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mellowwillowy · 3 months

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Yan! Mafia Ringleader x GN Reader

What? I'm sick of these classic Mafia husbands trope yet we all know damn well that part of us is digging real deep into it. So allow me to hand you one of my Mafia OCs.

One of the nation's biggest threats has yet to be your lover, wagging his imaginary tail as he rested his face on your lap. We are so desensitized to how immoral a mafia is due to the romanticization of it to the point you just straight up ignore all his crimes!

Because of his work, the two of you can't really have a private date somewhere out there. Sure the bodyguards are not in sight but you know better than to think that they are not lurking around to keep you both safe from his rivals.

"Won't you gimme a smooch'aroo?" "... In front of your men?" "*Pouts* Pretty please?"

You love it when he throws all cold facades away and shifts himself into a touch-starved puppy! Who would have known this guy just sent one of his enemies their men's heads as a lingering threat to not exert themselves~

While your lover is not involved in the human trafficking side, it doesn't justify his actions for being the largest drug dealer in this nation. Whatever type you are looking for, junkies, he has it all stored for you, with a price of course.

But if you are a junkie reader then he'd be quite worried. You see, he may be dealing drugs but that doesn't mean he's doing drugs. He likes nicotine but would rather not indulge himself in yet another addiction okay? And that goes the same way to you! Please stop it.

And may I tell you that Kaspar enjoys ranting to you about how his day(s) has been, how he wants you to comfort him as you praise him for surviving yet another day? Empty plates are not filled with him just sitting around and he has to fight every day to not remind himself of the old days?

"Oh yes, have my beloved eaten? You are not going through another silly diet, right? Trust me, food is meant to be enjoyed and not over-calculated!"

There are also times he'd rant non-stop about this certain lawyer that he's working with. Of how one of the nation's biggest threats, has been reduced into an errand boy for his spouse! Can you believe that, babe?

Overall Rating? 9/10. Where did the 1 one go to? Your dead friend that insulted you and his punishments. Ehe.

Look, he has a problem with people who dare to look down on him and you, he has grown up in a rather unfortunate background in which he fights teeth and nails to break free so how DARE someone patronize him or you?

Yeah, it sounds romantic but not so cute when it's your literal bestie. He spares no mercy in how he deals with them too, the only mercy he's offering is one chance and nothing more.

Another dark side of him would be his... punishment. Ehe. Due to his upbringing as a ringleader, he is used to disciplining his men, rough. Sure he doesn't give you the same punishment as he does to his men but that doesn't mean it saves you from how unpleasant it is.

The worst punishment that wrenches his heart would be making you skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner! He doesn't have the heart to but he has to! (Honestly, in your opinion, there is literally worse punishment than this, not gonna name it.)

Yeah he is a Beelzebub at heart (Gluttony)

#Kaspar the Drug Lord #LIfE Project #Yandere x Reader #x GN Reader #Yandere Imagines #Yandere Headcanons #Yandere Scenarios

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thefallennightmare · 6 months

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Miracle-sixteen

*gif created by me, feel free to use*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: Hahaha i'm sorry

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard @jay02bo @niicoleleigh

Darkness.

Emptiness.

Lonliness.

The Void.

Whatever you want to call it, that's what I felt inside as I stared at the wooden box in front of me. It was currently closed and the funeral director said they could open it whenever I was ready. How can someone ever be ready to see their love one dead but dolled up to look alive? It's gut wrenching and disturbing. They're supposed to be dead. Why would anyone want to stare at a dead body to remember them when they were alive?

Maybe I should have cremated her.

With a broken sigh, I raised my gaze away from the casket over to the funeral director who was basically running the entire funeral since I have no idea what I'm doing.

"People actually have open caskets at funerals?" I asked again.

Elaine nodded. "It's very common. Should we open it?"

As I reluctantly nodded, I turned my back to the casket just intime to see Lana walk up to me with two large bouquets of flowers in her hands. Quickly I rushed over to her and grabbed one.

"Where do you want these, dear? They're from your neighbors," Lana asked.

"Uh," I gazed around, purposely avoiding the now open casket, and nodded to the doors at the opening of the room. "Right there is probably fine.

Once we set the flowers down on the ground, I brushed my hands against the thighs of my black dress. It was a chilly October day, but it felt weird not to be dressed up to attend a funeral; especially when it's for your mother.

She died one week ago, twenty minutes before I made it to the hospital. Even with all the anger I felt towards her, it crushed me knowing I wasn't there with her when she died. I wasn't there for her much the last few weeks, too busy on the road and pinning for a life that was never supposed to be mine. Lana was there with my mom at the end, as well as someone I didn't expect to see there, holding her cold hand.

"Do you think he'll show up?" Lana asked tentatively.

The subject was still a sore wound, and she didn't know how I'd react.

My bloodshot eyes lazily tore into her. "I told him to stay away. He'd be smart if he listened."

"Have you eaten anything today, dear?" She asked, changing the subject.

Through all the pain and anguish, I was forcing inside, a small smile pulled at my lips. For the last seven days, Lana had stayed in my house with me to make sure I ate, got out of bed, and took care of myself. I told her many times that she didn't need to. I was alright on my own.

"Lana, you literally made me breakfast, and all but forced it down my throat," I reminded her.

She gently patted my cheek. "Just making sure. I could stay another night if you'd like."

I firmly shook my head. "No, you need to go back to your life after today. You've done so much for me already. I'll be fine on my own."

"Well, maybe if you weren't ignoring all of them, you could always call Mr. Seb-."

"Don't," I pointed a finger at her. "I don't want to hear his name."

There was some commotion coming from down the halls, and various voices, and when I peaked at my watch, I noticed that the service was about to begin. Plastering on a fake smile, I straightened out my dress as I prepared for the next hour of the onslaughts of condolences. I wasn't sure how many people who show up today, my mom never talked about friends before her Alzheimer's.

Lana stood next to me as I greeted person after person, accepting their condolences with a pulled-tight smile and a nod. It went on like this for a long while and when the muscles in my jaw couldn't take the pain any longer; I excused myself and walked out into the hallway. I was only alone for a few seconds until my name was called from behind by a familiar voice.

Turning on my heels, a scowl pulled at my lips as my fists clenched. How dare he show up here after I told him to stay away?

"Hi," he gave me a small smile.

"What the fuck are you doing here, James? I told you at the hospital that you're not welcome here," I forced through gritted teeth.

I pushed through the door of the hospital room but came to a screeching halt at the sight. My mom laying still in a hospital bed with blood dried to various spots of her face and Lana standing at the foot of the bed, fear in her eyes. The monitors were blank as the tubes that were once connected to my mom lay scattered on the floor. But none of that held my attention. It was the man sitting in the chair next to the bed, my mother's lifeless hand in his.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded.

The man looked away from my mom and towards me. His dark hair was falling into his face so he ran a hand through it to push it back, his striking blue eyes boring into me. The sharpness of his jaw could cut the tension in the room. I sucked in a breath when a familiar sensation rang inside my mind. This man looked exactly like my real father in those pictures.

"Hi," the man stood to his feet. "You must be Y/N."

I raised a brow while crossing my arms. "Who the fuck are you?"

His eyes darted from Lana back to me. "I'm James; your brother."

Everything around me fell into hell beneath my feet as my heart stuttered in my chest. My mouth ran dry, and I had to swallow a few times to get the moisture back. Even though he looked like how our father did, I still didn't believe him.

"Bullshit," I spat. "How do I know you're not lying?"

