#and never saying anything. Trying To Do This Less. the work is TRANSFORMATIVE for a reason!!!!
Note
hi abby!! you love talking abt your fics? well, as it happens, i LOVE listening to people talk abt their fics *high-fives you* so hereee u go: 8, 17, 23, 24, 33 and 40 :)
hiiii ria thank you <333 [high fives you back] this is a beautiful synergy we are living...sorry this took me several days i just kept not having a shareable last line. for every we're so back there is always an it's so over. we're here now and that's what matters LOL
8. share the last line that you wrote
you have kept me waiting, my lord steward, she says when his footsteps stop, his reflection hovering just out of reach of her mirror.
well this is NOT umbar fic OR condolences congratulations. one day i will learn to finish one thing before i start another. but it is set in a slightly alternate version of the same reality. this is the crazy forty years later everyone lives au where aragorn is king and denethor is his steward and finduilas is actually the one running the place. it’s just an excuse for me to write “what if we made our healthy loving political marriage a messier and more political v-shape because you just HAD to officially get back together with your situationship from when you were 25 and oh he just HAPPENS to be the king.” they are shockingly functional about it (i do not know if i could call it healthy. but it is Incredibly High-Functioning and They Are Having Fun. so who am i to stop them!). conceptually/vibes-wise this is the result of my mind stirring around "their wives know the steward serves the king, and sometimes that goes beyond matters of state" (like truly...WHOA boy. that knocked me flat. @bretwalda-lamnguin i WILL respond to that post eventually i have things to say they just have to marinate a little longer) + regent!finduilas as a concept and an Energy + finduilas's general pure concentrated "i can fix him" beam + also going on a tangent off of anna @potatoesandsunshine's "our marriage is already bad enough what if we ruined someone else's life with it" theory. and this came out.
17. what is your favourite trope to write
NAMES AND TITLES AND MANNERS OF ADDRESS BABY!!! that shit is like drugs for me. whenever i'm messing around with it i feel like i am at the very height of caring about and understanding my own work i KNOW that sounds obnoxious as hell but like. aghhhhh. im in there THINKING. about specifically when and where and how one manner of address might shift to another and whether that is different inside the narration and out loud and what each name and title means in which situation. yeah im normal about hierarchies why do you ask.
23. where do you usually write
my beloved local coffeeshop down the street from my apartment! i am there as i write this. my regular barista often makes fun of me bc he sees me running for the train in the morning bc i am perpetually late for work. unfortunately the earliest i can make it out of the house in the evening is 7 and they close at 9 but it’s a good two hours. then it’s off to my friends’ apartment (they’re my downstairs neighbours i basically also live there) for like another two hours. yeah i do this every day. i am aware i am insane but it is the only way i get anything done.
24. which fic do you think is your funniest
hmm. i feel like im not often intending to be particularly funny. wait no its definitely open arms. “sokka, panicking: you like guys!” is literally in the description. i wrote it bc of a shitpost. WOW that is possibly the throwback of all time. that’s like the first fic i wrote back when i started getting really Good at writing because i was wildly hyperfixated on avatar and it was covid and i wrote 100k in a year. well well well
33. which of your fic titles is your favourite
ok i did do this one but im gonna give a runner up. TO THE VERY DEAR MEMORY OF [ ] is a personal fave for sure bc it's. idk nontraditional? well it's based off of this image and it took me a long time of testing different things before i figured out a way to appropriately represent that erasure of the name on the headstone by the water...the sensation that there Used to be something there, that there was Supposed to be something there, but all that is left is the water. and i'm very pleased by the effect of the brackets and how it looks on the ao3 page. it just brings me a lot of joy to let myself kind of fuck around and do whatever i think is cool. im trying so so so hard to internalize "get weird with it!" and its the baby steps out here.
40. pick one of your fics and share a quote to go with it (not a quote from the fic, but an outside quote that fits)
ooh ok a throwback. race for a hurricane (speaking of the titles/names/manners of address trope this is my BEST execution of it) + "the french have a saying: the fate of glass is to break. maybe the fate of spies is to just fade away. but with any luck, we leave something behind" -spectre, 2015. im getting that last line tattooed someday.
fic writer asks
#from the inbox#sweetshire#oh man you picked good ones. i love!!!! to do this!!!!! so much!!!! thank u again!!!!<333#also hello to my friends whom i have tagged. i am out here citing my sources.#ive been rediscovering how fun fandom is as a collaborative activity. i spent a lot of time just kind of quietly referencing a lot of thing#and never saying anything. Trying To Do This Less. the work is TRANSFORMATIVE for a reason!!!!
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I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day
#what made it worse was the client I spent most of my day with was a brand new client. and she booked super last minute#so I wasnt mentally prepared for doing a 5 hour color. and her natural hair was already pretty light so I had to foil foil foil. go back.#pull out first couple foils. foil foil foil. go back. pull out the next few.#over and over and over.#and her hair was so fucking long. and so fucking thick.#and after the first hour she wouldn't talk. like I like my silence so I don't fight it much#but every now and then I would try to engage with her. I'd say something and she would straight up ignore me. no acknowledgment.#which makes me feel anxious cuz it's like jesus... does she hate me?? did I piss her off somehow?#even when I finished her hair (it looked fucking amazing no lie. one of my best highlights yet.) she had next to no reaction to it#she was like 'it looks fine. I mean good. it's good.' completely deadpan#I laughed it off and was like yeah it's been a long day girl! but it looks amazinggg on you!!#no response. deep inhale. alright.#whatever tho.#when I did finally get off work I stopped @ bojangles cuz I was lightheaded and hadn't eaten since morning#and when I tell you I almost broke down into tears cuz there were so many people crowding the goddamn pickup area.#and so many bizarre conversations going on. genuinely felt like I was in some form of hell#like my feet hurt. my back hurts. I'm tired. I didn't get the validation I like to have over a 5 hour transformative color.#I'm hungry and there are two elderly women blocking the pickup counter. one is hard of hearing so she keeps yelling HUH???#and the other only speaks in soft baby whispers. that goes as well as you can imagine.#there's a man behind me grilling an employee abt whether or not he goes to church. he starts witnessing to him#and the employee says 'I've never thought about it like that before' no less than 4 times.#there's a child in front of me playing tiktoks @ full volume. and this is all happening simultaneously.#I really considered just leaving without my food but I knew I needed to eat and didnt have anything at home so I stuck it out#was it worth it? no. bojangles honestly sucks these days but what's a girl gonna do.#got home and tried to pass out but nope. tossed and turned all night.#put on hot n cold patches to try to soothe the pain a little. didn't work cuz one pain would be eased a bit and another pain would take over#blahhhhhh#and now. I get to do it all over again! yippeeeeeee!!!!!!!!
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𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 "𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭"
Lewis Hamilton x reader
Word count: 4.2k
Summary: Working on opposite teams but you have certain things in common
Warnings: Red bull, mentions of rb being sexist (made up things + some real things because let’s not sweep the reality under the rug), smut (very soft), fluff, angst. !Remember this is all fiction, I can’t speak on the whole team, this is a story!
Notes: I don’t really know what this is to be honest because it’s really random
Working in formula 1 was your dream since you were a kid. Your whole family was really into the sport and you had always been extremely interested in both motorsports and cars so naturally you had studied mechanics and engineering. The dream was to work in formula 1 so when you got accepted into the Red bull team the whole family had been ecstatic, you had reached the goal.
But things weren't as amazing as you'd wish. Red bull had never been your favorite team but you didn't think it would be like it was behind the scenes. You were well aware of the gender discrimination in the sport, the amount of women in the teams were scarse and the ones who were there was met with a strong sexism. You were ready for that to come from the outside but you weren't expecting it to come from your own team.
It was not something that was usually shouted in your face but it was these subtle things, things they did that you weren't even sure they recognized but it drove you crazy. You didn't feel trusted and the comments that were dropped were just hindsight sexist. You tried your absolute best because the work in itself was what you loved, what you wanted to do but it was hard when it felt like everybody looked down on you because of something so simple as your gender. You had enough education, even more than most of the men that worked close to you but that didn't seem to matter, you were still looked down at.
It didn't make it better that you were good friends with most of the drivers, the rumors only speeding on the sexism both from your team but also from the outside.
"What got you in such a mood?" Lewis chuckled at you, swinging his arm over your shoulder comfortingly as you stalked down the road.
"Take a guess" you muttered, still fuming from the previous interaction with your closest co-workers. Lewis sighed, nodding his head in understanding as his look transformed to one of consideration and sympathy.
"What was it this time?"
You stomped your feet to the ground, feeling extremely annoyed as you huffed. "I was doing my job, like always and then these fuckheads just took over, finishing MY WORK and guess what, they got all the credit for the amazing work I did, I DID!" you exclaimed in frustration feeling like putting your fist through a wall.
"I can't stand it anymore, it's all the fucking time and I never get to do my work!"
Lewis hummed, pulling you into his chest to try to calm your shaking anger. "I get it, I do" he tried but it didn't calm your anger at all. "You are really good at what you do y/n, don't let these jackasses tell you otherwise"
"I know I am good at my work! It just pisses me off that they see me as less talented or less trust-able when I am darn much better than them"
Lewis chuckled, pulling you into his side as he started to lead you along the paddock, one arm resting over your shoulders. "Always so humble"
Your eyelids hooded as you grumbled at him "I am, I just know that I know best at my tasks" Lewis nodded, not saying anything as he saw a certain Frenchman approaching you.
"Ah how are you doing miss 'I know right'" Pierre joked, his smile immediately dropping as he received your murderer glare, Lewis having to bite his lip to not burst out laughing. "Not the right time mate"
"I hate that name and fuck you" you spat at the Frenchman, his smile slowly returning at your annoyed demeanor. "What, I love that name, It suits you so well you know, you always tell us we're stupid and that you know better"
He didn't budge, laughing as he gave you a kiss on the cheek "I'm only messing with you, why are you so tense? Hasn't Lewis helped you get rid of the tension today?"
"Pierre fuck off!"
You had to stop yourself from punching him in the face as he laughed at his own joke "That was one time and if you don't let it go I will kill you, mark my words" you threatened but he didn't seem very offended or scared.
"I will never let that go y/n, you can't expect me to ever do that, not when I walk into my high regarded friend fucking the seventh time world-champion"
You groaned out lod, chuckling out your annoyance in a whine "Lewis please get rid of him"
The seventh time world-champion didn't follow your request, instead he laughed and prompted you to sit down on one of the benches along the paddock "Just sit here and I will get you something to eat" he chuckled, kissing your temple before leaving you with Pierre.
"Okay okay, don't kill me now I was only joking with you but seriously, what's up?"
You sighed, meeting his soft look "I'm sorry for being mean I just had a horrible day at work"
"Ah, how unusual" he spoke sarcastically, shaking his head at you. "I don't understad why you are still at that place y/n, it's shitty"
You sighed with a groan "I knooow! But it is still my dream work just at the worst possible place"
"Then switch, I'm sure any team would want your talent!"
"I've tried Pierre but Horner dosen't approve of it"
His face was one of confusion as he opened his mouth but he didn't have time to speak until Charles interrupted him, sitting down on the bench with a wide smile "Ah y/n, how are you?"
"All fine" you sighed, Pierre looking at you with a chuckle "Bad day at work" he explained to Charles who hummed in understanding "Aha, of course"
"Explain to me what you said before" Pierre asked, your head face-planting into the wood with a whine
"He wants to keep me because of my education and references who tells me that I am the best qualified for the work and if he fired me or whatever he would get called out for being sexist, plus he loves the praise he gets because he has diversity but still I cant do my fucking job!"
Lewis came back with a tray of food looking scoldingly at Pierre for not having changed the subject yet.
"Apply to other jobs y/n, even if it is less salary it'd be worth it and you have the right to quit, regardless of what Horner says."
"I will I will" you sighed, pouting at Lewis who put the food down in front of you smiling as you looked up at him "thank you"
He chuckled, kissing your temple as he sat down next to you as you offered some of your food to Charles as Pierre was already taking parts of your fries.
Lewis looked at you as you devoured your food with a soft smile. You had known the Brit for years now having met him in your study years when you had been at the Mercedes hq for a tour with your class. He had already then admired your determination to punch your way to the top and he hadn’t been surprised when red bull had hired you. In his eyes you were a rare breed and he loved your confidence and fire that made it so clear and obvious for you to be where you wanted to be. He loved you in every way and he didn’t even try to hide it.
It was already late, the day moved in faster than it should concidering all the paperwork you had left. Apparently that was the only thing you could do without any help. You were sat in one of the offices in the motor-home, finishing up for the evening.
"Why are you still here?"
You recognised the voice before looking at him, the big boss. You did your best to keep cool, shrugging your shoulders as you stood up. "I'm just finishing up"
Christian nodded, giving you a tight lipped smile as he watched you gather your stuff. "Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you shortly"
You huffed but answered politely "yeah sure”
"What have I done this time?" you sarcastically voiced as you took the seat he pointed you to.
"What is this y/n?" Horner asked with a pointed tone, one that made you annoyed without even knowing what it meant
"What?"
"This" he sighed, showing you his phone where a clear picture from a magazine showed you and Lewis on the bench, it was taken in the moment he kissed your temple after he'd gotten you food. It was a cute photo, both of you smiling at eachother.
"Uh, it's me?"
Horner sighed, annoyed over your bratty tone as you talked back. "Drop the tone y/n, i mean why are you hanging out with Lewis and more importantly why is he kissing you? It looks very bad on us if you are fraternizing with the drivers and especially with our enemy"
You sighed, looking at him monotony "He is my friend, what is wrong with that?"
"The wrong with that is that it looks like you are sleeping with him!"
His words took you aback "What? Just because I am with him you think that I'm sleeping with him?"
"It's what everybody thinks y/n! Stop hanging out with him or we will have a problem"
You shook your head "I won't say up our friendship just because your sexist brain"
"Y/n, watch your language"
"No you know what fuck you Horner, literally. I have come into this work with a better degree and better experience than any other of the people in my team, yet I can't do a single thing because nobody believes a woman can do shit in this team! Don't think I don't hear all the comments, and what about all the shit you say huh? Does those things include me, yeah of course they do because i'm only here because I want to fuck the drivers, sorry I forgot" you voiced sarcastically, letting all the pent up annoyance and frustration boil over as you stood up at the table, hating how he loomed over you when you sat down.
Christian didn't say anything as you took the few steps to the door. When your hand touched the handle you turned around with an sarcastic smile "Oh, I quit"
With that you left, slamming his door behind you as you stormed out of the motor-home with your computer under your arm.
Lewis furrowed his eyebrows as you walked along the dark streets in the paddock. Most of the people had already gone home, the clock ticking long over nine so to see you there surprised him.
"Hey y/n!" he shouted after you making you stop and turn around to locate the one searching for you. Your stressed face relaxed as you saw the Brit, jogging to catch up with you. "Hey Lew" you smiled, kissing his cheek as he smiled brightly, walking with you towards the parking lot.
"What are you still doing here?" he asked curiously, watching your shoulders shrug and face twist. "Well, Christian called me in for a one to one meeting"
"Ah and how did that go?" he chuckled sensing your body language
"Shit" you grunted, his smile warming your body. "What did he want?"
"Well he called me out for hanging out with the drivers and dug up some picture of us, telling me it looked bad for him and the team if I was around a lot of drivers and especially if I was fraternizing with the enemy" you sarcastically tilled, faking his impression to Lewis amusement.
