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alicerosejensen · 1 year

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Heyyyy hope you’re doing well!!

Please can you imagine Leon (re6) loosing his shit because they kidnapped his girlfriend and he’s like trying everything to get her back? Imagine him crying as soon as he gets to hug her again!😭

I'm fine as long as I have a laptop connected to the internet and food)

In fact, this is one of my favorite plot tropes, when someone is kidnapped, and the main character is ready to burn the whole world to the ground, but to find an expensive person.

Leon, despite his moral principles, I think he could have made many sacrifices. In particular, he would definitely lose his temper if he grabbed onto any thread to find his beloved. At least he didn't stand on ceremony with Patrizio.

Thus, there will be little left of the scoundrel who kidnapped his girlfriend.

Something constantly happens to the poor girl of Leon (either she runs away from him, or she is stolen from him). Sorry, I just love their relationship and Leon, who is ready to kill for his loved ones :D

I still know shit English, but enjoy it if you're interested.

Please read with extreme caution! There are mentions of physical violence, kidnapping and a maniac!Yandere

Leon is a little paranoid when it comes to protecting his loved ones, so most likely he will insert some tracking device into your phone or earrings to be sure that his beloved is safe.

He tries not to violate personal boundaries, but understands that his beloved is in potential danger in relation to him. Therefore, you are under additional invisible protection.

All you need to know is that Leon is not abusing his position as a federal agent. There is no surveillance on you, it's just that if something happens, he wants to have time to prevent it before the irreparable happens (or he goes on a binge again).

His heart sinks at the thought that he may lose you for some reason. Any encroachment into your personal space by outsiders who create discomfort for you make Leon enter the defender mode (aggressive if necessary). You should be safe.

Since Leon is known to a minimum of people about Leon's love interest, the risk is minimal that you will be harmed. At least Leon considered the threat from various corporations and bioterrorists. He didn't even think about the fact that there is some bastard stealing your things.

It was some little things: pencils, hair bands, a pocket mirror, lip gloss. Yes, you said something to him about it, but maybe you just dropped them out of your backpack?

He was calm exactly until you became too nervous. It seemed that you were afraid of something and called him a couple of times with a request to meet on the way home. Leon is not one of those who will refuse, but your behavior worries him.

And when you were walking home, Leon felt your painful grip on his arm.

His main priority is your well-being. "So tell me, pretty girl, what's going on with you?" Don't think I haven't noticed this nervousness.

He will be wary when he hears that someone is following you and dragging your things. Of course you could have lost them yourself, but the chiffon scarf that Leon gave you was the last straw. In addition, you showed him the abnormal love notes that someone constantly threw into your purse.

Outwardly, it did not affect him in any way, but the stingy "I'll deal with it" means a lot. The anxiety level has increased and Leon is worried that some kind of psycho might hurt you.

He often calls and asks if everything is in order and when you need to be picked up from college. However, when you don't answer the phone, everything dies inside him.

The moment he realizes that you have been taken away, a monster wakes up in him, which can bring down hell on your abductor.

His emotional state constantly fluctuates from constant fear for your lives bordering on panic to Ustanak whose task is to find you and finish off the son of a bitch who dared to take you away from him.

"No god will help this son of a bitch when I find him."

It's sad that you lost your phone on the day of the abduction and did not put on earrings. But a nice little bracelet will save you.

are a fucking goddess.

When you wake up, of course, you will be scared. However, you will try to intimidate the criminal by saying that he is so obsessed with you in vain. "Seriously, my boyfriend will come after me and gut you" You don't think Leon will kill anyone at all, so maybe your words don't sound too confident when the kidnapper's hand is stroking your head.

Do you panic when a fucking psycho says it's some kind of date? No one here hears your screams, you can't run away because you're handcuffed. You can't even go to the toilet on your own only under his control, and this causes you a deep psychological trauma. He brings you a fucking lilac, weaving thin twigs into your hair.

"Why me?" - This is the only question that is spinning in your head when you are hysterically pulling out purple flowers, throwing them away from you. - "Am I going to die here?"

You literally go crazy from the smell of dampness and lilac. Constantly shout Leon's name as if he can hear you and immediately breaking into a loud cry, banging on the walls and the locked door.

You're clearly getting claustrophobic.

While you're suffering, Leon is trying to track the fucking signal on one of your trinkets, but he's afraid that you left that day without any jewelry at all.

Claire is definitely one of those people who can talk some sense into Leon while he's looking for you. Considering that the bug gives a bad signal (or maybe your bracelet was damaged due to the fact that you constantly pull it from nerves) from the basement and your location is difficult to track, Leon has already yelled at Chris

You feel like a frog in formalin or even some kind of toy when your abductor brings you clean clothes, which you throw back to him. It's risky to make him angry like that and you really regret it when brute force is used to force you to change clothes.

Yes, then they "take care" of you, but you are already a cornered mouse. The purple marks on your skin and the marks from the handcuffs are now a reminder of who is in charge here.

And you hate that bastard more and more. Unfortunately, you have absolutely nothing to even hit him with. The food that he brings you in plastic dishes, as well as cutlery. You try not to eat, fearing that he might have mixed something in there, but you are forced by force.

It's been three days, and Leon hasn't found you. You feel like you're starting to go crazy until you hear a muffled noise from somewhere above.

All your belongings (including the bracelet) were seized and probably thrown away, leaving you in one long T-shirt, the smell that causes you to have a gag reflex. You literally have nothing on but this rag and underpants

Has anyone ever told you that you are not the luckiest person?

You tried to attack from behind when they stopped stroking you. It was risky and you failed because the kidnapper reacted before you swung to strike.

You were very painfully punished, left lying on the damp floor in a terrible state, all in tears and without an evening meal.

It's been four terrible days in your life. All because you fiddled with your bracelet too much, which turned out to be thrown away quite far from the place where you were, forcing Leon to go on a false trail.

You felt terrible. It didn't take long to break you. You no longer hoped to see daylight or your loved ones, so you crawled into the farthest corner curled up in a ball and cried.

Having lost track of time due to another fit of hysteria, you did not want to pay attention to the opening door and hurried steps in your direction.

Preferring not to pay attention to your enemy, you became even more hysterical when he tried to turn you around to face him, affectionately calling you "angel".

That's what infuriated you. But when you opened your eyes in another attempt to attack, you froze in disbelief at your own eyes. Have you already gone crazy in this place? So fast, or was Leon really in front of you?

His light blue eyes were dark. Not as bright as usual, but maybe it's because of the lighting… Strong hands carefully examined your body for the number of bruises.

You looked away in the direction of the open door - your freedom, but you felt Leon's fingers gently tracing over your split lips.

You've never seen such quiet hatred before. You were shivering from the cold, feeling that tears were still flowing down your cheeks, and tried to snuggle up to Leon in search of protection and warmth.

But Leon himself pressed you to him, slightly lifting up his T-shirt, checking for underwear. You flinched, and then you heard a single question when you grabbed his back with both hands, pressing your head against his chest.

"That son of a bitch…" - Leon gritted his teeth, still looking at your stolen things on the floor. - "I'll kill him"

The fuse clicked.

Leon took off his jacket, putting it on you (with great difficulty, because you did not want to interrupt close contact with him), and then easily picked up in his arms, like a small child, carrying out of this basement. You closed your eyes just to not see anything else. Leon's scent worked better than any strong sedative, and you wanted him not to let you go anymore.

So small. Defenseless. Bruised all over. He will kiss you on the temple, looking at the sprawled bastard with such a look that it will be clear how it will end. Leon will hand you over to Claire, despite your growing hysteria over the loss of hugs, and do what he has planned.

It's going to be pretty bloody. He expressed some regret about Patricio, but Leon will never forgive someone who hurt you, leaving a scar on your soul. So he'll empty the whole clip on him.

Because of this, he will have some problems, but you are the priority. You will undergo a full examination at the hospital, where Leon will be reassured (partially) that your violence ended with beatings. In general, there are no physical injuries, but both Leon and Claire understand what condition you will be in.

He will take care of you. Try to do everything so that you don't remember that four-day nightmare. He will find a good therapist, but if your brain decided to erase these memories on its own, a kind of protective reaction to stress, then it will even calm him down.

Leon understands the reason for your detached behavior. He is glad that you are not afraid to let him near you, thereby subconsciously making him your shield. he's ready to be one before you start trusting people again.

No one heard it, but Leon was really crying quietly when it was over. You were sleeping after taking a sedative dose, and he was sitting in the bathtub thinking only that he could not save you faster.

He won't touch you once again for fear of triggering some kind of trigger, but in your head it is Leon the hero savior. Therefore, if you are looking for protection in him, then it's even good, because this is how he hopes to redeem himself before you.

In the end, you are faced with dissociative amnesia. You realize that something terrible has happened, but you have a lapse in memory. Leon will be the one who will start distracting you from your memories by persuading you not to remember. He really considers it a gift of fate and will go out of his way so that you don't touch this moment of life at all, leaving him behind a black curtain.

And yet one day he burst into tears clutching to his chest. While you sleep next to him feeling completely safe, Leon will need to hug you tightly and come up with better ways to protect you. He feels guilty that he did not save you and this feeling of guilt will gnaw at him for a long time.

"I'm sorry… sweetheart, I'm so sorry… - what you hear in your sleep. - "Never again…no one will hurt you. Never."You don't remember a damn thing, but you're scared because Leon is crying kissing the top of your head.

He won't let anyone else take you away.

#leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil #re #reader #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons #headcanon #yandere resident evil

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welcometogrouchland · 12 days

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It's mostly the fault of poor editorial practices that B&R is so heavily misaligned continuity-wise w/ the main batman book. But walk with me for a minute:

You are Damian Wayne. You are 14 years old and have had one of the worst years of your life last year. Which is saying a lot.

Your brother, one of the people you were closest to, got shot in the head and forgot who you were. Your best friend went to space for a week and came back 3/4 years older than you, taking away your previously established dynamic and leaving you to have to bond all over again w/ a new one. You may or may not have gone wayyy too far with your new superhero team, who now all hate you, because you fucked up big time*

And worst of all, when you do try to do the right thing, you end up forced to watch Alfred, a father figure to you, the only one at your birthday that year, the person who has been so patient, loving and trusting with you, even when you probably didnt deserve it...die. you watch him die, and feel it's all your fault.

And your dad never corrects you on that last point. So you run away.

First to your mom who can tell something's up with you, she knows you don't give up that easy, you decide not to stay with her because you remembered how actually, neither of your parents are good at communicating with you despite their best efforts, so now you're 14 and flying solo.

And you do fly solo. For a while. Make new friends, new enemies. You think you're better off for it. You've got your best friend and your brother back. They're not around as much. It's fine.

And eventually your dad tells you that it's not your fault that Alfred died. Bit late but it's appreciated. Really. There's a bit of a hiccup where you get possessed by a demon and wage war against your father but after that, all in all, you two are...together again.

You start to think maybe you want to give him another chance, for the two of you to be father and son.

And in a change of pace, it works out! It's going good, mostly. He insists you go to highschool, you resist, feel like he wants you to be something that you're not (wants you to be normal), but eventually you acquiesce for your own reasons. He cheers you on at soccer and nosies around at your fundraising events with the other parents and gives you a stern talking to about your choice of girlfriend. Because he cares.

Except all the while this is going on, your dad is currently having his brain slowly taken over by an evil version of himself that he created and every time you look away he's slowly tearing your family apart (your brothers are just barely keeping it together. The ones who didn't get lobotmized that is Jesus Christ). You keep taking his side in these conflicts, for whatever reason. Maybe because he promised it would be different this time, and it isn't** and you're going to stick with him until he keeps his word for once.

But at the end of the day?

It's like your brother says. You're not the one who saves him. Broadly speaking, you've made things worse and needed others to come save you. And what else is Robin really for? You thought it was about redemption and teamwork but guess you're wrong. It's about saving your self destructive, apparently two-faced and erratic father. And you can't even do that right.

* TT (2016) by Adam Glass is a racist ooc mess, but unfortunately it's still canon so I'm referencing here, though like a lot of works authors clearly wish weren't canon but are, it's been subsequently glossed over. Win? Maybe? Or not?

** again Zdarky's characterization of Damian is so outdated as to be ooc, and considering the way he constantly and explicitly uses it to illustrate Tim's strengths as robin, I'd argue there's. Also implications there. But the batshit insanity of the main batbook compared to B&R rn is crucial for this post, so I'm attempting to justify it. This time..

#ramblings of a lunatic #dc comics #damian wayne #batman and robin #i know i already made an animatic of steph to tears over beers by modern baseball (you know the bit)#but this post has made me think of damian in this context. weeps #idk i read batman 138 for myself and the ways Zdarsky structures it to portray damian as inferior is just. AUGHH IT MAKES ME SICK #LEAVE MY BOY ALONE #the fact that josh williamson (not a perfect writer but i generally enjoy his stuff) had to single handedly save damian-#-after didio left the company and make him robin/a hero again #ONLY FOR THIS STILL TO BE HAPPENING THE MOMENT DAMIAN IS IN A NON JOSH WILLIAMSON BOOK #SICKENING #anyways. imagine if these titles connected and created a greater narrative besides building to event books. would be crazy huh?#that's not fair B&R is enjoyable in its own right and I'd rather have the main batman book touching less things to be frank #but still #if they ever do the theoretical tim/damian robins miniseries that lives in my brain maybe this could be discussed in some way #anyway <3

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dotster001 · 7 days

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I love the idea that Sirena doesn’t really like any of her kids, she wanted a perfect doll vs a child. Reminds me of Riddle’s mom. After each kid started to show their true personality vs a babbling baby, she would start talking about another baby, not cause she wanted another but because this last one was « defective » I bet Floyd has huge screaming matches with her over if they should punish the kids for a bad grade, or « looking bad » in public.