James sighed before pulling out his wallet and handing over a frayed picture. Hesitantly I reached for it and when I realized what I was looking at, my heart shattered into a million pieces. It was of James and my mother, the day he was born. It was taken in the hospital room. On the back was written:

James Boyle. January 2, '99. My son.

"You need to leave," I said while thrusting the picture into his chest.

Tears burned in my eyes but I refused to let them spill.

James chuckled. "She's my mother. I'm not leaving her."

"She's already dead," I said.

I would have been more shocked about missing her last breath if Lana hadn't called me twenty minutes ago to say that there was a man here who decided to the plug. My mom was hooked up to a ventilator and was brain dead, as the doctors said, so he made the choice to end my mom's life. There wasn't any hope for her so I would have done the same thing. Although, it wasn't my choice to make. The doctors allowed this random man to decide when he wasn't familiar with my mother's condition.

"How the fuck did they let you decide to end her life?" I demanded to know.

"She made me her power of attorney," James said, not daring a glance my way as he stared down at our mother.

"You? Why the fuck would she let you be her power of attorney? You've been out of her life for years," I said while walking to the other side of the bed so I could glare at him.

James peered up at me with my words. "Unlike you, I've been keeping in touch with her. While you've been gone the last few weeks, I've called her every day at noon to check in on her."

I glared at Lana who simply held up her hands. "I had no idea."

"Her Alzheimers wasn't nearly as bad as you two made it seemed," James said. "She remembered me everything we talked. It was the highlight of her day when I called."

My shoulders were tense with anger and I was trying to hard not to make a scene over my mother's corpse.

"She attacked me with a bat and nearly choked out a friend of mine because she thought he was my dad," I informed him.

James scoffed. "That man wasn't your father."

"Bullshit! Jonathan raised me, unlike your piece of shit father who wanted nothing to do with me!," I bellowed.

The door to the room opened, a nurse walking inside with a pissed off expression. "Alright, there's way too many people in here. The coroner is coming to retrieve your mother and only one can be here for that."

James gave one last longing glance down at our mother. "I'll leave. I have a flight back home to Texas to catch. I'll let you handle the details of the funeral."

"Gee, thanks," I snarled. "Do me a favor, don't bother showing up."

"I'll be seeing you again; soon." James said right before walking out of the room.

"You've done a great job with the service. It's what mom would have wanted," James said.

I scoffed while shaking my head. "Just because you would call her to check in doesn't mean you know what she wanted. I was with her every single day dealing with her Alzheimers. I was the one taking care of her, not you. You were too busy living your rich life in Texas."

I'd done my research on James Boyle and found out that he was married with three kids and ran his own investment company: a very popular one in Texas. So while I was struggling to pay out my mother's medical bills, he was spending his money on expensive and lavish things.

"It seems like you've made quite the life for you here," James muttered while smoothing down the front of his tux jacket. "You're a merch girl for some band? Good deeds, was it?

"Bad Omens," I corrected. "And I'm their social media manager."

Was. You quit when Noah compared your Only Fans to amateur porn.

James hummed in response. "Well, it must be paying well if you could provide this kind of service for mom."

No, my most recent pictures and videos on Only Fans did.

I was making a decent amount of money from there and even though I quit tour early, Matt still mailed my paycheck to me. So those two combined was enough to pay for the funeral. Even though I shouldn't have gone to these lengths for a woman who lied to me about my entire existence. Maybe that was the reason I wasn't so heartbroken about my mom because of all the lies.

But the guilt that ate away at me every night because I wasn't here was slowly becoming too much to handle alone.

Lana asked me every day how I was doing but I'd lie by saying I was fine when in fact, I was one wrong word from a breakdown.

"I should get back to it," I motioned to the room behind him where the crowd was taking thier seats.

As I walked passed James, he gripped my elbow. I hissed in pain when his fingers dug into my skin.

"Did you go over her will yet?"

I blinked at him. "What?"

He lowered his face closer to mine. "I need to know if she left me anything."

Mother fucker.

My jaw dropped when I realized this was why he showed up, and prematurely pulled the plug. He wanted whatever was left in the will to him.

"You're such a piece of shit," I seethed while trying to rip my arm out of his grasp.

He held tighter, and I cried out in pain.

"I bet bitch left everything to you," James snarled.

"She had nothing to leave! We were broke, barley affording to pay her medical bills on top of our other bills. The only thing I have left is the house but if you're that desperate to have something, take it. It's yours."

I ripped my arm away from him and rubbed my elbow to ease the pain.

As James took a step towards me, a body stepped in front of me to block me from his wrath.

"I'd suggest you take a step back."

My eyes took in the site of Folio with his hair slicked back and black suit, face tense with anger.

"I'm having a private conversation with my sister," James pointed towards me.

Folio fingers twitched, the only sign that he was surprised, but pulled me closer behind him.

"It looked rougher than that," he said.

James took a side stepped towards me which only made Folio push me into a direction of another body. Nick gave me a warm smile as he wrapped an arm around me. Feeling his warmth eased the anger for a moment and I leaned into him. I only told Folio about my mom but knew that eventually the rest of the guys would find out. I didn't expect them to show up to the funeral, though. Tour ended yesterday, and I figured they'd want to stay home to rest.

"This is none of your business."

"Whenever it involves Y/N, it is our business," Folio said. "If you're done here, I can have a worker show you out."

James' gaze bounced from both of the Nicks then to me, his lips pulled into a tight line. With a shake of his head, he adjusted his suit jacket.

"If it means anything to you, I was hoping to meet under better circumstances," James spoke to me.

"Go fuck yourself, James." I spat.

Not wanting to be in his presence for a second longer, I allowed Nick to turn me away from him and steer me into the direction of the room where my mother's service was seconds away from starting. Folio followed close behind until we were right outside of the doors to the room where he pulled us to a stop.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

No, far from it.

I was holding it together during my altercation with James and was seconds away from breaking down.

Nick gently raised my arm and pushed up the sleeve of my dress to get a look at my elbow. "It doesn't look that bad. Shouldn't leave a bruise."

Without a second thought, I wrapped my arms around Nick in a hug, one he immediately returned.

"Thank you," I muttered. "For being here."

His hand rubbed at my back. "Of course, Y/N."

Leaving his embrace, I folded into Folio's. One hand wrapped around my lower back while the other smoothed the hair away from my face as I buried it into his chest. The tears still didn't fall but this comforting touch was almost enough to make me break down.

"I didn't think you would show up."

Folio pulled away to stare down at me. "Why wouldn't we?"

I shrugged. "Tour ended yesterday. You guys must be exhausted."

Nick spoke next. "We would have be here earlier but Jolly was afraid you'd kick his ass if we stopped the tour early."

"Can you blame me? She's got a strong right hook."

Spinning around, I smiled towards Jolly who held his arms open for a hug, which I gladly accepted.

"I'd never kick your ass, Jolly. You're too sweet." I joked after stepping away from his embrace.

We all chuckled as I took in the sight of the three of them, truly feeling the love and appreciation from them. They may have started out as acquaintances when I first began working for them but slowly over time, they had become good friends of mine. But if the three of them are here, does that mean?

I peered over to Folio. "Is No-."

"Angel."

Wiping my head around, I drank in the sight of Noah standing less than five feet away from me. His hair was falling into his eyes and the long dark jacket covered the black turtleneck he wore. Fuck, he looked so beautiful. Even with the anger I felt boiling inside of me from all the hurtful things he said to me a week ago, my heart still skipped a beat as I continued to watch him.

"I'm sorry," Noah said while stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. "For more than I can even explain right now."