"So, I quit" you added not daring to look at his face, scared to be met with the expression that you had been wrong.
"You did!?" Lewis asked, looking at you with a bright smile "Yeah" you tilled timidly, finally daring to look him in the eyes.
"Why do you look so scared?" he chuckled, giving you a hug from the side. “Because I don’t know if what I did was stupid”
Lewis shook his head confidently “no it’s not stupid at all”
You shook your head, feeling anxiety rippling through your body “Lewis, I just quit my job, I don’t have anything else available right now and I just quit what may have been my only chance to the job I want and dreamt of my whole life”
Lewis sighed, stopping you from walking any further “y/n, you’re gonna have more chances to this kind of job and don’t worry about quitting. I know you have enough savings for months and if that has changed I will help you. All I know is that it’s the best thing you could've possibly done”
You blinked up at him timidly “you really think so?”
His smile warmed your body as he nodded “you always say you know best but I think this is the only time I can completely agree with you”
You let the smile crawl over your face as you giggled “I don’t always say that!”
Lewis laughed with you “you kinda do”
You smiled at him as you stopped in front of your car, unsure of what to do or say. Nobody could make you so nervous and insecure as Lewis could. Not because he said anything mean or did anything but because you wanted to impress him all the time. You didn’t want to show any insecurities but therefore you became a mess every time he looked at you with his angelic eyes. He could make you squirm with one look but that was also what you liked about him.
“Do you want to come with me?”
Your words were quite and didn’t sound as good as you wished but Lewis didn’t seem to mind as he smiles “sure”
Lewis made sure you didn’t dwell on the work situation for the night. Helping you pack up the groceries you bought and making you loose your facade to order take-away. He talked you up and pulled some jokes, all to keep you away from the thoughts he knew you would drown in if you were alone
Your relationship with the man was very unclear. None of you really talked about it nor thought about it to much. It was what it was and it worked for the moment. Lewis loved you and everybody knew that. The seven time world-champion making it pretty obvious with the hearts eyes he always seemed to have whenever he looked at you. You loved Lewis too but you didn’t wanna label it. At least not for now. You had worked so hard to come into the business and you wanted to be secure and confident there before moving forward with him.
But you still spent more time with him than without him, spent almost every night wrapped up in his sheets but nothing was yet official and it didn’t have to be. Both of you content for the moment but you knew that soon enough you wanted some type of commitment and you knew he wanted it too, soon
“What do you think I should do?”
You popped the question that was etched in your mind. Having to air it for some kind of peace.
Lewis hummed in your ear. Your body laid on his. Head on his chest as you watched some lazy tv.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
You groaned, tilting your head to look at him “no, what do you think I should do?”
“I think you should announce interest in other jobs and if you want to pursue your dreams and work in f1 you should go around and talk to the other stables. Look around and just announce your interest and soon enough you will get something and if not immediately you either take a break or you find something in between” he resonated lowly with a calm tone. Making you feel like there was no problem or drama.
“What if I never get another job like this” you mumbled in his neck. His hand caressing your back comfortingly.
“Then it was never meant to be. Would you rather stay there and never feel valued than find a job that makes you happy and make you feel valued?"
“I guess you’re right” you sighed into his soft skin.
He gazed down at you, softly tilting your face so you looked him in the eyes. “It’ll be okay, you will find a nice job that you love and I’m sure that you will find a work on the grid if that is what you want. You don’t have to worry, it will all sort itself out. Maybe not tomorrow but overtime and this truly was the best decision you could make. You deserve to go to work and enjoy it and be treated good”
“Thank you Lew” you smiled, softly pecking his lips. “No need to say thank you” he mumbled, slowly kissing you again. The kiss was slow but sweet and loving. His hand rubbed circles on your back and the other one still held your chin, keeping you in place as he kissed down your chin and over your neck.
His brown eyes asked the question he needed an answer to.
Your whole body felt electric, needing his touch needing to relax and get other thoughts in your head “Please” you whispered, leaning your head back on the couch to give him more space.
The pace was slow and soft. His kisses moving down your body before his determined tongue worked on your most sensitive spot. He did everything so annoyingly slowly but you still didn’t want to take control so you let him be. Let him tease you until you came over his amazing tongue.
His dick made you feel like you were outside of your own skin as he moved slowly inside of you, the position he had you in making your head spin.
It was all soft and slow. Not with the aim to fuck you fast and hard but with the aim to savour the moment and pamper you with love
And it made you fall even harder for the Brit.
You felt like you were laying on a cloud. Your body relaxing and head slowly working down until you felt completely content.
Lewis had thrown you some clothes before climbing in bed with you, his arms cradling you to his chest as you talked with soft voices.
“How do you feel for the race?” You hummed into the skin of his chest. “Uh I don’t know” he admitted your head nodding in understanding. “Last weekend was really good but the question marks still stand and I don’t know what this season will turn out like and it makes me… I don’t know, fidgety, angsty? I want control but I don’t have that”
“Well. I think it’s gonna turn out fine. You did such good improvements last season and you are already ahead of that, I mean you got your first podium like last race and now it was the third or whatever so it’s not done yet”
Lewis hummed, pulling you into him more, nestling his face into your neck. “It will be easier if I have you”
You giggled at his cheesy comment, trading your fingers through his curls softly. “Why are you laughing at that?” He asked feigning hurt which made you laugh out loud. “Because it was so cheesy!”
“Can’t say a single thing can I?”
“You can!” You giggled “just not something so cheesy”
Lewis chuckled, kissing your temple “that’s just how I am”
You smiled at him, feeling completely overwhelmed with him and how the fuck you had met someone like him. But just like that the moment was over and interrupted with your schrill ringtone. Lewis groaned reaching for it and handed it to you with an unimpressed look.
“Y/n! I didn’t think you would answer”
You groaned out a chuckle at Pierre’s voice rolling around to look at the ceiling. “Hey! For what do I deserve that tone?” Pierre exclaimed, he was clearly not at home. The sounds in the background loud enough to drown out his voice if it wasn’t for his yelling
“Where are you?” You asked, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet up your chin. “I’m out with Lando and Charles, come here!”
“Nah not today Pierre” you chuckled, meeting Lewis curios look and flashing him a smile.
“Whaaat why not, you love partying with me don’t you”
“Of course I do but not today”
Pierre was quite for a second “hey why did you call?” You tried to nudge him “ah well I heard you quit!”
“Yeah I did” you hummed, laughing at his excited scream “yeeeaa finally! Hey Charles said they may be looking for someone at Ferrari so go ask tomorrow!”
“I will, thank you P, but hey if that was it can we talk tomorrow?”
“Ye yeah of course, where are you by the way?”
“Uh” you started but he catched up immediately “your at Lewis’s aren’t you!”
You grunted in annoyance “Hey Charles! Y/n is at Lewis’s!”
You groaned, throwing your head back “Pierre!”
“What! Y/n!” You heard Charles yell from beside his friend, your eyes rolling at their childish behaviour. They all knew about the ordeal after all.
“Okay okay we talk tomorrow bye idiots, call me if you need anything and be careful” you scolded
“Yeah yeah mom bye byeee”
You shook your head with a smile on your face as you looked at Lewis. “Well they just wanted to ruin the moment” you smiled, slowly sinking down next to him in the bed again. “Well they know how to do that very well”
You laughed, pecking his lips with a hum of agreement. “At least they are good at something”
Nerves tickled through your body as you waited for the e-mail. It had been a week since you’d been at an interview for Ferrari. It was the exact same job as at red bull but hopefully a better team. You loved the vibe you got when you’d been in the interview. They had showed you around and introduced you to multiply people who worked there and to your happiness there were multiply women who would work close to you if they would give you the job.
“What time was it they said?”
Lewis voice broke the silence in the kitchen. He was cooking you dinner as you sat at the bar stools with your computer. Reloading the page over and over to see if any new mail had dropped in.
“They said the results would be out thirty, everybody who applied should get a email with either an invitation to the job or a no thank you” you explained for what felt like the hundredth time.
Lewis scoffed at your tone but the smile he held told you he wasn’t angry or upset with it. Knowing you were just so stressed to know.
“It’s gonna be fine, relax” he tried but you scoffed this time “no it will not”
“Even if this isn’t your job you will find another one, take a deep breath and relax”
It didn’t matter what he told you. This meant to much for you to be able to relax and he knew that as well he just didn’t want you to stress yourself up
“I’ve got an mail” you whispered as you saw the mail pop into your mailbox after you’d reloaded it yet again.
The man immediately dropped the spatula and hurried over to you. “We’ll open it” he chuckled at your grimace.
“What if-“
“No, open it and then we will take it step by step” he told you sternly, not wanting you to stress.
You did as he said with a sigh. Your heart beating fast as you read the message.
“I got it” you whispered out loud, not really believing it yourself yet. You read it again and again until Lewis scooped you up from the chair “see told you it would work out! I’m so happy for you”
The beam you held never faltered as you ate your delicious dinner and watched a movie with the man you more and more started to fall in love with.
“I will never get tired of seeing you in red” Charles grinned as you walked through the paddock, your smile mirroring his
“I will”
The bitter mutter from your boyfriend made you chuckle, kissing his cheek to turn his frown upside down.
“Oh come on, what happened to always support and love”
“I do support you” he defended “but that doesn’t mean I have to love it”
“I think you do love u it” Pierre cut in, Lewis shaking his head at his words “it’s always hot with that type of rivalry”
You couldn’t help but laugh at Pierre’s words nodding along with his reasoning
“Not all wrong”
Lewis didn’t answer he just pulled you closer with an protective arm around your waist
“Don’t like it” he muttered in your ear
#f1#f1 imagines#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#f1 fanfic#Lewis Hamilton#Lewis Hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfiction#Lewis Hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton imagines#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton angst#red bull#mercedes
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The Witch's Apprentice - Part 6
cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, body horror, forced transformation, self-inflicted injuries, more tags will be added as the story continues
male demon x afab reader
Word count: 3k
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
He brought you back into your room. Where else would he bring you? Your soundproofed, locked room that you had no way out of.
You weren’t any less stuck than you were before.
That wasn’t going to stop you, couldn’t stop you. You needed to get out. You needed to see Eden.
You knew any attempt to reach her was pointless. She couldn’t hear you.
It didn’t stop your desperate attempt to get to her in any way possible. You pounded on the door, the noise of your fists against the thick wood echoing in your ears and never reaching hers.
You're not entirely sure how long you pounded on that door. It was hard to focus on anything. You weren’t seeing the door, you were seeing Eden’s face and her saving you from those god-forsaken woods and then Lucien doubling over again, hearing how his words got frantic as he tried to warn you about something he just couldn’t say and you’d start hitting even harder.
An earsplitting, pained scream sounded and it took a second to realize it came from you. You hadn’t meant to scream but what harm could it do? It wasn’t like anyone could hear you anyways.
You kept pounding until massive, gentle hands wrapped around your wrists.
You looked down to find Lucien holding your now bloodied hands.
His grip was soft. You could have pulled away if you’d wanted to, kept on trying to fight your way through a solid block of wood.
You let him stop you.
As soon as he realized you were done he released your hands and with that you collapsed to the floor, letting your head fall against the door.
“You tire yourself out yet?” Lucien asked, watching you from above.
You glared up at him as you sucked in air.
“I need…” Your voice came out nasally and wet. “I need to understand. I need to see her.”
“This is a bad idea.” He sounded resigned, as if he knew nothing he said was going to matter. You had to do this.
“Says the demon I talk to every day.”
“Don’t do that. Not now. Not after everything.”
“Sorry,” you said with a sniffle. “You weren’t a bad idea. I think summoning you might have been the only good idea I ever had.”
As you spoke you felt something being pushed under the door into your side. You looked down to see a plate of food. Your dinner.
You shoved it back out. At least that was something Eden could see, somewhere productive your frustration could go.
You heard a huff through the door and you knew she was projecting her voice through. “Fine, if you want to be that way.”
“Can I talk to you?” you called out, knowing it was never going to work.
You didn’t know if she’d left yet but it didn't matter. She never lifts it on your end, never tries to hear you.
A heavy sigh escaped Lucien as he stared at you with sad eyes.
“As long as you’re dead set on this, do you want to do something really stupid?”
You nodded instantly. At this point, you’d agree to just about anything.
He held his hand out towards you and waited.
You took a moment to gather yourself as best you could. There wasn’t much you could do at this point to stop looking like a mess but at the very least you could try to slow your breathing and blink some of the tears out of your eyes.
When you reached out to take his hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze before you were feeling the same sensation you’d felt when he’d whisked you back to his home. This time you appeared a few steps away, right through the wall.
Eden’s eyes widened in fear the second Lucien appeared in front of her. She hadn’t even noticed you yet, her eyes locked on his imposing figure.
As she stumbled backward, reaching blindly for something behind her, her eyes fell to you and that fear turned to anger.
“What did you do?” she hissed out.
“What did I do? How about I’ll tell you that when you explain the runes that burnt their way into his skin when he tried to warn me about you.”
You watched all the blood drain from her face. “What has he told you?”
“He hasn’t told me anything,” you shouted. “He can’t, you’ve stopped him. So now you’re going to tell me.”
You felt Lucien’s presence behind you, his hand ghosting over your back as a faint reminder that you weren’t here alone.
Eden stumbled back again, coming up against a table this time. As she did, she grabbed a handful of the rosemary you always made sure she had on hand and threw it at the both of you, murmuring something under her breath as she did.
You could feel the empty space where he’d stood before as she banished him.
There was a manic look in her eyes as you watched her strategize, planning out what she was about to say to you.
“He’s tricked you,” she finally settled on. “You think he’s on your side but he isn’t.”
“I don’t believe you,” you said, and those words seemed to strike almost as much panic in her as seeing Lucien did.
“You don’t understand. He’s the one who made the forest, he’s the reason you're trapped here at all. I saved you from that, don’t you remember?”
And then everything clicked into place. “Oh my god, you made him do it, didn’t you?”
She didn’t need to confirm it, you could see it written across her face, across the face that you knew so well.
She floundered and you just watched in horror as your best friend unraveled in front of you.
“No, no of course not,” she lied. “I wouldn’t do that to you. It would take a monster to do that to you.”
You remembered Lucien’s confusion when you told him you couldn’t leave the woods. “All this time you could have let me through.”
“I did let you through, don’t you see? I let you through to bring you here and I’ve kept you so safe.”
You fought not to glance towards the door, towards the woods. To not give anything away. You could make a break for it and from there, it was his woods. Maybe he could save you before Eden could command him to do anything else.
“Lucien made it,” you said again and Eden nodded eagerly You knew exactly what she wanted. For you to blame him, to act as if this wasn’t entirely her doing.
He could save you, you knew he could. You could run and summon him before his creation managed to swallow you whole.
Tears pricked at Eden’s eyes but they never fell. She would never let them fall. “You will not leave me.”
She said it the same way she commanded Lucien, with absolute authority
You weren’t falling for it anymore.
Your cheeks felt wet again and you reached up to find you’d started crying once more without even realizing it. “I would have stayed. If you’d just asked me I would’ve stayed in a heartbeat.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Why does it… What do you mean why does it matter? You imprisoned me and you lied to me and I trusted you.”
