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kangaracha · 2 months

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QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 13

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

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The way that Chan slumps straight down onto your sofa suggests that it has either been a long day or he is expecting a long night ahead. You're almost too scared to ask which is true; not that there's a way for you to wheedle out of blame for either being difficult. It's all related to you joining the group, and whatever was going on with your schedule.

In the end, Chan doesn't give you a chance to ask, his eyes roving around the apartment. "Your dorm is nice," he comments, in the sort of voice that would insinuate his isn't nice if you hadn't already seen it.

You glance around too, at the white walls and years-old pieces of furniture that clutter the space. They've all seen many singers come and go before you, and then were never built for that kind of handing down - but they're robust, if not entirely pretty. Dependable as a place to keep a home. "It's alright," you say, sinking into the seat beside him. "It's small. There's no way all eight of you would fit."

"It's loud enough in our dorm," Chan agrees, cutting a grin. "You should have seen when there was nine of us living on top of each other in one dorm."

Nine of us. Not you, of course, but the long-gone boy you were supposed to replace. You're not sure how the echo of the words over inside your head makes you feel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you're distinctly aware that you've never heard him say that before (not even since you joined; always, it was the eight of them and one of you).

"Nightmareish," you say dryly, but the response is lacklustre, the joke weak and watery. Chan's smile fades.

"I guess I should stop stalling," he says, mistaking your tone for a different kind of distraction.

For two weeks, a heavy, curling tension has been holding itself steady in your gut; at the reminder of it now, it clenches its fist tight, your ribcage retracting and your breath shallow. You're going to debut, Minseo had said, and you'd thought it and thought it and thought it; but surely, it was unbelievable-

"I want you to perform at K-Con," Chan says, before the thought can finish flashing through your mind, and you freeze. "Not the whole concert, just God's Menu, or whatever you're confident in. Anything you want."

"Isn't K-Con in three weeks?" you question, and try to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. "You want me to debut in three weeks?"

A light dances in his eyes, that funny, coy smile he wears when he wants to mess with someone playing on his lips. "Technically, it doesn't count as a debut until the album comes out."

You’re seized by the sudden urge to push him off the couch - not that your hands move. You're still stuck in place, fingers twisted together in your lap; and even if you weren't, it's one thing to make playful threats in a text under his encouragement. It's another to enact them in real life, when he wants to sit across from you and offer you all of your dreams-

"Why?" you blurt out, and then realise belatedly that that might be just as rude as the actions you were trying to avoid.

Not that he cares, that smile slowly fading into something that isn't anger or humour. Even if you'd asked in Korean, you're pretty sure he wouldn't have minded. He was always telling you there was no hierarchy within this group, no reason to treat him with any respect.

"Because I want to," he insists. "The company agreed that you're ready - and you are ready. You've worked really hard."

You can't stop staring at him; that smile that's plastered across his face, the order of the words that come out of his mouth. You can't put your finger on why it gives you a bad feeling, and yet...something is off. You're sure of it. There's something he's not saying.

But what would he be keeping from you? Your mind wanders back through the things you know about him, the conversation you've had. Is this about the agreement you made, that you would stop working so hard once debut came? But he had just offered you a loophole out of that...and you've never known him to be that kind of sly anyway. Unless you don't know him as well as you think you do - which you suppose would be disappointing but not unexpected-

"What's wrong?" he asks, that pleased smile slipping from his face, and you can see it there under the crack; the secret, and the worry that holds itself stiff in his shoulders as he wonders if you've figured it out.

You have to take a deep breath first, and then another. The air won't quite reach the bottom of your lungs.

"It just doesn't make sense," you say, as kindly as you can. Your fingers twist at each other, tight enough to hurt.

"Doesn't it?" Chan asks. "You're ready for this, I promise."

"No," you say, certainty growing with every moment. "There's something you're not telling me."

Chan looks desperate. "There's nothing else to it."

He's a bad liar. You shake your head. "I'm just going to worry about it if you don't tell me."

"It's not something you should worry about," he insists. "I've got it under control."

"But there is something."

"No."

"You just admitted there's something."

He stops, thinking back through what he's said. Blanches. "Chan," you say, leaning forward, your elbows braced on your knees. You're surprised by the surprise on his face at the way you say his name - strong and unquestioning, free of honourifics and any kind of doubt. "Don't keep secrets from me. Please."

It's the weak little please at the end that makes him waver, the cracks of your resolve on the second syllable as the doubt over how far you can reasonably push him sinks its teeth in. He's still not angry though; if anything, he's scared, apprehension holding his tongue and reeling him, straight-backed, into the couch.

"It's better if you don't know," he says like he's delivering an apology. "I don't keep secrets. I just don't tell you things that are only going to hurt you. It's the same for all the boys - I don't see a reason in upsetting any of you when I've already resolved it."

You digest this slowly, your frustration melting word by word. "You're a really good leader," are the first words that blurt out of your mouth, a compliment that has him shaking his head and avoiding your gaze before the words are even out of your mouth. "And I appreciate it. Really."

There's a pause where you swallow the words that were about to come out of your mouth, too afraid to voice criticism, to risk the tenuous position you've built for yourself here.

"But?" Chan prompts as soon as the silence gets too loud.

Breathe.

"But," you say, intentionally slowing yourself down to one word at a time, "I've been around long enough to know when something's up, and I've looked after myself long enough to be able to handle it. If it's about debut and my career, I want to know what it is. Hurtful or not."

Chan's mouth twists unhappily. "I understand," he answers - and though he looks unhappy, you don't disbelieve him. "But also, you're not alone anymore. You're one of my people now, and it's my job to look after my people."

"I know that." Your hands are trembling, you realise suddenly, your head buzzing from the thrum of your heart beating in your ears. "And I know you like taking care of people and making sure the others never have to worry and all of that, but...that doesn't work for me. If I think something happened and I don't know what it is, I'm only going to sit here and think about it."

Inexplicably, a small smile twists at Chan's mouth, his eyes softening. "That's not going to help any more than me telling you is," he says lightly.

"Yeah," you sigh, leaning back. "I know."

For a moment, silence falls, the tension in the air unwinding itself into something a little more comfortable as you work your way through all the things you think you should say. Chan waits patiently; understanding, maybe, that you need a moment to think, that what you're trying to say might not come out the right way the first time you say it. That would be nice. It already feels like you're risking everything to have this conversation.

"Don't baby me," you say eventually, and then cringe at how blunt the statement sounds coming out of your mouth. "I'm old enough, I can handle whatever it is. I've taken care of myself all this time."

"You're not alone anymore though," Chan repeats, stronger this time.

"I still want to know what's happening though," you insist. "Where I stand with you, or the company, or - whatever it is. Even in a group, it's my career. I deserve to know."

"Okay," Chan says, and then again, "Okay." He stops for a moment, eyeing you appraisingly, and then says, "It's important to me that you listen to what I'm saying though. You're not alone anymore. We're a family, and we work so well because we're all committed to each other. If you want to be a part of this, you have to be as well. Do you understand?"

Your chin dips towards your chest - first in a nod, and then to stare at your hands rather than the unyielding intensity of his gaze, waiting for your answer. Waiting to see if he should be worried about you and whatever commitment he's made to you without you knowing. "I'm trying," you say, and you try your best to colour your voice in that raw honesty that burns at your chest. "I really am - I just don't want to pretend to be one of you if you're not all ready to accept me. I don't want to just come in and say I'm part of Stray Kids, I'm the same as the rest of you who have been here from the start-"

"You are one of us," he says over the top of you, cutting you off short. "We've all accepted you. If you want, in the morning, we can go and ask every single member and they'll tell you the same thing, but I need...I need you to let go of that. Forget Midnight and all the other groups that you nearly joined and being by yourself, and be part of Stray Kids. That's the person I want to show to Stay next month. That's the person I need in this group."

You swallow hard, blinking back tears. It feels big, this moment - bigger than the climax of any reality show, or the flight and fall of your time in Midnight, or the countless monthly evaluations that have passed you by in your time here. Bigger than auditions and leaving your home behind, the hardest moment you'd once thought you'd live through, when you were younger and less wary of the world. And for it to be Chan that sits there and asks this of you, his heart on his sleeve and his nature so honest and well intentioned, so hard to let down-

"I can do that," you say, around a tongue that feels thicker and heavier than it was before, a mouth stuffed full of cotton. You look up, meeting his eyes, and you're surprised to find a smile there, slowly lifting his face and crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Pleased. Relieved.

"Okay," he says, a breath blowing out with the word. "Good. Because I really want to keep you."

"Good," you echo. "Because I really want to stay."

He laughs; a small, soft thing that unwinds the tension in your chest. You pull in another breath, push back the tears again; preparing for what you need to say next.

"I meant what I said earlier though," you add, your shoulders squaring and your jaw clenched tight. "This is important to you, and it's important to me that I know exactly what's going on."

You hate watching that smile struggle and fade again, gone as quickly as you had earned it. "You're not going to like it," he warns, but he doesn't try to fend you off again.

"That's okay," you sigh. "Nothing unusual."

His mouth twists against words that he decides not to say. "The company offered last week to let us continue as eight members," he admits, one of his hands reaching up to pick mindlessly at the pillow of your couch. "They were pretty insistent about it, actually. I told them we wanted to be nine."

Your gaze turns sharp, your head swivelling to stare at him. "Why?" you ask, your voice gasping - because you can't fathom, after the back-and-forth of the last three months and the drama of delaying your debut when they'd been so hell-bent on revealing you in time for the last album, why they would turn around and try to take you out just as quickly.

"Because God's Menu did so well." Chan shrugs. "We weren't doing very well as a group before that; the last two albums were rough, and losing a member...I guess they thought without him we weren't ever going to be able to do as well as we did at debut, and then we went and proved to them that we are profitable as eight members. And they thought they could just use you as a backup plan."

"And you-"

"I told them they already spent the last three months fucking around to make us a nine member group, so we're going ahead as nine." You're surprised at the way his voice turns sharp, the hardening of his eyes and the dig of his fingers into the cushion. "They asked me if you were ready to debut, and I told them you could debut at our next concert if they wanted - which I probably shouldn't have said, because they decided that was a great idea, but-"

It's him that's rambling now, you that cuts across him with a, "Chan." He stops short, looking up at you with eyes that remind you of how you'd felt just moments ago - unsure, wary of how you're going to react. Sure that you're going to be angry for some reason, even though what he's done is...

"Thank you," you say, your voice dropping away to almost nothing - tears well in the corners of your eyes, unbidden, dripping down your cheeks even though your throat aches with the effort of trying to swallow them back down. "No one's ever done anything like that for me before."