Picture Sirena learning about poor reader, and now you have a beautiful woman holding a knife to your neck while Floyd barters for your life! Maybe to mess with Floyd she hires you as a gardener! They’re being super toxic towards eachother while trying to get you to fall for the other! Kids need a mother/father figure in their lives after all! If something were to happen they hope you would be willing to step up!

Warning: toxic Sirena, also this turned into a ramble,

Yeah. She and Floyd hate each other, but if she wants to ever be head of the Leech family, (after Papa Leech dies, and after she finishes her plan to kill Floyd) she needs an heir. Otherwise the position will go to Jade. As it is, she is very nervous that Papa Leech is leaning towards co ownership between the twins, and she can't have that.

Unfortunately, thanks to Floyd's influence, these kids all have a stupid flaw, free will. It's ridiculous really. Don't they know their whole purpose is to be her pawn?

She knows the Leech family reputation, and while Floyd has yet to go to the lengths she has to get rid of her, she knows there's a possibility that one day he'll finally snap and take her down. In fact she's a little surprised it has taken this long, considering the way she's seen Jade and Azul seriously quietly talking to Floyd, and throwing glances her way from time to time. Every time they have those "chats" Floyd always just sighs and rolls his eyes. It tells her all she needs to know. She's safe right now. Though she had, in her youth, hoped to be engaged to Jade, she knows now that she's lucky, and begrudgingly owes Floyd one, because Jade would have killed her by now if it wasn't for Floyd's protection.

And she knows where that protection comes from. Her family has it's own connections, so she learned, just as the twins did, how to play people like a chessboard. Floyd is lonely. Floyd hopes that one day, no matter how much they hate each other, they will one day fall in love and be a normal family. Also, Floyd spent his whole life dreaming of a big family. And she needs lots of children so that she doesn't lose her position to Jade when the time comes. So, she doesn't mind letting him have his big family, hell, it may be the reason she is still breathing. Until she realizes how strong Leech genetics are. None of these kids are worthy. None are good enough. And Floyd doesn't help by refusing to betrothe them to people who are worthy. (These are the largest screaming battles. Floyd refuses to let his children be miserable like he is)

It's after the birth of the youngest that she starts to formulate an idea of how to get rid of him, then send the brats to a school where manners and decorum will be pounded into them.

....

As to beautiful woman holding a knife to my throat, ehehehehehhe that's definitely a thought. When I was making her picrew, I had an "Oh no, she's hot" moment, so tbh, if she held a knife to my throat I would be so distracted 😂 like, TWO pretty people are putting attention on me? Wowie wow wow!

She's so petty, she totally would hire you to work in her house, and not tell Floyd. Then she'd sit smugly as he freaks out when he finds you cleaning a toilet or something. I have ideas in place for you looking for a new job because "the economy", and you don't tell Floyd you're quitting, cause why would you, he's just a customer. Then he gets furious, because this must mean you hate him, how dare you, yadda yadda

But what if, when you are starting to think about quitting, this gorgeous woman comes in and just happens to be looking for a new housekeeper. You don't tell Floyd, cause why would you he's just a customer etc etc, he still gets crazy angry (as do the kids).

Sirena may be a terrible person, and someone who shouldn't be a mother, but she is an excellent lady of the house. She knows everyone's day to day schedule so that she can successfully keep you away from literally anyone but her until the absolutely perfect moment. You could be working in that house for months before you ever see a soul besides her.

She's a horrible person, and yells at you all the time for literally no reason, but the pay is ridiculously good, so leaving doesn't feel like an option. Besides, she says this is only her winter and spring home, and that they are a family of mers, and would totally be willing to take you with them when they return to their ocean home for summer and fall. And you've always wanted to visit the ocean, but never had the funds yourself, so you really can't pass up the opportunity. You can deal with some emotional distress for the opportunity of a lifetime.

It's probably Jade (Jr.) that finds you first. He's the youngest, and therefore hardest to predict, so it's hard for Sirena to keep him in check. But because he's the youngest, no one believes him when he says that he saw mom/dad cleaning his room. Pearl sees you next when she's ditching a social function, and from there the whole house knows.

Except papa.

Papa is still trying to track you down like a blood hound. He doesn't realize you are literally living in his home... because he himself is rarely home.

But the showdown is coming.

And you, who still is blissfully unaware of the trap you are in, are not ready for what's coming.

#dilf floyd leech #twisted wonderland #sirena leech #should prolly give her a tag now 😂#oooh a route where she tries to seduce you....#(it would work on me I'm weak)

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wardenparker · 7 months

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Red Lipstick

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: Ghost!reader, drug use (cocaine), mentions of murder, mentions of past adultery, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, fingernails/scratching, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex while high. Summary: When Dieter moves into a new house, the last thing he expected was to end up with a sultry new roommate. Especially one that died almost a hundred years ago. Notes: Blessed Samhain and Happy Halloween everybody! Let's celebrate by having Dieter get both high and nasty.

"I think you're going to be really pleased with how things are set up, Dee." As his personal assistant, Kendra has spent the last month getting her best and only client packed up, moved into his new house, and unpacked again while Dieter Bravo has been overseas filming. He had decided that the mansion he had been living in, in Malibu, just wasn't doing it for him anymore and she had been dispatched to fix the problem.

This art deco colossus in the Hollywood Hills was her answer — supposedly having belonged to some long forgotten starlet back in the silent era. Poor thing was poisoned by her husband's mistress, if the rumors were true. But Dieter didn't need to know that. Instead, Kendra sweeps him inside the door with an encouraging smile on her face and tries to get him to look around. "If you want anything moved around, you just say the word," she promises him.

“It’ll be fine.” For all his bullshit, Dieter isn’t actually as fussy as a lot of people might believe. He just wants a comfortable, vibey place to relax, do drugs and fuck. He looks around and nods, impressed with how quickly they’ve set everything up. “Kinda creepy. I like it.”

"I found some of the original furnishings in the attic and had them cleaned up. Reupholstered as necessary. I thought you'd like them." Extremely pleased with herself, Kendra looks around the large front hall and smiles. "There is food in the fridge with reheat instructions and plenty of things in the pantry if you want to eat without fuss. Your chef will be coming by every other day like usual. Would you like a tour?"

“Sure.” Maybe it’s a little odd that he’s needing a tour for a home he now owns, but he couldn’t be bothered to actually look at the listings that Kendra had sent him. She knew what he liked and what he didn’t, and he had trusted her to pick the best one for him.

The first floor has all the usual rooms, and considering the place was built in 1920 it has some unusual ones, too. A library and a dining room make perfect sense. The sitting room has been transformed into a relatively normal living room. The conservatory with all the plants Kendra could reasonably cram into it has a big table for playing games at and a bunch of places to sit for when he has people over to work but they want something nice to look at. The former ballroom? She left it sparsely decorated so he can decide what he wants to do with it later. Upstairs, the five bedrooms all have walk-in closets and their own bathrooms, and the largest one has been turned into his new bedroom. The giant brass bed in the attic was way nicer than his so she topped it with his mattress and covered the whole thing in his favorite sheets, blankets, and pillows. His other furniture is all set up, and his assistant has set up all the other guest rooms to be ready to go. “What do you think?” Kendra asks, leading him into the room with dark green wallpaper and mahogany wainscoting.

Dieter frowns and tilts his head at the ornate bed. “Did– that’s not my bed, is it?” He asks, pointing at it. “I would remember being tied to it, and I – I’ve not done that yet, I don’t think.”

“I found it in the attic,” Kendra tells him, passing by the comment with just a half-smirk. “I thought you’d like it.”

"It fucking cool." His eyes are positively excited as he rushes towards the bed and caresses the brass scroll work on the bed. "It's mine? It came with the house?" He can't imagine that someone would leave this badass bed, he wouldn't. It's orate and beautiful, drawing him to it in a way he can't describe. Imagining amazing sex in this bed and the flash of a woman. Just a glimpse as his hand wraps around one post.

“It’s yours.” She’s pleased with his reaction and smiles as he inspects the looming piece of furniture. “I know you have a few favorite booty calls in town if you want to try it out tonight.”

He chuckles and almost agrees but he doesn't. Deciding he wants to spend his first night in the house alone. Settle with it and figure out what kind of vibes it's giving him. "Maybe," is all he says.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She nods when he looks back at her and heads for the stairs, leaving Dieter alone in his new house. He has the keys, he has his bearings, and he has dinner already made. She’ll be back tomorrow to check on him.

"Hello?" He calls out, just for fun even as the door has closed behind his assistant minutes ago. He's a firm believer in spirits, knowing that his aura projects out into the universe. It's why he doesn't like things messing with his brain waves like the bluetooth headphones.

“Hello sweetie.” From the doorway of the bedroom that once was yours, you place your hands on your waist and practically hum at the man standing near your bed. He doesn’t have that slick, smooth, buttoned-up look that men of your era did, but he has an undeniable appeal all his own. Not that he can see you — oh no — but at least you’ll have something nice to look at. The last family to own the house your fortune built was rather…unfortunate looking.

There's something. Dieter's skin tingles and he hums as he looks around the room. Swearing that he had felt something. "I'm– uh, I come in peace." He tells the room.

“Aw, sugar…” Tutting, you saunter into the room and cross your arms over your chest. The dressing robe you’ve worn for the last ninety-five years still gives you the feeling of swishing around as you move even though that’s now impossible. “You can’t see me, handsome. Or hear me. Nobody can.”

"Whoever you are..." Dieter's brows lift and he gives a sympathetic expression. "I feel you. Just know that I'm here to live beside you. And get really high."

“Feel me?” It would be too much to ask for it to be true, and you tilt your head at him curiously. “Sugar, I’d let you feel me in a heartbeat.“

"Can spirits get high?" He asks, mostly to himself and he chuckles. "We can get faded together."

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” You laugh softly to yourself. “Might be fun.”

"I'm hungry." Dieter groans, rubbing his stomach and then scratching it. "Gonna go down to the kitchen and get something to eat." He looks around the room. "Don't like– throw a knife at my head or anything, okay?"

That makes you laugh, a deep sound that is unpretentious and unexpected, and you decide to follow him down to the kitchen. The blandness of the last owners had been absolute, but this one is fun. And at least not a stick in the mud. Maybe his food will be worth smelling as well.

Rambling down the stairs, Dieter starts to hum a little tune. One that he doesn't recognize but he swears it from some old black and white movie.

“Now how do you know that?” The sound of the tune makes you hurry up, floating alongside this new man on feet that no longer touch the ground. You’d know it anywhere. The theme from a movie long gone and long forgotten — but that you’d sung yourself into that big studio microphone to be recorded and played for your first ever ‘talkie’. If only you hadn’t died first, you might’ve made a go of musicals.

"What movie is that from?" Dieter loves to get stoned and watch old movies. Having hundreds of channels that include a lot of classic movies, black and whites and even the great era of silent movies. There was something about that time that just appeals to him, the art of acting without saying a word. It took a lot more skill to portray emotion and your intent when you cannot say anything. "I'll have to look it up."

“Bernice Bobs Her Hair…” The film had been full of dances and a few good songs, all wrapped around that darling story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It was supposed to be a breakout. Reignite your star. Instead you were dead on premiere night. “It was called Bernice Bobs Her Hair.”

“B something,” Dieter frowns, cocking his head as he reaches for the fridge. “The chick who was in it died the night it came out.” He snaps his fingers and yanks the door open to see what Kendra had left for him, “Ohhhhh Thai!”

"Thank god I looked good, at least." You huff, crossing your arms again as you try to figure out what he's tying as he takes things out of the icebox.

“Peanut sauce, fuck yes!” He could kiss his assistant, knowing he’s been on a Thai kick lately and she has put all his favorites in there. “I can reheat the samosas in the air fryer. That will be good.” He talks to himself. “Pad Thai, that omelet thing I can never say right. Fuckkkkkkk, she got me the green curry. Imma get fucked up and munch.”

He's got a boyish kind of charm to him as he zips around the kitchen, and if you could you would be leaning back against the counter to watch. As it is, the small sound of your laughter and the smile on your face is private, but you find yourself hoping he might continue to speak to himself out loud from time to time. It's nice to be able to pretend that he is actually talking to you.

Dieter straightens up and looks towards the counter near the fridge. “Oh shit. Forgive me. I don’t know how to live with a – a spirit.” He shrugs. “Do you want to join me? Can ghosts eat? Probably not right? Fuck. That would suck. I’m sorry.”

When he looks right at you, you feel your mouth fall open and your eyes double in size. "You— can you— see me?" It's just a coincidence. It has to be. He can't possibly be looking at you, right? Just...in your general direction...

“I swear to fuck you are right there.” He points at you and sighs. “Or you’re so goddamn lonely you’re inventing ghosts to have someone to talk to, Bravo.” He blows out a breath, wondering when he lost his fucking mind.

"I am right here." Moving away from the counter, you get closer to him and closer, wondering how it's possible at all for him to sense you. If he has any idea who you are. "I'm right in front of you..." you murmur, wondering what would happen if you reached out to try to touch him.

“Right.” Dieter drops his head and reaches up to rub his neck. “Time to do some cocaine.” He grunts, sure that he’s answered his own question. “Or maybe that new shit Kevin brought me.” It amused him to no end that his regular supplier’s name was Kevin. He had him in his phone as ‘Home Alone’ for kicks.

"Ooo, cocaine. How darling and nostalgic of you. I miss cocaine." When he walks away you can't help but sigh. Or you would, if you still drew breath. Instead you occupy yourself in the most entertaining way currently at your disposal: following around the living person in your house.