She scoffed. “You know what? I tried so hard to be out here on my own. I conquered so much, escaped every other weak person who was dragging me down. But something was missing, something I couldn’t run from. And then you showed up, all bright-eyed and grateful and you fixed it all. I was weak and I needed people, needed you. I need you. Is that what you want to hear?”
It fully settled that she meant every word. She needed you here, needed you to keep the sickening loneliness that you were intimately familiar with away.
And never once did it occur to her to think about that feeling in you.
Why would it? You weren’t a friend to her, a companion, a person. You were a tool to stave off an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her gut.
Before you could even process the fact that you were running towards the door you were falling. You hit the ground with a thud as Eden watched on from behind you, her shaking hands pointed in your direction.
She muttered something under her breath and then you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were floating slowly but surely upwards.
It took a few moments to realize that while you might be floating, your body wasn’t coming with you. It was lying below you, cold and so very far away.
You looked dead.
You felt dead.
And then you were being made smaller. Matter was being summoned up where there was none before and you were being forced into a body that you don’t want to be in, one too small for you that felt far too fragile.
You could feel bones and tendons forming, snapping into place as Eden held you aloft in front of her.
Skin started to form over your new, unfamiliar frame and then something else. Were they feathers?
As unfamiliar flesh continued to crawl over the bones and muscles were conjured from nothing, you tried to fight, to move, to do anything in your new form.
You managed to lift what looked like a half-formed wing and the numbness was replaced with searing pain.
You felt like you’d been skinned and every feather that wormed its way out of you was like a needle through this new skin.
Eden plucked you out of the air moments before you’d finished forming into this new shape.
She held you in her hands and you’d never felt smaller.
“It suits you,” she said as she looked down at you, the wings she’d forced upon you being pressed into your sides by her fingers. “You were always more of a pet than an apprentice anyways.”
Before you can so much as gather your bearings you were being forced inside a silver cage.
Functioning inside the mind of a bird was impossibly difficult. You couldn’t hold onto thoughts anymore. The closest thing you had was the fear. That much the bird could understand.
You did your best to make out what was happening outside your cage. It wasn’t that your vision was worse now, if anything it was better. It was like the things you were seeing were losing their context and gaining a new one.
You saw Eden summon Lucien, saw them look down at your body as Eden said, “This is your fault.” You could see his breath catch in his chest, the way he doubled over on himself.
But you also saw predators, looming shapes that you wanted to get far away from. Their voices were too loud, you needed to leave.
Then a voice sounded not from outside your new cage, but from somewhere inside of you. “You're not dead. I can feel you. Where are you?”
You heard the words perfectly fine, you just couldn’t process them. As soon as the next would come the word preceding it was lost to you.
They were just sounds. Why were there sounds coming from inside your head? That’s not where they normally came from.
A panicked attempt to fly away was thwarted by this small metal prison. You couldn’t go anywhere and there were sounds coming from inside you and the creatures in the room just kept getting louder and louder.
The voice in your head wasn’t as loud as the creatures were, and yet you could hear it so much better. It spoke again and you could feel the voice trying to calm you. “...need you to summon me… can’t get to you…”
You could barely process the words before they left you behind.
You caught a glimpse of your side. You were gray. You weren’t always gray. Were you? It seemed strange.
You leaned back to straighten your feathers, preening restlessly as your mind told you to get away when you knew that you couldn’t.
The panic felt familiar in a way you couldn’t place. You knew this panic. It wrapped around your throat and stole your air with a practiced familiarity.
You were trapped.
You remembered this. You understood being trapped.
The sounds started making sense again, if only for a moment. Lucien and Eden were shouting at each other over your lifeless corpse and his voice sounded in your head, pleading with you.
“Just summon me, I can’t get out on my own.”
But you couldn’t. You didn’t have long enough, didn’t have enough of yourself left.
He’d known this would happen, had begged to take you away, for you not to do this. He had tried to save you, was still trying to, and you couldn’t get a hold of your own mind enough to help him do that.
With your fleeting lucidity, you did the best that you could, praying it would be enough. You focused everything you had and with all your might sent him back one word.
“Eden.”
It was difficult to parse what happened next. As far as you could tell, it got very loud and everything moved very fast and then something exploded.
You couldn’t tell where it came from. It was harder to place than the voices were. It felt like you’d exploded, like your insides had folded back apart just as quickly as they had formed but it just as easily it could have been the room around you, breaking apart as Lucien took revenge in both of your names.
You probably wouldn’t make it out. You knew that much. You were stuck in an impossible body in an impossible situation in an impossible forest. You just hoped Lucien made it out, at the very least. That you did manage to free him.
The next thing you knew you were lying in a strange bed in a strange room with Lucien looming nervously over you.
You flexed your hand, your own hand, without so much as a single feather. It felt like a miracle.
The first words you sputtered out were, “Eden… is she…”
You didn’t need to finish the question.
He looked down at you, seeming like he was trying to figure out what answer you wanted. “She’s alive. I’d rather she wasn’t but I figured it should be up to you as much as it is me. Besides, I have her name now, she can’t make me do anything ever again. So I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” you said, a coughing fit overtaking you after you forced the words out. A gray feather escaped your mouth and you almost threw up at the sight.
He graciously didn't mention it. “I really do.”
You shook your head but you didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now.
As you did, you took in the room around you. It was somewhere foreign, the walls of the room a dull gray with beat-up wooden furniture scattered about the room.
“Where am I?” you asked as you tried to peek out the window that sat behind Lucien without straining yourself too hard.
“An inn. I would’ve taken you back to hell with me but after everything you’ve been through I figured you’d appreciate being clear-headed. And besides, it’s easier to leave this way, in case you want me gone.”
You furrowed your brow. “Why would I want you gone?”
“I’m the reason you’ve been stuck in your own personal hell for years, you literally have nightmares about something I did to you.”
You shook your head again. “No, that’s not right. She made you do it, didn’t she?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t change what happened to you.”
You rolled your eyes. “You pouting about it won’t change anything either. You’re not going anywhere, understood?”
He nodded as a faint smile graced his face. “Understood. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pay for the room. I sort of just poofed us into the nearest inn I could remember as soon as I got a hold of you. You’ll be alright on your own?”
You wouldn’t be. How could you possibly be alright after all of this, after everything you knew had been ripped out from under you?
You nodded.
He took you at your word, stepping out the door with a final look in your direction. He closed the door softly behind him as if he was worried if it made too loud of a noise you’d spook.
You collapsed back into the bed, letting your exhaustion take over you.
As you fell into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder what sort of nightmares you’d have now.
#terato#demon x reader#demon x human#monster bf#monster boyfriend#monster x human#monster x reader#demon#the witch's apprentice#this is kinda short but it is Dense and I didn't want to clutter it up#I can't believe yall were suspicious of Eden#how strange I wonder where that could've come from#This chapter is me having my animorphs moment lol#I will NEVER pass up a good transformation#that is a promise
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Alastor/Angel/Stella/Verosika with a werewolf sinner? I kinda think of slight beastly features in the day (dog-like ears and claw like hands), but the full moon and other special moons cause a full werewolf transformation.
They could be curious/unsure if their S/O exactly in control during these werewolf moments, or if being a full-on werewolf would spice things up in bed.
With a Werewolf Sinner S/O
Alastor
Now... Alastor was a man of eccentricities.
He was THE Radio demon after all.
So when you requested he stay in on the full moons, while simultaneously disappearing every time the moon did its best saucepan impression.
He didn't really mind the requests, he'd simply use the time to work on one of his hobbies or perhaps catch up on a book he'd been neglecting.
But well... if Alastor was one thing.
He was far too curious.
So, after yet another full moon came around, he decided to follow you. And yeah, you had told him to stay home during the full moon.
And while hed usually respect that request, he'd still end up following after you, his shadows making it easy to keep your scent.
He'd follow after you as you entered the, well, he was going to say the 'bad side of town', but, it's Hell, so it's all 'bad side'.
And so, he'd watch you walk to the top of a rather simple little building, the man staying out of sight as he watched you simply stand atop it's roof, watching the sky.
And upon the mergence of the full moon, well...
Thing changed.
Rapidly.
Your entire formed shifted into, well, a wolf.
It was truly something from a radio drama, your body bending and shifting till you resembled a great wolf-person.
Youd stand there, panting, the man absolutely in awe, watching your new imposing form standing there.
Though upon looking up, you'd take several deep sniffs, head snapping towards him.
Glowing eyes would stare at him, the man genuinely on edge.
It'd be less then a second.
You charging him. His shadows and powers simply knocked aside as you'd grab him, pinning him to the floor.
Now. Throughout your relationship, Hell, throughout his entire time in Hell, he'd never felt truly intimidated.
Well, there was that one time with Lucifer, but that didn't count.
But having you stood over him in that form, your form still yours, just drastically more animalistic.
Deadly.
Glowing eyes staring into his.
It was intimidating.
You stood over him, pinning him down with a singular powerful hand, hot animal breath hitting his face with each heavy breath.
Youd lean down, hot breath on his throat as your powerful maw hung over his painfully vulnerable throat.
But just before anything happened, suddenly you'd pause.
Pulling back slightly you'd take a sniff.
Followed by a second. Them a third.
Youd begin sniffing him, top to bottom.
Stuffing your nose into his chest you'd collapse atop him, breathing in his scent before you began licking him. Lapping at his kneck and face.
He'd take a minute, but he'd eventually get our from under you, the man telling you to stop, you reluctantly doing so.
The man would go off, proclaiming how it made sense. The man going off on how you didn't tell him. How you lied and abandoned him every full moon.
How you didn't trust him. How you would lie and keep him in some house to live out your savage delights!
But upon seeing you werewolf form weep, he'd realise the reality.
You were trying to protect him.
Alastor softly hugging you close, apologising. Sorry for speaking to you so harshly, without considering it from your perspective.
Cupping your now houndish face, he'd tell you, you could have told him, he was him after all. He'd happily trusted you to take care of yourself.
To which you happily hug him, licking his face.
After a few moments of affection, Alastor pushed you away, telling you not to push it, the man asking you what you usually did on full moons, and why you asked him to stay in doors.
To which you... well, you'd go on the hunt.
The man would watch as you went on the prowl, hinting down and consuming Sinner after Sinner, you truly having an astonishing apatite, something Alastor would find oddly impressive.
It was like a nature documentary, the man relishing the way you stalked. How you followed your prey.
How you so ruthlessly slaughtered them.
And by the end of the night you'd end up in his arms, the man holding you close as you drifted off, the next day you'd awaken in his arms, thoroughly confused and shocked.
Alsator would explain, apologising for breaking your agreement, but at least now he knew.
This would be a liberating turn of events, you finally revealing everything, able to be honest with your radio demon BOO.
You were a werewolf, through and through, and now Alastor could appreciate it.
Honestly, The full moons became his favourite time of month.
The man would escort you out, usually picking your hunting grounds, happily watching as you hunted.
Honestly, there was a... primal aspect to it all.
Watching you slink and prowl, hunting down all the useless, simpletons as you fed.
It was exhilarating. Like a drive in theatre, but it was his S/O, the man watching as his beloved slaughtered and fed to their need.
Then happily watching you from a distance, happy you see you so free. Free to hunt and slaughter as you pleased.
And every afternoon, or rather, every morning, you'd end up in his embrace, the man loving your sleepy, hound self, the two of you always ending up curled up on some lounge or couch, you waking up covered in blood, usually naked, curled up within his grasp, your favourite place to wake up.
Angel
Angel... well, Angel wasn't known for being a patient person.
As such, when you talked to him about not going out on full moons, this being the only thing you'd ever insisted on during your relationship.
Well, needless to say.
He was intrigued~
As such, he'd do whatever he could to figure out your secret.
Initially, it was teasing and asking, the arachnid trying his best to get the answer through attrition.
But after you'd snap at him, he'd drop it, apologising for pushing you.
So he moved onto his plan B.
Now the first few full moon, he'd reluctantly stay indoors, despite his curiosity and worry for you out alone, he'd follow your wished.
But this night, he stuck out.
Now, a 7 foot white and pink spider ain't exactly stealthy. But he managed, the man following you via car, carefully driving as not to spook you.
He was increasingly suspicious when you walked into a crummy neighbourhood, the man growing rapidly concerned as to why you were there.
What he didn't expect was your you to strip naked, hiding your clothing in a bag behind a dumpster.
Then, stood buck naked in the middle of the street, you... well fuck, you transformed.
It was a fucking sight, your skin tearing, body warping, watching as you shifted into a beast.
Angel won't lie, it took him a minute to process everything, but upon figuring it out, he'd accidentally scream.
"What the Fuck!"
Only to instantly regret it, your head snapping towards him.
He'd try and slump down, hiding from your piercing gaze. Buuut it didn't really work out.
You approached the car like an animal, the man scrambling to lock the doors, not that it mattered. You simply swiped off the roof, the man completely cornered.
You sat there, hunched over him, the spider trapped under your imposing form.
Youd lean in, angels hands shaking as he softly pleading with you.
"B-baby.... it's me..." He'd plead softly, hands reached out to you. "Angie~"
Youd snarl, leaning in close, nose twitching as you sniffed him. You'd drag your wet nose across his neck before pulling back, the man just laying there, terrified, watching as... you gazed.
It softened, leaning in and nuzzling his neck, the man gently cupping your cheek, the man begining to pet you, four arms scratching and combing your fuzzy form.
And before he knew it, he had you wrapped around his lil finger, you basically a big old puppy, thr spider giggling up a storm at his now big fluffy S/O.
"So dis is why ya don't want me to go out on tha full moon." He spoke playfully, rubbing your belly.
At that you pause, shamefully looking down as your ears pinned back. You were clearly ashamed, and while he wished you had told him, he couldn't blame you for keeping it a secret.
"Aye, it's alright baby." He cooed, scratching your head, really getting behind your ears. "We all got our secrets~" He finished with a peck on the nose.
He'd spend a while petting you, enjoying your rather lovable fuzzy form, until.
Well, some goons walked by, loudly speaking to each other, and that'd be whan you snapped into action.
You, well as you would expect, acted like a hound, you charging the pair, utterly slaughtering them.
He watched like something from one of those nature shows, watching as you tore them apart, hungrily chowing down on their remains.
Then, instead you seemed to spot something else, chasing after it.
Angel would spend the night following you around as you slaughtered and devoured anybody that got in your way.
Youd end up in some shithole of an apartment, your large fuzzy form laid across his lap, the man nuzzling into your warm body.
These would become a monthly occurrence, Angel usually accompanying you on your 'hunts', the man holding onto your clothes for you while you went on the hunt.
Now... let's be real for a second. This is Angel were talking about.
You would definitely have sex as a wolf, the man totally into it.
Come on, we were all thinking it.
Stella
You awoke with a headache, waking up in a rather luxurious golden cage, finding yourself in the nude.
Getting up, you used a discarded blanket to cover yourself, wrapping it around your naked form as you looked about.
You could quite easily slip through the large bars, unable to properly discard the sturdy golden collar that sat around your neck.
It'd be as you looked for something to wear, that Stella would walk in, all smiles.
"Breakfast Time my dear Wolfy~"
Shed practically cheer, a great big pile of steaks on a platter.
To which you'd both freeze, Stella brow furrowed as she looked between you and the cage, it taking her several moments to process what had happened.
Youd end up at a tea table, wearing an over sized robe, Stella elaborating what had happened.