"Hey, don't cry," he says, alarmed. His weight shifts across the couch, his arms reaching out - before you can wave him away, they envelop you in a hug, pulling you into his chest. It's been a long time since you hugged anyone; you're surprised at just how much you didn't know that you missed this kind of comfort, the tightening of someone else's arms around you and the warmth of another body close.

"You better get used to it," he says over the tuck of your head into his shoulder, your tears drying on his hoodie. "You're stuck with me now."

"You didn't even ask me first," you say, and listen to the way he laughs. "I'm going to do a good job at K-Con. I promise."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he says, before you can continue on. "We're going to have to plan how to show those idiots that they were wrong."

"It's my special talent," you joke weakly. "They haven't got rid of me yet."

You can hear the satisfied smile on his face, the amused huff of breath that ghosts over the top of your head. "And they never will," he says, and it sounds like a promise. A prophecy.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

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toskarin · 9 months

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minecraft

<rin> the gist of it is that when I was with my ex who just kind of brought things up to start fights, I eventually got numb to it and mentally checked out of arguing. it was always insanely mundane stuff that would get responses (eg asking if a weapon in warframe was meta and taking it personally if I said it wasn't) so I naturally concluded "ah yeah, minecraft won't do that"

<rin> but what I didn't realise is that in response to any attempt to do that in minecraft, I'd go dwarfmode and just build an incomprehensible hyperfixation labyrinth while nodding and going "mhm" every time argument bait was dropped

<rin> this base had literally 300 rooms, connected by tunnels and spires with nothing in them that I constructed in a fugue state and filled with mannequins, but then I realised I had a problem

<rin> that was really really really fucking scary

<rin> what I had ACTUALLY built was a city that could house an entire faction, to scale with some real life towns and fully furnished, in a place where ambient cave noises would play and it wasn't always clear where the next door to the surface (or an airlock into a cavern) was

<rin> and I got so creeped out conceptually by having a massive labyrinth that was made entirely of negative autistic energy, filled with mannequins that I placed seemingly only to scare myself, that I stopped going in most of it and kind of hid in one of the top floors (the one with the terracotta ballroom and the roman style bathing area)

<rin> the end result was that I started building houses inside of the house, smaller basecamps that were less creepy than the massive empty structure, along with numbered signs and routes through it that avoided "the creepy parts"

<rin> the creepy parts were like. exceptionally weird.

<rin> it wasn't even built as a base, but just vaguely attached "expansion" that usually simulated something or otherwise looked like it should have a use

<rin> for example, a series of identical plazas, connected by a central spiral staircase, all with identical underground apartment buildings that flanked all four sides, down to the furniture inside of them, all the way to bedrock

<gf> oh my god babe

<gf> i don't even know what to say. just oh my god

<rin> there were multiple restaurants, and the gimmick of them is that they were identical except for the color of the wool used on the carpet, and there were 20 of them

<friend> rin, are you like, okay

<rin> oh no I'm insane

<rin> genuinely I wish I still had the world file because like, what cool organic horror it was

<gf> yeah that sounds kind of incredible in like a really terrible way

<rin> there were distinctly the small manageable rooms where I was actually comfortable playing the game and then there was the horrifying maze of structures that made up my mental labyrinth further in or something

<rin> total aside, that's why there's the metrolith labyrinths in vesalblood. the "compacted underground urban center built on top of other urban centers" thing struck me as a cool enough concept to keep

#minecraft story #chatlog

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agent-cakeshroom · 4 months

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Goodnight, Sleep Tight

The little ficlet I mentioned possibly writing! I decided to stop obsessing over it being perfect, like a certain Troll we love :D

As he finished packing away the last of the board games, John Dory let the tension slide off his shoulders to the sounds of his brothers. All four of them were scattered across the furniture, asleep, and each one sounded so distinctly them that it made JD's chest tighten. Floyd and Branch were crammed together in an armchair, limbs tangled. The two youngest had always been closest, and John shot them a soft smile at the sight.

His other two brothers had each taken an end of the couch. With Clay scrunched up save for one arm flopped over his head, and Bruce comfortably sprawled across the other half.

They'd all grown so much. JD stepped over to one of the small cubby holes Branch dug as storage closets, and dragged out a few blankets. It was silly, being so excited over something so simple, but John Dory couldn't stop grinning. He never thought he'd miss taking care of his brothers. Twenty odd years of isolation must've scrambled his brain.

The eldest moved to the armchair first, and gently rearranged his brothers’ arms and legs into something a bit more comfortable. Aside from a huff or snuffle here and there, both boys stayed blissfully asleep. JD's heart squeezed as he covered them up and tucked them in. He could vividly remember the two of them cuddling when they were still itty bitty, and it was just as cute then.

With Floyd and Branch taken care of, John Dory grabbed up the other two blankets for Clay and Bruce. The middle child was first, and JD carefully moved his arm off his face to tuck it against his chest with his other one. Waking up with pins and needles was the worst. The blanket was next, but he didn't tuck in the edges. Clay used to have a habit of wiggling in his sleep, and JD figured it was better safe than sorry. He didn't want Clay getting tangled and falling off the couch in his sleep.

A rumbling snort brought John's attention to the second oldest of the bunch, and he had to fight off a laugh at Bruce's face. His head was tilted back at an awkward angle, squishing a cheek against the arm he had thrown over the arm of the couch, and there was a bit of drool on his chin. It was a weird thing to be comforted by, but JD was. His brother's may have grown up a lot, but they were still very much them.

Maybe if Bruce wasn't such a light sleeper, John Dory would try and shuffle him into a more comfortable position. But with having so many kids, Bruce now fell asleep much faster and woke up easier. Instead, he settled for simply covering his brother with a blanket like the others.

And without thinking twice about it, he leaned down and laid a kiss on Bruce's forehead, right below his hairline.

As he realized what he just did, JD's ears lowered with embarrassment, and he quietly smacked his hands over his face. “What the hell…” He mumbled to himself. But he didn't regret it. And when he saw all his brothers still asleep as he peeked through his fingers, he figured it wouldn't hurt to finish his old routine.

So he quickly and quietly went to his other brothers, giving each a goodnight kiss just like when they were little. They used to beg him for a hug and kiss goodnight, and would even refuse to sleep without it. As young as he was, JD used to think it was annoying and embarrassing. But now? He missed the way they needed him. The way they wanted him around.

With the last kiss to Floyd's head, John headed for the elevator. He didn't feel like being the only one to return to his room, and he figured Rhonda would appreciate some company.

“Where’re ya goin’?” Bruce’s groggy voice reached him from the couch, making JD pause. He turned to see Bruce half flopped over the arm of the couch with one eye cracked open, and his face squished against his shoulder. It shouldn’t be adorable with his brother being in his mid-thirties, but it wasn’t just Branch that still looked like a kid in John’s eyes.

“Just gonna go check on Rhonda, lil brother. Go back to sleep.” He spoke softly, and couldn’t fight off a small smile. The nostalgia dragged at his lungs, making it hard to breathe for a moment.

“Nooo…” The second oldest grumbled, flailing his free arm at John Dory. “She’s pro’ly fine. Ge’ over here, butt dory.” The slurred, half-asleep speech screamed pouty little brother, and the goofy insult caught John off guard. He snorted, and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a laugh. Well, he couldn’t say no to that.

“Alright, alright. Move your feet then, dork.” He stepped back over to the couch, and nudged at Bruce’s blanket covered feet. He could probably squish in by Clay even if his brother didn’t move, but John wanted to give the third brother some much needed space. They were still working some things out.

Already drifting back to sleep, Bruce flopped over onto his back and curled his legs up just enough for JD to drop onto the middle cushion. Then immediately, unashamedly, threw his legs over his older brother’s lap. Not that John was going to complain, he was just happy to be so close to family again. So he tucked the end of the blanket over himself and Bruce’s legs, and sunk back against the couch to catch a quick nap at least.

He hadn’t been this content and relaxed in ages, and it felt heavenly. He loved Rhonda with his whole soul, but his brother’s held a special place in his heart that only they could fill. And as he finally slipped into sleep to the sounds of all his brothers’ surrounding him, things felt so perfectly imperfect.

#brozone #trolls band together #john dory #bruce #clay #floyd #branch #trolls fic #ficlet technically lol #may or may not post on ao3 #GIVE FEEDBACK PRETTY PEASE

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vintagelasvegas · 1 month

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Tropicana, February 1976. Don Cherry, Gale Baker, Folies Bergère '76. Top left: Paradise Hotel (115 E Tropicana). Photo by Las Vegas News Bureau.

Tropicana sold Folies Bergere in '75 to an entity called Production Leasing operated by Joe Agosto, and the show was leased back to the Tropicana. Nominally Agosto was just the owner of the Folies but Gaming Control Board investigators believed Agosto was managing the casino and overseeing a skimming operation for the Kansas City mob. The sale and lease-back of the Folies was an apparent move to shield Agosto and the company from the Board’s oversight.

Agosto was later arrested and subsequently plead guilty to a casino skimming conspiracy in a deal to become a witness in the Justice Department’s investigation into the crime syndicate’s influence over several Las Vegas casinos. Tropicana was sold to Ramada Inns Inc. in '79. Agosto died of a heart attack 8/29/83 while in federal custody.

“I owned Aztar stock in the 90s. It was the parent company of the Tropicana at that time, a spin off of Ramada motor hotels. Reading the annual report was amusing. The deals and sub deals on everything. Quite complicated for just a hotel. But the one thing I remember distinctly is the part where all the furniture belonged to and was leased from a Kansas City company. I was always reputed that this hotel was controlled by the Kansas city outfit. No smoking gun just a notation in a financial disclosure.” - Gus Archer to Vintage Las Vegas, 2024.

J. German. Joe Agosto death cripples Mafia probe. Las Vegas Sun, 8/30/83; AP. Joseph Agosto, 61, a Witness In Underworld Gambling Case. New York Times, 9/1/83; D. Gomes. Hit Me. Lyons Press, 2013.

#1976 #Tropicana #Paradise Hotel #Las Vegas News Bureau

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muddyorbsblr · 7 months

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circumstances of succumbency [kinktober 2023: bath/shower]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You and Magnus get stranded on the road while working a case and sought shelter at an inn that only had one room left. And one bed.

Pairing: older!Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, kindly exit stage left I'll only ask nicely once); unprotected p in v sex; slight mention to masturbation/wankst; language; Magnus is her superior/boss so there's a bit of a power dynamic going on [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers; mutual pining; one bed only trope; translations in the Author's Notes

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): When Magnus says "I won't have you apologizing", the smut starts. Proceed with caution.