Tears rolled over my cheeks and the taste of them felt bitter on my tongue. My breathing became erratic as I did my best to keep myself calm. I wanted to punch him, pushed him out of those doors away from all of this, and I wanted to tell him what a piece of shit, asshole he was. But yet, more than anything, I wanted to walk up to him and press our lips together.

I needed him so bad, not in a sexual way. I needed the comfort and care he always provided. If anyone could get me through the rest of the day, it was Noah.

"I can't do this right now. The service is about to start," I sputtered before I slipped past him into the room.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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hooterhorror · 2 years

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Hey there! I was wondering if you could write a little something for Bo Sinclair being protective of his S/O when some unlucky visitors come into Ambrose (because their vehicle is broken, obviously) and one of the future victims comes on a little too strongly to Bo's S/O (making them uncomfortable) and he just sort of snaps?

OFCCC TIB!!! BY FAR ONE OF MY FAV TROPES EVERRRR DJSKDKSJDJ HOPE THIS IS GOOD

Bo being protective

format: headcanons/oneshot ish? this got messy and it's not very good, I'm sorry tib!

warnings: violence, gore, r/niceguy and creepy leering behavior from one of the visitors, swearing, etc.

this in itself is nothing new. we all know that Bo Sinclair is possessive and he's trying to keep it under check. He'd never withhold any freedoms from you or demand you change your outfit before going out. That's just not him. He loves to show off his pretty little thing when they go in town together, whenever that may be!

now when it comes to people coming into town, you have the choice to stay far away from the action and hold down the fort at the house, or you can be as involved as you want. It all just depends on how bat shit crazy you might be, hun.

let's say you were willing to be around but not get your hands dirty. You're in the garage and greet the new group along with Bo, who pops open the hood and takes a look at everything to find the problem. You're watching bo interact with one of them, filling them in on what it could be.

it's always the damn fanbelt.

Since the group had gotten to the garage you had noticed one of them kinda... leering at you. He'd look away when you'd glance over, but eventually his eyes would linger for a second longer as time went on. You figure the poor guy was nervous at first

and he was, just not because of the weird wax ghost town they were in like you figured.

he eventually approaches and introduces himself. You both make some polite small talk, all while bo is looking over making sure you're doing alright.

You give bo a reassuring smile and he goes back to what he's fiddling with under the hood. Hell you even catch yourself admiring your boyfriend as he wipes grease off his hands with a huff and a furrow of his brows. Who knew car boys could be so attractive in the right situation?

The conversation you two had seemed like innocent small talk, him telling you about the road trip they had been on and you listening intently since he did have some good stories to tell. You couldn't miss how he'd look you over. Nor could you ignore how he'd stare at the side of your face whenever you looked away to meet eyes with Bo.

Your boyfriend could almost sense your growing uncertainty but he knew to not step in quite yet. You had it under control for now!

and as Bo announces that the fan belt was busted to hell and back but he had one at the house, he took most of the group with him.

One volunteered to stay behind. And for the first few minutes it was dead silent in the shop.

til he spoke back up and the questions started. He asked how you ended up in ambrose. He asked why you'd stay in this shit hole. Quote: "you kinda seem like city folk to me". You only answered to be polite. And because the silence as he stared at you was more dreadful.

Then he'd ask if you were seeing anybody. You told him after a second that you were.

"You sure? I could be better than him."

you barely had enough time to cringe. He was already leaning in across the counter to kiss you.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

bo's voice is loud as he Yanks the visitor away from you by the back of his shirt. You're quick to scramble out from behind the counter as the visitor puts his hands up in defense.

"T-they said they were single!" And Bo sneers. "Like hell they did."

Bo knocks them out cold with a wrench across the face, spitting profanities as the man slumps to the ground. He's be dealt with properly later.

His main concern now is you as he pockets his wrench and gently takes your face in his hands.

"You okay darlin'? he touch you?"

you shake your head and bo visible relaxes, pulling you into his arms and kissing the crown of your head.

"Fuckin' rat.. I'll take care of him, sweetheart, don't worry.." He mutters as he strokes your hair with a surprising but welcomed amount of tenderness.

If you rather be with your boyfriend at that moment, then he'll call Vincent to take care of that bastard.

you don't touch what belongs to bo Sinclair <3 let's just say that

#🌳Tib.#slashers #bo sinclair #house of wax #slasher #vincent sinclair #fluff #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hello!! I’d also love to read the hobbit fic. I love everything you write!

Hello! I’m so so SO happy people are interested in my other work, even if it’s terribly tragic and angsty! Please read the tw for this work, since it does get pretty intense even with a happy ending.

For context: this is a snippet of an Tolkien AU I never wrote where the marauders and co are on an adventure and James has healing powers.

TW: temporary major character death, heavy angst, blood/ mild gore, fighting, grief, “enemies to lovers but I’m dying” trope, happy ending

The cold stone digging into Sirius’ cheek did little to shock him from his daze and trembled beneath him as heavy footsteps approached. The screech of metal on metal had been the harbinger of death for too many already. What was one more?

An iron-clad foot landed on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back—he groaned as the edges dug into muscle, leaving him breathless with pain. He was battered, bruised, soon to be broken. Make it quick, he prayed as the axe rose high. Remus, I’m sorry.

There was a flash of movement overhead and the beast stumbled; the swing went wide and slammed against the cliff’s edge as its head was wrenched backward. Long legs locked around its thick neck and an angular face, twisted in a snarl, swam into focus through Sirius’ hazy vision.

“Remus,” he managed, little more than a whisper. “Remus, no.”

Midnight blood trickled from the troll’s neck where a bowstring cut into it. “Go!” Remus shouted as he pulled back with all his might. “Run, you idiot!”

He heaved in a breath and tried to get to his feet, but pain radiated through his torso and he barely made it to his knees before the beast roared and snatched at Remus, who leaned sideways just a touch too far and rolled onto the hard ground. The troll ripped his bow off its neck and threw it to the ground, then lunged for him; Remus dodged, turned, and shoved its arm into the corner of the rock with a harsh crack. The axe tumbled over the side and vanished into the mist.

Sirius must have made some sort of noise as he struggled to get up—get up, broken ribs be damned—because Remus’ gaze snapped toward him.

It happened too fast for Sirius to even gasp. One moment, Remus was reaching to deflect the troll’s trunklike arm from coming down on his head; the next, his eyes flared wide with shock and he sucked in a shuddering breath. The beast twisted the jagged knife in his stomach and yanked it out.

Remus dropped like a broken marionette.

Sirius’ vision blurred again, and not from pain. Distantly, he registered drawing his sword, but the next thing he knew the troll was dead and his hands were covered in blood and Remus was going cold in his arms.

Remus’ mouth twisted with frantic pain. “Sirius.”

“I’ve got you, you’re alright.” His tongue was thick between his teeth and he could feel his whole body shaking while he pressed a hand down on the dark stain spreading across Remus’ torso. “Just hold on, you’re going to be fine.”

“Hurts,” Remus whimpered, grabbing the front of his shirt with clumsy fingers. “Hurts. I’m so sorry.”

“You saved my life.” Sirius’ voice wavered as tears filled his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Remus shook his head; his bloodstained lips were growing paler by the second. “I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry.”

A sob ripped from Sirius’ chest as he gathered him tighter, feeling his weak heartbeat under his palm as his fingers turned red. “Don’t you dare, not now. Not here. Say it when you’re healed, alright? Say when I can hold you properly.”

“Has to be now.” Remus took a few staccato breaths, then exhaled slowly. He reached up and cradled Sirius’ cheek with surprising gentleness. Sirius braced himself. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. Sirius, I wanted forever with you, I’m so sorry.”

