whenever she spoke to him, why he almost came whenever she touched him, why he could not stop thinking about her.

He shrugged at Rooster "Don't know man, that's all there is"

"Then, you're worse off then I thought, dude. So, what're you going to do about it"

"Fuck all"

"Wrong answer. You are going to see Rookie, you will apologise and you will ask her out. Then, do us all a favour and fuck this tension out so y'all can stop the public foreplay, yeah?"

Hangman nodded. It was a better plan than anything he'd ever be able to come up with. He stood, and swayed as his eyes saw stars. Rooster held his arm until he was stable and then left when Hangman was ready for a shower.

Training was okay. His team lost, but he flew the best he'd flown in a while. His confidence up and his arrogant smile out, he almost felt normal.

He also had to admit that having a plan was making him feel better. As much as he hated admitting it, Hangman was very type A. He like things neat, in designated boxes, colourcoded and clear. He like spreadsheets and maths. His life was like too, college friends and army friends stayed away, hobbies and work didn't touch and whatever he did, he did well. He scored top of his class in everything, regardless of whatever the class was.

The only notable exception was Y/n and their relationship. She was everything collided. The relationship was messy, she was both a vestige of his path and one of his present and Hangman had to admit that the general untidiness of it all also made him panic. He didn't like that she knew him.

She knew what he looked like, what he thought of, what he believed in. She knew his body and his soul.

She'd changed so much that it felt like he'd lost his leverage. He couldn't be snarky and cocky because she could still remember the old him who had panic attacks before exams or the old him who had been on anti-depressants for two years. Or the old him who handmade her her birthday cakes.

But he couldn't be nice either, because he'd broken her heart and being nice might feel like pouring salt in an open wound.

The Hard Deck was crowded as it always was on Friday nights. Jake wasn't drinking, and he noticed that Y/n wasn't either. She was talking to Phoenix but stopped when she saw him. She made a thumbs up gesture and turned it upside down as a question. He replied with a thumbs up. She smiled and his heart sommersaulted.

Y/n and Phoenix's conversation died down and he made his way towards her.

"Can I have a word?" He asked and she lead him to the empty deck. The air was cool and crisp as the sun set. In the pink light of the sky Y/n looked even nicer.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I didn't mind driving you back."

" No, no, not about that. I mean I am sorry for being such a jackass to you and cheating and you know…"

"I knew what I was getting into. You didn't exactly have a stellar reputation back then either." She chuckled "I think I forgive you."

"You think you forgive me"

" I mean, as strange as it is, I don't think I ever hated you for it. I mean it hurt ajd you broke my heart, but I was a bitch back then. I'd like to think I've changed." She sipped her coke "Would you believe it, I'm actually a nice person"

They laughed.

"Well, if you'd allow me, I'd like to get to know the new you." He could see the hesitation on her face, "We could take it slow. We could start from scratch. Just go on a couple of dates, to see where things go."

He had leaned close to her, their foreheads were touching. His hand was gently grazing hers and it sent tingels up her spine. She whispered her reply

"I don't know Jake, I don't think I'm ready yet."

And then, to make things worse, they kissed. It was a slow, gentle kiss. Jake was barely touching her and it took all of her power and self-control not to pull him closer and just allow herself to be consumed by him. They paused to exchange breathy incomprehensible words, and kept on kissing until they were interrupted by a group of loud, unsuspecting pilots.

They made their way back inside. No one seemed to have noticed anything and Y/n was thankful for that.

The air felt very hot on her skin, her cheeks were red and the space between her thighs was on fire. That kiss had reawakened something inside of her and before they had even made it to the pool table, she turned around to face Hangman. She stood on tip toes and whispered something in his ear.

" Want to make a really stupid decision?"

He was on fire too. A special ever burning fire that only she could put out. He nodded so fast he gave himself a headache.

They were barely out of the bar before Jake kissed her again. He was swaying, drunk on love and on her presence. If he'd had his way, he'd be undressing her in the middle of the Hard Deck's parking lot, but they said "mKing a really stupid decision" and not "making a carreer ending move" so he dragged her to his car and hurriedly put his keys in the ignition. He turned it, the car stalled. He turned it again and it stalled again, they both laughed but the third turn of the key worked and the car roared to life.