"We're not going to be of any use to this case sleep-deprived and dragging this car through a snowstorm, Y/L/N. We should find some shelter and start fresh in the morning, and hopefully the weather will be a bit more agreeable."

Those were the famous last words that hammered in several nails to your coffin. You were still about an hour's drive away from the residence of a person of interest in your current case, but with the current state of the weather, you were more likely to get stranded in the middle of the road with a broken down engine than actually make it to your destination if you two stubbornly kept on your drive.

That was how you two ended up at a cozy little inn, the lady at the front desk shamelessly checking out Detective Superintendent Martinsson while she tried to book two rooms for you. A disappointed scowl painted her face as she told you both that there was only one room left for the night. With one bed.

Of course this happens, you grumbled internally. One room, one bed, one horny Y/N.

He tried to be a gentleman and offered you the bed, clearly uncomfortable with the whole arrangement as well. But after you both realized that there was no other furniture that the towering older man could somehow pretzel-fold himself into and sleep in for the night, you simply agreed that you'd pick a side of the bed and put the entire situation out of your minds come morning.

You distinctly remembered putting a considerable effort to count sheep and make your mind shut off despite the biting cold, slipping into slumber a shivering curled up heap on your side of the bed, one wrong move away from falling off and flopping onto the hard wood floor. So why was it that when you opened your eyes, the morning sun barely shining through the heavy clouds, you were deceptively comfortable and warm, with an arm wrapped around you and holding you against the lean and muscular body of the man that had been invading your most vivid scandalous dreams on a nightly basis?

This isn't happening this isn't happening, you tried to tell yourself, trying not to lean in to his warm embrace despite every cell in your body literally screaming to do exactly that. You're still dreaming, Y/N, it's time to wake up. He shuffled even closer to you, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that sounded like he was almost…contented. The feel had you putting your fist to your mouth and biting down on your skin to refrain from making a sound.

Much as this was exactly where you fantasized about being when you were in the safety of your own home, you knew you had to squirm out of his sleep-laden embrace. You slipped your hand into his and tried to guide his arm up and away from your waist, only to have him reflexively pull out of your hold and go right back to holding you, shuffling even closer and letting out a whining sound as if he was bargaining to stay asleep for a few more minutes.

Before you could try again, you froze in his embrace when you felt his lips press a kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a near-reverent whisper of your name. You bit harder into your skin in a desperate attempt to hold back a moan as he kept on kissing a trail to your shoulder in lazy movements, obviously being guided by his sleep-adled brain.

Which had a little voice in your head screaming the question: If he was moving and talking the way he did because of his dream, then why did he say your name?

You didn't give yourself the time to mull it over, not willing to risk staying a second longer and having him wake up and have the sight of his disgust and shame seared into your memory. As fast as you could manage, you lifted his arm off you and rolled away from him, situating yourself again on the very edge of the bed and pretending that sleep still had its hooks in you.

Despite having slept in a bed that wasn't his own partnered with the undue stress of being stranded by means of a rather nasty snowstorm, Magnus had slept rather peacefully through the night. He was blessed with a rather blissful dream where by some miracle you didn't turn him away after he'd confessed his feelings for you. You even returned them.

And before you two headed off for work, he held you in bed and got to rouse you from your sleep with teasing kisses to your neck. The dream had felt so real that the image might stay with him to keep him company in the cold nights to come after closing this case with you.

When he woke in your shared room at the inn and saw you curled up at the edge of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to turn that dream into reality and pull you into his embrace. He was only stopped by the dreadful thought of how you could possibly react to such intimacy.

Probably with a right hook, a resignation letter, and a sexual harassment lawsuit in that order, you idiotic knob, he hissed at himself, sighing as he shrugged the covers off him and decided to check if the roads were clear enough to resume driving in a few hours.

He walked around the bed and couldn't resist the urge to take his covers and drape them over your own after seeing how you visibly shivered in your sleep. You let out an unintelligible sound while he was tucking the covers around you. "I'm up, I'm up," you mumbled, shifting around groggily.

"We don't have to leave yet," he spoke softly, doing his best not to wake you fully. "Just gonna check if it's safe to go back on the road." He moved your hair away from your face, a warmth spreading through his body upon seeing how serene you seemed in sleep. "You can rest a little while longer, sweet girl."

You let out a long exhale, a tiny contented smile playing at the corner of your mouth when you relaxed and leaned into his touch. He couldn't resist the urge to hold you just so for a few moments longer, nor the urge to press the lightest kiss between your brows before he stood and walked out of the room.

Mercifully the roads seemed much clearer and you two could probably resume your drive and your investigation in a few hours. Before that, though, he needed to go for a run. And hopefully keep all those intrusive thoughts of returning to your room and giving into his desires at bay. Sleeping in the same bed with you had blurred the lines of your relationship so dangerously that it took everything in him to remind himself that you deserved so much better than to have him shatter your trust in him by taking advantage of you and this situation.

"She deserves better than this. Better than you," he grumbled as he walked to his car to take out his running shoes.

With every pound of his feet on the pavement he tried to put it out of his mind the image of just how beautiful and peaceful you looked in bed. Tried to beat into submission the urge to crawl back under the covers next to you and roll the dice. The fantasy that perhaps if he pressed his body to yours your response would be to settle into his embrace. To press back.

Before he knew it three laps around the property turned into five. Then seven. Then ten. At the end of the tenth lap, Magnus somehow convinced himself that the distance he'd covered had placed a physical distance between him and the taunting image of you sleeping on the bed you two had shared last night.

He figured as well that enough time had passed and perhaps you'd woken up of your own accord, and you'd be alert and ready to get back on the road with him and get closer to cracking open the investigation.

There were two things that Magnus noticed once he'd returned to your shared room. First, you were out of bed, which only gave him the most temporary relief from the fantasies that were taunting him ever since he made the most foolish mistake of agreeing with you that you were both grown adults that could handle sharing a bed for the night while you were stranded.

The relief didn't last long because second, he heard the shower running. And now he struggled to even breathe knowing that mere feet away behind that closed bathroom door, you were naked and wet. And he wanted nothing more than to peel off the sweat-soaked layers of clothing on him and bring his daydreams to life.

"Stay where you are, Martinsson. If you give in, you'll lose her forever. Not to mention your badge," he grumbled to himself, burying his face his hands trying to put the mental image of what you might have looked like on the other side of the door well out of his mind.

That was until he heard a sound that seared itself into the darkest recesses of his most vivid fantasies. Whimpers that echoed off the tiles escaping through the bathroom door, followed by what sounded like a filthy variation of the talks he'd once heard you give yourself in the locker room before some of your more intimidating interrogations.

"Fuck's sake, Y/N, either think of someone other than Magnus Martinsson and get it over with so you can actually face him when you get back to the fucking car, or give up and turn the bloody shower on cold."

The air left Magnus' lungs once he heard the frustration that laced your tone. The words unraveling his restraint once it reached his ears. If knowing that you were on the other side of the door touching yourself already had his sanity and restraint hanging by a final thread, the realization that he was the subject of your fantasies snipped at that thread with the sharpest, most ostentatious shears known to man.

He never rushed to take his clothes off so fast in his life.

As soon as you heard Magnus step out of the room you rushed to the shower, trying your damnedest to get the vivid horny daydreams out of your system before he returned. You got close the first time, but then your mind wandered to how his lips felt on your skin when he kissed your neck. And then how those same soft lips kissed your forehead before he left the room.

And with every attempt it was like that elusive climax slinked away farther and farther, taunting you that the only way you could actually get to it was if you surrendered to the fact that the only way was letting the fantasy that starred the devastatingly attractive older man play out in your mind.

Screw it, it's no use, you told yourself, closing your fingers around the lever to turn the shower into its coldest setting.

Before you could change the temperature, a large hand closed around yours, fingers deftly prying yours away from the lever. Your body froze at the feel of another, equally naked body pressing against your back.

You couldn't help the shiver that ran through you when Magnus whispered your name, tracing his fingers up your spine and across your shoulder. Fuck, why was he doing this? you screamed inwardly. It was a bad enough situation why is he making it worse?

"Look, I'll stay in the back and I won't make a sound," you choked out, barely audible over the sound of the water. "You'll have my badge on your desk the moment we get back--"

"You will do no such thing." His words came out husked, laced with a combination of conviction and desperation that you couldn't rationalize for the life of you. "Turn around, sweet girl. Look at me."

You could feel your entire body tremble and shiver despite the hot water coming down, your knees shaking with every shuffling step you took to face him, not even sure where to look once you have. Ultimately you decided to shut your eyes, refusing to look anywhere for fear that your eyes might travel too far South.

"Magnus I'm sor--"

"Shh shh, darling." He tilted your chin upward. "Look at me, please. Let me see those beguiling eyes of yours." His thumb gently pressed on your quivering lips, tracing along your bottom lip until he coaxed you into a pout. You took a breath before opening your eyes, gasping when you caught sight of a soft smile on his face, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes that had your knees shaking even more. "There you are, sweet girl," he rasped, before leaning in and giving you a soft, tentative kiss.

You let out a whimper once he pulled away, causing him to let out a guttural sound before he pulled you flush against him. His erection pressed against your stomach, warm and pulsing on your skin.

"I won't have you apologizing," he told you huskily, hands traveling down your sides, squeezing your hips for a moment before stopping at the backs of your thighs. "And I won't have you resigning, either." He smirked at the little squeak that came out of you when your feet left the tiled floor, pressing you against the wall. "I won't have any of that talk from those perfect lips of yours."

He captured your lips with his in a kiss that stole your breath away, letting out a guttural sound against your mouth when your fingers weaved into his dampening curls. Your other hand dug into his shoulder as if holding on to any last remaining shred of your sanity while he maneuvered you so that your hips were lined up. "Magnus what're you--Oh f-f-fuck," you whimpered, your body shuddering in his hold as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing your entrance.

"The only thing I will have from now on, sweet girl, is you." His lips latched on to a spot between your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he slid into you in a single smooth motion, your walls more than slickened enough from your failed attempts just minutes ago to bring yourself to climax. "Fullkomlighet," he whispered into your neck. "Du känner dig som himlen."

The sounds of your combined moans filled the room as he moved in you, first in slow, measured thrusts and gradually getting more frantic until the sounds of your pleasure were cut through with the sharp wet snap as your hips met. Your mind in such a haze that you hadn't realized how close you were to the release you'd been chasing earlier until his hand went back down to where your bodies were connected, fingers quickly finding and flicking hurriedly at the underside of your clit.

"Magnus!"

"Let go. I need to feel you coming apart around me. Just let go with me. I've got you, min kärlek."