Apparently during your latest hunt, youd ended up on the 'better side' of town.
Stella had stormed out of an opera, this damn thing a pathetic excuse of a production, the woman refusing to sit through a second longer of that joke.
And so, wandering aimlessly, she'd end up in a less than steller area.
The woman was taken of guard as dozens of ruffians jumped out, the woman completely surrounded.
And just before they could do anything, You'd jump in, utterly slaughtering the mass, and well, Stella found it a, forgive the phrase, A Hoot.
By the time you'd had your fill, Stella was swooning.
Blood covered, glistening eyed, you'd turn to her and snarl, to which she'd snap back, telling you to sit your ass down.
Which you instinctively did, Stella eagerly approaching you.
Youd become putty in your hands, a great big pup, the woman's stern nature and warm hands reducing you to a pup.
And so, she'd get you home, set you up in a convenient cage she happened to have, securing a collar upon you, she had fully inded for you to become her prized wolfy pet.
But now she was stuck with... you.
Hmmm~
She'd gaze at you, a familiar glint to her eye.
A preditors gaze.
She'd lean forwards, telling you simply you could still be her pet~
If you wished.
Now youd initially be reluctant, knowing better than to make deals with demons. Buuuut, well, the next full moon, Stella would be on the hunt.
Hunt for what?
You of course.
The woman finding you relatively easily, the woman barking orders at you, making you submit to her.
And that's how you awoke in her home a second time, the woman already sat across from you, sipping tea.
And so, with a groan, you'd agree to one date.
To which Stella laughed, telling you it wasn't a date, it was a courtship.
And so, collar still bound, you'd go on a "date", Stella leading you around by the collar.
Now in all fairness, when she wasn't treating you like a dog, or tugging on your leash, it was actually a pretty pleasant endeavour. The woman spoiling you with either high quality food or affection.
And while Stella was something of a bitch, she, well, put simply, she was far too dominant for you to ignore, your inner wolf more or less submitting to Stella.
Though it wouldn't be till that first night in bed together, that night of passion, where Stella utterly dominated you.
Well... Boom, she was you Alpha now.
And she was sure to remind you.
This control lasting well iout of your wolf form, Stella utterly relishing the power she held over you, and well, let's say Stella dominated both your Sinner and wolf form, making you her loyal, submissive pet.
Just how she liked it.
And Hell, you'd be lying if you said didn't like it too.
Verosika
Now, the Sex demon had first found you at a club, your wolfish features intriguing her enough to wander over to you.
She'd give a rather classy pick up line, asking bluntly if you wanted to fuck, the two of you Sharing a drink as you chatted about life, and what have you.
Youd of course end up in bed, the two of you going at it like, a pair of animals, you especially dominating her in the sack.
An exceptional feat for the Succubus. The woman so used to being in control.
And it'd be as you laid in bed, Veronisika telling you you were an animal in the sack.
To which you'd laugh, telling her she should see you on the full moon.
Verosika asking what you meant, so, not really caring if some random, if incredibly attractive, Succubus knew you were a demon.
Well, you were a demon by default, but on the full moon you were... something else.
So, youd have some fun in the sack here and there.
And while intimately it was just some fun, noncommital, casual sex between two rather unique individuals.
Your romps quickly became more and more frequent the closer you got to the full moon.
The both of you becoming more and more passionate with each meeting, your bond becoming... deeper, every morning you woke up besides each other.
Then, when the full moon finally rose, you'd... change.
Now, you'd insisted in doing it elsewhere. On street level, wanting to keep her at least somewhat safe. But she was adamant. Whatever you were, she could handle it in her penthouse.
And well, you'd oblige, and so, upon the full moon emerging, you'd transform.
Verosika... hadn't expected that...
Especially when you turned, eyeing her up like the last morsal of food in the next 100 miles.
Youd end up chasing her across the penthouse, Verosika, in a weird way, enjoying the chase. Though that may be due to her being a degenerate.
It wasn't until you cornered her that she was genuinely scared.
Shed try and reason with you, begging you to stop.
It'd only be upon reaching her, breathing heavy as you hung over her, that she'd scream your pet name.
Well, it wasnt really a pet name. More like a rather explicit title you'd earned aver biting her shoulder
But upon hearing that name, you seemed to snap into focus, pulling back.
Youd lick your chops, realising what had happened. You rather affectionately nuzzling her, Verosika surprised at your sudden change.
Though upon realising your shift in personality, the Succubus perked right up.
Of course she'd chew you out for scaring her like that, but now that you were all cute and cuddly, she was all over you.
She thought you were awesome, like an even bigger and stronger Hellhound.
Come on... how do you think a Sex Demon and a Giant wolf person bond?
And, well you wouldn't fuck immediately, it'd definitely, Verosika, well, loving your Larger form.
Youd become her personal security, and once a month she'd get to see you go ape, usually following you around in her Cadillac, watching the glorious chaos!
Then she'd usually drive you home, either curling up in some corner or, well, I think you know how you'd spend the night.
And you'd never give it an official title, but you were really a couple, regardless you you said it was.
#helluva boss#headcanon#x reader#helluva boss headcanon#hazbin hotel#helluva boss x reader#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel angel dust#angel dust x reader#stella x reader#stella#helluva boss stella#verosika x reader#verosika#helluva boss verosika
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requesting a little husk giving sweet tender aftercare after wrecking your shit in his bestial form, as a treat <33 - love con (+ jeronimo lol)
Con! Jer! <3 Is this a treat for you guys, or for me?! Either way, I think we'll both enjoy feasting on this one!
Set with Overlord Husk because it's my blog and I do what I want. GN!Reader has just been fucked out by Husk in his bestial form, and then he helps wash them off. Lots of cuddling and nuzzling and compliments and god it's so sweet my teeth hurt. But I'm still calling 18+ because this sweetness is obviously taking place right after rough sex.
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By the time he’s done with you, you can barely breathe. You’re left sprawled out on your stomach on his giant bed, over his luxurious silk sheets, as you try to remember how to move your limbs… or find a reason why you should move from this spot in the first place.
Overlord Husk still looms over you, his hot breath hitting your skin. His large paws rest on either side of your head, his right paw tightened around the golden chain affixed to the jeweled collar around your neck. You admire the long claws at the tips, thinking about how they dug into your hips earlier… no way could he do that now. They were so much smaller before he transformed; he’d rip you to pieces at this size.
“You okay, doll?” asks a rough, gravelly voice that’s still struggling for breath.
“Mmm…” You’re not sure yourself if that’s a yes or a no. You’re too exhausted to think. All you want to do is sink into sleep in these soft sheets, never moving again…
A light moan escapes your mouth as a large, rough tongue starts lapping at your shoulder blades, slowly working its way down your spine. When your relationship first started, it took you a while to get used to the barbs on his tongue (among other places), but now the gesture only feels comforting. You know he doesn’t mean to hurt you; you know he couldn’t even imagine it. It’s what allows you to let his abrasive tongue drag its way across your skin, without ever wondering what would happen if he licked too roughly.
He wouldn’t do anything too roughly with you, so it wasn’t worth thinking about.
“Can ya turn over?” he asks. All you can do is groan again; moving on your own is definitely not happening for a while. Thankfully, you have him to help. Moving carefully so as to not injure you with his claws, he turns you over using the paw that isn’t still holding your chain. He takes a moment to look you over, remaining still and silent. His face is so much more animalistic than normal now, with a more pronounced snout and two long, prominent fangs.
You use what little energy you have to lift your arm and cup his muzzle. He nuzzles into your palm in response.
After you let your arm collapse back onto the bed, he resumes grooming you. He starts under your chest, avoiding the most sensitive areas, and laps his way down your stomach.
As his head moves downward, you can’t help but think of where he was not too long ago, holding your legs wide open in his paws as his huge tongue lapped so lovingly between them…
“Fuck…” you whisper to yourself as you remember how much he made you shudder.
You feel him slowly shrinking above you, his presence becoming much less looming but still no less comforting. Now that he’s back to regular size, his tongue has much better control over where it grooms you. He licks his way back up your body, still moving carefully over your chest so he doesn’t overstimulate you. He soon reaches the side of your neck and focuses his attention there, purring and nuzzling against your collar.
“You did so good, baby…” he says, and your heart swells at the praise.
“So did you, sir…” You wrap your arms around him and hug him tight as he laughs.
“Sir… still sounds as good as the first time,” he says. “So, everything was okay? I wasn’t too rough?”
“You were perfect,” you assure him as you lightly scratch his neck. You’ve always heard warnings about making deals with Overlords, especially a greedy, demanding beast like the Gambling Demon…
But as he lays over you like this, you can’t imagine any other role in this world than that of his loyal pet. He always takes such good care of you in exchange for your loyalty, after all.
“What would make you comfortable now?” he asks.
It takes you a moment to decide. “Mmm… a bath? I could use a cooldown…”
“Of course.” You hate that he has to get off of you for even an instant, but soon after he stands, he effortlessly scoops you into his arms, supporting under your back and knees and pulling you close to his still-pounding chest. Before he moves again, he can’t help but lick your cheek, purring again as he does so. The chain around your neck dissolves as he carries you into his master bathroom and gently sets you on the bench of his large tub. He turns on the tap, but doesn’t close the drain. He fiddles with the knobs as he holds a single finger underneath the running water, frowning and grumbling about the water on his fur, but he eventually finds the right temperature. He shakes his finger dry as best as he can, then retrieves a cloth from a nearby shelf and runs it beneath the water.
You love soaking in this large tub by yourself, filled with hot water and the various calming scents Husk keeps the bathroom stocked with, but you also know that’s a luxury Husk could stand to live without. Still, his idea of bathing with you is just as relaxing in its own way.
After the cloth is properly soaked, he turns off the tap. He then dabs a bit of honey-scented oil onto the cloth, then takes his spot next to you on the bench. The cloth is cool against your skin as he massages your neck with it; not the usual temperature you prefer for a bath, but after the exertion you just went through, your heated skin could use it.
“Lean against me,” he says, and you follow the command without even thinking. He holds you in one arm as he continues wiping you down with the cloth, knowing by now exactly where you like to be rubbed, with which patterns and pressure. You snuggle against his shoulder and sigh at the cloth gently rubbing up and down your spine, lulling you halfway into sleep. His gentle kisses to the top of your head only relax you further.
“God, you’re beautiful…” he murmurs as he wipes your hip, trying his hardest not to tickle you too much. “I love having such a beautiful treasure…” He pushes up on your shoulder slightly to make you sit up, then starts massaging your chest, showing it much more tender care than he had earlier.
You only hiss a little as the cloth runs over a fresh bite mark, one of the many reminders on your body that the Gambling Demon has decided you belong to only him.
“Sir…” you whisper.
“It’s Husk now,” he reminds you, gently running a paw down your cheek. “When we’re like this, it’s Husk.”
“Husk…” you repeat.
Perhaps as a reward, he kisses your lips as he continues cleaning you off. His kisses are so much less hungry now, but he can still show so much passion with such a gentle touch of his lips against yours.
“Feeling better?” he asks after the kiss. He’s gazing at you with deep compassion and concern, an expression you never could have imagined from him when you first met him at his casino all those months ago.
You wonder how many others have seen him with that expression, and you can’t help but enjoy the idea that you’re one of the lucky few.
“Much better,” you say before returning to cuddling him and nuzzling under his chin. He holds you tightly for a brief minute or two, silently rocking you and enjoying your presence.
It’s so cold when he lets you go and steps away for a moment, but he soon returns with a plush, wine-red robe. He helps you into the robe and ties the sash shut, and after one more kiss, he picks you up again. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you back to bed, in no hurry for him to put you back down. You’re once again forced to lose his touch as he lays you down on his mattress, but he’s quick to join your side. Once he’s laying on his back, he grabs your sides and pulls you on top of him.
“Let me know when you’re settled in,” he says.
You rest your head on his chest, your senses basking in his soft fur and warm skin, his steadily beating heart and the faint traces of that day’s cologne. “Okay… settled.”
He doesn’t pull the blanket up over you. He doesn’t need to. His arms and wings wrapped firmly enough around you to keep you warm and protected as you sleep.
“I love you, my jewel…”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin husk#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel husk x reader#hazbin husk x reader#irk blubbers about nothing#irk got asked a thing#irk talks to strangers#irk huskposts
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How do you feel about using multiple spells for a single goal? Doing wealth spells one after another until you're out of difficulties, for example, versus doing the one and letting it be?
I've got a chapter in a book I'm probably never going to publish about this. It's long. tl;dr: hell yeah cast a lot of spells for one thing, that's a great idea. Upg alert, etc.
Compound Magic: Many Hands Make Light Work
Compound magic is the phrase I’m using to discuss two similar ideas.
The idea is that if working one act of magic can affect our physical world to any degree, then working multiple acts of magic on the same subject can affect it to a greater degree.
This works at both the macro and micro levels.
By “macro,” I mean casting entire spells to influence various situations.
If you’re casting a home prosperity spell, casting multiple prosperity spells tends to be more beneficial than casting only one. Following our Witch-as-Monarch metaphor, you can cast spells that are like geologists seeking resources, like road-builders to strengthen trade routes, or like festival celebrations to revitalize your citizens.
More literally, if there is a situation that is resistant to change or in need of serious transformation, you can build a spellcasting altar dedicated to that single issue.
Spellcasting altars are useful in the practical sense that if you’ve got a whole altar for it, you might not forget that it’s something you wanted to work on.
They’re also very useful in the magical sense that as you dedicate a new “counsel room” to this topic and begin filling it with advisors, knights, heroes, spies, managers, and agents, and then continuously empower your Allies to work on your behalf through dedicated spellwork, all of these powers begin to compound and support each other.
In other words: the action of casting multiple spells can have additive or supportive effect which helps all the spells work better.
Not only this, but spells can begin to file away the rust on a situation and get the gears working - but run out of energy before the mechanism is truly brought to life.
If a single spell didn’t appear to manifest as desired, that doesn’t mean it didn’t do anything. It could mean that the situation was improved behind the scenes, laying a better foundation for success for your next spell.
Therefore, compound magic also means cleverly assigning spells to loosen up a situation and prepare it for change, to banish potential roadblocks, to protect the desired outcome, to empower the desired aspects of the situation, to bind the unwanted aspects, and so forth. In this manner, casting compound magic doesn’t necessarily mean to cast prosperity-generating spells over and over – it can also mean to cast banishings, protections, cleansings, and so forth, in the pursuit of prosperity.
This may all sound like a lot of work, but recall that we’re talking about very resistant situations, or situations in need of a lot of transformation before they suit your tastes. However, I hope you’ll agree with me that this concept in general actually really helps take a load off, because:
If your strategy is to work multiple acts of magic, then no single act of magic you work ever has to be perfect, or even exceptional.
Spellcasting anxiety is very real, and in my opinion boils down to the worry not only that unless everything is perfect then everything is ruined, but furthermore, that if any single spell doesn’t work it means the practitioner is a fraud.
If you instead adopt the mindset that it’s quite alright to need to work three or four acts of magic to influence a sticky situation, each spell feels less like you’re an actor making your debut performance in front of a judgmental audience, and much more like you’re going to try and treat the problem with a vinegar spray first, but if that doesn’t lift the bonds that’s quite alright because you’ve got a baking soda scrub to try next.