There's a reason Dieter loves to have ornate or even simple flat mirrors around his home. One, it reflects light and brightens any space up. Two, it's great for setting up a line for coke. Making him think of those 80's parties every time he uses his credit card to line one up to snort, he giggles. "Too bad I don't have one of those fancy rings where you open the little compartment to take a bump." He grunts, knowing he would always have that thing loaded.

“Find my jewelry box in the attic and you’ll find a few beauties.” You hum, setting yourself on the nearby chair to lounge. That’s all you can do these days and it’s terribly annoying.

Once the line is as perfect as he wants it, Dieter rolls up a five dollar bill and bends over the mirror. It's quick, the pain of snorting something up his nose long since faded, and he throws his head back at the rush of pure endorphins. Eyes closed as the feeling settles over him like a warm blanket and he groans, dropping his head back down and opening his eyes.

Only to give a yelp when he spots a woman lounging on one of his living room chairs. "What the fuck!"

“You can see me!” This time there is no mistaking it, and you practically bounce and clap your hands with glee. “Sugar, that magical white powder of yours is a little more magical than you think!”

"Who the fuck are you?" Dieter stumbles back and bumps into a table behind him, rocking the lamp but he doesn't pay it any attention. "How the fuck did you get in. I– look, I don't want a crazy fan in my house. I'll call the police!"

“Call the police all you want, handsome. They won’t be able to see what you’re so worried about.“ It had happened with the last owners — when you had gotten fed up with being ignored and invisible and dead you had gone on a good old fashioned haunting spree that resulted in everything from police being called to exorcisms being performed. The family finally moved out in a rush and the house had been empty for almost ten years. “And darlin’?” You drawl, delighted that he can actually hear you. “You’re the one in my house.”

"Your house?" Dieter shakes his head and blinks again. Swearing that he's on a bad trip, but there is a shimmeriness around you and your hair is very styled. Despite the fact that you are wearing a vintage dressing gown, with the feathered sleeves that seemed to be in every old movie from the classics. He frowns, blinking again and then it clicks. "Oh shit. I know who you are."

“Oh, really?” Practically preening at the idea that he might recognize you since he clearly has seen at least one of your films, you instinctively strike a pose in the chair. “Guess I just have one of those unforgettable faces,” you purr.

"You're dead though." He shakes his head again and throws out a lopsided grin. "But you look really good for a dead broad." He says your name and then pauses. "Right?"

“Right as rain.” You chirp happily. It’s been so long since you’ve even been seen that being recognized again seems like a faraway dream. “But who is this handsome fella that’s in my house with my bed in his room?”

It can't be real. It can't be. You died. A fucking long time ago. Dieter hums, realizing he must be in another one of those hallucinations of his. They are getting more and more vivid the longer he uses. Maybe his agent was right and he needed a stint in rehab. For now, he shrugs and introduces himself. "Dieter Bravo. I'm an actor too. Oscar winner." He adds.

“Oscar winner, huh?” The brag isn’t lost on you, and you bat your eyelashes at him in your old accustomed way. “A big shot.”

"Maybe." Despite his air of arrogance that he wears, Dieter is like most actors. Neurotic and craving validation and love. "To some."

“I would’ve had one,” you toss one hand in the air flippantly, delighted that he can actually see you do it. “But they didn’t start those things until after I died.”

“Really?” He hums and tilts his head. “What year?”

“What year did I die, you mean?” A dramatic sigh from you is an effort since you don’t need breath anymore, but it’s so fun to play. “I died October 27, 1928, sugar. Right here in this house.”

“How?” He asks with a frown. “I mean, you look great. You don’t look dead.”

“Well, aren't you sweet?” A girl does like a compliment now and then. Especially when she hasn’t had one in almost a hundred years. “It was poison, sweet thing. Should’ve known better than to let someone else mix my drinks.”

“You were poisoned?” Dieter looks alarmed, too alarmed for a death that happened nearly 100 years ago, but he’s looking around like the murderer would pop out at any moment.

“Tale as old as time, handsome.” You shrug your shoulders, having had plenty of time to process the betrayal. “My best friend was sleeping with my husband and they wanted me out of the way. Don’t know why he didn’t just ask for a divorce…probably so he could keep my money.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sorry. Want a drink?” He asks, feeling comfortable enough to offer a ghost a drink. “Oh shit– no, you wouldn’t want me to pour you a drink. I’m an idiot.”

“If I could have a drink, I’d let you pour me one.” He seems sweet. A little lost. Maybe abandoned. But sweet. Like a puppy that needs to be pet more often.

“I can see you.” He reasons. “Maybe you can. After all…” he shrugs. “Ghosts can’t sit and you're lounging on my chair, sprawled theatrically.”

"Oh sugar, I can assure you that ghosts do sit. We do a hell of a lot of it, in fact. Or else we'd do nothing but float around or stand all day, and variety is the spice of...well...death."

“What else can you do?” Dieter latches onto the conversation with an eagerness that surprises him but it’s not everyday he converses with ghosts.

"I can push things over sometimes." You have managed that early on. Scaring the devil out of your husband and his plaything so frequently that they had abandoned the house and sold it as quickly as possible. "Flicker the lights. Cause breezes. You know...ghostly things."

“Hmmmm.” Dieter moves over to the bar and pours a glass of whiskey. “Come see if you can drink.” He urges you.

"I seriously doubt it, darlin', but why not." Shrugging your shoulders, you lift yourself up from the seat you had been lounging in and saunter over to the bar. It's been a hell of a long time before you were able to do anything at all, and this man – Dieter – is the first person who has been able to do as much as sense you in decades. Why not have a little fun? Once you're standing beside him you reach out, waggling your bejeweled fingers a little before attempting to wrap them around the glass. As hard as you can possibly concentrate, your hand slips right through the glass and the liquid inside, coming up empty.

“What if I hold it for you?” The rational part of his brain is screaming that it won’t work, but there’s this voice that keeps telling him to try.

“Why the hell not?” It won’t work, but it seems to amuse him to try, so you sway closer and tilt your head expectantly.

He's nervous, not because he needs to step closer to you, but because – what if this works?. He might be able to do something no one else has been and thats pretty fucking cool.

You really hate to see him get his hopes up, but indulgently tilt your head back for the liquid to – as expected – pass right through you to a puddle on the floor. “It’s alright, sugar,” you croon softly when he looks disappointed, and ingrained instinct makes you reach like you could somehow pat his face even though you’ve just proven the opposite. Imagine both of your surprise, then, when your cold hand neatly cups his burning hot cheek.

"OH SHIT!" Dieter jumps, nearly pulling away from your touch because of the temperature difference, but then he manages to keep contact. "Oh shit, you're– how? I thought you couldn't– what the fuck?"

“I don’t know— I don’t know!” As panicked as he is, you reel back instantly and stare at your hand, cradling it like it might combust. “I don’t know! That’s never happened before!”

"You touched me! Quick, do it again!" This time Dieter is reaching out for you. Seeing if he can touch a ghost and he yelps again when his fingers connect with you.

“How in the world?” It shouldn’t be possible. It doesn’t make sense. And yet— it’s happened.

"Oh god, are you sure you're a ghost?" Dieter frowns, fingers curling around your jaw, making sure it's not one of those celebrity masks things people sometimes wear. That you aren't tricking him even if he had just watched your drink pass through you. "You feel real."

“You’re the first person to have a feel in ninety-five years, darlin’.” And that in and of itself is why you’re sure this is actually happening. You were there — you remember every single one of those ninety-five years’ worth of days.

“Oh fuck, this is, this is so cool!” Dieter groans out with an ecstatic expression on his face.

“This is unbelievable.” Never in your entire afterlife have you ever tried to touch a living being. When Reggie and his trollop were still in the house you had haunted them right out into the street. The second owners could not have been more oblivious to your otherworldly presence if they had been doing it intentionally. The third had simply bored and annoyed you so deeply that you had spooked them just out of sheer habit. You had lost your zest for haunting for a long, long time. But this? This is utterly remarkable.

“This shouldn’t be happening, right?” Dieter asks, as if being a ghost makes you an expert on them. “What’s different? What’s making this happen?”

“Damned if I have any idea, sugar.” It’s almost too exciting to bear, but you test the thing by flexing your fingers against the rasp of stubble on his face. “But it’s never ever happened before.”

"Is it because I'm high?" He wonders. "My mind is just....in tune with the spirit world?"

“Maybe?” It’s impossible to know for sure, but your hands are making his face with enthusiasm because you’re afraid to touch his clothing and lose this magical ability to touch again.

Dieter reaches out and touches you again. "You feel so soft." He hums. "You've got a hell of a skincare routine."

“Being dead seems to have its advantages.” You joke with a wink. “Can’t wrinkle if you can’t age.”

"So you look like you did when you died?" He asks. "You were fucking sexier than the screen made you look."

“Why, Mr. Bravo, you flatter.” Even though your instinct is to close your eyes against the searing heat of him and how solid he feels against you, you’re fully afraid that if you do, he’ll disappear. And true to form, instead of facing fear, you continue to joke. “But really, gray makeup does no one any favors.”

"It had to be like that, right?" He asks curiously. Remembering the history of cinema classes that he had taken in college. "Because it would show up on film better?"

“Just so.” His hand is so broad it feels like it spans one entire half of your face. “But I always preferred red.”

"Red lips are always sexy." He murmurs, licking his own lips and glancing down at your painted red lips.

“Always?” The question hangs — if he’s going far enough out on that limb to actually be considering what he seems to be considering. And if you’re far enough out on that limb with him to go along.

"Always." He agrees, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. "Should I– would it be weird if I kissed you?" He asks. "For science?"

“Depends.” If you still had a heartbeat it would be frantic — excitement and nerves crawling up your spine. “Ever thought of kissing a woman born before 1900?”

"Am now." He admits with a self deprecating shrug. "I don't know if it counts, but I had a crush on Greta Garbo when I was a boy."

“Good taste.” You hum, chuckling from somewhere deep in your chest. “She was a hell of a woman.”

"You knew her?" He asks in surprise.

“Knew her?” You demure, all amusement and sly smile. “She was a remarkable kisser.”

"Really?" Dieter's eyes blow wide and he glances down at your lips again. "Are– were you– uh, lovers?"

“One or two parties that got a little out of hand.” A chuckle grows from your chest and you nudge his chin up to close his mouth, delighting in the not so simple act of touching him. “My husband wasn’t the only one dissatisfied with our marriage, I suppose.”

"So you're bi?" It's a fucking interesting development in the conversation and a fascinating one at that. “Uh, bisexual?” He isn’t sure if that phrase was used back then. “You like both sexes?”

“I used to just say ‘adventurous’.” You have heard the term, though. Through the decades you have learned a whole lot about the world.

"Adventurous." He chuckles quietly and smirks. "Then I guess I'm 'adventurous' too." He admits. "But I want to kiss you."

“We can try.” His hands on your skin feel burning when you didn’t think you could ever feel anything again — so wouldn’t it be foolish not to try?

“Let me know if you– uh, feel anything.” He’s honestly not sure if he’s so high he’s imagining things, or this is real, but it feel like the greatest fucking high of his life. Holding onto the silky waist of the dressing gown and leaning in to press his lips to yours ever so gently.

The last fading memory of a kiss that you have is from the night you died, and it is one of the most melancholy things to have past those lips of yours that you can still remember. This, comparatively, is like being set on fire even when it only lasts a second. The sound of a gasp comes from one of you — likely him, all things considered — but you could swear the world has turned on its axis just a touch, in letting the living and the dead collide like this.

Your lips are cold and yet the reason Dieter shivers isn’t because of that. It’s from the tingling, the way that his hair raises on the back of his neck and his cock starts to harden. He’s kissing a ghost and he likes it.

“Impossible…” Yet it’s undeniable. It happened. You both experienced it. A living man and the ghost of a woman long dead, sharing a kiss.

“Again.” Dieter demands, taking a step closer to you and sliding his hand down to your waist. “I want another kiss.”

There shouldn’t be any way in hell this is possible, especially with him now touching your robe instead of your skin, but you can feel him. The breadth of his hand on your back, his chest presses against yours, hot breath fanning over your face and the hardness against your hip. It’s all real. “Happily.” You hear yourself groan out, diving back into another impossible kiss.

This time there is tongue. Making him groan into your spiritual mouth and tighten his hold on you. Unable to believe this is happening and not another hallucination, he pulls back. “Pinch me.” He demands. “Scratch me, something.”

It should surprise no one that the shade of deep red on your lips matches your nails, and even though your eyebrows pinch with the same disbelief and confusion as his, you rake your nails down his forearm and gasp when they leave behind a trail of equally red marks in their wake. “How?” Is all you can ask, knowing that neither of you has an answer.

“I don’t know, but goddamn that felt good.” Dieter moans quietly. He slides his hand up, cupping a breast and pinching your nipple through the silken material of your dressing gown.

The gasp you let out shouldn’t be possible either, but the fact that you seem to be solid under his touch and him solid to yours is exquisite. Coupling that with an arousal like you haven’t felt in almost a century and you’re dragging him back to you by the fabric of his shirt, willing to live in this miracle for as long as it lasts. To feel alive again.

Making out with a ghost isn’t something that he could have imagined when he arrived at his new house, but he’s enjoying it. Backing you up, he presses you to the wall as he continues to kiss you.

It pulls another gasp from you, shocked when you don't instantly evaporate through the wall like normal. Somehow – some way – in touching and being touched by him, you are solid again. You can swear you almost feel your heart beating. Racing out of time as you start to pull at his clothing and he blindly attempts to untie the sash holding your robe in place.

“What the fuck?” Dieter hisses, breaking away from the kiss to look down at the knot on your robe. “Who the fuck tied this?”

"I did." But now, in retrospect, you huff about it along with him. "To discourage my louse of a husband."