He muffled your high pitched screams slanting his mouth over yours, deliciously groaning into your mouth when your tongues met in a desperate tangle. His hand curled around the back of your neck, keeping you from breaking the kiss while your body completely weakened and surrendered to your climax.

The sound of the shower knob turning broke through your haze. "Hmm?" Your unarticulated question quickly turned into a squeal muffled by his mouth when he shifted his hold on you, his length still hard. Still throbbing. And still inside you.

He began to walk you out of the bathroom. He smirked against your lips when you began to whimper, every step he took making you bounce slightly on his cock.

It was only once he had you laid out under him at the center of the bed that he broke the kiss, giving you a soft peck and a nip at your bottom lip before pulling away, his face hovering a few inches above yours. "Breathe, min kärlek." He moved your hands above your head, capturing both your wrists in one large hand and pinning them down to the mattress. "We'll leave and get back on the road in a few hours."

Magnus started moving in you again, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss when you arched your back off the bed, feeling every ridge of him sliding against your walls. "Wait, Magnus what do you mean--"

"I'm going to need a little more time with you before I can even think of getting back in that car and enduring the rest of the day without touching you, sweet girl." He let out a sinful moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "And then when we finally finish this case, you're coming home with me. From now on you're mine, min kärlek. Are we clear?"

Your answer caused him to snap his hips into yours. "Yes, Sir."

A/N: I've finally finished this piece and hopefully I can bang out (pun absolutely intended) another one this week for Conrad. Yes, I know October's done, but the initial goal stories aren't yet. And the stretch goal stories, as promised, are definitely still coming.

And while we're on the subject of biting off more than I can chew, I've made the decision to join NaNoWriMo again this year, so let's see if I can meet that bonkers goal of 50k words 🫡

Hope y'all liked this piece of older!Magnus spice 😏 Please do prepare yourselves for the next piece, 'slow & soft' with James Conrad because at the moment that is a chonky boi with 4k words…and I've only just gotten to the smutty bits.

Translations: Fullkomlighet – Perfection Du känner dig som himlen. – You feel like Heaven min kärlek – my love

And here's a gif for everyone that reads to the end:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson x female reader #magnus martinsson smut #wallander #wallander fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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purriteen · 2 months

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Ad victor spolia, chapter five

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years), somnophilia

author’s note: it's been like a month but have this double release I'm feeling generous (crappy proofreading/editing, be warned)

word count: 3,476

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Your head is throbbing from the hangover. You only vaguely recognise the room you're in, with the large Palladian windows and exquisite furniture you're pretty sure it's the master bedroom, and the arm that drapes over your torso as you realise your back is pressed against a warm, distinctly male body.

You're startled at first, and when you turn around to find that it's Coriolanus, in a pair of pyjama pants and a loose sleeping shirt, you hardly feel any better about the situation. It takes you a minute to register that he's awake, blush spreading on your cheeks like wildfire when his eyes meet yours.

You feel so exposed like this, groggy and hungover, in the now wrinkled black slip dress that offers you little coverage. You can't even remember taking your ballgown off in the first place.

"Silia? You're finally awake. I was worried about you, after what happened last night," He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Without all that product in it, his curls have returned. He must've had time to shower sometime between your blackout and now.

Your brows furrow, anxiety building in your chest at his words. "What do you mean, after what happened last night..?" You inquire, although you're not sure you want to know. The whole scenario looks so incredibly wrong. But you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt - how likely is it really that anything would've happened?

Even if it weren't so immoral and disgusting, your brother being intimate with anyone is just unthinkable to you. At most, he'd probably have attended one of those decadent gentlemen's clubs, if he didn't have so much to lose, being the President and all.

The thought appalls you - but it's not just the idea of him partaking in exploiting the less fortunate women in the Capitol, there's something more to it that you can't quite put your finger on. You push it aside for now; you have bigger, more urgent problems to deal with.

He appears deep in thought for a second, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly. "Coryo? What happened last night?" You repeat, this time with more urgency in your voice. You shift into a sitting position, your thoughts running wild with ideas of whatever awful thing could have landed you here, making it impossible for you to stay in that half-asleep state.

He finally looks up at you, stretching out one of his hands to stroke your cheekbone. There's something about the look on his face that makes him seem pained, wounded.

"You got.. very intoxicated. One of my men found you in the corridor just outside the ballroom, with a low-ranking gamemaker. They caught him red-handed, trying to.. to take advantage of you."

His words start to sink in, and a wave of nausea washes over you at the thought.

Someone had tried to force themselves onto you.

Someone who was likely a friend or at least a colleague of Remus. Who'd possibly even worked with your brother at one point, when he was a gamemaker intern.

"I'm so sorry, Hersilia, I shouldn't have let you get so drunk in the first place, I had your glass checked for any trace of drugs, of being laced with anything, but the lab couldn't find anything. I should've kept a closer eye on you, protected you from anyone who might even think of laying a hand on you.." His voice trembles, and you're surprised to see your brother so raw, so different from his usually so very controlled self. You hardly even recognise him, but you can't help but think that you should be used to it by now.

You find yourself in a tight embrace, feeling both unsettled by his strong arms wrapping around you like a vice, a snake, yet somehow safer. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to speak.

"Did.. did he do anything?" You try not to let your fright show, but your voice comes out a hoarse whisper. He finally lets go, and shoots you a concerned, puzzled look. He takes a deep breath before talking again. "How much do you actually remember of what happened? You were barely conscious when they brought me to you."

You try and think it over. But the last thing you remember is sneaking off to the powder room to gossip with an old classmate of yours. Idesta Harrington. She'd been a childhood friend, although you hadn't stayed in touch since you seemed to run in different circles once you'd gone off to the Academy.

Although a lot had changed, she was one of the few whom Coriolanus did not deem 'beneath the Snow name' or otherwise not suitable to be around you. You knew he'd been in the same grade as her older brother, nicknamed Pup, too. You couldn't for the life of you remember anything distinct about him.

"Everything after I went to the ladies room with Dessie is just.. gone. Blank. Don't remember any of it," You try to speak, but this time a sob gets caught in your throat, the shame and shock you felt threatening to spill over.

Coriolanus takes note of this. He's relieved, but not particularly surprised that you believe him. It very well could have happened anyways - with how wasted and vulnerable you'd been. He'd have to figure out how to deal with the imaginary attacker later.

Perhaps he'd have to choose from one of the actual gamemakers to banish to the districts, or he could take one of the few Capitol-born traitors currently awaiting punishment. He'd have to probe doctor Gaul for which member of the team she'd be least upset about losing.

Whatever he needed to do to show you that he would always be the one to keep you safe, to reinforce what he already knew but had yet to get through your disgracefully thick skull. Truthfully, Coriolanus didn't know why he was so protective over you sometimes.

"You were discovered before he could do anything to really hurt you. I would've never forgiven myself if.." He trails off, letting you believe he struggled to even say it aloud. It worked as intended, and you practically throw yourself into his arms, gripping his shoulder tight.

"It's not your fault, Coryo," You insist, sobs wracking through you as you hold onto him.

He didn't necessarily enjoy seeing you so frightened, so distressed, but he felt powerful like this. You had never once made him feel unsure or lesser than in the way Lucy Gray did. You were so much easier, safer to love. He relished the feeling.

"I know, dove. But I was so worried," He sighs, petting your hair as your head rests on his shoulder, burrowing into his pale neck. You allow the almost overwhelming, but familiar scent of roses that followed him around to comfort you somewhat.

"I didn't want you to sleep alone, I'm sorry, I just couldn't let you out of my sight. My conscience wouldn't let me," He kisses the top of your head, and you nod in understanding.

You don't question even for a second that what he's saying is the truth. You hadn't seen him so distressed ever. Even when he sat you down and explained that he had enlisted all those years ago, or the prospect of selling the penthouse, he had been more so embarrassed and shut-off than distressed, like he was now.

You find yourself thinking that maybe you'd misjudged him. Maybe, he was just as damaged and conflicted as you, rather than evil through and through. Torn between his protective, caring instincts and the ruthlessness his career of choice demanded. You try to scour your emotions, looking for anything that stood out or suggested otherwise, but you find nothing tangible.

Something about the situation still feels wrong, though. You just can't figure out what. You chalk it down to the shock of finding out about the danger you'd been rescued from last night. Everything he'd said made perfect sense in your head - he'd even respected you enough to leave your clothes on, instead of giving you the bath you truthfully needed by now. And why would he lie about such an awful thing? He wouldn’t go that far.

As he cradled your trembling form in his arms, you knew that this, this was the Coriolanus you cherished and loved. The one who made you feel so safe and doted on and adored, even in the darkest of times. For the first time in many years he felt like the Coryo you remembered from your childhood again.

A couple weeks had passed since then. The two of you had grown closer, largely thanks to Coriolanus' unwillingness to let you leave his side. You couldn't blame him for that, though - he seemed perhaps even more traumatised by what happened that night than yourself. You couldn't bear the thought of worrying him even more, and since you didn't have much to do anyways, you complied. You figured the paranoia would fade sooner or later.

But he'd taken it a step further by insisting on assigning you security detail for whenever he wasn't around as well, even inside the house. You'd grown quite fond of the first one he assigned, Salomon, though you just called him Sal for short. He was around your brother’s age, short but stocky, with buzzed chestnut brown hair that appeared reddish in the sunlight. You knew because he'd always follow you around on the sunny afternoons you spent tending to the part of the garden Coriolanus had allowed you to make your own. You'd enjoyed listening to his anecdotes from 'back home', which in his case was district four. It was so unlike your life in the Capitol.

But one day, Salomon was gone, just as you'd started to really warm up to him. In his place was a tall, broad-shouldered man who appeared to be in his thirties, but his face was rough, hardened and his storm grey eyes, devoid of any pop of colour, looked as if he himself might as well have witnessed the chain of disastrous events that had led to North America becoming Panem. A cold, cut-throat military man. He was a man of few words, watching over you like a hawk and bringing an uncomfortable, prickly tension with his presence into your everyday life.

You attempted to bring it up with your brother over dinner. He'd coolly explained that it was for your own safety - Salomon had only been a placeholder until he had found someone better suited to keep you safe, someone he could fully entrust with your safety. Still, you'd pleaded your case of how you missed the company Sal provided, and Coriolanus promised you that he would find more time for you outside of work to make up for it personally.

He didn't seem to grasp the concept of you desiring a social life outside of him, which was beyond concerning, but for now you figured that was the best you would achieve. After months of feeling so confused and nothing short of isolated, you were much too exhausted to risk going back to that by confronting him.