It was so, so much worse than Sirius had imagined. Tears traced down Remus’ forearm as he leaned into the touch and let the words spill over his lips. “I love you too, you beautiful, reckless archer.”

“Knight in—” Remus coughed again and jolted in his arms, sending a thin trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. “Knight in shining armor, huh?”

“That’s right,” Sirius sniffled. He brushed stray curls off Remus’ forehead and his tawny eyes slipped shut for a moment. Cold fear flooded Sirius’ veins. “Remus, love, keep your eyes open. Keep them on me.”

A small smile spread over his face despite his small shudders of pain. “How could I ever look away?”

“You’re not allowed to.” Sirius tightened his grip. “Listen. You are not allowed to stop looking at me.”

Remus’ eyes turned sad as his hand dipped down to play at the collar of Sirius’ shirt, too weak to go higher. “I think I have to.”

“No.”

“Sirius—”

“We still have so much to do.” Something heavy stuck in his throat. “I need—I need to show you the stars back home, the ones you’ve never seen.”

The smile returned, molasses-slow and twitching up at one side. Crooked and beautiful, just like him. “The archer.”

“That’s right.” His gaze unfocused and Sirius quickly rubbed his shoulder. “That’s you, your constellation. Just keep looking at me, alright? James will be here soon, and—and Lily, and Dorcas, and Marlene, and Pete, and we’ll all be just fine. I love you.”

Every breath rattled in Remus’ chest, but he kept smiling up at Sirius. “Hey. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good,” Sirius gasped out. “Good, that’s good. Come on, love, tell me what I can do to help.”

“Hold me.” His abdomen spasmed under Sirius’ damp hand. “Tell me what we’ll do together.”

“We’ll climb the tallest tree we can find and lay down on the top branches while the moon rises.” Tears coursed in stinging rivers down his face, dripping onto stone and pallid skin. “I’ll teach you every constellation I know, and then we can make up new ones. You’re so bloody clever, so you’ll think up the best ones. That’s why I love you.”

“I never hated you, you know.”

Sirius’ chest hurt from holding in a sob. “I know.”

“I’ve loved you since the day we met. I just didn’t know it.”

“Me, too.”

“Wasn’t all that clever of me to fight a troll with a bow, was it?” Remus’ tone was teasing, but his face was sad as a few tears slid down his cheekbone. Sirius wiped them away with a careful hand, forcing back a wince at the chill. “Though I guess you could call that creati—”

He cut off with a coughing fit, grabbing for Sirius’ cuff and sleeve. His mouth opened and closed a few times, soundless, before his head lolled to the side. “No, no, eyes on me. Please don’t do this, Remus.”

With a harsh inhale, he looked up once again, brows furrowing in concern. "You're too beautiful to cry like that. Why are you sad?"

Because you're dying and I can't do a damn thing but hold you. Because I'd fight a hundred armies and die a thousand times just so you could live. Because we were supposed to have time. "Because I don't want you to leave me."

Remus' fingers, light as a butterfly's wings on his loved ones and deadlier than anything on a bow, were limp on Sirius' arm. A sudden spark of understanding crossed over his pale face and he softened. "You have to let me go."

"No."

"You have to."

"I won't." He shook his head adamantly and tried to coax blood back into those cold hands. "This is not supposed to happen, not like this."

"Sirius." A barely-there squeeze. "I love you so much, but you have to let me go."

A high, horrible sound ripped from his clogged throat. "I'm sorry."

"You saved my life. You have nothing to be sorry for." There was a look in Remus' eyes, then, a look that Sirius knew the name for and didn't dare say aloud. Then it faded, and he blinked slowly. "I'm so tired, Sirius."

Who would have guessed that nodding once was the hardest thing Sirius would ever have to do? "Sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

Remus leaned his face into the crook of Sirius’ elbow, keeping steady eye contact until lilac lids shuttered liquid gold. “I lo…”

His hand fell from Sirius’ and hit the cold ground. His chest went still with a soft sigh.

Sirius could barely breathe. There was a ringing in his ears that grew louder and louder until he heard nothing else, even though his throat began to sting from screaming. He pulled Remus closer to his chest and held him, desperately searching the mist for anyone who could help. His eyes landed on the sturdy bow with a snapped string lying mere feet away, and he broke.

He didn't know how long he wept. Minutes. Hours. Years. He begged and pleaded and cursed until he was hollow inside, save for the agony that devoured everything. It must be possible to die of a broken heart, he thought. It must be, because I can't imagine anything else hurting this much. It felt as though someone was ripping him apart seam by seam and all he could do was apologize before going silent.

Hold me. Hold me. Hold me and tell me. I love you.

Soon—or maybe later, time was a fickle thing—long shadows stretched ahead of him and he raised his head. He didn't care if they were trolls or soldiers or more beasts; there was nothing left for them to take. "Sirius?"

He knew that voice. That voice was safety. It was home. "James."

"We heard shouting, what—” James stopped. Someone behind him screamed, long and loud. "Sirius, what's in your arms?" There was a beat of silence as Sirius tried to balance his hearing again. "Sirius, what are you holding?"

The last remaining tears in his body flooded out as he uncurled just enough to show them. Remus' face was peaceful, but the mess of blood on his stomach that had transferred to Sirius' shirt was not. "He was protecting me," he said. "The knife—I couldn't do anything—”

"No." James' voice cracked; the screaming had turned into uncontrollable sobbing. "No, that's—that's Remus. That's Remus."

"He said he loved me." The words tripped over one another as they left his mouth. James didn't need to know this, but he couldn't stop. "He said he loved me and asked me to hold him, so I did. He told me I had to let him go, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to, James, I didn't want to."

“I know.” Warm, shaking hands fell on him, one on his neck and the other around Remus’ back. “I know you didn’t.”

Sirius' shoulders crumpled as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. "Make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

"This." He released Remus' lower back and grappled for James' wrist with a sticky hand, pressing it against his chest. "It hurts so much. Please, Jamie, you have no idea what this feels like."

“I don’t—Sirius—” James bit his lip and closed his eyes, then opened them a second later with a shocked look on his face. “I have an idea.”

“Please—”

The shock gave way to diamond-hard determination and he squeezed Sirius’ hand. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have to let him go one more time.”

Something lurched in Sirius’ gut. “I can’t. I promised to hold him.”

“Sirius, I can fix this.”

"He's gone. I felt it. It's too late."

“Maybe not.” Gently, he pried Sirius’ arms away and helped him lay Remus on the stone.

He looked frail there. False. “You’re a healer, James, not a necromancer. Healers can’t—”

“I don’t give a shit. Rules are for cowards.” James unbuckled his arm guards and stretched his hands over Remus’ chest, taking a slow breath. “Alright, Remus, heal for me.”

Faint light pulsed from his palms, then dissolved. Sirius felt his last bit of hope wither. “It’s too late.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” James muttered through gritted teeth. The light returned, stronger this time, before sinking into Remus’ chest. “Remus John Lupin, you have unfinished business here and you know it. I will personally drag you back here if I have to. A ghost isn’t good enough.”

A high-pitched whining noise filled the air and Sirius tasted metal at the back of his mouth. “James,” Lily warned from the huddled group behind him.

“You’ve never given up easy, have you? Come on, you stubborn fucker, heal!” James slammed his hands down and white light blazed around them; Sirius shielded his eyes on instinct and felt a strong wind whip up as shouts of alarm echoed off the sides of the cliff.