“Fuck.” He grunts, shaking his head. “We need– fuck, the bedroom, we need to go to the bedroom.”

"Afraid to let go–" You admit, fingers still tangled in his shirt as you both pant for breath. To pant is such an exquisite sensation that you cannot possibly describe it and you must look positively ecstatic in the moment.

“Then don’t.” Dieter chuckles, deciding that he will be putting the weight training for his last film to good use when he pulls up your dressing gown and grabs your thighs to lift you up. “Fuck, you feel heavy for a ghost.” He grunts as he picks you up.

"Rude." A single swat at his chest is nothing, and you rope your arms around his shoulders to press hot kisses along the column of his neck while he moves down the hall.

Dieter groans, hands cupping your ass he stumbles towards his new bedroom. Trying to remember the way when half the blood meant for his brain is operating his cock. Realizing that you are no longer cold, but almost scorching hot in his arms.

"Your left! Not my left!" You mumble against his skin, giggling and trying to give him directions when you refuse to detach yourself from kissing any part of him that you can manage.

“Fuck. Fucking new/old house.” He grunts. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. You know that? I bet you had all your co-stars wanting to fuck you.”

"A few of them did." His fingers digging into your ass brush perilously close to your pussy and you moan. "But you've fucked some of yours, too, sugar."

“Yes.” He groans, pulling you against his cock. “Fucked them, ate them out, sucked them off. Whatever we felt like doing.”

"Bet you want to add me to that list right about now, don't you, sugar?" The nickname has stuck, and you've decided you like it. Leaning back in his arms and finding both your body and clothing have returned entirely to the corporeal plane, your eyes find his with the same fire he is feeling now. "I can feel how much you want me."

"Fuck, do I want you." He groans, unable to believe that he's ever wanted someone this bad, but how do you explain the attraction to a 100 year-old ghost? "I'm going to strip you down and bury my tongue and cock in your ghostly cunt. See what filling it with my cum looks like." At least here, he's almost certain there's zero chance of catching something or a pregnancy scandal.

As soon as he sets you down on the bed he’s diving into it after you, covering your body with his and drowning in kisses that make your head spin as you tug at the knot you tied in your robe. It is amazing how your skin has warmed up. Gone from being a muted color to technicolor. Like you are being brought to life by his touch. His mouth drags over your shoulder when the silk slips down and he bites. Chuckling in absolute delight when he leaves behind imprints on your skin.

With your head tossed back on the blankets you revel in a moan, looking up at him with eyes that feel hazy but have not seen this clearly in years. “If we only get tonight, let’s make the most of it. Sound good, sugar?”

“Absolutely.” He moans in agreement, ecstatic that you seem to be on the same wavelength as he is. Maybe that’s why this is happening. Your spirit is touching his. “I’ve never eaten haunted pussy before.” He jokes as he kisses down your body and pulls the gown down over one breast to latch onto it.

“Can’t say that again passed tonight.” You chuckle, gasping at the searing heat and eager grasping of his mouth on your flesh. It is electric in a way you have never been able to describe and adds to the incredible miracle that is tonight. “Good thing about being dead is that the pussy stayed shaved.”

“Very good thing.” He mouths from around your breast, hands pulling open the dressing gown when you finally get the sash untied.

The last time you felt a breeze on your skin was so long ago that you moan at it, back arching into him as he exposes your body to the bright electric lights and air from the open window. The fingers of one hand are in his curly hair and your other is pulling at his shirt, wanting him as bare as you are for everything that is to come.

He’s reluctant to let you go, but he has to. Has to hurry to pull his clothes off so he can have the wildest encounter that he could probably never even talk about.

Soft and strong is always how you’ve liked your men, and the corded muscles in his arms and back — when you catch a glimpse — that give way to a soft middle and full cheeks are just your type. When he’s entirely bare and pushing your silk robe away from your body with every ounce of concentration he has, you instinctively spread your legs wide for him to take his place between them.

“Fuck, I’ve never – fuck.” He groans, knowing that you will understand what he’s meaning. It’s not like you’ve done this either from what you’ve told him. Kissing and nipping down your body, it’s interesting to hear you moan at the sensation. “Here goes.” His eyes flick up to your face before he dives into your cunt.

The moan you let out is deep and unbridled, as earnest as you are eager to watch every single moment. You lean up on one elbow to prop yourself up, raking the fingers of your other hand through his hair to get yourself the best view possible. He’s gloriously messy — enthusiasm over technique — and it makes it all the more hedonistic to moan and sigh at the sensations you know are coming from the deepest depths of desire.

You feel real, you taste real. There’s nothing about this that would indicate that there’s nothing beyond a gorgeous, horny woman in his bed and Dieter is here for it. Moaning into your damp folds as he tries to find which flick of his tongue drives you wild.

Everything feels good, and if you weren’t always a ‘the deeper the better’ kind of girl in life, you certainly are in your afterlife. Simultaneously too much and not enough, the not enough side is winning a little more every second. Dieter pushes your thighs wider with his shoulders and shoves a hand up, desperate to feel himself deep inside you, even if it’s just his fingers. Wanting to see how high pitched your breathy moans can get.

"Fuck–fuck–right there, baby. Oh god–" When he finds that perfect place it has your hips rolling and your back arching off the bed, chasing every pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue. The sensations are divine combined with your own hand pinching and pulling your nipples to add another lick of sharp pleasure to the symphony. Even touching yourself feels amazing after so long with nothing at all.

Dieter groans, soaking up the praise, the moans. Doubling down and flicking his tongue even faster as his jaw works open and closed. Despite being dead, your cunt is dripping for him, coating his fingers in slick that makes it easier to push them deeper, curl them up more as he works you open.

Rambling praise takes over, your mind finding a measure of ecstasy in the ability in the simple fact that he can hear you while he is feasting on your pussy and fucking his fingers as deep inside you as they will go. It's only when your scrambled, breathy monologue starts to stutter and break that he knows how close you are – that, and the tight grip you have on his curls as you start to shake beneath him.

Panting, he grinds his hard cock into the mattress. Moaning as you tug on his hair, making his scalp burn and continuing to affirm that this is not a dream. Curling his fingers up one last time and sucking your clit into his mouth as your body bows up underneath his touch. The moment that snaps the thread of tension in your body is when the fingernails of his free hand bite into your thigh at the same point he curls the fingers of his other hand and barely scrapes his teeth along your swollen clit. The force of all three sensations makes your vision go white, and for the first time since all of this began, your eyes fall blissfully shut while your body shakes with the force of your orgasm.

He feels the way your entire body relaxes, slumping down into the bed. Humming to himself as he slowly works you through that blissful high. Keeping his fingers buried inside you as his tongue licks up every drop of your pleasure.

"Hell in a handbasket." Sighing out, you soothe your fingers against his scalp and grin down at him when he licks the last drop of cum from your cunt. "Get up here, sugar. Let me ride you."

“You want to ride?” His head pops up in surprise. He had expected you to want to be treated after so long, but he can’t deny the idea of a ghost riding his cock is appealing.

“Not very fair to make you do all the work, handsome.” Your smile is lopsided instead of pointed now, lazily drawn across your mouth like the human iteration of a contented house cat. “And I wouldn’t want to be rude to my new house guest.”

“Aren’t you technically my guest?” He lets you pull him up and roll him over onto his back. “Since it’s my house now?”

“Semantics.” Once he is on his back, you pin him down with one knee on either side of his thighs and wrap one hand around his cock to pump his length a few times experimentally. The precum beaded at the top is pearlescent and musky, the scent of sex from your own climax filling your nostrils and giving you the thrill of yet another sense coming back to life.

“Oh shit.” He grunts out, twitching in your hand. “I– fucking hell, please, please, put your mouth on me.”

“Ooo, he begs.” It’s a delightful discovery, and you obligingly bend over to kitten lick the tip of his cock just to see how beautifully he’ll groan.

Dieter is a whiny, spoiled little bastard who is given everything he wants because that’s how you treat celebrities, but he will beg. He will beg for anything and everything in bed. Slightly more submissive than most people expect. He moans your name loudly and closes his eyes as his hips rock up.

“Watch, sugar.” Something about it, the magical quality perhaps or what feels like literal magic, makes you want to keep him in this bubble with you. This state of hyper awareness. Your mouth hovers over the tip of his cock and you give it a long kick to get his attention. “You’re gonna watch me just like I watched you.”

Dieter whimpers, opening his eyes obediently. As soon as he sees the length of his cock disappear down your spectorly throat, he moans, twisting his fingers into the sheets under him. “Fuck, fuck, I’m getting my dick sucked by the hottest fucking ghost I’ve ever seen.” The fact that you’re the only ghost he’s seen is a moot point.

You chuckle low, deep in your throat, and it vibrates around his girthy length as you start to bob your head deliberately. Slowly. Wanting to savor every second of this for as long as it lasts. If you didn’t have a mouth full of him you’d be teasing him about the other ghosts he’s seen to compare you to, but you just don’t care. Not right now. Not with him at your mercy.

"Holy shit." He hisses, moaning loudly. "You're so good. Did you just– fuck, spend the last hundred years practicing on a ghost banana?"

It makes you chuckle again, and instead of answering you take him that much deeper. If he thinks you were showing off before? Just wait.

His toes curl, scrunching his feet up as you apparently have every intent of sucking his soul out through his dick. Could he die from a blowjob? It seems possible. “Fuck, baby doll.”

He wanted your mouth so he’s going to get every benefit of your focus right up until he can’t stand it any longer. He throbs against your swirling tongue, twitching in your mouth and against your fingertips where you are stroking the last few inches of his length that don’t easily fit in your mouth — there’s no way you’re ruining your vacation from ghost-hood by accidentally choking on a cock.

"Fuck, do you swallow?" Dieter moans. "You should swallow, I want– oh fuck." You keep sucking, pulling him closer every heartbeat until his vision blacks out, the hoarse cry ripping out of his throat.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum jettisons down your throat as his body bares down on itself, muscles tightening and extremities curling. The man is a geyser and every time he pumps more cum into your willing, waiting mouth you groan loudly and swallow around him. The feeling of being truly alive is not one that you are going to take for granted tonight and he is making it all the more memorable by just giving in to those most basic of human needs. There is nothing sexier than a person who has completely given themself over to the feeling of pleasure, and by the time you lift your head from Dieter’s cock, he has absolutely done that.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" Dieter yelps the last curse, feeling like you are sucking so hard it's to the point that it hurts, keeping him hard. He must have snorted that batch of coke that he had mixed viagra in, because he normally is a one and done for at least an hour kind of guy.

When he doesn’t soften at all after cumming your throat in cum, you pull off of him with one raised eyebrow and smirk. “You still alive there, sugar? Can’t have both of us dying in this house.”

He pants out a laugh and manages to lift his head to look down at where you are grinning up at him, your hand still wrapped around his hard cock. "Not dead. More alive than I've ever been."

“That makes two of us.” Giving his cock another few strokes, you shift forward and comb your fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “You want more, handsome?”

“Want everything.” He groans quietly. “You want to ride me, or you want me to fuck you?”

“Want everything.” You echo him with a sly grin and shift forward. “I’m gonna ride you to the edge and then you’re going to fuck me as hard as you can. Got it, sugar?”

"Fuck, I didn't know people were so fucking dirty back then." He groans, twitching against his stomach as you drag your wet cunt over him. "I think I would like it back then."

“The Kama Sutra is hundreds of years old,” you remind him with a throaty chuckle. “So is pornography and promiscuity.” Positioning yourself over his cock, you start to sink down slowly and sigh out in absolute bliss. “Humans have always loved to fuck.”

“Ghosts too, apparently.” He moans, grabbing onto your very solid hips as you settle down on his cock. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Least ghostly I’ve been in ages.” It’s also the first time since death you’ve experienced something as human as being aroused and it’s entirely liberating. “Maybe this thick cock is magic.”

He starts to giggle out of a groan when you clench around him. "Magic stick." He grunts, rocking his hips up. "It attracts allll the ghostly nymphos." He jokes, sliding his hand down to press against your clit.

“They can line — oh, baby — up.” You let your head drop back but your eyes are still open, arms raised up to let your tits bounce as you start to ride him in earnest.

He's never had someone ride him so fucking enthusiastically. It might be because it's the first time you've been able to feel in a hundred years, but he will take what he can get. Unable to fucking believe that this is happening, although the pressure around his dick and the way the bed creaks and groans proves that it's real.

The slight change in the angle of his hips when he plants his feet on the mattress has you crying out again and nearly growling. “That’s it, sugar.” And “Oh Fuck!” And “More, baby.” Echo through the room with the slap of skin on skin. The volume seems to rise along with the pleasure you’re both receiving, so it is nothing short of a beautiful noise the more you ride him.

Breaking in the new bed in his new house is an experience he could never, ever top. His hands slide from your hips up to the headboard and he wraps his fingers around the scrolled metal. Hanging on and using it as leverage to thrust up into you harder.

He propels you forward, losing your balance slightly so that you end up having to brace yourself with both hands on his chest and your tits bouncing in his face, but you really don't think that either of you minds. Instead, your fingertips instinctively dig into his chest, biting half-moon marks into his skin. Leaning forward changes the angle of his thrusts, letting him strike against entirely different places inside you, and you whimper softly without even realizing it when he scrubs against that perfect spot inside you to make you see stars.

“Right there?” His pants, recognizing the glazed look on your face. “Yeah, fuck, that’s the spot.” Despite the drugs that are pumping through his system, or perhaps because of it, he is attuned to the way you react.

"Right there." It has you breathless, how good it feels and how solid and real the feeling is.

"Holy shit." The feeling of you around him has him rolling his eyes back, your cunt even better than your mouth if possible. "Want to see you cum."