This isn’t to say that I think every single situation is going to require multiple spells to make the magic “work.” Far from it. But I don’t find there to be any utility at all in assuming every situation should be fixable by only one spell, and if that spell fails then there’s something wrong.
Overall, I find that the witch who often engages in acts of magic to keep the home safe and prosperous will find that this compound effect begins to work organically, and that over time all acts of magic eventually lead to an enchanted life, to greater or lesser degrees.
On the “micro” side of this concept we can examine the enchantment of a single object or formula.
Instead of considering that we can use multiple spells to influence a situation, we can see that we can work many smaller acts of magic over time to produce a single powerful spell.
Think about woodburning a very hard, difficult piece of wood. During the first session you may only get an outline of the design before you’re exhausted and in need of a break. The wood is still imprinted upon, but it’s far from the completed project you envisioned.
During the next woodburning session, and the next, the design is slowly filled in until it meets your standards of satisfaction.
This is conceptually very similar to re-casting the same enchantment over and over on a single object until desired results are obtained.
This is extremely useful for the pragmatic witch who may not have the ability to plan out spells on specific times and days, or who must act now without every ideal ingredient on hand.
And not only that, but it’s also useful for the witch who would just like to have some fun with magic and doesn’t want to twiddle their thumbs waiting for the most ideal possible moment to act.
If a witch would like to work up a pot of Noontide Shield Oil (pg. 34), but the working felt less than lustrous, the formula can simply be re-enchanted again next Sunday to deepen and solidify the enchantment. Or, suppose the original oil had to be worked in less than ideal conditions, or perhaps even with entire ingredients missing: the missing ingredients can be added later on, the spell re-cast over the same vessel in more ideal conditions, and so forth.
The same goes for any spell vessel, formula, charmed ingredient, or enchanted object.
These things can be fully re-enchanted by performing the original spell over again, switching focus from adding ingredients to empowering and instructing ingredients already added.
But they can also be encouraged in more minor ways, especially through regular feeding (pg. 9).
I think it’s important to note here that we’re basically talking about cooking. A chicken soup where you have to omit the chicken, and then shred up rotisserie leftovers and just add it to the broth when having leftovers, is not going to produce identical results as if you had been able to cook the chicken in the soup.
Either way, you’ve still got chicken soup - it's just that an enchantment made in the most ideal conditions is not going to be identical to an enchantment made in non-ideal conditions and later fortified.
So I don’t believe that it’s correct to say that ideal conditions don’t matter. I think they do matter, and that practitioners will notice an appreciable improvement if they are able to work with ideal circumstances.
But I also believe it’s correct to say that if you continuously re-cast enchantments towards the same objects and formulas over and over again, while supplementing missing or lacking factors, over time that enchantment deepens and becomes more permanent and more powerful.
Just like macro compound magic, I think that this helps reduce the difficulty in working powerful enchantments. You don’t have to work yourself up to exhaustion casting a single powerful enchantment that wipes out your ability to work magic for three days. You can meter your energy and pour out small amounts of your power, when needed or as desired, and slowly build up powerful magics around you.
Then, when an important “macro” situation arises, consider how it would feel to be able to reach for a variety spell vessels and formulas you’ve already been empowering for months, keeping them fresh and alive through periodic attention and feeding. Things begin to feel much less like a witch alone in a room, and much more like an empowered monarch surrounded by Allies.
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I love your stuff bro! Do you think you could help me out? I’m a younger small guy but I’m trying to become a bodybuilder jock. Is there anything you can do to help me grow huge like that? 💪💪
Hm… I’ll admit, I don’t normally do that kind of thing. So far my job has been detailing the stories I find of nerds getting turned into jocks, usually unwillingly or accidentally, by various methods. I warn people of them so that they can avoid them (or seek them out). I’m more of a reporter than anything. I’ve never transformed anyone myself.
But… I have picked up a few methods during my travels. It’s hard not to with all I’ve learned. Now let’s see what I have on hand.
First is a jar filled with the sweat of an Alpha. When I say Alpha I mean Alpha with a capital A. The ones from my earlier story, that can change people with their sheer dominance. Drinking their sweat can give someone their powers, for a short time. But there are some… side effects. Normal people aren’t meant to have Alpha powers, even if the powers are only temporary. Maybe another transformation method will do.
Next is a piece of the Reality Stone. Yes, that reality stone, the one that changed Spider-man into a cocky jock. I had a lot of fun getting it out from between those juicy pecs of his. I didn’t hurt him if that’s what you're worried about. I wasn’t even able to get it entirely out of him so he kept some of those reality altering powers of his. But the fragment I got is enough to make some changes. The only problem is the reality stone is… very powerful. I mean you’ve read the comics right, or at least seen the movies? Even the bit of it I have is powerful enough to be dangerous, so you could accidentally do something very bad with a spare thought. So maybe that’s not the best. I hear Big Pete Parker is having fun with his part though.
How about this smartphone? It has a version of InstaJock downloaded on it. You’re probably wondering how I got one without getting transformed myself, but that’s a whole other story. Use the app and you’ll be a jock. Instantly. Of course if you do that I’ll have to find another phone with the app on it, which would be a pain. How about instead…
Ah. Now this is perfect. The energy of a supernova. A very specific supernova actually. You may recognize it from some of my first stories. Usually the supernova jockifys whoever wishes on it by granting their wish, but it’s less mystical than you might think. I’m not sure how it works, but the star doesn't change reality with magic. The energy from the star is what makes the change. So, with a slightly adjusted solar panel, I was able to make this. It looks like a regular battery, but if you speak your (muscle growth related) wish into it, it will come true. I think this one will work perfectly. No side effects, no danger, and you can customize.
So go ahead, say your wish. I’m sure you’ll-
-whoa. That worked quicker than I thought. You look amazing. Bouncy pecs, killer abs, a good amount of manly hair and stubble. I think you’re even a bit older too. You’re a total bodybuilder jock, through and through. So go, enjoy it!
And make sure to tell your friends. This might have been the first transformation I personally oversaw, but I don’t think it’ll be my last.
#jock tf#jock transformation#jockification#muscle growth tf#nerd to jock#reality change#muscle tf#instajock tf#supernova tf#alpha with a capital a#personal tf
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Hi, I was wondering if it's okay to request in Transformers Earthspark?
Bot Buddy who's like Knockout from TF Prime. Any characters you like, also including Breakdown, if that's okay.you can also put romance
Thank you!
Haven't done a Buddy like this before, this should be fun.
Hope you enjoy!
Bot Buddy who has the personality of Knockout with Breakdown, Mo, Megatron, and Thrash
SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader
TFE
This bot was infamously known for loving their paintjob, racing, and teasing.
They loved anything that included details and modifications.
They were a master at the art as well.
They knew some of the best racing spots to go over the speed limit easily.
There was only so much you could do when your alt mode was built for speed.
A lot of bots forget that they are a medic, but it was understandable.
Buddy lived for the surprised looks on bots faces when they began to do their work.
They aren’t all look you know.
Team who looks up to Buddy
This team is reserved for those who don’t half of what Buddy is saying. They also kind of look up to them. They are so cool! They will often find themselves trying to copy little things Buddy does. Does Buddy find this a bit amusing? Yes, and they are living for the attention. However, Buddy does make it clear that some of the tricks and stunts they do come from years of practice, not just from pure luck. Buddy has to look after their fan club too.
Mo
Thrash
Team who has mixed feeling about the bot
This team is reserved for those who don’t know what to think of this medic. They do find the medics think about looking perfect a bit much. But they cannot deny how well they can handle patch work and make it look like it never happened, with a bonus wax! They don’t appreciate them going out and racing where they can potentially be found and caught. But all their complaints go from one audial to the other it seems. Buddy does appreciate the worry, but its too easy to tease them about their safety.
Megatron
Team who wants to challenge them to a race
This team is reserved for those who have seen Buddy race and want a shot at racing them. They are so confident they can win that they ask bluntly at any time and any place. They will lose the first couple of rounds. Buddy will tease them a bit, but they know not to cross any lines. After a while of racing, Buddy might offer some tips to help them. It’s not like Buddy really cares, it just means one less bot to patch up.
Breakdown
Thrash
#transformers x reader#maccadam#bot buddy#tfe#tfe breakdown#tfe megatron#tfe thrash#tfe mo#tfe x platonic reader
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Transformers Prime (Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Ultra Magnus) reaction to cybertronian reader dating a Decepticon miner, and was able to convince him to join Team Prime? You know, the bot that almost got killed by a green eyed Ratchet?
When he joined their team, the miner just stayed in base majority of the time, making sure he never got in anyone’s way, and holds a big grudge towards Ratchet.
If the reader & miner are both in base, they’ll be quietly cuddling in the corner with smiles on their faces (well, face), and when reader is out on a mission then then the miner is just awkwardly standing in the corner twiddling with his fingers.
(For Ultra Magnus, miner joined the team before his arrival)
✎A/N: Honestly, I really really love the idea of this ask for some reason, so thank you very much for sending it in and I hope you have a lovely day.
[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]
Optimus
Optimus is happy that he sees the error of his former master's ways and has joined the team. Though he is far from combat-ready, he can help the team in other ways, such as clean-up, maintenance, or in mining operations. Alternatively if he does wish to help with battle, then you or any other member of the team can help teach him.
He doesn't turn a blind eye to the past, however, and he hopes that both he and the team will get along smoothly. He tries to foster a welcoming environment, and attempts to set a good example by being welcoming and friendly towards their new guest. As for any tension, he attempts to resolve any issues the moment they come, as to keep them from growing into anything bigger and more volatile.
Ratchet
To say that he feels awkward and guilty would be a horrific understatement. If your partner's even willing to talk to Ratchet, then he offers his apologies for his actions, and not once does he try to defend what he did. He accepts if he won't be forgiven, but he's relieved that he's able to at least apologize for his wrongdoings.
Initially when the two of them are left at the base, there's an awkward air between them that neither of them even try to break. Ratchet just tries to continue on with work as usual, and even if he requires help with something (such as transporting a lot of materials over, or perhaps having someone hold something up while he works on the underside of it) he'd refuse to ask your partner for help because it's just that awkward (unless however it's a serious matter that calls for their emotions to be set aside for the greater good).
If your partner ever gets injured, Ratchet will try to help him, and if he repeatedly keeps refusing his help (and if he won't listen to you), then Rachet'll have to ask you to treat any injuries for him, and he'll instruct you on how to do so for the more complicated injuries.
Ultra Magnus
Initially, he had mistaken your partner for a prisoner, and treated him as such for about 5 seconds until you came in and clarified that he is not a prisoner of war, but rather a member of the autobots now (and your partner). He even has a badge, but Magnus's focus was primarily on the fact that he was a decepticon miner.
Given the fact that he probably isn't dispatched to complete on-field or combat-related work like a majority of the team, Magnus hands a lot of the cleaning or maintenance work off to him to keep him busy and make him a more useful asset for the team. If he were to complete all that work without a fuss, then Magnus would give words of appreciation for his hard work and the two would get along relatively well.
That is until he sees how awkward your partner is around Ratchet. If there's still any tension between them, Magnus would mistake it as potential hostility and try to resolve this conflict in a more harsh and less forgiving way than Optimus would. But once someone tells him why they're tense around eachother, then he'll leave it be unless the problem becomes more violent.
#tfp imagines#tfp headcanons#tfp x reader#tfp optimus prime#optimus prime x reader#tfp ratchet#ratchet x reader#tfp ultra magnus#ultra magnus x reader#x reader#reader insert#self insert
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dear univeristy application office,
Listen, I know I've been rejected and this personal statement is not going to mean anything. But I feel like writing it, as a reflection of the past few months.
With what happened in middle school, I got diagnosed with depression and anxiety and transferred schools. I started dating a friend but broke up shortly after. One day he jumped from our school building and passed away (he had bipolar), it felt like a slap across my face and from then on, I gave up on myself.
I stopped showing up to class consistently and socializing. Until one day in Form 6, I realized, I didn't understand any of the things my teachers were saying in class and I would have my IB exams in less than a year. I couldn't catch up, I couldn't do it. Again, I was impulsive and have always been so I decided to just quit IB and start A-Levels. Fast forward a few months, I found out that I still couldn't do it, because of my mental health, I couldn't pull through, and in the midst of it, my grandpa passed away. These all piled up on me again and I had to quit, again. I took one A-Level and IELTS and decided to apply for associate degree programs. I chose translation originally because I am fluent in both English and Chinese and I have always wanted to do something related to languages. However, something shifted in me one day, I applied to the same colleges but instead, in Psychology.
I went through what I would call "hell" in those 5-6 years in secondary, I struggled every day with mental health, with depression, with anxiety, and I wanted to do something in the future that could help kids like me. In fact, XX College gave me a conditional offer but unfortunately, my academic qualifications did not meet their requirements (probably because I didn't graduate from a secondary school) just like how I didn't meet your requirements and am not what you wanted. Fortunately, my current College accepted me for my qualifications and there I started my tertiary education.
The school year started off great and strong. I was attending classes every day, socializing with my classmates, handing in assignments, all these things I NEVER managed to do consistently in high school.
My family and friends were shocked about the transformation. I was actually working hard in school.
Hey, I know a 3.26 GPA might have not been the best and you were probably expecting something higher, but that wasn't what mattered, what mattered was, I changed. I started taking my academics seriously, even through hard days, when I felt tired and depressed (occasionally), I showed up to class and did my work, and I made friends, which again, was shocking considering I developed social anxiety after I was bullied in high school for my ex-boyfriends' suicide.
However, my anxiety got worse near the end of the first semester and I had to postpone my final requirements, nonetheless, I finished them at the start of semester B.
I don't know what went wrong from there, but it was obvious that my mental health was getting bad again because I wasn't showing up to class and I wasn't paying attention in class. Though I was still handing in assignments and working hard on them, I wasn't showing up to class consistently. I only acknowledged the decline of my mental health at the start of March, when I started isolating myself again and stopped talking to my mom, who has always been my best friend. Fast forward to my second mid-term test, I thought I would feel less pressured after finishing it, but nope, it only went downhill from there. I didn't show up to class for 2 consecutive weeks. My mom was asking me if I was okay, and my friends were asking me why I wasn't showing up to class. I repeatedly reassured them I was fine, I just needed some time off for myself, but in reality, I was only trying to reassure myself that I was fine because I refused to admit that I was having a relapse. I didn't want to accept it, I was doing so fine for so long, I was getting so much better, and everyone was praising me for it, what could go wrong? Well, reality sucks, and sometimes, depression creeps its way back into your life with no apparent reason.
April was when things got really bad, depression was presenting itself in physical ways. I caught a cold, and it got better after 3 days, but then I had abdominal pain, which escalated to stomachache. It was one of the worst physical pain I have ever felt in my life, I had a low fever and I could not stand up, my mom wanted to call the ambulance and get me to the hospital but I refused because I knew I had to wait to see the doctor and my pain would just worsen. I saw a doctor the next day and he informed me that it was gastroenteritis. I had to stay home for a few days because I was still in some level of pain. I was forced to put down my academics for a while. Aphthous ulcer found its way to my mouth later (and I actually still do have it at the current moment), and now I can't even have a proper meal without being in pain.
The physical symptoms weren't the worst part. Do you know that feeling of working on an assignment one day in an empty room in the school library on a Saturday afternoon, listening to jazz and making good progress, and all of a sudden you stared at a blank wall and started bawling your eyes out? That's what happened to me. I experienced that consecutively for a week. Just completely random moments in life, you were feeling fine the last second, and the next, you were crying for your dear life.