Although the both of you had warmed up to each other more as of late, he was still rigid in his decisions - Coriolanus always needed to have the last word. You tried to accept him as he was, and you even felt as though he might be letting up on his sometimes overly controlling tendencies on his own. Just a little bit, enough to give you a spark of hope.

However private Centho, as you'd come to find out he was called, even after a week, still brought malaise to your life every time you had to be alone with him. You couldn't bear it. Finally, you'd come to an agreement with your brother - inside the safety of the presidential palace, you would be allowed privacy. No more security detail. You figured the storm had blown over by now and that was that.

Yet, now that he could no longer station someone outside your bedroom door at night, the deal came with the condition that you would instead sleep in his every night. He had arranged for the staff to bring you a spare bed that was placed a couple feet away from his own. But somehow you always woke up to find yourself snuggled up to him every morning, without fail.

At first you told yourself it was just the winter chill. His bedroom was large and airy with massive windows, so you figured that made the most sense. But the snow had started to melt away bit by bit already, and regardless, you were provided with infinite warm pyjama sets and bedding. That was no excuse.

Perhaps it was the size and roughness of the mattress. It was of the highest quality you'd find in a folding bed, but it didn't compare to the comfort offered by the plush, extravagant bed you'd grown accustomed to. You wondered if you were starting to become spoiled.

The whole situation reminded you of a book you'd read when you were little, one of the many that you had been forced to burn in the fireplace to keep warm during the dark days. It was about a princess who'd been tested to see if she was noble enough to marry a lonely foreign prince, using a single pea that was placed under tens of mattresses stacked on top of each other. If she was worthy, she'd feel the pea when she laid down through all of those layers.

You'd imagined that one day, when your family was by some miracle no longer dirt poor, you might get to marry a 'prince' too. Of course, there was no such thing as royalty in Panem. That belonged in the old world. Here, you didn't need a title to be important - you needed money and influence.

Finally, you'd had to come to the conclusion that in truth, it was his warmth, his embrace that you were after. He was often too busy for you in the daytime, and although you enjoyed getting to spend more time with Eugenie again, you wanted him. It was his company you were after.

You'd missed out on so much when you were little - first, he was always studying, and then after he'd graduated the academy, he was all about both studying and building his career. You wanted to finally get a chance to bond with him, properly this time. The real him.

But once he brings you to the cell your supposed attacker is being held in, you begin to feel that perhaps, he's just as unpleasant if not more beneath the surface.

You vaguely recognise the man, although you can't quite put your finger on it.

Then it hits you like a bucket of ice falling over your head. Romulus. Romulus Dolittle, the youngest son of your former neighbours. He'd been your first friend, you first crush, your first and only kiss. Even if it had just been a quick peck.

Despite the glass wall separating you from the gaunt, bludgeoned prisoner you once called your friend, you can tell he knows exactly who you are, too.

"This, is Romulus Dolittle. You might remember him from the Corso, before his family moved away. Regardless," Coriolanus is clear-spoken and seems entirely unfazed at the sight of the bloody pulp right before your eyes, as if this was a daily occurrence for him.

You can feel bile rising in your throat at the thought that it very well could be - is your brother the one who did this to him? Had he personally made the poor man's life a living hell on the daily?

"You don't expect me to believe that he attacked me, do you?" You interrupt before you can even consider your words. Coriolanus' jaw ticks as he turns to look at you, and you feel as if you want to crawl out of your own skin.

He puts on a cold, thin-lipped smile. When he speaks again it's in an overly calm, smooth tone, as if explaining a complicated subject to a small, petulant child.

"If you had let me finish, you'd know that he is not here under suspicion of attacking you. He was involved in a rebel conspiracy." He explains, the disdain in his voice as he utters those last two words barely concealed.

Your fingernails dig into the skin of your palms as you resist the urge to claw your brother's eyes out. The hint of a self-satisfied smirk in his eyes tells you he knows just as well that the bloody pulp of a man was innocent.

"Why are you showing me this?" You manage to keep a steady tone, feigning nonchalance as best as possible. And although he plays along, you can tell Coriolanus is not buying it. He turns away from you again, facing the glass barrier separating you from the supposed traitor once more.

"Because, Hersilia. You must understand, that even those you trust the most, even your oldest friends, will betray you and everything that the Capitol stands for, if they believe it is in their best interest." He begins, and the urge to tear the flesh off of his smug face returns for a brief moment.

Then you watch as two peacekeepers enter the cell, dragging Romulus out in chains.

"Tomorrow, after he has been cleaned up, the very first public execution in the history of the Capitol will take place."

The whole encounter left you in a state of shock. Once you'd returned to the manor and finally calmed down a bit, your brother had played the recording of Romulus' confessing to the crime, although you could tell by how hoarse his voice that he'd been screaming before. It was likely brought on by torture at the hands of the peacekeepers guarding him.

You could tell Coriolanus was trying to twist the situation in his favour, as he always did. But this was all too much. You felt as if he was taking you on a sick rollercoaster that would only lead you into your impending death.

You knew you couldn't go on like this. You had to do something about it. But how?

Meanwhile, Coriolanus could feel you slipping away from him. He must've taken it too far, and above anything too soon, with showing you Romulus' fate. He thought he could take advantage of your inevitable breakdown to reinforce his status as being the one to comfort you and care for you no matter what, but it seemed that this time, he couldn't.

He did everything he could, against your will he held you as you cried until your eyes dried up, allowed you to wander about the house more freely, he had even given you permission to go into town without him again so long as you brought someone with you. And Centho was finally off your back no matter the unease he felt at being unable to watch over you through that man's observations.

He'd instead opted to give you a diary of sorts to write your thoughts down in, an elegant black leather book with a silver padlock and your name engraved in cursive. Hersilia Honoria Snow. He figured that if you were going to insist on shutting yourself off from him, you might instead turn to something else, and he would much rather see to it that he was in control of that variable rather than give you true freedom.

But, you refused to write anything, and the spare key he had neglected to tell you about only provided him with two hundred blank pages worth of insight.

You had stopped making small talk with him almost entirely. All you did was ask too many questions about Romulus, asking to see Tigris, trying to convince him to let you spend time with Persephone and Remus again. He had to remind you that Remus and his family was only spared from execution because of the scandal their deaths would otherwise cause, and that quickly shut you up. Coriolanus doubted the man would be keen on spending time with someone who falsely accused his little brother and got him killed regardless.

He on the other hand was pleased to have smashed two birds with one stone. No more cannibal friends, no more sleeping on your own and leaving him in the dark. But he needed you to trust him again. Everything had been going so well until now.

So he gave in. You would finally get to see your dear cousin again and get some well needed answers.

Well, you wouldn't get any of those, but you didn't need to know that. Yet.

taglist: @caffeine-addict-slug, @phoward89, @catesbaroquecasahouse, @priyajoyy, @euphemiaamillais @harvey-malfoy

#banner credit: @benkeibear #minors dni #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #named reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #thg fanfiction #eventual smut

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secretmellowblog · 5 months

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I’ve talked about it before, but it’s so sad/frustrating how Jean Valjean is the kind of person who will like…. buy Cosette presents “to take her mind off things” instead of talking to her openly. He doesn’t try to help Cosette understand as much as he tries to “bring her back to happiness” by giving her gifts.

She’s upset over seeing the chain gang, and instead of answering her questions he takes her to a great fun festival the next day to keep her mind off it.

She’s upset over his behavior in the end of the book, and his response is to dodge her questions and interrupt to encourage her to buy fun little fripperies and pieces of furniture:

“It is cold here. One cannot see distinctly. It is abominable, that it is, to wish to be Monsieur Jean! I will not have you say ‘you’ to me.”

“Just now, as I was coming hither,” replied Jean Valjean, “I saw a piece of furniture in the Rue Saint Louis. It was at a cabinet-maker’s. If I were a pretty woman, I would treat myself to that bit of furniture. A very neat toilet table in the reigning style. What you call rosewood, I think. It is inlaid. The mirror is quite large. There are drawers. It is pretty.”

Cosette sincerely wants to know about these darker more tragic aspects of the world and her own life, but Jean Valjean keeps showering her with all these gifts that represent shallow bourgeois respectability instead, not understanding that they don’t actually make her happy.

It’s just

“Can we talk about why you’ve stopped callling yourself my father and seem to no longer be eating? I’m worried that you’re in a bad state and are hurting yourself.”

“Let’s not talk about that—what if you bought a magnificent table instead? :3 wouldn’t that make you happier?”

#les mis #les mis letters #lm 5.8.1 #Jean Valjean #cosette #Jean Valjean is a frustrating little guy sometimes

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imtrashraccoon · 4 months

Text

This one was crazy fun to write! I love this gremlin man so much already you have no idea!

CW: There is assault with a weapon in this one. No one gets hurt but please be aware of this.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Killer - Caught Red-handed

Word Count: 2,173

Things had been going missing a lot lately.

First, you couldn't find the tv remote and practically tore the whole living room apart to find it, but to no luck. You later found it behind the toaster in the kitchen where you knew you hadn't put it. Then, one of your running shoes went missing and you couldn't find it no matter where you looked. You hadn't worn them throughout the winter months so you had no clue how long it had been missing to begin with.

The last straw was when some leftover beef stroganoff that you'd worked so hard on and had been saving for dinner for after you got off work, straight up vanished from the fridge. You couldn't even find the tupperware you distinctly remembered putting it in.

Axe would never take food from you, if anything he had the habit of stocking up your fridge whenever he deemed it too empty. Dust almost never ate or drank anything unless he was in a good mood and you specifically offered it to him. So that meant only one thing.

Someone else was messing with you.

You had brought up your concerns with both Axe and Dust, both of whom were confused at first. They'd each suggested that there must be a reasonable answer. Maybe you had simply been forgetful and only now had realized a bunch of things were missing.

You didn't like how quick both had been to reassure you and then how quiet they'd become afterwards. Axe had become especially grabby, never wanting to leave your side when he was around, and he'd even been more reluctant to leave than usual. Dust had become more chatty, muttering to himself and Phantom Papyrus more often, and he began poking around your apartment when you weren't looking.

There was no reasonable answer though. You weren't a careless person and you nearly always kept things in a specific place. It didn't make sense at all and you couldn't help but wonder if you were going crazy.

Today, you'd gotten off of work a little early and now that you were home, you were just getting changed into something more comfortable. You were intending to read some more of that juicy romance novel you'd recently borrowed from the library and literally meld with your couch for the evening.

That is, until you heard soft footsteps coming from your living room.

You froze in place, training your ears for the sound again.

Your fears were confirmed when you heard the person scuff their shoe on a piece of your furniture. Great, you had an intruder and they were walking around your clean apartment with their dirty shoes.