Hangman sped to his dorm room and once inside they kissed again. The same soft and gentle, almost ticklish kisses as before, he held her this time. And once the desire for something more than kisses overcame him, he trailed the kisses down to her neck where he kissed and licked the skin until she could no longer take it and hurried to remove her shirt and bra. Hangman kissed the red mark in her skin, where the bra strap had dug into her skin.

"I can't do this." He whispered

"What's the matter ?"

"I am in love with you, Y/n. I can't do casual when I'm with you. We've done it before and it hurt every time I had to let you go. As much as I like sex with you babe, I can't just have sex. I need you, all of you. So I'm sorry, but I can't do this." He whispered.

Y/n nodded. Hangman helped her put on her bra and her shirt, and then watched her leave with tears streaming down her face.

#fanfic #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin #original fic

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 4 months

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my wife my life, i have ojv brainrot -- will you please go into crazy amount of detail about what the style boys look like to you in the ojv? what kind of outfits they like to wear? comfort sweaters/shirts? <3 also i love you i am waving $50s and shouting louder than everyone else to be noticed i'm the ride or die bi disaster ojc kenny of the irl

ASHFVGKKVHLJK MY DARLING WIFE HI AND FUCK YEAH!!!!! Helllll yes!!! Ok ok I’m bouta go *rm Jersey voice* AWF!! (This is gonna be so long im sorry)

So OrangeJuiceVerse style my BELOVEDS!!! Ohhhhh my god these two own my entire goddamn soul! And smh they’re so pretty in their own right!!!

OJV Stan… he is a fucking stereotypical DREAM MAN! Kyle is down astronomically bad. Like I’m talkin tall dark and handsome, total sweetheart, inherently boyish charm that just makes everyone adore him! His heart of gold and that deep melancholy he sometimes gets behind those sapphire eyes make him all the more alluring! So this is what our affable Everyman looks like to me:

He is TALL (hit his last growth spurt between sophomore and junior year), like tops off at a lil over 6’2 and is the second tallest of the ojverse Star Seven also he’s BUILT AS HELL?!? In high school his physique could be attributed to the myriad of physically demanding hobbies he cycled through (football in particular when he started dreaming of going pro rip to that) and work on Randy’s Fuckass Farm (fuck u randy). But when he’s older he gets softer, sure (best pillow ever) but keeps working out JUST so he can hold every animal ever like a BABY!!! If you want an approximate art reference of young adult OJV Stan, @bunytime ’s drawings on here for SURE! Like he is tall and strong and BUILT FOR HUGS!!!

Blue blue BLUE eyes like not scary stare into your soul but this soft deep shade that reminds you of calm waters and gemstones peeking from the depths of the shadows of his brows. Just gentle waves and clear dusk light.

Ojv Stan didn’t go through the ever popular bleached hair headcanon, most of my Stans didn’t, but this one bc on the brink of a SadSack episode he mentioned getting Kenny to pierce his ears and dye his hair and (this was before they were dating) Kyle was like NO!!! Bc he always loved Stan’s classic all american look and knows him well enough to know that he would’ve hated it a few days later.

DIMPLES!! TWO OF EM!! And his smile is SO sweet his whole face splits omg my sweet boy!!! And he has tiny, almost imperceptible random scars in various places from childhood tomfoolery, especially on his hands bc he sometimes rivals Kenny in recklessness, and those hands are so rough but so TENDER when they touch you and he’s so aware of his own size and inherent ruggedness that completely juxtaposes his personality and it’s so!!! (God forgive me I’m thinking about nsfw ojv style hcs now)

Aight so OJV Stan IS greasy to some extent, c’mon he’s very Boy, but (this is important) only when he’s having a rough time mentally. Like he’s one of those people where while his horrendous lack of style doesn’t change much, you can tell by the stubble and the gross hair when he’s not doing well. Uhhh later down the timeline he has a beard tho. The bear jokes definitely emerge.

And for his style choices ohhhhh my god this man CANNOT fuckin dress!!! I’m constantly putting ojverse Stan in my clothes bc WHAT is this guy doing wearing the “Bigfoot is real I made s’mores with him” shirt and he is GENUINELY confused when he can’t wear jeans to something formal. His socks are STUPID and GIMMICKY and never match, and his wallet has a million keychains HIS BACKPACK omg like every stereotypical veggie boy he has alll the vegan loser pins and patches. Animal activist Stan forever.