Something knocked against his knees with a sharp gasp. The light dimmed, and he carefully peeked around the side of his arm.

The first thing he saw was amber. Clear, warm, alive amber. “You’re here,” Remus croaked.

Sirius felt a slightly hysterical smile tug at the sides of his mouth. “Told you I’d be here when you woke up.”

“I…died.”

“Yeah.” James seemed torn between ecstatic and utterly exhausted.

“You brought me back?”

“Uh-huh.” He listed to the side and Remus caught him easily before he hit the ground.

“And you…?” Remus blinked at Sirius in surprise, hesitantly touching his hand. “You stayed?”

“Cried a lot. It’s a good thing you’re a fighter. One of the things I love about you, actually.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, before his whole face split into the most radiant smile Sirius had ever seen and he began to laugh, dragging him in for a tight hug. Sirius clutched the back of his shirt and nestled his face in the bend of his shoulder until he was pulled away rather suddenly and reeled back in for a fervent kiss. "I love you. I love you. I'm sorry," Remus said against his lips. It seemed as if he was breathing Sirius in.

It was difficult, but Sirius pulled away and folded his hands over Remus' where they rested on his face. "I love you so much. Now that you're alive, I can tell you you're an idiot for trying to take on a damn troll with just your bow."

Remus just laughed and kissed him again, deep and slow. They broke apart again as the others fell on them in a tangle of tears and laughter; Sirius closed his eyes and held tight to whoever was in reach as the agony in his chest subsided. The pain was still there—he had definitely broken a few ribs—but he no longer felt hollow. Buzzing warmth filled every crack that had splintered through him. Love, he thought giddily. That's love.

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freefallingup13 · 3 years

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Kicked (Jaren’s Puppy)

This one has some more descriptions of where Toni and Jaren live, and the coven they live with. There’s some pretty vulgar stuff going on, you’ve been warned. Jaren is not a nice man.

Taglist: @emreads

Summary: Jaren, the leader of a wild, warmongering vampire coven, likes to keep a few werewolves as attack dogs. Some of the werewolves the coven keeps - like his favorite “Puppy” Toni - are his personal pets.

CW: This is a pet whump/slavery fic, if I continue to post more of this story there will be dubcon. This piece in particular has non-con touching (non-sexual), implied non-con, implied murder, blood mention, alcohol mention, fire mention, human trafficking (as livestock) mention, dehumanization, head injury, Whumpee is a girl, and the Whumper is called “Master”. (Also for anybody squicked by this specific trope, a second lady whumpee is held in a man’s lap as he taunts her and eventually injures her as he throws her away.)

The party was loud, as they always were. Toni focused on trying to keep her eyes closed, trying to ignore the whooping and hollering. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming.

On the bright side, she could focus on the smells more than the screams.

Beyond the stairs she laid herself on was a large dirt clearing in the middle of camp. All around were tents, ramshackle huts of leather and stone, cages made from tied-together dungeon doors. The other wolves were restless, pacing back and forth. Some of them were half-shifted, stuck in between human and wolf form; most of them preferred to be in their wolf form. It was easier to take the abuse that way.

The huts belonged to the troops. Most of them were empty, thanks to the celebration. The half-open huts near the clearing seemed to be the only ones that were occupied. (She tried to forget that the outer huts would have people within.) The vampires screamed into the night like wild animals as blood and alcohol dribbled down from their chins. Well - “dribbled” was a polite way of saying how messy they were.

In the clearing was a large bonfire, towering to the sky. The ground below it was always charred to black, even on a normal day. Some of the younger vampires were being dared to jump over it, to run through the flames. Some of them took up the dare, coming out with sooty marks and charred clothes. They would throw their fists in the air with a cry of victory before being swept away in the cheering crowd.

They were all so immature. They were out of control.

But that was the way Master liked it.

Morale was high, there was a feast to be had. The coven whose territory they had taken over this week had hidden a town, hidden a quiet trade of prey. Of course Master had opened it up to his troops once the health of the humans had been verified.

She scrunched her eyes tightly. That was as far as she would think about it. Humans were only livestock here. Nothing else. There was no need to think any further - there was no need to listen.

A frustrated shout to her side made her whimper, cowering onto the stone steps. At the end of the clearing, on top of a hill covered with stolen stone steps, was her Master’s throne. A mishmash of leather, stone, antler and bone, it was an intimidating, chaotic sight. He sat on it now, on layers of animal hides, with another girl in his lap.

“Come on,” Jaren cooed as he wrenched her hands away from him. “Don’t you think it’s nice? Everyone’s happy.”

“No!” the girl shrieked, struggling to get away from him. He only had one arm around her waist, but as a human against a vampire, she had no chance of getting away. “You’re killing them, you’re killing us-!”

“Oh, I’m not doing a thing,” Jaren laughed, grabbing her face roughly. He turned her gaze to the crowd by the fire, the writhing and screams that were a mix of torture and excitement. “You think they didn’t do that to you? You think that family didn’t have their fun, with every single one of you that disappeared?”

The girl hissed, shutting her eyes to avoid the sight, squirming to cover her ears. Jaren wouldn’t let her - he knew her wrists were starting to bruise in his hand, the way she yanked at them so hard. “The Calates protected us!” she yelled. “They kept us safe! The sacrifices were for all our good!”

Jaren couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh, crossing one ankle to his knee and pulling the girl closer. “That’s so fucking cute,” he chuckled as he grabbed her hair, pulling her face close to his. “You meant nothing to them. You were just food. Compliant food, at that. Your village made it so easy for them…”

The girl tried to hide it, but it was overwhelming. The frustrated shriek that broke through her clenched teeth as she tried to hit him only made him grin.

Toni winced, curling up to the side of her Master’s throne. She tried to keep her eye on the fire, fire was nice. Fire flickered, always changed. It would eat everything weak that it was given, then sputter out when there was nothing left to consume. She watched now as pieces of the Calate estate were thrown in. They’d looted paintings, furniture, architecture. The sight of wardrobes full of clothes being emptied onto the fire made her look away.

She didn’t want any reminders that people had been living. They were gone now. They were all dead. They didn’t matter.

A sigh escaped her as she tried to rub at her eyes. It was too much. She’d been good, staying chained up next to Master the entire night so far. This, though, she couldn’t take any more of it. The screaming, the burning, the blood. Worst of all was knowing what people were doing to their prey in the huts on the outside of camp, trying to get their privacy as they-

She shook her head roughly. Don’t think of the dead. They would all be dead, they didn’t matter.

Toni just wanted to go to bed.

Suppressing a whine, she got to her knees, peeking over the armrest of his throne. “M… Master?”

“Huh?” He’d been in the middle of taunting, his hands steadfast on the girl’s hands. Those hands were surely broken by now, with how purpled they were from bruising. “What is it, Pup?”

“Can- Can I-”

She didn’t get to finish.

In one, desperate lash, the girl kicked out while Jaren was distracted, trying to twist away. She was on his lap, it wasn’t her fault that she was lined up so perfectly. Her slippered foot hit Toni in the head with all the girl’s strength in her fight for freedom, all her fear.

The explosion of pain made Toni cry out, though she wasn’t sure if she could hear it or not. All she knew was there was some thud, her head shook, everything was falling. She was falling, rolling down the steps until the chain around her neck tugged taut. Her yelping was cut off with a choke as she was forced to a stop, and she gasped for air.

Somewhere she heard shouting as she tried to claw at the chain around her neck. A distant scream, closer than the others. She saw a blurry shape through her tears, vaguely human, blood and deep wounds covering the front as it was thrown down the steps to the fire.