It was a good thing you'd invested in a pair of brass knuckles after that creep accosted you that one night. You probably should just call the police, but you really wanted to make sure you were dealing with an intruder and that it really wasn't one of your skeleton friends.

Donning them, you took a steadying breath before tiptoeing to your bedroom door and cracking it open. Your room was situated in such a way that you had clear view of most of the living room.

Sure enough, you could just barely see the shadow of someone slowly poking around in the room. They appeared to be fairly tall and slender; not nearly as tall as Axe but still taller than Dust.

You tiptoed to the living room and peered in. While you really shouldn't have been surprised that there was another skeleton in your house, it was still a shock.

His back was turned to you and while he wore similar clothing to your friends, it was slightly different. He had on a light blue jacket with a fuzzy hood, a black turtle neck, black fingerless gloves, white shorts with a black stripe on the sides, and a pair of expensive looking sneakers.

He reached for your coffee table where you'd left your book. The moment his phalanges brushed across the cover, you knew in your gut that he was the one who'd been messing with you.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked sharply as you stepped out of hiding.

The skeleton jerked his skull in your direction and you were immediately unnerved. Not only did he have a much too wide grin plastered across his face, but his eye sockets were completely blank, save for a pitch black oozing liquid slowly seeping from them. He also seemed to have a glowing red target floating where his sternum was.

"aw... i was only curious about your choices in literature," he purred in a sickly sweet tone. "i haven't read anything by this author yet, are they any good?"

You narrowed your eyes at him and grit your teeth. "I don't know you... You need to leave right now or I'll call the police," you stated firmly.

He made a small clicking sound with his non-existent tongue and slipped his hands into his jacket's pockets. "wow, you're feisty too. i can work with that i suppose..." He began to walk towards you as he continued speaking in that same tone of voice.

You immediately squared up in case he was planning to try anything. His body language was completely relaxed though and didn't seem hostile in the slightest, which was setting off all kinds of warning bells.

"Hey! Don't come any closer!" you shouted.

He thankfully listened and stopped just out of arm's reach. "shh, it's okay... i'm not here to cause trouble...unless..." As he trailed off, his tone of voice grew quieter, like he was hinting at something.

It was hard to tell where he was looking, but the way he tilted his skull and squinted his eye sockets slightly, you got the impression he was actually trying to flirt with you.

To say you were stunned was a bit of an understatement. All of your meetings with skeletons so far had taken everything in you to calm them down so you could escape unscathed. Yet here this guy was, acting all charming and friendly, like he'd known you forever and hadn't just been caught stealing.

"Dude, really? What about this situation makes you think you can try and shoot your shot?" you asked incredulously once you'd recovered some.

You took a deep breath and clenched your fists, the cool metal of your brass knuckles pressing reassuringly against your palms. Taking a step closer to him, you brought yourself up to your full height, which considering he was at least six inches taller than you, wasn't much.

"Cut the crap and get out of my home..." you growled.

He said nothing for a long moment and just continued to smile at you.

He moved faster than your eyes could follow.

The next thing you knew, he had you pinned against the wall with his arm across your collarbone, dangerously close to your throat. His other hand was holding something long and sharp against your stomach.

His permanent smile never faltered.

Your eyes widened and your heart was frantically drumming in your chest. You'd experienced similar terror from the confrontations with Axe and Dust, but this guy... He was another level of unhinged.

You had no idea anyone's demeanor could shift from friendly to hostile that quickly before now.

He sighed and the corners of his smile finally dropped a little. "too bad..." he murmured. "it's no fun when they don't freak out even a little. don't tell me you're broken or something?"

What the hell?!

"i mean, come on, nothing? usually humans scream and most even cuss me out." He leaned closer to you and hummed softly. "...but you're completely frozen...like a deer in the headlights..."

You shuddered and tried to move, although you were immediately stopped when he pressed the blade against your gut again.

"ah, ah... none of that now. i'm not done with this conversation yet, human..."

You took a shaky breath and tried to remain as still as possible. "Wh-what do you want then?" you whispered hoarsely.

He chuckled and smiled sweetly at you. "me? i'm just bored..."

It suddenly occurred to you that he must know your other skeleton friends. There was no way he didn't, what with the similar outfit and how he was very obviously crazy. So what did he actually want?

"Okay... Do you...have a name...?" you asked quietly.

"killer... now what about you? do you have a name or can i call you mine?"

The flurry of emotions you went through in a split second nearly knocked the breath out of you. The skeleton in front of you was the very one Dust strongly disliked.

He'd also just hit on you and had been openly flirty from the beginning. Normally, you'd be slightly flattered as he wasn't bad looking, just really scary, but you also knew that he hadn't meant a word of it. He was toying with you for his own twisted amusement.

You stammered as you tried to respond but ended up just giving him your name. His smile widened slightly as he leaned back to give you some space again.

"interesting..." he murmured but made no further attempts to back off.

You swallowed nervously and decided to try to talk him down like you had with the others. Your brass knuckles clattered as you slipped them off and let them fall to the floor. You moved slowly so as to not seem threatening and did your best to maintain eye contact, despite him not having visible eyelights.

"Are you...concerned for your colleagues?" You touched the arm he was holding the knife with as you spoke, ignoring how he tensed as soon as you did so. "They're my friends and I would never dream of hurting them. Honestly, I'm pretty harmless as far as humans go..."

Killer raised a bonebrow and looked down at the ground. He quickly kicked your brass knuckles across the room so they were far out of reach.

"harmless, huh? most humans wouldn't own weapons like those and then confront a home invader if they were actually harmless..."

His voice was low and devoid of all pretenses of emotion now. A chill went down your spine but you tried your best to keep a brave face.

"i know what your deal is, human... unlike them, i'm smarter and i have you all figured out... if you think you can just talk me down, well, that won't work."

"Killer... Are you...jealous that your colleagues met someone new...and didn't think to introduce you?" you asked.

He seemed taken aback for a moment. "what...?" he muttered.

"I don't know what reasons they would've had, but I understand the feeling..."

"stop." His face hardened and he shushed you with a finger, which meant he wasn't pressing you against the wall as much now. He was still holding you at knife point though. "stop doing that..."

You realized he must be referring to your Intent and you closed your mouth with a click.

"you don't understand a thing about me. you can't...no one can."

"What's wrong with trying?" you asked quietly.

He said nothing and seemed to be staring through you. Slowly, he stepped back and pocketed the pretty vicious looking knife he'd been holding against your stomach.

You took a shaky breath and ran your hands over the sides of your face. He'd actually backed down and you'd barely said anything. It wasn't over yet though as he was still in your apartment.

"I can tell you've been through hell in the past," you started to say in a soft tone of voice. "I don't need to know why you and your colleagues do the things you do, and frankly, I'd prefer knowing as little as possible. However, I can't help but feel for you, same as I do with them..."

He was still disturbingly quiet but it only spurred you to keep talking.

"I never meant to make friends with Axe and Dust, it just happened... They sort of gravitated to me and I gravitated to them as well. I only showed them basic empathy like I would with anyone in their position."

He narrowed his eye sockets and studied you intently for a moment. Then with a shrug, his too wide smile was back.

"i'll be the judge of that..." he muttered quietly. He turned to leave but paused and glanced back at you over his left shoulder.

"i don't like deceitful people and if i find out you've been lying this entire time... well, i'm not afraid to do what my colleagues couldn't..."

You opened your mouth to respond but he disappeared before you could get a word out.

You slid down the wall and brought your knees up to your chest. Burying your face into your arms, you could feel the familiar sting of tears at the corners of your eyes and tried your best to calm your rapidly beating heart by taking deep breaths.

You didn't know how much more of this you could take.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #killertale #something new #killer sans #killer sans x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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deejadabbles · 7 months

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hiii friend <3 for the Halloween drabbles:

🏚️ haunted house + "Don't be scared, I'll hold your hand" withhhh Echo!

Excellent combo, my friend! And with Echo no less, I was very excited to write this so thank you for sending it in! Also, I just realized IDK if people assumed this prompt was for a haunted attraction or a supernatural haunted house sooooo because several peeps asked for the prompt, I'll do both! This time around we're going with supernatural, I hope that's okay <3

The Hidden Room (Echo x GN Reader)

Summary: You and Echo get sent to a place that's totally, definitely not haunted....probably. Rating: G (but minors DNI) Word Count: 1.821 (what is self control at this point?) Warnings: Creepy atmosphere and dangerous situations, reader is not having a good time but at least Echo is there to comfort you. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

“We’re going to die.”

The outlandish words earned you one of Echo’s infamous side-eyes, but the flat tone of finality earned the smallest of smirks. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” you shouted in a distinctly dramatic tone, the word ringing in the vast forest surrounding the two of you. “Echo, we’re out in the middle of nowhere, about to go into a mansion that looks like the inspiration for the Haunting of Hill House!”

“And Cid’s cutting us a decent check to do it,” was Echo’s bland reply, though, even he was looking at the abandoned home with a scrunched up nose.

Could anyone really blame you for getting the creeps from the situation? You had driven nearly an hour away from the city to this random ass plot of land with nothing but trees for neighbors, only to find a house that loomed up into the night sky like a decrepit specter. Seriously, even setting aside the gothic ambiance, just the rotting state of the house alone should be cause for concern, one good breeze might knock the thing down with the two of you inside.

Unfortunately, Echo knew you too well and, with a shrug, he started for the front door of the murder house. Kriff, he knew you wouldn’t stand out here by the speeder bike alone, in the dark, or let him brave the spooky manor by himself. With a muttered curse under your breath, you followed after Echo. The supposed forgotten family riches Cid mentioned better be worth all this!

Inside, Manor McCreep was even worse. Thick layers of dust and forgotten belongings were to be expected, but the white sheets over furniture, the broken grand piano, the grand staircase with a shadowy upper landing- yeah, Echo owed you big time for agreeing to be his partner for this one.

“We’ll split up, but keep our comms open the whole time in case one of us gets hurt,” Echo suggested, shining his flashlight slowly over every creeping shadow.

A part of you wanted to tell him how ridiculous it was to even say the phrase “split up”, but another part wanted this to be over with as soon as possible, and covering more ground meant faster results. “Fine, but we stay on the same floor and in the same wing.”

“Agreed,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes at a corner where a torn painting hung ominously on the wall.

And so, like the leads of any horror vid, you two parted ways through the dark.

Echo could tease you for being dramatic all he wanted, but you took full advantage of the open comms and gave him a running commentary of every room you went through. “Oh, the kitchen, complete with rusted knives that’s probably dried blood, perfect!” “A conservatory filled with weeds that’ll come to life and kill me any minute, nice.” “Ah, the library, filled with ancient tomes of unspeakable curses, I’m having the time of my life!”