It certainly won't take long, not with the way his cock is shredding up inside you, and your previously loud moans are quickly being replaced with high pitched pants the closer you get to your own climax. Having the breath fucked out of you is such a stark difference from the existence you've been leading for the last many decades and it's such a welcome change. It takes barely another minute – maybe two – before you're sobbing out filthy praise and clenching down on his cock to wrench every last drop of pleasure from the moment that you can.

There's nothing sexier than a woman cumming, but you? You take his breath away. Steal it from his very lungs as your lusty sobs reverberates through him. Taking control and rocking up into you, working you through the most intense orgasm of your existence.

“Fuck.” Breathed out shakily as you let yourself fall down to his chest, your fingers comb through his curls and tug on the strands sharply as you’ve found that he likes.

He moans quietly, twitching inside you and humming as he lets go of the bed to wrap his arms around you to roll you under him. Eager to find his own release again and see how it looks dripping out of your cunt.

“That’s it, sugar.” Sprawled out on your back underneath him, you wrap your legs around his waist and tangle your hands in his sheets. “Take what you need.”

Dieter is normally not aggressive but there is something about your tone, your words, that spurs him on. Setting his jaw, Dieter starts to rock into you, keeping his pace harsh. Thrusting deep and moaning when you roll your hips.

Unconsciously mirroring him from just moments ago, you reach above your head and grasp the bars of your headboard. Every time he thrusts into you he shakes the whole frame, bouncing your tits and his curls and everything around you. The bed creaks and threatens to give but you know it won't – this one single piece of furniture is as sturdy as the whole house. It was made for you to fuck in.

"Fuck baby, fuck." Dieter growls, jack hammering his hips as he fills you again and again. Unable to brace his body above yours any more and dropping down to his elbows. He can't believe that he is still going, but he can't stop. He won't stop.

As much he wants to give or take, you are here for every second of it. With his head buried in your neck and the rhythm of his hips starting to stutter, your moan and whimpers are a symphony mixed with his own.

It flashes through his mind that this is some sort of sick hoax, that you are and have always been real, but he can’t worry about that right this second. The second that his mind goes blank to everything but his body’s needs and he thrusts deep, slamming his hips forward and groaning your name as a prayer.

“That’s it, sugar,” you croon again, this time cradling him close as rope after rope of hot cum fills you to the brim.

“Oh God.” Dieter pants, snuggling deeper and not sure if or when you might disappear, so he holds on tight.

“Hardly.” Your typical, throaty giggle rides through your body and you stroke his back gently. “But I’ll take the praise if that’s the mood you’re in.”

“Hmmmm.” He hums and shifts so he is not weighing you down, rolling to his side and bringing you with him. “I’ll give it.” He murmurs, suddenly sleepy after the vigorous sex and starting to come down from his high. “Stay.” He mumbles quietly, rubbing your back this time.

“You’re in my house, remember?” This time your laugh is a little less indulgent, tinged with worry as you wonder how much longer you’ll be able to feel him. Speak to him. Have him see you. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s right.” He smiles, turning his head and pressing his lips to your sweat damp hair. “But this is a spirit friendly bed.”

“I hope so,” you murmur, watching as he snuggles in next to you and lets his eyes drift close with a sigh. “I truly hope so, sugar.”

******

Dieter opens his eyes, slowly peeling them apart and blinking to try to get rid of the gritty feeling. “Baby doll?” His voice is rough with sleep and he had expected you to be weighing him down. “Where are you?” For a moment, for a split second he had thought he dreamed it. His gaze finding its way to the picture on the wall that he hadn’t noticed last night. A portrait of a woman, of you, gorgeously sprawled on a chaise with a sultry smile and ruby red lips.

He is almost convinced that the best night of his life was a figment of his imagination as he moves. Until it catches his eye. Red. More specifically, red lips. The sight of kisses scattered over his body and down under the sheet. Making him lift them to see lipstick wrapped around his cock, hard this morning and it makes him grin.

It hadn’t been a dream.

______

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fun-k-board · 1 year

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CHRISTMAS SPECIAL!

AVATAR 2009 with a Human ! S/O who adores Christmas

Characters included: Jake Sully, Neytiri, Tsu'Tey

Pronouns: They / Them

Relationship: Romantic

When text is in bold that means it's spoken in Na'vi, I have no clue if Na'vi have gender neutral language so sorry if this isn't accurate.

Jake Sully

Jake never understood about Christmas, he wasn't one of the lucky few on Earth who had a rich family nor did his family particularly show an overabundance of affection.

He and his brother weren't to close, it hurt when he died of course, but at the end of the day he wouldn't see him for years when he went to Pandora anyway.

So, your sadness over not being able to celebrate it was confusing, but Jake cared for you and tried to comfort you despite this.

"You don't look so good." Jake mumbled and sat down next to you, his eyes stared into you intently as he waited for a response.

"I just miss my family, we use to celebrate Christmas and..." You trailed off, your ears down and tail curling on your thigh. A whimper escaped you as tears began welling in your eyes.

"Oh." He paused, sucking in a large breath "I'm sorry. Maybe we could make last minute presents for each other?" Jake quietly suggested, pulling a shy smile that showed off his sharp teeth.

"That'd be nice..." You quietly whispered, smiling back softly at him while you tried wiping away your tears as calming your breaths.

And so you made whatever you thought would be best for Jake, I could imagine him getting you a weapon or maybe some type of neckwear that would give you a sense of pride.

He doesn't really try to expand it to Neytiri given the cultural differences, but I see Norm getting into the holiday spirit, maybe Grace if her present is a cigarette.

Neytiri

Neytiri taught you and Jake the ways of the Na'vi, to which you both listened, adapted and overcame the differences in your cultures.

However, you still missed your old life. As horrible, polluted and poor Earth became, you still missed family. Apart of family was Christmas, giving to others even outside of who you considered family just to see their smiles, it was something you hadn't experienced in years. You missed that. And you'd never get it back.

"There is something on your mind." Neytiri plainly stated, her words catching you off guard, looking you up and down as she handed food to Jake on her right.

"It's a time of year at home." He replied, looking to me in pity. "Where you can participate in a tradition on Earth, I'll let them explain the details if they want." Jake awkwardly looked away, munching on an unnaturally large amount of teylu. Neytiri turned to me expectantly.

"It's one about family and giving, cherishing those you love, those and even the things around you." You nodded as you spoke even if there was no reason to, awkwardly smiling while Neytiri smiled sweetly.

"It sounds like a wonderful tradition. What is it called?" Her stare bore into your eyes, her own were soft.

"Christmas." You sighed, continuing only because the silence would be unbearable. "We hurt our great mother and caused a lot of pain, it became harder and harder to celebrate as time continued. Now almost nobody truly celebrates it as it was intented, instead a shallow reminder of what it originally was." Neytiri held your hand and nodded.

"I am understanding of your pain, I hope all sky people learn to see as you and Jake have."

She doesn't go out of her way to celebrate it, but notes the general time it happens around and maybe gives you little trinkets that would be meaningless to most.

I can definetly imagine Neytiri showing you in depth Na'vi culture, as she already does, but with more pride as she realises how important you can take cultural and traditional events. But, most of all I imagine you'd be spending time with each other, even if she personally doesn't believe in Christmas, she believes in you. Neytiri sees you.

Tsu'Tey

He mainly made fun of you and Jake for being 'demons', so getting to know you was a lengthy process and required patience on both ends.

Given you were already learning of Na'vi culture from Neytiri, he didn't find the need to teach you anything other than fighting and flying, so when you asked him about something the explanation was very short and simple.

Tsu'tey couldn't say he was too interested in sky people or their traditions, but he noticed you weren't doing too well for the past few weeks. Your sour mood showed in your training and pushed you back, so it was garunteed he would speak on it eventually.

"Why are you sitting here? The ikrans are-" He was momentarily stopped in his words by your tear stained face. Not only was your face uncanny for him with your features unlike natural Na'vi, but beyond that, you were hurt.

"What... What is bothering you?" You noticed his switch to English as hesitantly placed a hand on your shoulder, lowering into a kneel as he stared deep into your eyes.

"Us human- uh, sky people, have a tradition." You began, Tsu'tey was interested in your words and the curious look he had told you to continue "This time we begin giving gifts, we spend more time with family, friends and... Significant others." You coughed shyly, unsure of the word in Na'vi before remembering "Mates." You clarified.

"It sounds like a prosperous time for your people." He nodded respectfully, holding your hand and looking comfortingly into your eyes. "I see your pain, and I am sorry brother/sister."

He, like Neytiri, doesn't go out of his way to celebrate. Mainly taking part in spending time and showing how much he loves you. Sometimes it can be awkward and stiff, but Tsu'tsy is quite literally an alien who viewed all humans as demons. Unless you explain to him how you view Christmas, he's unsure of how important it is to you and doesn't want to come off as offensive.

In turn, I can imagine him pointing out things similar to his own culture, feeling like a part of him was always with you even before you met.

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youuuimeanmee · 5 months

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Noragami Final Chapter Thoughts

You know what? I'm used to it.

I'm used to have exceptionally well-written manga get cut off or deadline-d to finish at certain point of time (usually by the publisher's order) when the authors still have so, so, SO much more left to give, so in the end they have no choice but to rush the final chapter.

Shingeki no Kyojin, Promised Neverland, Nisekoi, other mangas I forgot to name. And this manga. For such a long-running series with deep lore, they all could use a special volume (200+ pages) as an epilogue, not a 45-pages speedrun of everyone's everafter. I wish more series could follow Mob Psycho's example. Some say Mob Pycho Season 3 is too long, it needs to be more compact etc, but I don't think so at all. I think it's perfect the way it is -- it's a fulfilling send-off for all the characters we love so much. I wish more series would get their ending like that, but what can I say about Japanese manga industry.

And there's also Adachitoka's health to consider too. In which case, I'd say they did their best, and I'm really thankful for them for being able to deliver this series safely.

In short, I already expected this chapter to be a speedrun. Because of that, my experience when I read this chapter is better than I expected.

Maybe because I've learned my lessons for not making theory too much, so I don't have certain expectations that'd cloud my judgement.

With no deep thoughts when reading, let's go dive in.

The PUNS it still gets me. Yukine's sister calling Haruki's name while watching a tree that blossoms in spring is 😭😭😭

Ayoo he can change to a dog still? My poor baby 😭

I guess this is his punishment for wrecking havoc in the human world and disturbing the Heaven? But like, he was clearly under the influence of trashdad?? He's not really at fault?? Is this author's message that we shouldn't justify his action just because we understood his reasons?? But still. That's too cruel for doing it for your own main character.

I know shinkis that were left behind by their master would retain their name after the master's death, but still. To think Izanami's power is still working on Yukine after the Kotonoha is destroyed. This is tragedy.

THE FLOWERSS IN YUKINE'S RESTING PLACEE AKSJJDBDKDJDJD

Daww that's nicee. Hiyori as an intern!

Damn, she really forgot everything. This is for the best though, she already died once when she got too close with the far shore; I'm already prepared for this much. Maybe Yato had finally severed her ties with him and that (along with the cpr) is what allowed Hiyori to return.

Wdym "intense cpr," it's more than intense. It's hella long too. Nobody could perform intense cpr for hours nonstop, unless that person is non-human.

Good to know Yato broke her ribs though, nice work!

Hiyori's missing notebook? Prob taken by Yato or something.

Dafuq. Move along with your "it's me!" wishy-boy. No. This time it's not you who kissed her. You were delirious in some random abandoned building in some random city when Hiyori was dying.

See, this is my nightmare. To have the real Fujisaki Koto as Hiyori's future love interest. Because I know for sure, for so long, that they could bonded with their out-of-body experience when they both lost their memory.

Sorry Koto, 'nothing against the real you, but your alter ego has kinda ruined your image.

Damn, Father's longing for Kaya runs deep in Koto's veins.

BAHAHA, Nice one Coophone. Or Yato. Or Yukine. Or whatever tf Hiyori's guardian is.

AWWW THE GODS ARE CARRYING HIYORI'S LEGACY TO HAVE A PICNIC TOGETHER 😭😭😭😭

Aww man I didn't see Nana. She'd love to have a picnic with both Bishamon and Arahabaki! Is it because she was infected with GGS, or is it simply her turn to watch over the house? I hope it's the latter.

I wish the Gods would talk more about Yato's miracles, including about Hiyori. She is literally the glue that help stick these guys together. Without her, they wouldn't even know about Father's Liberation ability.

Heck, forget about Yatori. I wanna hear the Gods reminscing about their situations & conditions after the incident. But alas.

Oh well. This is something I've learned to let go.

Woow Kunimi looks young! Does he finally have a vacation?? Lol

Ebisu's voice got deeper? He still looks like a baby to me. Is he a baby 12-yo?

It's real nice to see the 3 reincarnated gods! Though I coulnd't care less abt them,even tho i know they have main character energy

Oh. my God. TakeKiun is really sailingg Look at dem. Matching clothes and soft smiles and all dat shit 🥺🥺🥺

Um, okay. It's good and all that each mortal has their own version about what happened at that time, but like,

Weren't people DIED???

I thought many people died!! Getting slashed by Gods!! Why is it not covered on the national news-

(myb when Father's "nation" returned to the underworld, the souls who were lost were also returned to its vessel somehow?)

Nope, nevermind. Just don't think too deeply about it. Moving on.

BISHAAA it's good to see her in great health!

Though I really wanna know, how is her relationship with the Heaven and the other Gods after that fiasco, how she feels abt Father's defeat, etc--

NOPE. Don't thinkabout it. Just moveon.

Here I thought Yato was gonna get a reward from Amaterasu for slaying "something that doesn't belong on this Earth." Oh well. Guess Amaterasu is hella stingy like that.