I was in the shower once and suicidal thoughts consumed my mind, I was bombarded with all the ways I could end my life, jumping off a building, hanging myself, cutting myself, etc. I felt despairful, worthless, exhausted, all the worst emotions you could possibly think of, and was just ready. Ready for me to leave because I had no worth, I wasn't showing up to class and it was reflected in my grades. I mustered up the strength to call in my mom because for a split second there I still wanted to hold on, I didn't want to give up just quite yet.
All these were happening, because I had so much pressure on my shoulders, that I imposed on myself, to get a high GPA, to get into a prestigious university in my city, to get into XX Univeristy. I didn't want to spend 2 years in community college and wanted to ascend to university as fast as I could.
I received your university's rejection yesterday, and let me tell you, yesterday was an awful day. To start with, rains flooded the streets near my school campus, even under an umbrella I was drenched, from head to bottom. I arrived on campus completely soaked, with water in my shoes. At that point, I was already depressed (bad weather could seriously affect your mood), nonetheless, I told myself "It was a bad experience, but that will not dictate your day, you still have a full day ahead of you", so I mustered a smile on my face and went straight to class. I was chatting with friends as it was the last class and we were all just doing revisions. I went to the library shortly after.
I wasn't as productive as I wanted to be because 1) I wasn't motivated and 2) Depression can really interfere with your daily life functioning, for example, doing work. I didn't get as much done as I wanted to so I decided, maybe it was time to go home.
I took the train, I bought myself dinner, I grabbed the mail, I went home. I sat down, with my dinner in front of me, and opened up the application portal on my laptop.
The word "unsuccessful" was under my application status and into my eyes.
I kid you not, I felt like my life had ended right there. Everything that I had worked so hard for, all the pressure I had imposed on myself to get a high GPA, to get into a prestigious university, and the high hopes that I had, all faded in one single moment.
I called my mom screaming and crying, shouting into the phone about how miserable I was, I was in so much pain. I couldn't think straight and my mom reassured me that she was on her way home. She arrived, grabbed a chair, and sat next to me.
Essentially our conversation went on for about 45 minutes, and I remember distinctly, one of the things she said was, "So? That's it?". It was a wake-up call for me.
All this time, the amount of pressure I've put on myself, the sleepless nights I've had to experience, the physical symptoms, the mental symptoms, etc. All because of one number that I ignorantly thought would dictate my future. I lost sight of what I originally did this for. In working towards getting into university to get a degree where I could help people, I ironically forgot to help myself. I lost sight of what was important in the current moment, my priority is not yet to help others struggling with mental health, it's me, I'm struggling with my mental health, I am my priority. I neglected my mental health and what I truly needed, it wasn't grades, it was self-love. Caring for myself, listening to my needs, attending to myself, and acknowledging that I was struggling.
It's okay to relapse. It's okay to know that you need help. It's okay that you're depressed again even if you thought you didn't have depression anymore. It's okay that it's near finals season but you're mentally struggling, maybe you need to postpone again, and that's okay. Do you know why? Because we're humans, and it's okay to not be okay.
All these years of struggling, I haven't done much with my life and I desperately wanted to prove to myself and everyone else, that for once, I could do something, I am capable of something. I wanted to get into a university, a prestigious one, the top in my city, to redeem myself. Because my sister got into a good university, and my friends from high school got into good universities. I NEED to prove to people that I am not dumber than them, just because I wasted a few years in secondary school doesn't mean I am less smart than them. I can still get into university.
I am just as good. Not because of good grades or whether I am in a good university or not though. I am a good person because I have a good heart, I care for everyone around me deeply and I'm always there for them even if I'm struggling. I am a good person because I have a passion, I want to work hard to achieve my passion and help people professionally. I am a good person because I have hobbies, I have things I enjoy doing and I do my best to advance my skills, and to work hard to achieve small goals in life.
I am a good person because I haven't given up on myself yet. 6 years of depression and anxiety, and countless times standing on a ledge, wanting to jump but convincing myself not to.
Because my ultimate goal in life is to be happy, I know there will be bad days and bad experiences, some days might feel like the end of the world (just like yesterday), but some would feel like I'm floating on cloud 9. That doesn't equal a bad life. And I'm learning to accept that.
I want to be surrounded by people I love, loving them back in the same way so they know they're not alone because they were there for me when I was at my lowest. I am the happiest when I'm loving, I'm giving, and when I'm learning. Psychology is something I'm passionate about, not the GPA system. What I should do in the current moment is to learn, enjoy the process, and work hard to show my teachers, and myself, that I have done my best with what I've learned.
Thank you for your rejection. Your wake-up call. If it weren't for this, I wouldn't have realized what I was doing wrong this whole time and I probably would've stayed in that same position for a while. I'm taking it day by day now, and I'm getting better, and that's what truly matters.
My deepest gratitude for reviewing my application and considering it. Also for reading this if you have.
Thank you, I truly, deeply, appreciate it.
Warmest regards
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Pls do Yandere!Alucard part 3!! I love the others! 😍
Ask: Pls do Yandere! Alucard part 3!! I love the others! 😍
A/N: I’ve gotten two asks for Part 3, so here you go. Note: Here are [Part 1] & [Part 2]. And other Yandere! Alucard’s imagines can be found here.
TW!: As always, this is a fictional work about a fictional character. Manipulation and abuse in real relationships are never okay, and it’s never your fault. If you need help, please click on any of these: [x] [x].
Oh and for some ambiance while reading, listen to this: [x]
* * *
It had been less than 24 hours since you and your father moved into Alucard’s castle. The journey itself was horrendous, with your father laying down in the back of a rented cart, coughing with every bump in the road.
‘At least he agreed to come,’ you thought.
Truth be told, your father was never keen on the help of strangers, and you suspected that much was still true. It must have been the delirium from his fever that encouraged him to consent to such arrangements.
Alucard was kind enough to help you unload your belongings once you arrived at the castle. He even insisted on carrying your father to his new room. You thanked him profusely. It took all your strengths, your fathers and yours combined, to simply get him into the cart for the journey there; yet there Alucard was, carrying him as if your father weighed no more than a feather.
Truthfully, you were rather surprised to see Alucard walking around in the daytime- a trait you thought vampires did not possess. It seemed the more time you spent with Alucard, the more you found yourself amazed at his physicality.
Alucard had set your father up in a room exactly two floors above yours, citing contagion as a risk. Your room, you learned, was closer to Alucard’s own, just down the hall from it, should you ever need something in the later hours of the evening.
“So, I take it you don’t sleep in a coffin then?” You asked him.
“Not currently, no.” He answered rather plainly. “Although I have slept in one before.”
You nodded, intrigued. “What was that like?”
“Sleeping?” Alucard’s gaze lingered on the dark circles under your eyes. “It’s a wonderful human invention. Perhaps you should try it sometime.”
You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “I sleep just fine,” you argued. “Besides, now that Father is here and I’m not the only one watching over him, I think I’ll sleep better. Does this mean you’ll take the first watch?” You teased back.
“First watch?” Alucard stopped in his tracks. “Just what sort of creatures do you believe reside in this castle?”
“No, I… What I meant was, for my father, I’d stay up with him at night, in the event he needed anything. Now that you’re here, I just assumed we would be taking turns.” You raised your hands defensively. “Of course, I don’t expect you to. I’m fine staying up with him by myself.”
Alucard regarded you pitifully for a moment before he continued walking. “I have some tea in the kitchen,” he said. “Allow me to show you where that is.”
Silently, you followed the tall blonde, wondering if you had said something to offend him. Perhaps your coffin comment?
“Cozy.” The rich voice of your acquaintance brought you back to the present.
“I’m sorry?” You asked.
“The coffin,” Alucard repeated, descending the stairs, “It was rather cozy.”
* * *
The castle itself seemed rather dreary and uninviting the first few times you had broken in. You supposed it was the nature of your entrance that colored it so because now, it most certainly transformed. Gone was the cold oppressive gray interior.
Instead, you found yourself catching a glimpse of gloriously detailed bewitching pictorial carpets and paintings decorating the walls, luxuriant red carpet providing padding under your feet, and thick insulating curtains pulled open with pendulum tiebacks between every major room. It was a bit odd, to say the least.
In addition to that metamorphosis, the dust and stale air seemed to have vanished as well. Perhaps, Alucard tidied up before you and your father’s arrival, but that seemed quite impossible; the castle was enormous, and a fortnight was certainly not enough time for him to have made such preparations. It would have taken days if not weeks to change the castle’s appearance. Surely, you must have been mistaken.
Following Alucard to the kitchen, your curiosity got the better of you.
“Are things… different, in here?” You asked.
Alucard turned his head back to you, seeing your wandering eyes and interested expression. “No,” he waved off your amazement, “The castle has stayed the same way for years, cemented long before you arrived.”
You nodded, frowning only a little bit. “It’s just I could’ve sworn-”
“And here we are,” Alucard’s announcement cut you off. “This is the kitchen. One of them at least. It’s the only one I’ve frequented, anyhow.”
You walked into a rather large-sized kitchen, with a tiled floor and two sets of iron-barred windows- one right over a large metal tub sink and another perpendicular from the first and centered so the light could shine on the main oak dinner table. Across from that second window, near the entrance door, was a large cast-iron oven, set against a brick chimney. Nestled in the furthest corner of the room was a series of Welsh dressers and cabinets, stocked with plates, utensils, and other miscellaneous dinnerware.
“It’s lovely,” you spoke, amazed. You were drawn to one of the Welsh dressers, noticing a set of brightly colored objects there. “What are these? Dolls?” You reached out to touch them.
Alucard scooped them up before you could, and quickly shoved them inside one of the dresser’s drawers. “Those aren’t important, don’t worry about those.”
“Oh, okay,” you said, biting your lip.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just,” you gestured to where the dolls were hidden, “I wasn’t going to make fun of you, you know.”
Alucard walked over to the stove. “Oh?” He placed a kettle on one of the cooktops, before turning a knob and striking a match to ignite a small flame.
“I have, or, had dolls from my childhood too. They’re probably falling apart at the seams back home somewhere,” you mused, “Or I might have lost them. Either way, it’s nothing to feel shame about.”
Alucard swallowed harshly. “They were… they remind me of some old friends who are no longer with us.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You pulled out a chair from the table, opposite the side with the stove. “Did they live here as well?”
Alucard nodded, retrieving a tea set from a different dresser. “For a short while, yes.”
“What happened to them?”
He shrugged, placing a fine pewter saucer and teacup before you. “The same thing that happens to all humans: they were born, they aged, they died. It's certainly not a novel concept.”
At that moment you felt such sadness for him. You knew the castle was ancient, and you knew the stories of vampires began long before you were born, but you never bothered to ask Alucard his age, or where he fit in with the timing of all the local folklore.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you exactly?” You watched the slightest bit of a smirk grace Alucard’s face.
“Old.”
“‘Old’?” You echoed.
“Older,” he said again for emphasis.
“Older than me?”
He nodded.
“Older than my Father?”
“Yes,” Alucard answered, drawing out the ‘s’ sound, in a soft hiss.
Nervous, you picked up the empty teacup to admire it. The metallic pewter cup was rather dainty, with an impressive embossed pattern at both the top and bottom rims with an equally impressive embossed saucer to match. It was very pretty, and nothing like you had at home.
You watched as Alucard poured the boiled water from the kettle into the large metal teapot on the table. The silence as he poured felt more and more suffocating as time went on. You suppose Alucard felt it too, seeing as how once the kettle was back on the cooktop, he was the one to initiate conversation.
“You and your Father are close, I presume?”
You nodded. “More so since my Mother and older Brother passed.” Seeing Alucard’s perplexed expression, you continued. “She died in childbirth, and my Brother, well, he joined her shortly after. That was a few years ago. My Father’s all I have left.”
“Why haven’t you married?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re well of age.”
“I-” you scoffed, momentarily lost for words. “Are you calling me old? I’m the youngest one here!”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“I’m not obligated to answer.”
Alucard said nothing, only picked up the pot and poured you a cup of steaming, freshly brewed tea. Again, the two of you sat in silence.
Feeling less awkward with the silence this time round, you blew lightly over the rim of your cup before taking a tentative sip, careful not to burn your mouth. You then watched half in awe, half in horror as Alucard took a hearty sip, clearly unfazed by the scalding hot temperature.
Seeing your appalled expression, Alucard chuckled a bit. “Another vampire trait.”
“Is there anything that harms you?” You asked, incredulous. “You don’t burn up in sunlight, you’re not controlled by feral bloodlust around people, and just now with the tea, scalding water doesn’t phase you one bit.”
“I do have weaknesses retained by vampires, yes. Just as I have vampiric strengths.”
“How do you know which is which?” You asked, taking a sip of your tea, the temperature finally being low enough.
“I’ve had years to experiment. Trial and error.” He answered.
“Yes, but if your trial went wrong, couldn’t you accidentally injure yourself?”
“Better me than an enemy.”
You nodded. “I suppose.”
“What about you?” Alucard asked. “How long did you experiment before realizing you needed further help in curing your Father?”
You thought back. “I didn’t do any experiments, I just tried everything I thought of to make him better. And I thought it worked, but then the sweats-
“And the cough?” Alucard interrupted.
“Yes, the cough returned. So I visited our wise woman and she sold me a tincture of wormwood and radish. It didn’t do anything. Well, it turned his skin red, but that’s about all. That’s why I came here. This place was my last hope.”
Alucard did not comment on your desperation as he poured you more tea.
“I’m truly grateful. Thank you,” you said, accepting the refilled cup. “Thank you for this,” you gestured to the tea, “And for this,” you said, gesturing broadly around you.
Alucard brushed off your appreciation with a nonchalant wave of the hand. “It’s nothing.”
You shook your head. “We had run out of options, what you’re willing to do, to try, it’s everything.”
Alucard looked at you with his trademark melancholy expression. “As I said before, I believe I know what’s wrong with your Father, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make him well. But before we begin…” His hands reached out and clasped one of yours.
You nearly jumped from the temperature difference. Your hands, having been warmed by the tea, felt like fire compared to his slender icy hands against your skin.
“There are a few things you must know.”
* * *
On the outside, Alucard played it cool, but on the inside, he was beaming. It had all been so easy! So easy to gain your trust, to gain your thanks. So much progress had been made and yet, he had learned your name just one week prior. You had relocated your belongings to a room in his castle, all transferred willingly, with no intention of removal anytime soon. Everything was working out better than he could have planned!
He was a bit hesitant to show you around the castle, having changed so many things. Then again, he assumed you’d be in too much of a state to notice. Castlevania was alive in and of itself, and he, as the inheritor of the estate, wielded a good amount of control over the living, breathing structure. The last-minute changes in decor were more of an afterthought on his part. Alucard truly didn’t mean to lie to you so blatantly, at least, not so soon after your arrival, but he had no choice. He feared that should he reveal he changed the entire castle’s decorum just to impress you, you would learn his feelings were much more intense than he was letting on.
There was always a slim chance you’d feel flattered- a single woman such as yourself. Then again, in the past, Alucard recalled, his intentions were rarely well-received. It had been generations since he truly felt the love and affection of another, and it could be argued that those relationships formed solely out of proximity among Trevor’s, Sypha’s, and his destiny. With his Father vanquished, and the remaining group of supernatural beings continually shrinking in size, Alucard was further isolated as time went on. And it wasn’t just companionship he was missing.