Your partner must have appreciated the antics that filled the silence, because his deep voice crackled over the channel, meeting your sass blow for blow. “Make sure to dodge the blades when they start levitating.” “I knew we should have brought that paranormal weedkiller.” “If there’s a curse to make Tech’s goggles fog up when he’s being a smart ass, make sure to grab it.”

You smiled every time he quipped back, comforted by the reassurance that he was still there, close by. It was almost possible to forget where you were as you rummaged through the rooms for this rumored treasure. For the most part, all you found were yellowed flimsi documents, broken furniture, and more signs that one wrong step would send you falling through the rotted floor.

Of course, the true potential for horror came flooding back to you when you opened a door to a study and found nothing but a porcelain doll sitting in the middle of the room.

“Absolutely kriffing not.”

Slamming the door shut was the only solution to that room.

Fortunately, by the time you had found that little horror, Echo was done searching his half of the first floor and the two of you reunited in the entry hall. Unfortunately, he had not found this treasure trove either, which meant it was time to climb that eerie looking staircase to the even creepier second floor. At least your lights lit up that shadowy landing.

Said landing was a wide, open space, with dust covered bookcases and broken end tables lining the wall between two dark hallways on either side. To add to the spook factor, a howling wind roared from outside.

“So,” Echo hummed, the light on his chest plate shining to the right, “do you want eerie corridor number one?” He turned it to the left, “Or eerie corridor number two?”

You opened your mouth to quip back at him- only to pause when you shivered at the breeze that should have been outside. You turned in the direction of the wind, narrowing your eyes at the solid wall that certainly shouldn’t have had that much air coming through an old crack or two.

“Do you feel that?” you whispered to Echo, raking your own light over the bookshelves.

His eyebrow lifted as he followed your gaze, of course, being covered in his armor and body glove under that, he probably hadn’t felt it unless it hit his exposed face. He did notice something, though, and walked over the bookcases. That skilled hand of his ran along the bottoms of the old wooden shelves, then he gripped one and pulled.

The bookshelf swung open as if on a hinge, and revealed a dark doorway.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t there be a sketchy secret passageway?” you sighed.

Echo huffed a laugh, “Well, what better place to hide the family fortune than in here?”

“I acknowledge that you are completely right but- Echo, have you not read any of the horror novels I’ve recommended to you? Secret passageways are never a good thing! We’re bound to find some madman’s journal detailing unspeakable monsters of the H.P.Starcraft variety!”

All he did was give you that look, then walk into the secret room. “Come on, sooner we find it, sooner we get out of here.”

With a heavy sigh you followed him again, running your flashlight over every nook and cranny so you could set your mind at ease that there wasn’t anything lurking. In the shadows. To your relief, there was no long passageway of certain death, but instead it immediately opened into a small room. There wasn’t much in it, just an old desk with a matching chair, and more bookcases that mostly looked empty. Above the desk was the source of the wind: a window that had three of its four panes broken.

Wordlessly, you two got to work searching, you taking the desk, Echo the bookcases. Of course the desk drawers were locked, and you had to dig out the multitool from your belt to open them.

In fact, you were so preoccupied with trying to jam the drawer open, that you didn’t think much when you felt someone step up behind you.

You didn’t know why Echo was standing over your crouched form, but you went on with your work, letting out a satisfied noise when the desk popped open.

“Nothing in here but old tax documents and…a first draft of a romance novel?” You said as you flipped through the pages.

Echo chuckled, “Wonder how bad the smut is that they felt the need to write it in here.”

“Maybe they just liked the privacy…”

...Wait, Echo’s voice hadn’t come from above you. A glance to your right told you he was still rifling through the shelves. Despite the fact that there was something creaking the floorboards directly behind you.

Every hair on your body stood on end as you wheeled around- and your light illuminated a gaunt, bloodless face with sunken sockets for eyes.

A scream ripped from your throat as you fell back against the desk, dropping your light in your fumbling attempt to reach the blaster at your hip. Another cold breeze whipped painfully across your face, just as Echo called your name.

He was beside you in an instant, a hand on your shoulder, “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Wha- how the kriff had Echo not seen the person looming over you?! Blaster in one hand you quickly grabbed your fallen flashlight and shone it over the spot they had been.

But of course, there was nothing there.

“B-behind me,” you inwardly cursed the stutter in your voice and swallowed hard as you continued to scan the area with your light, “There was someone behind me- Echo I swear I saw someone!”

Echo’s hand gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Hey, it’s alright, I believe you,” he threw an cautious look around the room, then slid his hand down your arm to lock with your own. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured, that steady baritone almost managing to calm your thundering heart. Then Echo slowly started to rise, pulling you with him as he kept his eyes out for danger, “I’ll hold your hand while we-”

He was cut off when the desk chair threw itself across the room and shattered in a burst of splinters against the wall.

“Run!”

Your man did not need to tell you twice. With more grace than you thought you could manage, you sprang to your feet and ran for the hidden door, Echo holding your hand tight as you did. Just as you both cleared the doorway one of the bookcases fell over, blocking the secret room from visitors once again.

The carnage didn’t stop there. As Echo pulled you down the stairs, an end table grazed your cheek as it flew through the air, certainly aimed at your head. Paintings fell off the walls and floorboard ripped themselves up as you both thundered through the entry hall. The moment you two practically jumped past the front door something else smashed against the wall, narrowly missing one of you.

Unfortunately, holding on to each other caused one, then the other, to lose balance and both of you tumbled down the porch steps. As if on instinct, Echo’s arm went around you protectively, holding you as your bodies rolled across the ground in front of the haunted manor.

The moment you came to a stop, both of you looked up at the house. The wind gave one last mournful wail as the front door slammed shut, sending quite a clear message.

You and Echo both seemed to hold your breaths for a moment, waiting until, all at once, the horrible wind and sounds from inside died, as if they had never been there to begin with.

There was a heartbeat of dead silence, then, “Echo?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kill Cid when we get back.”

“Agreed.”

EDIT: click here for an extended ending in my reply reblog lol

Tag List: @sev-on-kamino @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @briefartnaturewolf @kimiheartblade @littlemissbshine @funeralreunion @chubbyhedgehog @ladytano420 @trixie2023 @mssbridgerton @wizardofrozz @vithepotato @mythical-illustrator

#echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #tbb echo x you #deeja writes #halloween requests #clone wars halloween

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fights4users · 6 months

Text

Thinking of design again

I made a post before that I still standby that the Encom system is more contemporary 80s design meets a computer where as the grid is “cybercore” and I still stand by that, but this is me pushing a little further and looking at actual design. One of the best things I can recommend when it comes to writing/drawing inspiration for spaces in the digital world is Pinterest. He’s some examples

Encom-

A computer meets 80s contemporary and shapes!!! The Encom system is a lot more abstract than the grid , it’s much more it’s own world than a full reflection of the users. Shapes! Shapes! Shapes! Another aspect I absolutely adore is that it also leans hard into looking like aspects of a computers insides from wire to circuit boards. I can see conversation pits all the rage in the system instead of regular “normal” shaped chairs etc

Grid-

It’s the subway station, airport terminal to Encom’s space age hotel. A lot more late 80s, early 90s influence in how things are designed. Despite the system being mostly abstracts it’s actually the grid that’s much more liminal, it has furniture and mass to everything a very user vibe but also… not enough, huge spaces but not enough in them to feel right- everything looks uncomfortable even though you can tell what it is. Tron isn’t a “Cyberpunk” but I think people tend to call it that as a lot of legacy’s visuals are more generic and not distinctly computer?

#I sound absolutely insane #might eventually make a full on write out guide?#I may rb with more examples or feel free to add your own for writing/drawing inspo etc #tron #tronblr #tron 1982 #tron legacy #tron worldbuilding #tron fanart #tron fanfic #design #reference

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transingthoseformers · 6 months

Note

Saw that post about Transformer games and then it hit me: Animal Crossing but make it Transformers. You are a regular Transformer given an assignment by Optimus Prime to rebuild this small city. You need to build a general store, a city hall, a museum, clinic, a library, a cafe, a post office, a shrine to the 13 Primes, and a few houses to gain some new neighbors. Oh yeah, and the neighbors are from a lot of different continuities and alliances, from Maximals to Predacons to Decepticons to Autobots, etc. Sometimes you'll have to make furniture to bring in new Transformers to your town, ie maybe you make a terrarium for Botanica or a chainsaw for Pharma or a DJ turn table for Soundwave. The different buildings you create will be staffed by certain Transformers: Ratchet takes over the clinic of course, Codexa takes over the library, etc. Every week or so you get a visitor to the island selling wares, like Swindle coming over with computer parts, or Thundercracker coming over with books you can give to the library. You can add in plants and mechanimals, even get a pet and celebrate different holidays (decorate your town for Halloween and Christmas, etc). Some of the Transformers will give you errands to complete, the cafe will ask you for ingredients and energon goodie recipes, the museum will ask for specimens and art and sometimes human artefacts, and the shrine will ask for some upkeep now and again.

Just something I thought up of, I'm generally intrigued why this isn't a thing but I guess Transformer video games got to be about war and fighting. Maybe it would be nice to just set up a town and exchange recipes with a Transformer barista and raise a few sheepitron.

You

You get it

I've never played Animal Crossing, but I've seen enough on it to know what you mean

Yes

Exactly exactly on the continuity mixing and having mecha of all faction and rank.

While writing the first post I distinctly got the image of a very grumpy Megatron wandering into town. Him grumbling about how he's not so sure about all of this, but after a few quests and building his respective area he stays in your town

Yes

Exactly

Yes

You get what I mean

Just the soft and sweet addition after addition, the rebuilding and seeing so many different characters who were on opposite sides being neighbors.

#maccadam #transformers #we're probably never going to get it #but #we can dream #lots of characters #game #idea #concept #you get it #i mean i believe a few of the rescue bots games are about rescue shit and not fighting #so #at least some of them aren't?#but those games i think are for pretty young kids_ the target audience for rescue bots #game idea

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rmd-writes · 11 months

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The Grindr Toolbox: A Guide to Getting Nailed

A series of three fics based on this tweet.

When I first saw the tweet, I knew immediately that I had to write a fic based on it, but then I was struck with a dilemma: which fandom? Unusually, this particular prompt worked perfectly in my mind for each of my fandoms, and so an unhinged plan unfolded.

The aim: one prompt, three fics, three fandoms, each following the same loose structure while being distinctly unique to each ship.