Cold hands cupped her face, made her look up. There was something warm and sticky on one of them. It felt comforting to feel something warm. She tried to open her eyes, but she shut them again with a long whine. Everything was too bright, too much.

“Fucking christ, get the vet!” Master. That was Master. He sounded like he was shouting, but everything sounded so quiet and foggy.

The chain was unwrapped from her neck, and she took as many deep breaths as she could. Somebody was holding her close, keeping her head still with one hand - she could tell the familiar smell of her Master anywhere. She tried to bury her face into his shirt, tried to beg for comfort. Speaking was impossible, with the thud echoing in her head.

There was a commotion of voices around her, though it was only her and her Master there. No- a third hand, turning her face away from her Master. This hand was gentle, opened her eyes with their fingers, patted her cheek when she whined. She was the one who was in Master’s lap now, getting checked by a doctor-

No, no. A veterinarian. Vampires didn’t need doctors. Pets and humans did.

“She’s a little out of it, it’s possible she’s gotten a concussion,” the voice was saying, much clearer to her Master than to her. “She’s going to need rest, plenty of water. Give her more meat and fish with her meals, it’ll take a little over a week for her to get better - she’ll be pretty confused for a while.”

“That dumb human bitch,” Jaren seethed under his breath, holding Toni tighter to him. “Not a single mark on my Puppy, and one fucking human comes around trying to kill her like an animal.”

“Well, she’ll get bruises from the chain, too, from the looks of it,” the “vet” said, pointing at her neck. Pale blond hair fell over carefully cleaned clothes as she leaned closer to the pair. “I can already see the marks. She fell pretty hard?”

“The little bitch kicked her as hard as she could,” Jaren snarled, starting to stand up. “Rest and more food, you said?”

“Yes. She might have trouble with lights and sounds, as well. And like I said, she’ll be rather-”

“She’ll be confused for days, I know,” Jaren groaned, propping Toni up so her head rested against his chest. “I’ll be taking extra good care of my Puppy, then.”

“Nothing too rough. Preferably, nothing at all.”

“Are you joking?” Jaren scoffed, turning to look at the girl in front of him. “She’s perfect as she is, you think I want her to go mad and ruin it all? I don’t want her head hurt. Of course I won’t do anything.”

Bored red eyes stared back at him as the girl brushed her hair behind her ears, then crossed her arms. “Agreed, Sire,” she said simply. “Go on, I’ll make sure the party doesn’t wear anyone out too much.”

“You play second-in-command too often, Cora,” Jaren growled as he turned to his home, an abandoned castle, repurposed for the wild coven he ran. “Let them have their fun. Why don’t you do the same?”

“Because your drunk troops get my doctors drunk, too. And they attack the dogs,” Cora said, her chin tilting up. “If I didn’t stay sober, there’d be no one to treat them.”

Rolling his eyes, Jaren began walking to the castle doors. “Whatever you say, you boring girl,” he called over his shoulder. “Lighten up a little.”

“You brought me to the darkness yourself, Sire,” Cora called back as she headed back down to the steps. “So you’re stuck with me there as it is.”

#whump #lady whump #whump scenario #whump drabble #whump writing #whump series #Jaren's Puppy #Jaren really is just an asshole tbh #It's like his whole purpose in life and he loves it #tw: noncon touch (nonsexual)#tw: implied noncon #tw:implied murder #tw: blood #tw: alcohol #tw: fire #tw: dehumanization #tw: head injury

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seasonal-brotp-prompts · 4 years

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“Caretaker who loves being a caretaker but doesn’t know how to physically handle it when they’re the one being taken care of” is such a heart-wrenching trope and you can rip it from my cold dead hands

#writing prompts #platonic prompts #caretaker prompts #found family #writing tropes

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luvdsc · 3 years

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tag games ;

tagging :: @eggyukhei ; @taeyongtime ; @choerrypuffs ; @wincore ; @latetaektalk ; @dropofgoldensun ; @jaemericano 🌷🌷

TAG GAME: 10 songs, 10 people

tagged by :: @m88n ty, ti! 💞

rules :: you can tell a lot about a person from the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs. then tag ten people. no skipping!

playlist chosen :: van gogh’s irises (1889)

you broke me first — tate mcrae

pansy — taemin

cotton candy lemonade — blu detiger

i need u — yaeow

plot twist — niki

just like a movie — the wallows

baram x 3 — taeyeon

u n eye (live) — boy in space

can i call you back? — shy martin

this is how you fall in love — jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler

TAG GAME: fic writers ask game

tagged by :: @hyucksie & @kopikokun ty !! 🌸

Which new trope would you like to try writing?

fashion designer / model au! I want to write this idea for winwin so badly, and it’s inspired by a drabble request I received along with taylor swift’s gold rush, and I just love the idea so so soo much 💛

Which trope do you want to write again?

this is a bff2l support blog, and you can pry that trope from my cold dead hands. I am itching to write renjun’s bff2l rom com fic 🤩🤩

Which draft are you most excited to post?

pussy blocked!!!!! oh my god, it’s so close to being done, i have two scenes left, and I’m so so sooo excited to post it because I’m really proud of it :’) I’m having second thoughts about the big scene I have left tho, so I haven’t touched the wip in the past few weeks

Is there any new genre you want to explore?

angst !! Gut wrenching, heart breaking, bittersweet angst is my absolute favorite genre to read, but I can never give my own characters angst because I feel bad about it. also, it’s just really hard to write, like writing fluff is as easy as breathing for me tbh djdjddj I can write mindless tooth rotting fluff so fast, but angst is what I love most and what I want to perfect so badly. I’m really excited to try writing it for my collab fic!!! 🥰

Do you have a favorite line in any of your drafts up to now?

Have you decided on any creative goals for 2021?

not really! i just write whatever i want whenever i want, so i suppose my goal is to just do whatever makes me happy 💓

Describe your journey on this blog last year in three words! And three more words for what you hope for 2021!

2020: unexpected, happiness, friendship

2021: improvement, happiness, friendship

TAG GAME: aesthetic challenge

tagged by :: @m88n ty, ti! 💟

rules :: to make your own moodboard go to pinterest and search:

favourite colour + aesthetic

favourite colour + outfit + aesthetic

favourite colour + shoes (choose one that goes with your style)

favourite colour + an accessory you like

type a word that identifies you + quote (choose one that goes with you)

favourite celebrity + favourite colour (if you don’t find anything then search favourite cartoon)

type your favourite hobby

favourite colour + aesthetic again

favourite colour + favourite word + aesthetic

#tag games

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user-name-not-found5 · 3 years

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Interrogation Techniques pt.7

Previous: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6

Kylo Ren is determined to get the map out of the Resistance Pilot. By any. Means. Necessary.

Even if that means exploring new ways to sexually psychologically manipulate his victims into getting what he wants.

AU where the map leads to Luke’s new Jedi Temple, where he is training the next generation of Jedi. Poe is a Resistance pilot, who General Leia Organa has put in charge of running the transport routes in order to bring force-sensitive younglings to the temple where they belong. The First Order is headed by Kylo Ren, a fallen Jedi just as Count Dooku was, and he is determined to end the Jedi for good.

Warnings overall: non-con, torture, violence, manipulation, smut, absolutely filthy smut, degrading language, abuse

Warnings for this chapter: parental pain, parental separation, mild violence, some smut, degrading language, references to drugging, references to noncon

Leia’s eyes flicked over the transmission again. She could sense the tension in the room as she replayed the transmission, listening to the drone of Ren’s voice.

“This is a message to the leaders of the Resistance, and Master Luke Skywalker of the Jedi Order.”