A very casual dresser tbh, t shirts and jeans, sweatpants, hoodies (that have mostly been confiscated by Kyle) like he truly sucks at clothes unless he’s going stupid abt a Halloween costume. He kinda relies on Ky to know what looks good on him irl, bc Kyle is VERY reactive when he’s dressed a certain way and Kyle climbing him= ah yes I look Not Disheveled right to jail for both of them.

Oh KYLE!!! From Stan’s pov??? OJV Stan is a huge fucking fantasy loser and he only knows the word “ethereal” bc he’s a nerd and it describes Kyle. On GOD OJV Kyle is so pretty!!! Like Stanley Down Bad Marsh is ENTHRALLED!!! Always, like since he knew what beauty was, beauty was Kyle.

Ojverse Kyle keeps his hair a little past his shoulders since like freshman year of high school, his HAIRRRRR lord those gorgeous red curls, Stan simply cannot get enough of them, that ponytail, the half bun, the little braids Marj used to do when she and Ky would hang solo… dear god Stan will not shut up about his beautiful elf kings hair. Like hair wise if u want a reference picture the homie @grimsbane ‘s long hair Kyle EXEPT

My guy, OJV Kyle is TINY. Not as short as Kenny and Tweek, but close and definitely skinny to the point where if he misses a meal EVERYONE is on his bony ass bc 1) diabetes and 2) they all know his past with eds and no one’s gonna let that shit get its claws on him again! Unfortunately, OJV Kyle has a really hard time gaining weight, but as an adult he’s fully recovered, just kinda slim and at risk of health problems from the damage he did, but he’s mostly ok.

Ky topped off at 5’7 and was the tallest of the m5 in 7th grade and then EVERYONE but Kenny surpassed him WHICH he was pissed abt for a while. But he kinda stopped caring once he and Stan got together bc Stan wasn’t thattt much taller at first (and then this mf got huge) but Kyle was… VERY INTO THAT! It’s so unserious bc when they’re older Kyle’s like dude just fuckin toss me around and Stan WILL NOT because he’s NERVOUS and also traumatized from the ONE time he reinjured Kyle’s bad knee during Super Best Spicy Time (yes that’s what his loser ass named the sex playlist) but when Ky gets in the mood he wants to be manhandled frfr (I will do a nsfw headcanon post prolly) like the SIZE DIFFERENCE kyle is so spicy 100% calls the shots out here climbin Staniel like a tree.

He’s pale as fuck, cannot tan at allll this dude will not go outside without sunscreen bc he IS Sheila’s son and had it drilled into him that they are pale redheads and uv rays are not their friend, BUT his freckles are faint and so prettttttyyyyy he doesn’t even hate them bc Stan loves them and Kyle loves Stan (losers) he’s got a little group of them on his left cheekbone that Stan INSISTS looks like a heart aaaaaaaaaa

Good lord those eyes. Like you look into them and you are LOST in the most beautiful woods you have ever SEEN!!! I’m serious his eyes look like a forest, green and threaded with occasional brown like tree trunks and they are MAGNETIC!!! He is POINTY too like his features are sharp but his eyes are comfortable and it’s just a beautiful balance.

I’m fully of the belief that this lil redhead is a CHRONIC CLOTHES STEALER!!! Sneaky lil fox like if he’s comfy at home he’s 100% wearing Stan’s lame ass “earth day 2013” hoodie or some shit BUT!!!

His actual clothing is VERY much hot professional dark academia vibes the sweaters, the reading glasses, that hair, like he’s so cute in his button ups and when he stops wearing cargo pants so much in college (man likes pockets change my mind) Stan is SALIVATING bc he can see the sbf’s lithe legs better and he wants to SNAG him smh down horrendous. Kyle wears a lotta green, bc we ginger losers know that’s our COLOR and he looks GORGEOUS in jewel tones what a PRETTY BOY!!! Favorite item of clothing is DEFINITELY Stan’s Peace Love Pine Trees hoodie!!!

They do have friendship (lovers) bracelets that Kenny made them btw

Ok I THINK that’s what I got for now on what they look like but lord knows I’ll probably be more insane later NINA MY BELOVED WIFE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS

#south park #sp headcanons #asks #this made me so happy #style #them #ao3 shit #my shit #OrangeJuiceVerse #stan marsh #lmm voice: look at my son #kyle brovlofski #look at this I learned something today ass bitch #ojv

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meddlecine · 11 months

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Fixing broken hearts in med school.