The longer Alucard existed alone in that castle, the less human he became; or rather, the less human he recalled how to be. That was also, partly, the point in changing up the castle, particularly the kitchen. He didn’t frequent it much, he had very little need to. Sure, he prepared food and ate on occasion, but as a dhampir, he needed very little to survive. Eating food was always more of a pleasure than a requirement. But then you were going to be living here, sleeping here, eating here. Things needed to be updated, for your usage. As a matter of fact, in his haste to have Castlevania conjure all the right things for you, he had forgotten to remove his newest addition of Trevor and Sypha dolls from the kitchen. It was a cruel trick on the castle’s part- knowing full well he wouldn’t approve of such items in his design, and yet, the castle left them anyway. It was embarrassing, and a further reminder of how rushed so many aspects of his plan were. Then again, you seemed to find it rather endearing. So perhaps, in the end, the visages of his long-lost friends worked in his favor.
Besides, he was able to regain the upper hand, thanks to his question about your lack of a spouse. He hadn’t meant for it to come off as teasing, although, in a way, he later found he was glad it did. It brought an air of familiarity to your conversation, one that wasn’t present before. He… liked it. He liked it a lot.
The two of you were still very much strangers, but things were most certainly moving in the right direction.
Of course, the one sore spot in all of this was the state of your Father. Alucard wouldn’t call his prognosis hopeless, but it was certainly headed in that direction. It was clear from the moment the two of you had arrived, judging by your Father’s feverish and exhausted body in the back of that run-down cart, that there was little he as a physician could do to treat him. Even his Mother, the great Doctor Tepes would have been forced to face the harsh reality that there was little any doctor could do to secure this patient’s fate- either living or dead. In cases like these, fate seemed to hang on the wind, one swift blow in either direction could have your Father miraculously recovering, or being laid to rest.
Then again, he had no intention of telling you that. You didn’t need to know. All you needed to know was that as long as your father was still breathing, Alucard was doing everything within his power to save him. The only thing he needed from you was your continued trust. As long as he had that, everything would work out perfectly.
* * *
A/N: WHY DID THIS TAKE ME SO LONNNNGGGG?????? UUUGGGHHHH.
Anyway, Part 3 is here! Yea! Maybe three months from now, there’ll be a Part 4, lol. The Ask Box is still currently closed to requests, but comments and critiques (and fellow fangirling) are always welcome! (No fr, tell me how you feel about Alucard cuz I love him & it has become a full-blown problem.)
Oh, and because I’m not a doctor or an expert of any kind, I used these links for figuring out what tuberculosis looked like in the 14th century: [x], [x] & [x]. And here’s where I read up on old-timey medicine: [x].
Links about TB:
Britannica Encyclopedia: https://www.britannica.com/science/tuberculosis/Tuberculosis-through-history
TB Online: https://www.tbonline.info/posts/2016/3/31/how-tb-infects-body-tubercle-1/
Latent tb vs tb disease (The CDC): https://www.cdc.gov/tb/topic/basics/tbinfectiondisease.htm
Old Timey Medicine: https://www.abdn.ac.uk/sll/disciplines/english/lion/medicine.shtml
#yandere castlevania#yandere alucard#yandere imagine#alucard imagine#castlevania imagine#castlevania x reader#alucard x reader#yandere!alucard#castlevania#yandere#tw: yandere#os#alucard tepes x reader
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Hey! It has been on my mind lately and i just wanna ask..idk if it would make sense but i just noticed that nowadays ppl cant separate the authors and their books (ex. when author wrote a story about cheating and ppl starts bashing the author for romanticizing cheating and even to a point of cancelling the author for not setting a good/healthy example of a relationship) any thoughts about it?
I have many, many thoughts on this, so this may get a little unwieldy but I'll try to corall it together as best I can.
But honestly, I think sometimes being unable to separate the author from the work (which is interesting to me to see because some people are definitely not "separating" anything even though they think they are; they just erase the author entirely as an active agent, isolate the work, and call it "objectivity") has a lot to do with some people being unable to separate the things they read from themselves.
I'm absolutely not saying it's right, but it's an impulse I do understand. If you read a book and love it, if it transforms your life, or defines a particular period of your life, and then you find out that the author has said or done something awful--where does that leave you? Someone awful made something beautiful, something you loved: and now that this point of communion exists between you and someone whose views you'd never agree with, what does that mean for who you are? That this came from the mind of a person capable of something awful and spoke to your mind--does that mean you're like them? Could be like them?
Those are very uncomfortable questions and I think if you have a tendency to look at art or literature this way, you will inevitable fall into the mindset where only "Good" stories can be accepted because there's no distinction between where the story ends and you begin. As I said, I can see where it comes from but I also find it profoundly troubling because i think one of the worst things you can do to literature is approach it with the expectation of moral validation--this idea that everything you consume, everything you like and engage with is some fundamental insight into your very character as opposed to just a means of looking at or questioning something for its own sake is not just narrow-minded but dangerous.
Art isn't obliged to be anything--not moral, not even beautiful. And while I expend very little (and I mean very little) energy engaging with or even looking at internet / twitter discourse for obvious reasons, I do find it interesting that people (online anyway) will make the entire axis of their critique on something hinge on the fact that its bad representation or justifying / romanticizing something less than ideal, proceeding to treat art as some sort of conduit for moral guidance when it absolutely isn't. And they will also hold that this critique comes from a necessarily good and just place (positive representation, and I don't know, maybe in their minds it does) while at the same time setting themselves apart from radical conservatives who do the exact same thing, only they're doing it from the other side.
To make it abundantly clear, I'm absolutely not saying you should tolerate bigots decrying that books about the Holocaust, race, homophobia, or lgbt experiences should be banned--what I am saying, is that people who protest that a book like Maus or Persepolis is going to "corrupt children", and people who think a book exploring the emotional landscape of a deeply flawed character, who just happens to be from a traditionally marginalised group or is written by someone who is, is bad representation and therefore damaging to that community as a whole are arguments that stem from the exact same place: it's a fundamental inability, or outright refusal, to accept the interiority and alterity of other people, and the inherent validity of the experiences that follow. It's the same maniacal, consumptive, belief that there can be one view and one view only: the correct view, which is your view--your thoughts, your feelings.
There is also dangerous element of control in this. Someone with racist views does not want their child to hear anti-racist views because as far as they are concerned, this child is not a being with agency, but a direct extension of them and their legacy. That this child may disagree is a profound rupture and a threat to the cohesion of this person's entire worldview. Nothing exists in and of and for itself here: rather the multiplicity of the world and people's experiences within it are reduced to shadowy agents that are either for us or against us. It's not about protecting children's "innocence" ("think of the children", in these contexts, often just means "think of the status quo"), as much as it is about protecting yourself and the threat to your perceived place in the world.
And in all honestt I think the same holds true for the other side--if you cannot trust yourself to engage with works of art that come from a different standpoint to yours, or whose subject matter you dislike, without believing the mere fact of these works' existence will threaten something within you or society in general (which is hysterical because believe me, society is NOT that flimsy), then that is not an issue with the work itself--it's a personal issue and you need to ask yourself if it would actually be so unthinkable if your belief about something isn't as solid as you think it is, and, crucially, why you have such little faith in your own critical capacity that the only response these works ilicit from you is that no one should be able to engage with them. That's not awareness to me--it's veering very close to sticking your head in the sand, while insisting you actually aren't.
Arbitrarily adding a moral element to something that does not exist as an agent of moral rectitude but rather as an exploration of deeply human impulses, and doing so simply to justify your stance or your discomfort is not only a profoundly inadequate, but also a deeply insidious, way of papering over your insecurities and your own ignorance (i mean this in the literal sense of the word), of creating a false and dishonest certainty where certainty does not exist and then presenting this as a fact that cannot and should not be challenged and those who do are somehow perverse or should have their characters called into question for it. It's reductive and infantilising in so many ways and it also actively absolves you of any responsibility as a reader--it absolves you of taking responsibility for your own interpretation of the work in question, it absolves you of responsibility for your own feelings (and, potentially, your own biases or preconceptions), it absolves you of actual, proper, thought and engagement by laying the blame entirely on a rogue piece of literature (as if prose is something sentient) instead of acknowledging that any instance of reading is a two-way street: instead of asking why do I feel this way? what has this text rubbed up against? the assumption is that the book has imposed these feelings on you, rather than potentially illuminated what was already there.
Which brings me to something else which is that it is also, and I think this is equally dangerous, lending books and stories a mythical, almost supernatural, power that they absolutely do not have. Is story-telling one of the most human, most enduring, most important and life-altering traditions we have? Yes. But a story is also just a story. And to convince yourself that books have a dangerous transformative power above and beyond what they are actually capable of is, again, to completely erase people's agency as readers, writers' agency as writers and makers (the same as any other craft), and subsequently your own. And erasing agency is the very point of censors banning books en masse. It's not an act of stupidity or blind ignorance, but a conscious awareness of the fact that people will disagree with you, and for whatever reason you've decided that you are not going to let them.
Writers and poets are not separate entities to the rest of us: they aren't shamans or prophets, gifted and chosen beings who have some inner, profound, knowledge the rest of us aren't privy to (and should therefore know better or be better in some regard) because moral absolutism just does not exist. Every writer, no matter how affecting their work may be, is still Just Some Guy Who Made a Thing. Writing can be an incredibly intimate act, but it can also just be writing, in the same way that plumbing is plumbing and weeding is just weeding and not necessarily some transcendant cosmic endeavour in and of itself. Authors are no different, when you get down to it, from bakers or electricians; Nobel laureates are just as capable of coming out with distasteful comments about women as your annoying cousin is and the fact that they wrote a genre-defying work does not change that, or vice-versa. We imbue books with so much power and as conduits of the very best and most human traits we can imagine and hope for, but they aren't representations of the best of humanity--they're simply expressions of humanity, which includes the things we don't like.
There are some authors I love who have said and done things I completely disagree with or whose views I find abhorrent--but I'm not expecting that, just because they created something that changed my world, they are above and beyond the ordinarly, the petty, the spiteful, or cruel. That's not condoning what they have said and done in the least: but I trust myself to be able to read these works with awareness and attention, to pick out and examine and attempt to understand the things that I find questionable, to hold on to what has moved me, and to disregard what I just don't vibe with or disagree with. There are writers I've chosen not to engage with, for my own personal reasons: but I'm not going to enforce this onto someone else because I can see what others would love in them, even if what I love is not strong enough to make up for what I can't. Terrance Hayes put perfectly in my view, when he talks about this and being capable of "love without forgiveness". Writing is a profoundly human heritage and those who engage with it aren't separate from that heritage as human because they live in, and are made by, the exact same world as anyone else.
The measure of good writing for me has hardly anything to do with whatever "virtue" it's perceived to have and everything to do with sincerity. As far as I'm concerned, "positive representation" is not about 100% likeable characters who never do anything problematic or who are easily understood. Positive representation is about being afforded the full scope of human feelings, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and not having your humanity, your dignity, your right to exist in the world questioned because all of these can only be seen through the filter of race, or gender, religion, or ethicity and interpreted according to our (profoundly warped) perceptions of those categories and what they should or shouldn't represent. True recognition of someone's humanity does not lie in finding only what is held in common between you (and is therefore "acceptable", with whatever you put into that category), but in accepting everything that is radically different about them and not letting this colour the consideration you give.
Also, and it may sound harsh, but I think people forget that fictional characters are fictional. If I find a particularly fucked up relationship dynamic compelling (as I often do), or if I decide to write and explore that dynamic, that's not me saying two people who threaten to kill each other and constantly hurt each other is my ideal of romance and that this is exactly how I want to be treated: it's me trying to find out what is really happening below the surface when two people behave like this. It's me exploring something that would be traumatizing and deeply damaging in real life, in a safe and fictional setting so I can gain some kind of understanding about our darker and more destructive impulses without being literally destroyed by them, as would happen if all of this were real. But it isn't real. And this isn't a radical or complex thing to comprehend, but it becomes incomprehensible if your sole understanding of literature is that it exists to validate you or entertain you or cater to you, and if all of your interpretations of other people's intentions are laced with a persistent sense of bad faith. Just because you have not forged any identity outside of this fictional narrative doesn't mean it's the same for others.
Ursula K. le Guin made an extremely salient point about children and stories in that children know the stories you tell them--dragons, witches, ghouls, whatever--are not real, but they are true. And that sums it all up. There's a reason children learning to lie is an incredibly important developmental milestone, because it shows that they have achieved an incredibly complex, but vitally important, ability to hold two contradictory statements in their minds and still know which is true and which isn't. If you cannot delve into a work, on the terms it sets, as a fictional piece of literature, recognize its good points and note its bad points, assess what can have a real world impact or reflects a real world impact and what is just creative license, how do you possible expect to recognize when authority and propaganda lies to you? Because one thing propaganda has always utilised is a simplistic, black and white depiction of The Good (Us) and The Bad (Them). This moralistic stance regarding fiction does not make you more progressive or considerate; it simply makes it easier to manipulate your ideas and your feelings about those ideas because your assessments are entirely emotional and surface level and are fuelled by a refusal to engage with something beyond the knee-jerk reaction it causes you to have.
Books are profoundly, and I do mean profoundly, important to me-- and so much of who I am and the way I see things is probably down to the fact that stories have preoccupied me wherever I go. But I also don't see them as vital building blocks for some core facet or a pronouncement of Who I Am. They're not badges of honour or a cover letter I put out into the world for other people to judge and assess me by, and approve of me (and by extension, the things I say or feel). They're vehicles through which I explore and experience whatever it is that I'm most caught by: not a prophylactic, not a mode of virtue signalling, and certainly not a means of signalling a moral stance.
I think at the end of the day so much of this tendency to view books as an extension of yourself (and therefore of an author) is down to the whole notion of "art as a mirror", and I always come back to Fran Lebowitz saying that it "isn't a mirror, it's a door". And while I do think it's important to have that mirror (especially if you're part of a community that never sees itself represented, or represented poorly and offensively) I think some people have moved into the mindset of thinking that, in order for art to be good, it needs to be a mirror, it needs to cater to them and their experiences precisely--either that or that it can only exist as a mirror full stop, a reflection of and for the reader and the writer (which is just incredibly reductive and dismissive of both)--and if art can only exist as a mirror then anything negative that is reflected back at you must be a condemnation, not a call for exploration or an attempt at understanding.
As I said, a mirror is important but to insist on it above all else isn't always a positive thing: there are books I related to deeply because they allowed me to feel so seen (some by authors who looked nothing like me), but I have no interest in surrounding myself with those books all the time either--I know what goes on in my head which is precisely why I don't always want to live there. Being validated by a character who's "just like me" is amazing but I also want--I also need-- to know that lives and minds and events exist outside of the echo-chamber of my own mind. The mirror is comforting, yes, but if you spend too long with it, it also becomes isolating: you need doors because they lead you to ideas and views and characters you could never come up with on your own. A world made up of various Mes reflected back to me is not a world I want to be immersed in because it's a world with very little texture or discovery or room for growth and change. Your sense of self and your sense of other people cannot grow here; it just becomes mangled.