Did I hit the brief? Read on and find out

A Helping Hand (Tarlos)

When TK’s bathroom sink is flooding and he needs help, pronto, he turns to Grindr to find someone close by. But what happens when the best one night stand of his life walks in the door?

This Is Not a Drill (David x Patrick)

Building flat pack furniture has never been David’s forte, and when he loses the metal tool thingy that was in the box, things begin to look dire. Some quick thinking brings a neighbour to his aid – a gorgeous, curly-haired neighbour with forearms that are, quite frankly, rude. And perhaps most inexplicably of all, he’s nice. David isn’t used to nice.

Are You Screwing with Me? (firstprince)

Alex is only downloading Grindr because he’s curious. It doesn’t fucking mean anything, right? And when he answers a call for help from a very hot neighbour – who has no business having a shoulder-to-waist ratio like that – he’s just being friendly. It definitely doesn’t mean that he’s going to discover things about himself that he’d assumed were just passing curiosity.

Or, the Grindr meet-cute AUs

As always, it takes a village and I owe a million thank yous to @welcometololaland @celeritas2997 @indomitable-love @athousandrooms @everwitch-magiks @howtosingit for everything from listening to me talk about these fics endlessly, helping me make some crucial decisions, beta reading and supplying me with titles. I couldn’t have done it without you 💖

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thewildwaffle · 2 years

Text

Taxidermy

Another story prompt from an ao3 user who is a taxidermist. Also, yes, the main human in the story is wearing a cape because I think of most of my stories being in a somewhat near-ish future where capes have come back into widespread popular fashion. Why? Because I believe that we deserve as much.

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Kimit was excited to have received the invitation to the banquet at the human ambassador’s home. If being totally honest, there was also no small amount of nervousness included as well. This was going to be a big night. If all went well, the Garbon Homeworld would be rolling in riches and security. Ever since Earth’s discovery and induction into the galactic community, everyone had been scrambling to make alliances and deals with humans. Thankfully the humans had enough diverse factions that no one extraterrestrial group had been able to create a monopoly for the Earthling’s attention or resources. That didn’t mean there wasn’t intense competition, Kimit frowned and landed the shuttle in a designated drop-off area. A human standing next to a podium nodded and came up to the shuttle. Kimit had done research before coming and knew to exit the shuttle, leaving the engines running. The idea of valet parking was new and a bit strange to the young garbon, but Kimit had to admit, it felt fancy. Rounding a corner to what must be the front entrance, Kimit caught sight of other guests at the front door. Most of them were human, but there were a few fellow extraterrestrials in the mix. They were dressed in various fine clothing, some were in Earth styles, some were distinctly Burnti-influenced, and others weren’t as easily discernable while still keeping a decadent look to them. Their conversation sounded pleasant and warm. As soon as they noticed Kimit, the group parted a bit. Some walked into the open doors, while others continued with their greeting customs. A tall human in a dark cape and a yellow tunic with official-looking braidings and pins called out and waved welcomingly. That had to be the ambassador. Rocco Martinez. He looked just like the photos Kimit had studied in preparation. “Garbon Kimit!” Ambassador Martinez strode towards the much shorter Kimit and placed a hand on his chin with a nod. Of course, he would know the customary greetings of each of his guests.

“I’m honored to have you here,” he continued. “I've heard a lot about you from the board of directors at NearStar Tech." "Oh?" Kimit returned the shorter garbon greeting and then reached out for a human handshake. “All good things, I hope?” “Nothing but the best!” Kimit’s entire arm shook a bit from the ambassador’s handshake. He could tell that, had the human wanted to, he could crush every bone in Kimit’s hand with a tight enough squeeze. “Daaaaad!” A voice from beyond the open door called out. “Were you wanting me to start the tour, or should I wait?” Ambassador Marinez looked for the source of the voice. The other guests still mingling outside began filing in. “That would be my oldest. I’ll have to introduce you, I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions about your line of work she’ll want to ask. Loves learning, that one!” The ambassador chuckled and started following the rest of the crowd inside. “You’ve arrived just in time too. We were just about to start a tour of the house if you’d like to join?” What luck! Kimit smiled and followed “I’d love to.”

The Martinez household was, by all means and standards, absolutely lovely. Large windows gave a view of beautiful, lush, outdoor gardens and greeneries. The furniture was well-placed and looked incredibly comfortable. Framed paintings and photos hung tastefully along walls. As the tour commenced, the ambassador would often pause to explain the significance behind a particular piece of art, or point out and name family members in pictures, or the locations the photos were taken in. Kimit had taken tours of large businesses, art museums, and governing offices before, but touring a home like this was definitely a first. That being said, it felt almost like a tour of the aforementioned. There were quiet offices and studies, one with a rather impressive private library, meeting spaces, workshop, and studio space that must have been only recently cleaned as Kimit noticed a canvas atop an easel had paint that had not yet dried. There was a garage that had several cars, speeders, and recreational crafts. The ambassador took special pride in pointing out the tools that were still laid out around one vehicle in particular. It was a hover glider sail hybrid his daughter was in the middle of building from scratch. There was also a home theatre room, bedrooms and guest rooms, and a large, busy kitchen. They didn’t stay in the last room too long, not wanting to get in the way of any of the chefs or servers inside. “I think we have a bit more time, I could show you the patio area at least. We’ll just cut through the trophy room real quick,” The ambassador started herding the group of guests through another grand doorway. “You can see our gardens, they’re absolutely beautiful right now. My wife and sons have quite the ‘green thumb,’ if you’ll pardon the expression. They even grew some of the food we’ll be eating tonight!” Kimit felt a bit excited at that. Gardening was a popular hobby among garbons, often even becoming competitive to some of the more enthusiastic. A human garden would be quite the sight to experience! Following the crowd through what Ambassador Martinez had referred to as “the trophy room,” something caught Kimit’s eye. With a glance, the poor garbon’s heart froze.

Teeth. Teeth and claws. Terrible claws. Long, sharp, deadly claws rose in the air so they could be brought down with ripping force. The creature that owned those claws was broad and tall. The brute strength of its muscles was clear even under the thick, shaggy brown fur. How had such a beast gotten in here? How many had it mauled already? What was one supposed to do when faced with such a monstrous creature?!? 'Do I freeze or do I run?' 'Can it smell me?' 'If I stand really still will it notice me?' 'Wait, why are the walls covered in animal heads?' Apparently, Kimit was not the only one in the group to be thinking along these lines. Several in the group, mostly non-human, stood petrified where they stood. A few of the humans paused, but only looked around, curious at the sight. “I didn’t know you were such a hunter,” one human in the middle of the group commented. Kimit wasn’t sure who said it exactly, but their voice seemed to snap the others out of their terror. The ambassador paused and turned around to his guests behind him. “Oh yes! Not so much anymore with the new job, but we used to go on a few hunting trips ever so often. A few of the antlers up there are mine. Those ducks up there are ones my son Bernie and I got two years ago.”

“And the bear?” The same human asked. “That’s actually one that my wife’s father got years and years ago.” It was only then that Ambassador Martinez finally picked up on the state of many in the group. “Oh, yes, so sorry everyone! I didn’t even think about-,” the color of the ambassador’s face darkened slightly as he stepped into the center of the room so he could better face the entire group. “None of the animals in here are alive, you are all perfectly safe. These are all taxidermied animals that my family has either hunted or had a special connection or interest in.” The humans and a few others in the group nodded. The rest of the group, Kimit included, just stared at the ambassador with a mixture of confusion and unease. “Dad, maybe we should take everyone outside through a different door?” the ambassador’s daughter offered from what had been the front of the group.

“No, it’s fine, we’re already right here. I just didn’t even think about scaring anyone with these guys, just so used to them, I guess,” Ambassador Martinez ran a hand through the fur of the bear creature standing next to him. It was taller than he was, but it didn’t move. It wasn’t alive, Kimit was calming down from the initial scare. “I know this may seem like a strange custom to some of you, but taxidermy is an art form where someone takes an armature and stuffing and mounts the furs we provide them with to make things like these.” Ambassador Martinez gestured to the life-like animal statues and heads around the room. “And is this is,” one of the other guests, a confused-looking donkun, ventured, “some sort of ritual humans do after the… death… of particular animals?” “Um, kind of?” the ambassador’s daughter shook her head and paused, unsure of how to explain. She looked at her father. Her father took over the explanation. “Well, I guess in a way, it could be? It’s not a ritual in the way that everyone does this or has to do this. We don’t always taxidermy what we catch. These were done because they were uncommon or had special memories associated with them. We wanted to remember them, what they looked like, and what the hunt was like, and in a way, it preserves our memories as well as the remains of the animal. “Sometimes people will taxidermy a beloved pet after it dies so that it’s almost like they’re still there with them in a way. Some people will also use taxidermies for museums and educational purposes to better display and study different animals. That’s especially helpful if the animal in question is, say, extinct, or there aren’t many living ones left to study.”

“That makes sense,” Kimit nodded and then paused. There were so many questions to be asked, but one, in particular, felt bothersome. How to ask this without coming off as judgemental or offensive? “But about the ones here, the ones, uh, the ones you and your family hunted?” “Yes?” “What happens to them, uh… I mean, do you… are they just hunted for display?” Ambassador Martinez blinked for a moment like he was digesting the question for a moment before a smile broke across his face. “Oh, no. Everything we hunt we also eat. And then whatever we don’t eat, gets used in other ways, and nothing goes to waste. We're very focused on sustainably around here," he reassured. Well, that was good, Kimit thought and nodded to show understanding. It seemed pretty much everyone else in the tour group also seemed to be a bit more at ease with that information. Still, Kimit took another glance around the room as the crowd shuffled out the door to the gardens, this room was quite unsettling. Especially that big creature. That bear thing.

Okay, yes, humans lived on the same planet with creatures like that, but was another thing altogether that humans went out of their way to cross paths with them! The newly revealed fact that they went a step further and decorated their homes with realistic facsimiles of the beasts… wow. Just wow. What the frewan would they think of next?!

Ambassador Martinez had seemed genuinely flustered that he had in any way troubled his guests by taking them through the taxidermy room. However, part of Kimit had to wonder if it was some sort of intimidation tactic. There were a lot of representatives and business leaders here looking to make whatever deals they could with the ambassador's people. Now, there wasn't a soul in the present group that wasn't made very much aware of exactly who they were dealing with: Humans who not only hunted beasts several times their size and power but then used their pelts to adorn their homes. And yet, the ambassador seemed so friendly and welcoming that those suspicions almost seemed a bit too farfetched. In any case, if this was just the tour of the house, Kimit could only wonder what else was planned for the evening.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans #aliens #original writing #hfy #space orcs #hunting #taxidermy #oddities #writeblr #ao3

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