Why Yukine seems like he got even smaller though. Is it the changing art style? He looks more baby than ever.

Wait, they got a whole proper room to sleep? Is this their old room in Kofuku's house?? I thought since Yukine is infected by GGS, Kofuku stayed the hell away from Yukine, but that doesn't seem like the case?

Maybe Kofuku-Daikoku are the one who abandoned the shop; leaving it for Yato and Yukine to stay in? We'll never know.

(Now where is Kofuku's new address, I need to know)

Since Yukine is infected by GGS and always in constant nightmare, I'd like to believe Kazuma is experiencing the same thing; in order to separate him from the rest of the clan, now Kazuma sleeps with Bishamon every night. Lucky bastard.

That is so touching of Yato for comforting his sobbing child every night, but I wish we got a glimpse of his reminisce with his now-gone Father.

Oh wooww the dude finally stopped playing around. I thought he didn't have the guts to cut Hiyori's ties, turns out he really cut itt. No wonder Hiyori forgot about him for 10 years.

(Though I don't think she forgot completely either. Yato might not be in her head anymore, but he's still in her heart)

Adachitoka-san. Are you trying to tell ME this teke-teke thing is way more viral than the mass of unnatural, unknown deaths???

Is it because there's no death at all???

*sighs.* Anyways.

Aww Nora is now staying at Iki's household, happier than ever 🥺

Oh so that's where Hiyori's notebook goes.

Wait, Iki household creeps Hiyori out? Why? Is it because she was traumatized by her grandma's death? (Does she even remember that?) Is it because she faintly remembered the way Nora broke her house's windows? Or is it because she could sense Nora's presence and it icks her? I hope it's not the latter ☹️

I'm happy Nora is finally a happy child, but, Yukine? What about my son Yukine, who is no longer a pure soul, who could no longer sleep peacefully every night. Where is Nora's apology for leading Yukine to Father huh? Where is her apology for (indirectly) turning Yukine into who he is today? I guess it happens off-screen, we'll never know.

OH WOWW THE PUNS' AT IT AGAIN

Wdym "the night has a scent."

"Night" is using the same kanji as Yato's name, 夜. She is remembering his smell from the nightt, peoplee

(The night when he kissed her prob)

The power of the match-matching ema hunged by Ookuninushi is really strong, huh. Hiyori managed to remember Yato again, despite her already-severed-ties with Yato.

(or maybe not. I guess their fate really IS intertwined, knowing their first meeting)

I kinda wish Hiyori would remember Yato much later, like, in her 40s when she already has kids on her own, but hey, the sooner she remembers him, the longer he'd stay on this Earth so I'd still consider it a win!

Tbh, a part of me don't want her to get involved with far shore like she did in the past, but a part of me also wants her to snuggle between Yato and Yukine's arms after her work hours end. Dilemma.

Now I need Hiyori's journey to become one hell of a rich doctor so she could build a proper shrine for Yato so she and her family could pray together every morning, because she claimed it's Yatogami who saved her life that day. She'd make dinner for Yato and Yukine and eat with them every evening while her family acknowledge it as her night-praying-time. She'd tell her family, her future husband, and her future children about the legend of Yato (she'd exaggerate it a lot) and the next thing she knows, Yato have already has a devoted followers. Oh, and she'd often visited Bisha's shrine, Kofuku's, Ebisu's, all gods associated with Yato.

That's it folks. I rarely do my thoughts about Noragami, but I do read it religiously regularly each month. This manga has already become my comfort manga no matter how angsty it is, so it's gonna be hard to part with it, after all this time. Maybe for next month I'm gonna restart from chapter 1, one chapter per month.

I do have to say though, usually when I read a series with unsatisfactory ending, it leaves a bad taste in mouth. Somehow this chapter don't feel like that at all. I don't know why. I still look at this chapter and all the previous ones with fondness.

I wanna dream that 1-2 years from now, Adachitoka would release a 200-pages of Noragami epilogue -- which I know it's impossible, but hey, let the girl dream. I'm also looking forward for the extra komas, if there's any.

It's been a good time with you all 🤗👋

#noragami #noragami manga #noragami spoilers #noragami manga spoilers #noragami 109 #noragami final chapter

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aladaylessecondblog · 1 month

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#WeFoundTheHeart (Red Mountain Waffle House ch. 2)

"The fuck is that thing?" Jiub, from behind the grill, gestured at the pot that Sadara was adjusting on the front window-sill. "Looks awful."

The plant in question was definitely under the weather. The leaves were turning yellow towards the base, the red petals were looking dry, the white-ish ones weren't much better, and Sadara was hoping the nice bit of water she'd given it, combined with the nice spot at the window, might be just the thing to perk it back up. She'd considered repotting it--the pot was a bit cracked, and had some daedric-looking figure on it. 'N,' she was pretty sure, but it was faded enough that she couldn't be entirely sure.

"Google calls it a bleeding heart. I found it outside the apartment...it's not doing so well there so I thought the sun might be better for it here."

"You've got a black thumb, that thing's going to be dead inside of a week." Jiub laughed, flicked at his cigarette and went back to work on a scrambled egg, "Put it out of its misery."

"Says the man that once killed a dandelion." Sadara handed over a buoyant armiger's coffee and then looked back.

"Fuck you, it only died because my nix-hound decided that exact spot had to be where it pissed."

"Enough with the chit-chat, can I get my eggs?" a shirtless dunmer called from the table on the other side of the jukebox. Near the bathroom. Usually, Sadara was told, a problem table given the view it gave of the road. "Or are you two going to go at each other right here in front of Dagoth Ur and everybody?"

He looks like he doesn't get enough sleep, Sadara thought, Probably a tweaker. Skooma head, at the minimum.

"I've got about fifteen reasons why that'd be a bad idea," Jiub called out, and dished the eggs out and onto a plate next to the waffle.

Something told her to put on the corprus gloves, so she did, and then brought the plate over. "There you go. It's just been a slow night. People must be getting a good night's rest...unlike you. If you'd like some more coffee--"

"Coffee's the last thing I need right now. Maybe something...less...wake-y."

"We don't have any weed or we'd sell you some," Sadara replied, "And warm milk doesn't do anything except make you want to brush your teeth right that second. I could hit you over the head if you wanted."

"I've tried that. Doesn't work. All it did was give me a headache. I just...I got really bad insomnia." There was a pause, a look past her, and then, "Where'd you get the plant?"

"The plant? Oh, I found it outside my apartment. The sun's better here, so I set it up. Poor thing looks like it could use a little extra light. Better than it'll get on...well, you get the idea."

The conversation petered out and the dunmer paid his check. As she looked up he was snapping a picture of the plant with his phone, but when she was coming back with the receipt she realized he was making a grab for the plant.

"Hey, hey, that's MINE!" she snapped at him, "Fuck off, get your OWN plant!"

"It's not yours!" he snarled back as she was tugging the pot from his hands, "It's my LORD'S!"

One of the weaker blooms shed its bulb from all the motion and the shirtless dunmer moved back suddenly.

"Then tell your lord to come and get it!" she said, "And to ask politely instead of asking randos to do the job for him!"

For a moment the dunmer looked like he was going to give a really acidic reply, but when Sadara raised a hand like she was going to smack him--he stared at it just for a second, and then left.

"The fuck was that about?" Jiub called from the back.

"He says the plant belongs to 'his lord'...whatever the hell THAT means." Sadara put the plant back once she was sure the dunmer wasn't coming back.

(Within the hour #WeFoundTheHeart was trending on Morrotwitter, all accompanied by the same damn picture of the plant in the Waffle House window. Had it not been for what followed she would have been sure that she was hallucinating the whole thing.)

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

The shirtless guy wasn't the first one to try stealing the bleeding heart plant, and after the next four attempts Sadara felt it was pretty safe for her to assume he wouldn't be the last either. It wasn't just regular dunmer either, it was ash zombies, ash ghouls--It had gotten to the point where she considered telling them it died, but something always seemed to stop her doing that.

"You'd think it was moon-sugar cane, the way they're after it," Jiub said, passing her the bottle of sujamma over his shoulder, "Did you sprinkle it with skooma? Seriously, the fuck'd you do to it?"

"I didn't do anything to it! Well...I gave it some compost I got off Nibani, but...other than that, nothing."

"Heads up," Nibani said suddenly, from where she was cleaning up one of the corner tables, "Ascended sleeper. Stay polite, but don't talk to 'em much and--"

"Don't ask about his god. I know, I know." Sadara took a gulp from the bottle of sujamma and then breathed deep.

The ascended sleeper meandered in and took a seat in the middle of the dining area, right at the counter. There was a look in the direction of the bleeding heart plant. Or Sadara assumed it was a look, anyway, the damned thing didn't seem to have any eyes, what in the hell would it look WITH?

"Coffee, please."

The tone was...strange, not like any voice she'd ever heard. Like someone was putting it through an instrumental filter or something, maybe talking next to a fan.

"Dark? Any sugar, creamer?"

"Black."

"That's the best way," Sadara gave a slight smile, and moved over to the coffee maker to pour him out a cup. "You had a pleasant walk...ah...float here, I hope."

Laughter came, like an orchestra of slightly-off-key flutes. "Pleasant enough. I hear this is where I can see the Heart."

"What, the plant?"

Another couple customers came in. One was a buoyant armiger, off-duty from the look of him. He gave the ascended sleeper a strange look but went on and called for a steak with his waffle.

"Rare, medium, or get the hell out," Jiub said.

"What's wrong with well done?"

"What's wrong is it's a crime against fucking nature. A guar died to give you this meat and you want me to burn the shit out of it?" Jiub asked.

"I was going to ask for it medium anyway." A huff, and then a look back to the menu.

"Is it always like this?" the ascended sleeper asked. "I don't often come here, you see."

"That? That's nothing." Sadara laughed. "Now, what do you want to actually eat? Can you eat?"

"I can, yes. One gets the urge for something more than corprusmeat, now and then..."

"It doesn't sound like it would taste very good, but you must enjoy it or you wouldn't keep doing it."

After a short pause the sleeper said, "Some sausage and a waffle, if you don't mind."

Sadara gave a slight smile. The next fifteen minutes or so were actually rather pleasant--the ascended sleeper would glance at the bleeding heart plant now and then, but mostly he would watch her and make polite conversation. How long she had been in Morrowind, how she (disliked) the weather. All weird, unconnected questions, but she was glad to have one of them talking to her that didn't

She took a from the sujamma bottle when he'd turned his head to look at it.

"I've seen that mark a few times," the ascended sleeper said, "Strange that you should find it on a flowerpot of all things."

"Everyone likes to plant things." Sadara shrugged. "I usually have a black thumb, but..."

"But that plant seems to grow for you?"

"Yeah, it does. Strange, that. It's finally starting to look better."

It was a nice feeling, really. To have plant after plant after plant die--to the point, way back when she'd lived with Jiub the first time, he wouldn't even let her step inside the room he grew the weed in--and then to have something actually grow for her.

The sleeper gave several nods. "It means 'Neht,' if you wanted to know."

"What?"

"The symbol on the flowerpot. It means 'Neht.'"

"Huh. Interesting."

"Well--"

"Oh, come on!"

Sadara looked down the bar at the off-duty buoyant armiger. "Sir?"

"You're going to let that thing stay?"

"He's being more polite than you are," she replied curtly, "And his money spends just as well as yours."

"I spend my day defending the Ghostfence from that sort. Why does this place just--let them--"

"See previous answer. The only one being rude here is YOU, jackass."

That was when Nibani spoke up. "Either shut your mouth or leave, we don't want fighting here if we can help it."

"You two're awfully mouthy for someone who's cozying up to the Sixth House's monsters," the armiger stood and crossed the room. "Makes me think maybe you're involved with them too."

"Makes me think you're about to write a check your ass can't cash," Sadara replied. She took another sip of sujamma, and walked through the little gate at the end of the bar. "So do like the manager says, shut your mouth or leave."

"As if I'm going to let some Sixth House sympathizer--"

The buoyant armiger lunged. Sadara ducked his wild bolt of flame, and clocked him right in the jaw.

"You BITCH!"

Behind her was another shout, Jiub, who'd let out, "I JUST started that egg!"

Then, a rapid fire alarm.

Sadara sidestepped and grabbed the back of the armiger's armor, and with a great effort hauled him towards the door that she pressed open with her foot. "C'mon, I don't care if you paid or not. You're out, and if you try to come back in I'll drag you right back out again. Got it?"

The armiger did not, in fact, get it. He swung at her, got her hard in the shoulder, and found himself hit in the jaw once again, this time with the hand she wore the ring on. It left an immediate imprint, and would probably end up bruising, from what she could guess.

"Now are you going to leave, or am I going to have to kick you in the balls?"

It took the actual kick for him to figure out Sadara was serious.

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

The ascended sleeper had been very pleased with what he saw. Very pleased, indeed. He'd told them, hadn't he--those beneath him--that they could get more information if they just used their words and asked nicely. But then again, niceties weren't their strong point.

That was why HE had been sent.

Once #WeFoundTheHeart started going around, his lord had asked - discern the truth. See if what they were seeing (and hearing) was true. Don't attempt to steal the plant, it was too precious to risk in a tug-of-war situation. It was a delicate variety, after all, it couldn't hope to stand up to much of a stiff breeze this far away from its usual soil and tending.

"Well?"

His lord did not turn around, but that was usual. It was a privilege merely to be in his presence, to behold even part of his magnificence.

"It's true, lord Dagoth. The plant is there. And the one who chased off the dreamer claimed to have a black thumb, yet somehow the bleeding heart grew for her. And she was wearing...the ring."

"The ring?"