The hardest part about med school hasn’t been med school itself. (Although, I’m scrunching my eyebrows up as I write this, so maybe that’s not entirely true). The hardest part about med school has been having a boyfriend. Maybe that’s why I don’t have one anymore.

I moved out of our apartment in January, just one week before starting my second year of medical school. We agreed that me moving out would be best for the relationship. He would take over the lease, and I wouldn’t have to worry so much about money. Up until that point, I felt like I’d tried everything, from dyeing my soul every colour under the sun in the hope that he would fall back in love with just one shade. I tried, I really, really did. But the exhaustion from meticulously choosing every word and placating my tone in the anticipation of the next thing to go wrong, was unlike anything else. He wasn’t being rude, he insisted, just being honest. And if I couldn’t take it, then that was my problem. I’d been seeing a psychologist, who eventually, after many sessions, shared that she couldn’t believe how much effort I was putting into this sinking ship. She suggested couples’ counselling. He refused.

Had it been going on for some time? Of course it had, but there was never a ‘good’ time to end things (is there ever?). What a laughable concept! “I’m a little busy this week, maybe we can break up next Thursday at 7pm?” To make matters worse and prolong the inevitable even further, I was always determined that there was something that I hadn’t tried yet. It didn’t matter though, because it kept happening over, and over, and over. No matter what I tried to change about myself, nothing worked. Not even the happiest of occasions could blunt the edge I was skating on: I was a bridesmaid for my best friend from school, and felt more alive and glowing than I had in months. But despite every determination to keep the makeup pristine, I couldn’t help let a few tears slip during the ceremony. The vows were beautiful, it’s true, but I think that part of me was quietly grieving as I grew to understand that the guy attending that wedding with me would never, ever love me in the same unconditional way that the groom loves my best friend. And I knew that he would never want to try, because he told me so. It didn’t matter how beautiful I looked that day on the outside. On the inside, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink as it caught up to my head.

My spirit and self-esteem had been slowly pushed further and further into the ground to the point that I believed that maybe he was right. Maybe I am difficult, and stubborn, and dismissive, and unappreciative. In desperation, I reached out to an old ex of mine, a gorgeous Parisian lawyer who was always kind, honest, and made me laugh. He admitted that although it’d been a long time since we were together, there was no reason to ever justify such outbursts of anger, and assured me that I wasn’t any of those things that I’d listed above. “But of course, you’re not perfect!” he added. I smiled and raised my eyebrows at the message, grateful for his candour, all the while thinking that I probably could’ve done without the last comment. It’s a shame things never worked out with him; I can only assume he is happy with his life in France, as he very much deserves, but he at least serves as a sobering reminder for how I should be treated. I paused and cast my mind back. Our time together is a memory long gone now, but I still remember enough to know that I missed how I felt when we were together: calm, safe, my cheeks often aching from laughing at his quick wit. All things that I didn’t have now. His one small message of kindness after all these years made me realise how miserable I really was.

Because, when I thought about it... could I survive the next 3 years of medical school, plus my training with chaotically unpredictable ups and downs? I’d heard that medicine puts a strain on your relationships, but with or without med school, I don’t think I could survive this. Just a week prior, only a few days before my final exams for the year, we’d had a fight. Another one. No matter my attempts of resolution, they were met with jagged stares of contempt and crushing silence, and so finally, after three days of drowning in an ocean of anxiety, I pleaded for some kind of resolve. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or study from the stress-induced migraines, and was a complete mess at the idea that I would lose my relationship and fail my exams. “So it’s my fault if you fail your exams?” he scoffed. He told me to get over it. I patched things up as best as I could, determined to not let someone who could be so indifferent towards my feelings be my downfall. Miraculously, I passed my exams. But I knew that next time I might not be so lucky.

Moving out bought me one more month. It sucks, but everything was clearly crumbling around me. It wasn’t all bad—no one gets into a relationship with someone who’s like this at the start. There were many wonderful, fun, whimsical moments in the years we were together, and the guy I left isn’t the guy I first met. In the end we just... weren’t the right fit for each other. So, I may be alone now, but I’m okay with that. For now, I love talking to the patients and hearing their stories, and I love seeing someone’s eyes light up when I ask them how they met the love of their life.

Hopefully one day I’ll get to share mine.

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