Art has always been about dialogue, always about a me and a you, a speaker and a listener, even when it is happening in the most internal of spaces: to insist that art only ever tells you what you want to hear, that it should only reflect what you know and accept is to undermine the very core of what it seeks to do in the first place, which is establish connection. Art is a lifeline, I'm not saying it isn't. But it's also not an instruction manual for how to behave in the world--it's an exploration of what being in the world looks like at all, and this is different for everyone. And you are treading into some very, very dangerous waters the moment you insist it must be otherwise.
Whatever it means to be in the world, it is anything but straightforward. In this world people cheat, people kill, they manipulate, they lie, they torture and steal--why? Sometimes we know why, but more often we don't--but we take all these questions and write (or read) our way through them hoping that, if we don't find an answer, we can at least find our way to a place where not knowing isn't as unbearable anymore (and sometimes it's not even about that; it's just about telling a story and wanting to make people laugh). It's an endless heritage of seeking with countless variations on the same statements which say over and over again I don't know what to make of this story, even as I tell it to you. So why am I telling it? Do I want to change it? Can I change it? Yes. No. Maybe. I have no certainty in any of this except that I can say it. All I can do is say it.
Writing, and art in general, are one of the very, very, few ways we can try and make sense of the apparently arbitrary chaos and absurdity of our lives--it's one of the only ways left to us by which we can impose some sense of structure or meaning, even if those things exists in the midst of forces that will constantly overwhelm those structures, and us. I write a poem to try and make sense of something (grief, love, a question about octopuses) or to just set down that I've experienced something (grief, love, an answer about octpuses). You write a poem to make sense of, resolve, register, or celebrate something else. They don't have to align. They don't have to agree. We don't even need to like each other much. But in both of these instances something is being said, some fragment of the world as its been perceived or experienced is being shared. They're separate truths that can exist at the same time. Acknowledging this is the only means we have of momentarily bridging the gaps that will always exist between ourselves and others, and it requires a profound amount of grace, consideration and forbearance. Otherwise, why are we bothering at all?
#this is so much longer than i intended but yeah. those are my very long 2 cents#tbh i also think social media makes it worse in a way especially bc “transparency” has become a form of public vetting which is insane to m#me* transparency and honesty are not the same thing ans its ludicrous that this is where we're at and while we all have to live with this#demand for transparency i do think it affects writers differently bc the whole art as mirror thing comes to the fore in this argument#why would you sit with your feelings about a book when its easier and more accessible for you to @ the authors twitter handle#but anyway#ask#anonymous#book talks
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Planets retrograde
Notes and tips
Credit @moonastrogirl
Despite whatever people say about planets retrograde and the karma they carry, planets retrograde can be a blessing in disguise in a birth chart and they can even hold more power and energy than direct planets once the natives have figured out how to manage the energy of their retrograde in a new and innovative way.
These planets also carry a different energy than when they are direct. The energy is turned inward and it’s up to each individual to bring that energy outward based on their own individuality and perception of life.
Mercury retrograde people communicate softly and calmly. They don’t know it but people love hearing them talk. They are mesmerising people. The energy of their communication is loving and grounded. Their mind is also innovative and they have a genius like quality to them. The key to unlock their true potential is to not take anything personally and be appreciative of how their mind works.
Mars retrograde natives have a hard time expressing their mars energy because they actually need to find a new way of expressing it. How ? By just being themselves and trying out different and innovative ways of being assertive. Once they do find their solution, their combative and competitive side is unstoppable. Native with direct mars can never be as assertive as a mars retrograde natives who have master this energy.
Some planets are even better when they are retrograde, especially Saturn and Pluto because they carry less karma over time.
The native with Saturn retrograde will experience most of their karma in their early years then they will be an unstoppable force that can make anything happen. They will be limitless over time compared to Saturn direct natives who will face more karma as they grow older. Saturn retrograde natives also work hard even harder than Saturn direct people, they exhaust themselves but their actions will be rewarded no matter what they do over time. They have a lot on their plate but they will receive anything they ask for and even more as they grow older. Karma will truly be on their side after they turn 30. Their lessons are to learn time and ressources management. Once they do learn those two lessons, it’s only up from there for them.
For Pluto retrograde, their transformations happen inward, they don’t let people be consumed by their intensity and they rather bring out a positive energy around them than a chaotic one. It’s actually easier to be around a Pluto retrograde dominant person than a Pluto direct dominant person. The energy is less heavy. The lesson to learn is to unleash some of that intensity outward when it is necessary because people can take advantage of the fact that they prefer surrounding themselves with positive energy. It’s great for them to remember that unleashing some of their demons can actually be useful to them. In a protective way of course. Not really to harm others.
Jupiter retrograde people have a different way of claiming abundance and luck. Once they understand that they need to travel more, meet more people from different backgrounds to unlock their potential, their true nature comes out and all their manifestations become reality. They can become master manifestors.
Credit @moonastrogirl
#astrology observations#astrology community#astrology notes#astrology#astrology placements#mercury retrograde#mars retrograde#pluto retrograde#saturn retrograde#uranus retrograde#neptune retrograde#jupiter retrograde#astrology thoughts#taurus placements#aries placements#gemini placements#cancer placements#leo placements#virgo placements#libra placements#scorpio placements#sagittarius placements#capricorn placements#aquarius placements#pisces placements
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Fevered Dreams ( PGR Chrome & ??? x GN Reader)
Warnings: implied somnophilia, manipulation, reader is sick (possibly COVID sick, depends on how my test goes), I am currently ill so I decided to write comfort that's less comfort and more discomfort instead
Lmk any mistakes or improvements I can make.
It started with something small. Just a sore throat and nothing more, but by the next afternoon it had slowly grown into into something more troublesome.
Shortness of breath and fatigue and all while you were on a mission too, how convenient. Gray Raven was quick to shuffle you back to base once a nearby squad arrived to help and off you went back on a ship straight to Babylonia with Liv to accompany you just in case you got worse on the flight back (you did.)
You couldn't help but be frustrated, the day was going well and now everything is going to grind to a halt. You were already dreading what the night would be like when you were struggling even to take a nap. You sit up in your bed and stare a hole into the bedsheets. You didn't feel like doing much of anything, you just wanted to sleep, but that seemed impossible. You kept tossing and turning and even when you did fall asleep for a second you'd have these terrible nightmares; a swelling red tide full of all the cries of the ones you love and care about with their broken hands reaching out to you, looming towers disrupting your vision and transforming your friends- and even yourself into something crazed and horrid, towering trees made of fire and hellish twin faces, a sister in white slowly being torn apart limb by limb as her two red sisters scream in horror and pain of losing each other again as one red sister begs you to do something while the other says to stay away and that you'll never be enough. You're sure there's more, but you're too tired and miserable to try and remember any further.
A light knock disrupts your thoughts, and you're thankful for it. "Come in." You try to say it loud enough so the other person can hear, but you end up giving yourself a coughing fit instead.
"Commandant, I've warned you many times about the cost of exhausting your body." A familiar yet surprising voice sounds through your room and you look up between coughs.
"Chrome?" You croak and your brows furrow slightly in confusion. You're not surprised that he's visiting you, you're surprised that he's back so soon.
You remember earlier...you don't remember when and you can't figure out a time estimate, but he came to see you.
In the midst of your tossing and turning, you opened your eyes faintly to see a blurry figure, the face wasn't close enough for you to tell who it was and judging by the black in the blurry colors, it certainly wasn't Liv. Ah, what was that? It looked like a flash of red, Lucia? But you're not sure that's right either.
You open your mouth to ask who it is when the figure speaks first. "Rest. You don't need to fret, I'll be watching over you."
It's masculine, so definitely not Lucia or Liv...your brain is so scattered you can't seem to decide on who it is. Names and faces appear and disappear like shards of glass in your mind's eye, fleeting and falling through your fingers before you could catch them.
A light pressure forms on your shoulder, pushing you down gently in an attempt to stop the writhing you hadn't realized you were doing. "There's no need to panic, I won't hurt you, I just want to watch over you for a while. I'll look after you and keep you safe."
Noan? Lee? Chrome?...Chrome. It must be Chrome you decided, but why is he here now? You remember Liv saying he would visit at 5 PM and while you don't know the exact time now, you knew it was too early to be 5PM.
"Chrome? Didn't you say you'd visit later?" You ask nasally, your throat irritating you to no end. There's a brief moment of silence from the figure before he speaks again.
"I finished my work early, so I decided to come see you early. Is that alright...Commandant?" The voice is melodic, if you didn't know Chrome you'd think he was mocking you right now.
"It's fine, just wondering is all." You mumble as your head falls back onto the pillow, so tired and yet unable to sleep.
"Of course, you wouldn't want a wolf to come in and endanger you." Chrome replies, you feel a finger glide over the line of your torso before stopping right at your midriff. You laugh softly into a coughing fit at his 'joke'.
"Oh my, you really are quite ill aren't you?" A moment later you feel your head being raised and a cool glass press against your lips. Obediently you open your mouth and drink the water and when you've had enough, 'Chrome' gently sets you down again and cups your face.
You keep your eyes closed as he stays like that for a while. You feel his gaze over your face before it slowly drifts down and lingers at your lips, what you assume is a finger runs over your bottom lip before his heavy gaze travels further, studying your neck, then your chest, your arms, your stomach, your hips, and resting a moment between your thighs before the gaze travels the dips and curves of your body back up to your face.
"Go to sleep." If you hadn't known Chrome better it would've sounded like a warning. Regardless, you did somehow manage to fall back into a sleep punctuated with the occasional ghostly sensation of gloved fingers on your skin followed by a soft press of lips, but you couldn't tell if that was from a dream or not, since every time you tried to see who it was...there was nothing.
"Commandant?" Blue eyes swirling with concern and a slight twinge of fear wait anxiously for your answer, a gloved hand stretches out before abruptly hesitating and pulling back. "Commandant, can you hear me?"
"Yeah sorry, I didn't realize I zoned out." You give Chrome a faint smile. "But you don't need to check up on me so often."
Chrome's brows furrow, he seems more anxious suddenly. "Commandant, this is the first time I've seen you today. Did you...perhaps have a dream?"
"Huh? No, you definitely came here earlier." There was no doubt in your mind that that was real. You saw him earlier, you were absolutely certain. You'd even bet your life upon it, that's how certain you were.
"...I wasn't here earlier." Chrome replies, there's no tone of judgement, or mockery in his voice. He says it calmly, confidently, and gently, the same way he does when informing you of strategies or what types of enemies are on the field.
You don't know what to say so you quietly look over the memory again in your mind, combing through it and looking for anything suspicious. It must've shown on your face because Chrome suddenly crouches down in front of you.
"It's...alright if you dreamt of me," Chrome's cheeks flush ever so slightly and he averts his gaze before finding his words once more. "But I want to make sure you know the difference between dreams and reality, Commandant."
There is no hint of judgment in his face, only the sincere and genuine care he has always shown you. "I...you're right, maybe I've been pushing myself too hard lately. I'll ask Liv if I can take some sleeping pills." You're still certain those events were reality, but knowing how concerned everyone already is, you don't want to add hallucinations onto their list of things to fret about so you just go with it instead.
Chrome smiles gently and then it falters for a moment, becoming confused then strained as his gaze lingers on the side of your neck. "Chrome?" You call, wondering what's wrong. Your fingers reach up towards your neck before being stopped suddenly, you look down and realize it was Chrome's hand on your wrist. You stare at each other for a moment before Chrome stands up and clears his throat, letting go of your wrist in the process.
"Ahem...it's nothing, Commandant. I was just thinking about missions. Please get some rest." And with that, Chrome leaves. Quietly shutting the door behind you and leaving you in solitude once more.
Solitude? My, after such a wonderful performance you gave me you think I'd simply leave you to suffer alone? Never, dear little rabbit of mine, would I ever do such a thing.
#pgr#pgr chrome#pgr roland#punishing gray raven#pgr yandere#pgr yandere roland#it's kinda yan ig but not that much#pgr fanfic#unhappy writings#pgr roland x reader#pgr chrome x reader#pgr commandant#tw.somnophilia
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Hungry For You
Beelzebub is learning that there are more dimensions to gluttony than a hunger for food.
(It's not as exciting as the title and description would lead you to believe. Only wholesome Beel here, I'm afraid.)
Ship: Beelzebub x Reader
Word Count: 666 (smirk)
Cross-Posted with AO3
I’m not very complicated.
I’m just hungry most of the time.
My brothers are more complex. Lucifer and Satan for sure, but also Levi and Asmo and Belphie… Even Mammon’s got more to him than meets the eye.
Not me though. I’m just hungry.
I’m always hungry, you know? Always. It used to scare me when I first became a demon, because it felt like I’d gorge myself until I died. Or like I’d starve no matter how much I ate. Or like I’d go crazy from how hungry I felt and accidentally hurt someone.
I got used to it after a while. I never actually ate anybody.
I try to be honest most of the time. It’s easier than hiding things. So it isn’t a big secret that I like you a lot.
You’re always nice to me, even though I’m kind of boring and not all that smart. You listened to me when I talked about Belphie and Lilith. You share your food with me. You smile at me and you give nice hugs. I’m not very complicated. So that’s enough for me to like you a lot.
I’m not the only one who likes you. Belphie does too. He didn’t used to smile as much as he does now that you’re here. And Mammon follows you around like a golden retriever. Even Lucifer seems a little less tense when you’re around.
I like that about you too. I’m not a really complicated person, but I love my brothers. I like how happy you make them.
I’m glad I’m strong and tall, because you’re so small and squishy. You seem like you’d break really easily. I’d like to protect you, I think. But I haven’t really gotten to do that. Instead, you protected me and Luke during the situation with the Grimoire. I still can’t believe you did that…
I was a little mad at you for that, actually.
I never wanted somebody to get hurt because of me.
I don’t think Lucifer would have killed me if you’d just grabbed Luke and gotten somewhere safe. And I wouldn’t have felt like you let me down or you didn’t care about me or anything if you did that. It wouldn’t be a betrayal for a human to run away in a situation like that. It’s natural to want to keep yourself safe. So why didn’t you? I wouldn’t have been upset with you, you know. If Diavolo hadn’t shown up when he did, then… I mean, if anything went wrong, really. I keep wondering… what if you died?
I think I’d end up feeling hungry forever.
Not hungry for food. Hungry for… I don’t know. It’s softer than when I’m hungry for food, and it’s not as desperate, so I feel like I have more control over myself. But it’s still a new sort of hunger, and it’s still pretty strong, and it makes me a little uneasy.
Does it sound too weird if I say I feel hungry for you?
I don’t mean anything strange by it. It’s not like I actually want to eat you. It’s more like… I feel like something inside me wants to hold onto something inside you, forever. I think if you were gone, I’d miss you too much, and there’d be something empty in me that ached. That’s what I mean by feeling hungry for you. And it makes me nervous. It’s the same sort of anxiety I used to feel when I was new to the Devildom, and I worried that I’d starve. I wonder, if you were gone, and I couldn’t stop feeling hungry for you, what would happen? Would I die? Or would I go crazy? It’s scary.
I try not to think about that too much. It’s okay as long as you’re around. That fills me up okay.
Not as much as when you hold my hand, though. Or when you hug me.
Did you know you smell like dessert? It’s really nice.
#obey me#fanfic#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel x reader#obey me x reader#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub x reader#daytaker fanfic#beel
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