Every time the intro ran through, she could feel her brother and his students tense up instinctively. Rey gripped Luke’s shoulder as they listened to the transmission a third time.

“Before me, I have Resistance pilot Poe Dameron. He is alive, for now.”

Poe’s body lay on the floor in front of Ren’s feet. His hands appeared to be bound behind his back, and he was covered in bruises. The entire right side of his face was swollen, his lip and forehead still bleeding slightly as the Sith continued.

“I have shot down several of your pilots. I have taken their ships. I will find the locations of your base, and Jedi temple, and I will destroy them.”

Ren gave the unconscious pilot a rough kick in the ribs, eliciting a groan of pain. Leia tried not to wince again.

“I will get the map from him. I will get the map from one of the captured ships. I will fly across the galaxy and wrench it from another rebel’s cold, dead hands. There is no escaping it. I will find you, and I will kill. You. All.” He pressed his boot into Poe’s ribs, and the pilot squirmed in pain.

“Perhaps if you value his life, I will trade him for the map. You still stand to gain something. Whether you take advantage of that is up to you. In the meantime,” Poe was forced to his feet, some troopers moving in to drag him up. His body dangled in between them, his head rolling to the side. “He is mine.”

The transmission cut there. Leia rubbed a hand over her face, planting her elbows on the panel in front of her. She felt the eyes of the room on her again, felt the familiar tension in her shoulders. This was the first time she’d shown the transmission to the rest of the base.

When it came in, it was through the old channel. Ben’s channel. She’d returned to her quarters to rest, get food. Another mission had turned up empty, and she hadn’t heard anything from Poe or any member of the Green Squadron.

She was ashamed how much her heart still swelled with hope when she’d seen the transmission message on that channel. She was ashamed how her son’s voice, distorted by the mask but still his, had sunk into some part of her mind, some desperate faction that still hoped and prayed every night that he would come home.

The second time she’d watched it, she’d sent for the Jedi. She’d called in Luke and Rey, searched their faces for an answer. Luke remained stoic as always, while Rey’s eyes betrayed her horror as she watched one of her best friends writhe under the boot of the enemy. She wished Luke hadn’t brought her.

The third time, she stood in the command center of their base, watching her son kick the man she’d come to treat as her own. The murmurs around her were drowned out by the roar of Han’s heart beside her. She could feel every muscle in his body stiffen, could hear his thoughts racing a million parsecs an hour as he struggled to come to terms with what he was seeing. What they were both feeling.

She cleared her throat, finally.

“We will not be giving up the map.”

There were some sounds of protest; she raised a hand. “I have spoken with Master Luke, and Jedi Knight Rey. They have a plan.” She waved Rey forward.

The young woman’s confidence had grown as she’d studied with Luke. With their resources so thin, it was difficult to reach everyone who needed his guidance. But that meant that the ones they were able to save all that much more precious. Rey steeled her shoulders, speaking to the group.

“I received a… I received a vision, shortly after we believe Dameron’s ship was captured.” The holoscreen flickered as she brought up an image of the Saleucami system. “He was travelling with another youngling. I…” She looked over her shoulder at Luke for confirmation, who nodded in approval. “I believe that the vision came from her when they were captured.”

A small ship flickered into view on the screen. “According to the last transmission received, Poe would have been in the Saleucami system, here. But, the vision I saw would mean that Poe’s ship had to be further out, placing them here,” The screen zoomed out, revealing a map of the surrounding area. Saluecami became a small sphere as the screen displayed the entire Suolriep sector, and the diagram of the ship moved farther out, closer to the edges of the sector. The group murmured, and Rey glanced at her mentor before someone chimed in.

“How can you be certain?”

Rey rolled her shoulders back. “Because in the vision I saw, the child was looking out the window of Dameron’s ship. Saleucami was too far in the distance, too small, to indicate that they were as close to the planet as we previously believed.”

The murmurs became ones of agreement. Luke stepped forward, placing a hand on Rey’s shoulder, and offering her a smile of approval. “I trust my apprentice. In times of distress, the Force is there to guide us. Even untrained, it is not unreasonable that the child would have been able to reach out.”

One of the other officers, a young Kel Dor man, spoke up. “Indeed. Which would then place them moving out of the sector when they were captured.”

Leia nodded. “Yes, Tris. Poe was piloting a freighter- it would have needed to be a cruiser, at least, to pull them in. If Poe is alive, they couldn’t have been shot down. There were no escape pods on the vessel.”

Tris Gano spoke again. “The only intelligence we have of nearby cruisers would put them well outside of the system.”

“Our intelligence is so often wrong, these days,” Leia sighed. Han put his hand on her shoulder, and she returned the gesture. “Regardless, that means that they were either patrolling nearby, passing through, or they were seeking our ships in the area specifically.”

“Any word from our allies then?” Han’s voice was rough, the pain in his heart bared for everyone to hear. Leia’s fingers tightened over his.

“None. Which leads me to believe they were seeking our ships.” She inhaled, sharing a glance with her brother.

“We may have a leak.”

Poe groaned, rolling onto his side. His ribs ached, his wrists burned, and his head was pounding, like his heart had crawled its way up his throat and into his skull, beating against the sides, screaming at him to get up, to run, to do something. Anything. It was too loud for him to focus, and he drew ragged breaths, trying to calm himself. He could feel the dried sweat on his skin, along with… he shuddered, burying his face into the mattress. He didn’t want to think about that.

There was a mechanical whirring, and he forced himself to remain still as he heard the door hiss before sliding open. Boots clicked across the polished floor, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. He didn’t move.

“Are you going to lay there pathetically for the rest of the evening, or would you like to get up and wash yourself.”

Poe didn’t move, keeping his face pressed into the sheets. Any reaction would be used against him in some way, and no matter how much he wanted to leave the room, go scrub his skin red and raw to try and forget everything, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of needing that. Needing anything from him, actually.

Ren sighed. “I’ve already seen everything, you don’t need to hide.”

Poe’s fists tightened in the sheets, and he turned his head. “You drugged me.”

“Yes, we’ve been over this.”

Poe rolled onto his back, keeping his eyes trained at the ceiling. It was plain and white, just like the rest of Ren’s quarters. Funny. He would have thought the head edge-lord would lock himself in a dark room to brood.

“Answer me when I speak to you, pilot.”

Ren hissed, and Poe closed his eyes. “Can’t say I cared to listen. What do you want from me.”

There was a minute of silence. Poe cracked his eyes open, glancing towards the foot of the bed and pushing himself up onto his elbows. Ren was watching him, a blank expression on his face.

“I’m not giving you the map. The Resistance is too smart to trade me for it. Why don’t you just kill me?” Poe moved himself back against the wall, the chain around his neck shifting uncomfortably. He pulled at it. “You just like the view?”

Ren chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Poe cocked an eyebrow. “An actual reply. Who would’ve thought.”

His eyebrows shot up as Ren actually smiled at him. Moving around the other side of the bed, Poe fought the urge to flinch away as he sat down. Ren’s back was to him, staring out the window. The uncomfortable silence drew out, and Poe caught himself watching the rise and fall of Ren’s chest as he set his helmet aside.

Poe cleared his throat. “I’m not going to fall for the stockholm syndrome play, either. No matter what you do, or say, I’m not staying with you. I’ll die before I betray the Resistance.” The silence was agony. Normally Ren took every opportunity to monologue about how powerful he was, or how evil his plans were, or some stupid other villainous trope that Poe had seen in every Imp bastard he’d come across. Poe shifted, the chain clinking again.