"THE ring, my lord, I saw it with my own eyes. Briefly--there was a bit of a scuffle, as a buoyant armiger decided he wanted to make trouble because I was allowed to dine there, and the one in question fought him half-drunk."

There was a pause, and then a sudden sharp intake of breath.

"Nerevar's ring, his plant that I've kept alive for these centuries...and now you tell me there was a drunken brawl."

The next breath was shakier.

"Nerevar really has returned."

#dagoth ur #fanfiction #morrowind #nerevarine #waffle house #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #jiub #dunmer #hashtag #brawling #dagothposting #house dagoth

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fuhhhhhh · 2 months

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I am tired of team green like it's okay to have your opinion

But victimizing them is weird because

(I talking about the book version )

1) alicent

was 18 in the books and rhaenyra 8 . She was married at around 18- 19 with 29 year old viserys ( idk why the show made viserys old and both rhaenyra and alicent the same age .🤔 maybe to gain sympathy from the viewers) .

2) she stopped treating rhaenyra nicely after aegon was born because viserys still named rhaenyra the heir like poor rhaenyra was around 8-9 years old just lost her brother and mother and the one adult she was close to started to treat her badly . ( because viserys did not care for rhaenyra because he wanted a son)

3) you all blaming rhaenyra because criston slept with her . She was 15 and he was in his 30s he could have said no and rhaenyra was drunk and left at a brothel by her uncle . So you all blaming a drunk teenager instead of a grown ass man .

4) the real victim here was aemma arryn ( rhaenyra mother) because she was married to viserys when she was 11 and he was 16 - 17. because they consumed their marriage very early that is why she had many miscarriages and still births which only rhaenyra survived .at last ,she died in child birth with her son baelon.

5) In The BOOKS it is not confirmed that her sons are bastard because even though leonar mother had black hair because his grandmother was baratheon and had baratheon black hair. mean while jace , luke , and joffery all had white hair and even if they had brownish hair it could be because of their grandmother half arryn genes . ( i think they forget that aemma was half arryn )

6) she married leanor at 17 just because her father threatened to remove her status not because she wanted to and not because she wanted to have a affair with harwin strong she was forced to and she married even younger then alicent .

7) after marriage her close freind was laena not alicent. ( which we didn't get sadly ) .

8 ) daemon didn't kill rhae Royce ( idk why the show did that)

9) alicent could have had her only daughter haelena to marry someone else she loves or for political reason but instead had her marry her drunk ass r*pist brother at 13 years old and had twins ( which even worst than alicent because she was 18 - 19 when she married which is considered an adult even at this time but poor haelena was only 13) which she thinks will stronger aegons claim because "oh look my children married each other haha and they have more valeryon children than that bitch bastard sons "

10) they say she was religious and was only following her religion and should not get shamed. ( well she is using her religion as a shield to her misogyny) well the seven does not allow insect but she married her only daughter to her unworthy son .

11) people saying well the greens are not born out of insect forget that aegon and haelena married and had three children. OMG , and besides aemma and viseys are cousins not siblings which is better I guess but only they get shamed by team green . what about tywin and Joanna lannister both are first cousins . Well because first cousins are not viewed as insect in the faith of seven . And leanor and rhaenyra were second cousins ( because rhaenys and viserys were first cousins) .

So team green is hypocrite

#anti team green #anti alicent hightower

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funkyyusername · 4 months

Text

i miss urinetown so here are some little sally character notes i made while i was little sally so i can cope

- she really likes flowers

- like she can look at a flower and immediately name it

- “oh thats a diphylleia grayi” “a what”

- due to the water shortage though there isn’t a lot of greenery

- so she usually just draws flowers everywhere any chance she gets

- “give me your arm real quick :3” she says holding a pen having only malice intent behind those big eyes of hers

- she also reads a lot

- not because she likes it but because lockstock just gives her a bunch of books and she has nothing better to do

- i like to think that on like christmas or smth the poor give her like really run down beaten up toys that could give the average child nightmares

- while lockstock just walks up with a bag of books

- not even childrens book but like whole ass college textbooks

- “idk what kid read these days but i like this”

- little sally is too nice to say anything about it

- this is why she knows what metaphysical means

- mcqueen…. (red angry face with fist up)

- i don’t even know what mcqueen could have done to her she just really hates him

- maybe that one time he didn’t give her a coin really fucked her up

- “one time” it was probably multiple times

- mcqueen probably called her a slur too, before like spitting on her idk

- she’s actually pretty prone to violence

- like she would definitely beat someone up if they wronged her

- the only reason she was so against killing hope is one, in her eyes hope didn’t do anything wrong and two, bobby lovesssss her

- she looks up to bobby a lot

- this is mostly because bobbys like the only character that isn’t completely stupid

- thats not true penny has a bunch of braincells in there

- but penny is scary

- omg theres also her lore with lockstock

- infodumping lockstock and sally’s entire lore

- little sally had pretty neglectful parents

- she was an accident baby and her parents were really suffering from the water shortage so they paid no attention to her

- lockstock met little sally when she was around six and lockstock was still pretty new to his job

- little sally has a big mouth and so one day while talking to lockstock she just casually brings up the fact that her parents piss on the pavement daily

- lockstock of course took action to it and took her parents to urinetown

- BUT but since lockstock was so new to the job he hadn’t fully realized what urinetown was until he was in the middle of bringing sallys parents to urinetown

- so now lockstock feels guilt for killing sally’s parents which is why he acts like such a parent to her

- and also why sally feels pretty safe during the whole rebellion

- i think post tell her i love her little sally joined the rebellion half because she believed in it and also half because she knew that lockstock wouldn’t hurt her

- bro is manipulative

- it wasn’t until she saw bobby literally be thrown off a building where she became scared of lockstock

- it was there when she decided to cut all ties with lockstock

- “oh but don’t they meet up at the end” LET ME TELL YOU

- so you know how after hope is like “yes go pee for free my pookies” the water becomes bad and everyone dies

- because little sally isn’t with lockstock anymore she isn’t protected by the narrative

- SO SHE DIES TOO

- LITTLE SALLY IS DEAD

- so the whole conversation lockstock had with little sally was all a hallucination in lockstocks head

- i guess for lockstock to cope with basically losing the person he considered his daughter

- whoops this turned sad

- little sally braids bits of her hair out of boredom

#urinetown #little sally #if you couldn’t tell little sally is my baby #i love little sally so much #you don’t even know

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ohmotherwhereartthou-if · 8 months

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Your writing is amazing!!! I’m so sorry to ask but I must, How would the RO’s or other characters react to the MC sacrificing themselves to protect them?

Hello,

Thank you for your kind words. 💙😊

Ooh, a rare ask with other characters besides the Ro's. I mean which is fair, since a lot of the other characters haven't really been thoroughly introduced yet.

Also, since it wasn't specified; I am assuming relationship stage with the RO's?

Cassandra: Would have survivors guilt and feel as if she should have been the one to die. She would not do anything stupid and live a more careful life because while she would like to be reunited with MC in death, she would never want their sacrifice to have been for nothing. Would close herself off from love for a very long time, would only maybe find love again in her old age with another person who also knows the pain of losing a lover when they were young.

Valeria: Would obviously be distraught, she would ask God a lot "why did MC have to die?". She would spend a lot of time in church and honestly, I could either see her becoming a sort of nun figure or meeting someone new at church years later and falling in love. She would name her first child after MC and never forget them.

Tomás: Ouch. Just ouch. He would never love again, he would grow old and bitter, towards everyone and everything. He would dwell on the memory of MC and wish he had died instead, I see him going through 'A Man Called Otto' type of journey. (Great movie btw, I highly recommend it.) He would want to end himself to be reunited by MC and while he is so mean to everyone around him, he constantly thinks back to all his time spent with MC. From the most mundane moments from the sweetest memories, he remembers everything and keeps all of MC's things. Would never remarry or even consider thinking about anyone romantically ever again.

Ludovica: Uh.... I feel so bad that I only see one outcome for my sweet baby. UNLESS you guys had a kid, Vica is following after MC very soon after they pass. She would only go on living if you guys had a kid because they would give her a reason to live, she couldn't leave them behind and knows they need her now more than ever. But she would almost never smile, all light is gone from her and while she loves her child with all her heart; very little happiness could ever reach her now.

Aurelio: Would mourn and become rather reclusive for a few years. He wouldn't be the playful flirtatious fool anymore, he has matured and grown rather melancholic. He would keep on, living on for MC's sake but he would be forever changed. No more parties, no more crazy stupid antics. He will become regular old gentleman and maybe marry again some day but he knows deep down in his heart that the love he had for MC will always be stronger than what he could possible ever feel for anybody else.

Elio: I said this in a previous ask but... MC's death would definitely start his villain arc. He finally feels so strongly towards someone and they go and die on him? Screw humanity, everything can burn for all he cares.

Bonus!

Mother: Guilt would eat her up inside, she was supposed to protect MC; they were supposed to be safe when they were with her. That's what she promised them all those years ago, how could she let then down this way? Her poor, sweet little one; she is so sorry. So, so very sorry.

(Traveler's is sort of written in her pov)

Traveler: Damn it. Damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen, I guess this is what happens when you take a chance and try to help out a inexperienced kid. You end up getting them killed. You should have known, known better. This is your fault. You are the reason they are dead, this poor kids blood is forever on your hands. I hope they haunt me for the rest on my life... they can join the party and at least never feel lonely.

#omwat #OMWAT #ask #ludovica #cassandra #elio #aurelio #valeria #tomas #mother #the traveler

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writingsofwesteros · 3 months

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Okay so it started out only like 10 years after Joanna died, around the time Jaime joined the kingsguard. Tywin freaked about needing heirs, refusing to even consider Tyrion. He marries young Alicent in an arrangement he made with Otto, she's around 18, and not that much younger than him. Alicents mother was a Targaryen, the mad kings cousin, thus why the kids still have the targ names, Alicent is more cunty like her book self and names all the kids she bears him, holding fast to that rule because they're all going to be of house Lannister anyway. Then I don't remember much but it like fast forwarded to after Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron were born. Tywin finally stopped being his cunty self after Daeron was born, because Alicent nearly died and it hit him that seeing her in the birthing bed, drenched in blood, maesters and maides constantly running in and out with more blood soaked sheets, it brought him back to when Joanna died and kinda hit him that he'd grown to care for Ali. After that, he acted almost like a normal husband, pretty much treating Alicent how he does Stev in her au. Then fast forward again to got era timeline, they're older, and for some reason older Alicent has morphed from Olivia Cooke into Catherine Zeta-Jones. They have more kids, as much as Jaehaerys and Alysanne. But it all starts going downhill when, during all the wars and time apart and fighting amongst themselves, Alicent follows her step-son Tyrion, whom cares for her very much on account of her being a good step-mother to him and treating him kinda like Jaime did, and she chooses to go to her blood, Daenerys. Tyrion doesn't kill Tywin in this au, cause he never sleeps with Shae. Tywin and Alicent have like a 20 chapter lovers to enemies to allies to hesitant reconciliation to lovers trope. Alicent and Cersei never get along rip, and that is another factor that leads to her choosing her young cousin Daenerys, because maybe Cersei killed one of her kids. Tywin, being the stubborn fool he is, never believed that Cersei was unhinged enough to kill her half-sibling and thought Alicent betrayed him just because. Eventually he stops protecting Cersei when Jaime gives him the proof. Somehow Daenerys is not barren in this au and doesn't go all mad king ii in the end because Alicent has married her son Aegon Lannister to her, with Aegon being the future Prince Consort to Daenerys' Queen. By the time they reconnect, Aegon and Daenerys have a few children, so Tywin has to choose between protecting Cersei or Aegon, and he chooses his and Alicent's bloodline. Then I woke up lol. The end.

We so need to write books on our dreams, like damn, that is perfection!!

I can't even add to this perfection !

Poor sweet Ali loosing one of her children :( Helaena and Tywin having a soft relationship whilst Aemond is a mommy's boy once more

#lions in tower

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solarishashernoseinabook · 7 months

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trick or treat! trick idea: caitlyn's reaction to discovering ferris's attempts to murder halt (after halt has left)

Thanks ace!

This was interesting to write, considering I had to write something very similar for TRR, but I like what I did with this one :D

Caitlyn had barely been able to make it through the funeral without losing her mind completely. Her parents, too, looked ashen-faced – her father, already in poor health, had barely been able to stand during the ceremony. Only Ferris seemed relatively unaffected by the solemn affair, keeping his head down and face blank as the empty coffin that represented their brother was lowered into the ground.

Caitlyn had turned that over in her mind for the rest of the day. Of her two brothers, Ferris had always been the one more prone to bursts of emotion. When their uncle had died, Ferris had wept openly, and he seemed to be greatly affected by their father’s recent illness.

She tried to tell herself this was different. Halt and Ferris were identical twins; the emotional rift that had developed between them in their teens had been hard on Halt because, in his words, it was like losing a part of himself. Maybe Ferris wasn’t able to process the pain of losing Halt, and that’s why he seemed so disconnected during the funeral.

But it didn’t sit right with her. Halt had felt unsafe around Ferris for a long time. He had confided in Caitlyn about seeing Ferris after the roofing tiles had nearly fallen on him. And combined with Halt’s sickness from the clams earlier…

Caitlyn had been staring at the canopy of her bed for hours. Finally, she flung back her quilt, put on her robe, and slipped out of her room.

Ferris’s rooms weren’t far from her own and Caitlyn half-ran there. She heard the fire crackling and saw the light of a candle through the keyhole. She knocked. ‘Enter,’ Ferris said curtly. Caitlyn went in and closed the door quietly behind her. Ferris was at his desk, still fully dressed and writing something. He waved vaguely without looking up. ‘Put the tea on the table there and go.’ ‘It’s me, Ferris,’ Caitlyn said. Ferris looked up with a scowl. ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘I just need to know what happened,’ she said. ‘On the lake, with Halt.’ Ferris set his mouth in a firm line. ‘I doubt you could handle it. It was…very difficult.’ ‘I’m not a child!’ Caitlyn snapped, willing herself to stop quivering. ‘Please, Ferris – I can’t move on until I know.’ Ferris sighed, putting down his quill and turning to her. ‘We were salmon fishing. Halt leaned over to untangle his line and fell in the water. I couldn’t get him out in time.’ Caitlyn shook her head slowly. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’ ‘Death often seems random, but—’ ‘No,’ Caitlyn said. ‘Halt was a strong swimmer, and the lake is calm this time of year. There’s no reason he shouldn’t have been able to get back in the boat, or at least swim to shore.’ Ferris only shrugged and turned back to his desk. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to write my speech. Father is officially declaring me his heir tomorrow.’ The callousness of this statement rocked Caitlyn to her core. For a moment she felt only shock; then disgust welled up inside her until she was shaking once more. ‘That’s all you care about, isn’t it?’ ‘Oh, what is it now?’ Ferris snapped, turning back to her. ‘Being king,’ Caitlyn said, her voice quivering. ‘You hated being younger, hated the fact that Halt would have gotten the crown instead.’ ‘My dear, your grief is getting to you,’ Ferris said firmly, his voice nonetheless rising. ‘He saw you!’ she snapped. ‘After the tiles fell! He saw you up there, he saw how angry you were! What kind of person wouldn’t be relieved upon finding out that his twin brother had survived something nearly killing him?!’ ‘Now you’re being ridiculous! You didn't even see what happened that day!’ Caitlyn snatched the penknife from the desk in a fit of rage. Instantly Ferris was on his feet, catching and holding her wrist in a vice-like grip. For a long moment they stared at each other in silence. ‘Halt was a soft-hearted fool,’ Ferris said softly. ‘He let his affection for people get the better of him. All I had to do was tell him I was worried about not being able to handle the boat on my own, saying that I so wanted to get a nice salmon for our poor, ailing father, and he insisted on helping me.’ Tears blurred Caitlyn’s vision and she swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. ‘I’ll tell. I’ll tell Mum and Dad.’ Ferris smiled at her then, but it wasn’t his usual smile, it was Halt’s smile – and all of a sudden she was looking into her dead brother’s face. Ferris spoke again, and now he sounded just like Halt too – he spoke with Halt’s soft cadence, his steady self-assurance. ‘Father’s in such poor health. One more major shock…it could kill him, Cait. Best to just let things lie. Throwing around accusations won’t bring people back from the dead.’ The knife slipped from Caitlyn’s grasp and clattered to the floor. Ferris pulled her into a hug and she tried to resist, but he held her tightly and stroked her hair, and Caitlyn was crying too hard to put up a fight. After what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Ferris let her go. ‘Go to bed, Caitlyn. It’s been a long day for us all.’ Caitlyn turned on her heel and fled back to her room.

#asks #ra #rangers apprentice #caitlyn o'carrick #ferris o'carrick #trick or treat fic fest 2k23

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desultory-novice · 1 year

Text

Lightning Round Pt 2!

Mostly relating to Adeleine + Angst

Long answers to quite a few of these, so buckle up!

---

Honestly, I'd say he pretty much did? Not with any specifics, of course, but that's basically what's happening in the last page. It takes Adeleine a moment to even absorb the meaning behind Dedede's quiet apologies, but as her surprise turns to sadness, she understands those words mean that, somehow, he knows her brother is already gone...

Dedede, for his part, knows better than to tell a young kid explicit details of how her missing older brother died. You don't do that to a person, especially when the sudden death itself is a life-wrecking shock. If, after she calms down, she tries asking him for more information, I think all Dedede could bring himself to say would be something akin to, "By the time I encountered him, he wasn't your brother anymore..." He may or may not reassure her by saying that they got the bastard who did that to him (not knowing if it his transformation was Zero's fault or not. But it's easy enough to imagine blaming Zero.)

I think if, after having enough time to process her shock and grief, Adeleine were to later learn that her brother's end fate was becoming one of Dark Matter (and maybe she eventually figures that out on her own based on Dedede's words and confronts him with it, because he still can't bring himself to tell her) that would eventually coalesce into a strong desire to stand up to Dark Matter(s) wherever it appears again. She's already shown herself to be very curious and intelligent girl. She might try to do some research on the Ancients to try and figure out what caused that to happened to her brother and see if she can find a way to stop it from happening to anyone again.

(Other thoughts: I don't think Dedede would tell Kirby about this? I don't think Adeleine would bring it up to Kirby either, now that she knows. I don't think she would ever blame Dedede for holding back on not telling her everything, even when she finds out the truth. I think that even though it was Kirby who dealt the finishing blow, Dedede would take personal responsibility for DMS's death and the loss of Adeleine's remaining family. That out of sheer guilt, he'd feel better if Adeleine thinks he was the one who did it. I also think he'd probably be a little more haunted than usual by flashbacks to that particular possession for a while. And I think he'd do everything possible for her to be the "big brother" she lost.)

Ooh, yes! Yes! Good of you to bring this one up, Anon! I actually have considered it, even before this ask! (I keep running out of energy before I get to that trans-feeling and non-binary characters in Kirby post... sob...)

But I think trans-girl Adeleine is one of the niftiest explanations for the Ado > Adeleine discrepancy and it's one I'm a bit fond of! (I don’t treat them as entirely different, but I don’t treat them as 100% same-person-no-changes either.)

@thecrashman

You are welcome, my friend... Fufufu...

And, ugh, same! It's easy to look down on poor, benighted DL2 for a lot of reasons but Blade's two-part reveal deserves to be treated as something as shocking as the Nightmare reveal in Kirby's Adventure at least!!

Okay, that idea would be AWESOME! Just a few cutscenes sprinkled about, having it be treated almost a mystery like, "Didn't we defeat this guy in the last game?!" and then the Zero reveal in the end....

Ahh, you've hit upon my favorite thing about Blade, which is that he really seems to possess more independence/personality than the foot soldiers. And I like (in this HC) the idea some others had that Adeleine's brother was so strong (mentally, perhaps) that even though his transformation to Dark Matter was complete (...and irreversible...) he still maintained some fragments of individuality within the collective. (Kirby's Seven of Nine??)

Aha... That's totally fair, Anon. I do write a LOT of angst.

For what it's worth, while I'm happy to poke fun at my inclinations, I don't consider them too much of a problem because I think everyone else in the fandom does a really good job handling the feel good fluff in my stead??

I mean, I guess we could all just agree to write and draw happy things, but not every day is happy, you know? (...Boy, I should know...) I'd like to think my angsty stories speak to those who need something moody when bright and cheery stuff is too bright and cheery for them.

(A fitting metaphor for someone who suffers from light sensitivity?)

Also, the "happy ending" to my stories is usually right there in the games. Because... Adeleine makes it. She makes great friends and goes on to have memorable, world-saving adventures with them! She forms a strong bond with King Dedede! Just because this story ends with her crying into his arms doesn't mean her life or his is miserable forever!

Some characters? Yeahhh, there's not much I can do to give them happiness. I can come up with AU or whatever, but if I'm writing in canon/canon-adjacent, there's going to be as much angst as the situation demands. Especially if it's the situation I want to explore. (What hurdles stood in the way of Taranza and Joronia becoming an actual couple in the past? What was going on in Max's broken mind when he saw Susie again? Did Elflilin inherit Elfilis's horrific trauma after absorbing their soul? Is Galacta conscious in their crystalline prison for all that time? Is Dedede going to get paranoid about constantly being used as a meat puppet?)

Some of these questions are depressing for sure, and some of them don't have happy answers, but they stir something in the heart. And it's that wibbly soul-stirring feeling that pushes me to pick up my pen and draw a four page comic over the course of 24 hours in the first place. ^^; I don't think I’d be as energetic about drawing a comic if it had no "arc." I don’t think I’d be drawing much at all.

Now Magolor is probably the character I make suffer the most. (???) Honestly, I just find him super fascinating and because he's a liar, you almost have to put him under extreme pressure to squeeze anything true out of him. And yeah, I, uh :cough: have a small bevy of half-completed Master Crown-gone-even-worse stories that end with "Uh oh! I guess you are doomed forever now!"

But even then, my longest, most in-depth Magolor story, my ongoing gijinka one where I put him through the wringer and run it back several times more for good measure - the story where I do more emotional (and physical...) damage to him than in probably any other, the story that is going to require more and more content tags as it goes on - has a 100% unambiguous happy ending.

Because I like when things end nicely too!

(Also, I do tag for angst!!)

@trainerbob23

How do I write angst so well? I-is that a compliment? Is it okay to be flattered by this? /srs

1) So, err, okay. I'm a very empathetic person. Like, TOO much empathy. (Hyper sensitive to boot. Wheee...) I'm the kind of person who can't afford to check the news because even a little thing will make me sad all day. (It’s why I interact with so few people outside the very tightly controlled space that is my blog, too. Outside of this place? I’m fragile like glass.)

I can't even watch feel good videos because I start to think "...Oh no! What about everyone else in a similar situation who didn't get saved?!" No joke, it's actually a serious problem in RL that makes even simple chores tricky, but being able to put myself in the shoes of most everyone I encounter has the surprising benefit that it is rather excellent for writing fiction!

When you've accidentally opened yourself up to the reality of people dying, people grieving, and people suffering to their last to the point that you can't go the day without thinking about them... you start to analyze and internalize that pain. In order to move on with your life, you safely compartmentalize it and... in my case, when you're ready to, you crack open those sealed boxes and you use a few droplets of that feeling like it’s.... >.> a certain liquid you only use in very small amounts to sweeten a dessert for your fiction.

2) I worry that this is going to be an unpopular answer (it's not an immutable "rule" but it’s worth keeping in mind) but my other trick is... I'm just plain old! XD I'm older than most of you reading this by at least 10 years. That's 10 more years of lived experience, good and bad. Years to study other writers’ stories, both the famous and the fan-fictional. Years to study people.

It’s extra time I’ve had to have my heart broken and my dreams smashed. Time to feel like I've ruined everything and time to feel like I can still carry on. There are a few “Eragons” out there (does anyone still remember that book?) but for the most part, the people creating our favorite commercial works also lean on the older side! Now, I think that pain is pain. And the pain you feel at 16, 17, 18 and onwards is very real and very true and you can write about it with great effectiveness if your intent is to share with others! And, as you get older, you will (...unfortunately...) pick up more painful experiences and that will allow you to refine those emotions you already know. To find the middle ground between many extremes and narrow in on exactly what you want to convey!

3) I write what I love. I can't help it! I love angsty stories! I've loved them since I was a little Dess! (I've also empathized with "the bad guys" since I was little, haha. Heck, maybe that’s related? Maybe because bad guys always got bad guy endings, I got used to seeing my favorite characters get punished???)

Anyway, I don't know if this is a rule either, but it's fair to say if something is a genre or style you love, you're probably going to be a little better at it than the others. If only because you've got more experience in it and are more likely to recognize the tropes. What's good. What's bad. What is effective. Your vocabulary for that style of work is going to be better.

I mean, if you asked me right now to write Meta-dad fluff? I'd...probably struggle. I don't read enough "d'aww" inducing feel-good stories to know what exactly evokes those feelings in those who love that genre the most. ^^ Like, would Meta just...buying Kirby some ice cream count?? Is that a thing? I can make guesses, but I don't know it as well as I know that Meta Knight is a character who prides himself on having a tightly maintained image, so anything that disrupts that beyond his control is going to rattle him and when a strong character is forced to expose a weakness, it triggers an emotion.

A lot of times, angst can be, err, farmed (?!?) by playing around with opposite traits. Adeleine is a cheery, proactive girl. In fact, we've only EVER seen her be cheery. Getting her to cry is going to cause a reaction. Meanwhile, Dedede is always bold in his actions and very LOUD, so seeing him speak softly as he avoids saying the obvious is going to create some kind of emotional reaction.

Marx, one of my favorite characters, is a funny silly grape boy who never did anything wrong (tm) so I personally love to see him do the unexpected. Be pensive and intelligent. Have his feelings hurt and show fear. Secretly crave friendship despite an attitude that most are likely to find highly abrasive.

I already mentioned above that I find it very effective to put Magolor in a situation where he is forced to confess the truth. But then there are characters like Bandee, who I think is adorable... but he's a squire-type character who's training to become like his heroic idols and...

...My brain doesn't produce a lot for him because the opposite of that would be... um, have his illusions be shattered? But I don't want to see him be disillusioned with Dedede or Kirby. He could be forced to take the lead, but that feels like it would take a lot of setup? (There are several cool "future!" stories out there where Bandee grows up to do exactly that. Which is quite neat.)

Morpho is someone we know so little about, I'd basically have to make stuff for her to begin to find ways to make her pull at the readers heartstrings. But I can use her as a threat to make other characters react! Anyway, in the end, I can't always make the angst work magic for every one. ^^

Milksi!!

Thank you so much. I was really glad to see how accepting everyone was about my post. It's a little frightening to talk about serious issues, even on a personal space, because we're all so public out here on the internet! (In fact, I’m even an eensy bit nervous writing all that stuff up above about my feelings on the importance of writing and allowing angst! Even though I think most of my readers already know and accept my love of the genre...!)

So in that way, I really appreciate what you said!

But oh, I'm sorry to hear that about last month. Sending you warm thoughts for this month!

Same for everyone else!

#Kirby #Dess Answers Questions #Adeleine #King Dedede #Dark Matter Swordsman #mentions of other characters #long post

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