“You’re not staying with me.” Ren’s voice was cold. “You’re my prisoner. I don’t need to manipulate you.” He cast half a glance over his shoulder. “I have what I want.”

“You don’t have the damn map, the one thing that you-”

Darkness closed in, and he slumped back against the headboard. Ren sighed, lowering his hand, and unlocking the collar around his neck, lifting him into his arms. Brushing a curl from his forehead, he stared down at the pilot.

“You never learn, do you Dameron?”

#poe #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #FinnPoe #star wars #luke star wars #star wars smut #Princess Leia #leia organa #rey #canon offshoot #darkpilot

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king-finnigan · 4 years

Note

11. Neighbour au, and 74 huddle for warmth, geraskier.

Oh my god, I love that.

***

Great. Just great. It’s the dead of winter, it’s eight in the evening, his appartment has extremely badly isolated walls, it’s cold as fuck outside, and his heater has chosen this exact fucking moment to break.

Absolutely marvellous. Exactly what he needed right now.

Judging by the whatsapp groupchat for the building, the entire heating system has completely given up, leaving everyone to fend off the cold by themselves. Unfortunately, Jaskier seems to be the only one stupid enough to not have a spare heater and some extra blankets.

Or at least he’s the only one broke enough.

His student job doesn’t pay well enough for those kinds of luxuries.

Great. Now what?

He sighs, pulling on his spare sweater and the pair of fluffy socks his mum got him in the summer just in case. He’ll have to remind himself to thank her later, as these socks might be the only one standing between him and losing all his toes. He sighs again, burrowing as deeply into the thin blankets as possible.

Of course, he knows he probably won’t be able to sleep tonight, with this kinda cold creeping into his bones, but really, what else can he do than burrow into bed and hope for the best?

Not much, really, it seems. He now curses himself for not buying extra blankets, or at least thicker ones, but in his defense, he did not expect the heating to just straight-up stop working.

The minutes pass and the chill creeps further into his bones, as he starts shivering uncontrollably. He’s contemplating setting his furniture on fire after less than an hour in the cold.

Fuck it.

He sighs again, standing up, dragging his blankets along with him. He stops by the door, hand on the freezing metal. He takes a look at the window next to the door, cursing under his breath when he sees frost-flowers bloom on the inside of the glass, and any hesitation he had disappears like snow under the sun.

He could use some sun by now.

He turns the knob, cursing again when it doesn’t budge, initially. He turns it harder, using both hands to wrench it down. Finally the door opens, and he has half a mind to take his keys from the windowsill before shutting the door.

The last thing he needs right now is to shut himself out of his own fucking appartment.

He walks over to his only neighbour - Jaskier’s appartment is on the side of the building, and he has cursed the extra windows many times, mostly during the freezing cold of winter or the blistering heat of summer.

He knocks, once, twice, shuffling in place a bit to keep warm as he waits. Eventually, the door opens, and he’s met with Geralt, his neighbour.

Jaskier’s only spoken with the man a handful of times, mostly due to the fact that he’s usually very busy studying, and he’s wildly attracted to him - which automatically makes his mouth run off without him and turns every interaction awkward and weird.

Like it does now.

“Hi, yes, sorry to disturb you so late, but the heater is kinda totally broken, and I’m really cold and I don’t have any spare blankets or an extra heater, cause I’m stupid and broke and, well, that’s just me. So I was wondering if maybe you had extra blankets or anything like that, maybe something that’s going to keep my cock from freezing right off, which I wouldn’t be very happy with if that happened and-”

His mouth snaps shut as his mind starts to catch up with what the hell he actually just said. “Right, sorry, didn’t mean to make it weird again. Can we start over? Can we meet again for the first time and pretend that I’m not a blumbering bloody idiot who can’t keep his mouth shut for five seconds, and oh, god, I’m doing it again, aren’ t I? I’m so sorry for bothering you, I-”

“Jaskier.”

Once again, Jaskier’s mouth snaps shut, when he hears Geralt’s voice, tired and annoyed, though laced with something he can’t quite place. Fondness? No, not possible, obviously.

“I don’t have any extra blankets, either,” his neighbour says, and Jaskier purses his lips in annoyance.

“Right, yeah... Bollocks.”

Geralt sighs, as Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, shivering as his cold fingers make contact with the still-warm skin there. “Look,” his neighbour starts, seemingly kind of embarrassed, for some reason, “I don’t have a heater, either, and my blankets are not sufficient. I did not foresee this kind of situation.”

Jaskier scoffs. “Makes two of us, buddy.”

“But,” Geralt continues, “we would be a lot less cold if we...” he sighs again, raising his eyes to the ceiling, as if he can’t believe he’s about to say this “we could huddle together for warmth.”

Okay, and maybe Jaskier doesn’t know this guy very well, but the idea of snuggling up against that broad chest is, dare he say, very appealing.

“Okay, yeah, if you’re sure about it.”

Geralt looks far from sure but nods anyways, stepping aside to let Jaskier in. He walks inside, and the first thing he notices is how bloody neat and tidy everything is - though, to be quite honest, he had already expected that sort of thing from Geralt.

Next, he notices the brown cat that’s lounging on the couch, half-buried under the pillows, probably cold as well. He immediately loses all self-control, cooing at her as he surges forwards to pet her.

“Don’t touch Roach,” Geralt says behind him, warning in his voice. Jaskier stops dead in his tracks, turning around. “She’s not fond of strangers, so don’t touch her if you don’t want your arms scratched open,” his neighbour clarifies.

“Oh, right, thanks for the heads-up,” Jaskier mumbles as Geralt closes the door. He sits down on the other side of the couch, pulling his legs up for extra warmth.

Geralt sighs, sitting down next to him, and Roach purrs as she pulls herself from the pillows, settling in his lap. Jaskier can’t help but reach out - surely such an affectionate cat won’t straight-up scratch him, right?

Wrong.

He pulls his hand back, startled as she hisses at him. Next to him, Geralt chuckles. “I warned you.”

“That, you did.” Jaskier sighs, scooting closer to his neighbour, draping half his blanket over his shoulders. “Right,” he mutters, as he pushes his head into Geralt’s arm, shivering.

He startles a bit as Geralt moves, but relaxes when his neighbour hugs him to his side, warmth finally seeping into his cold bones, sleep pulling at his eyelids.

“So, Geralt.” He suppresses a yawn. “What do you do for a living?”

***

Send me two tropes from this list and I’ll write a short drabble for them!

#drabble #squish answers #aj-that-person #geraskier #ask game #i am physically incapable of writing something short #also this is basically that vine like #i had a nightmare can i sleep with you tonight #of course #my name is paul by the way #nice to meet you goodnight #also im gonna call it quits for tonight because it's one in the morning hooo boy #i see your other asks and i will answer them asap #tomorrow #also #nim-nim-1994 #i see your ask and i will get to it asap #please be patient with me

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transarchivist · 4 years

Note

do you have any podcasts recs? I want to listen to archive 81 but I need some backup and I've already listened to the more "famous" ones, like all of them I binge podcasts like they pay me for me it ajsjjshfje

!!!! ok i'm sorry it's taken me a hot minute to get to you BUT i think i have a good amount of reccomendations :o

these first few are kinda "famous" but i thought i'd point em out just in case! some of them ended a few years ago and they were more well known back when they were running

wolf 359: gotta point this one out juuuust in case you haven't listened to it! amazing sci fi... would drama be the right word? it's very intense and has some really interesting meditations on morality and the self But it's also so extremely funny. complete, ended in 2017

ars paradoxica: america during the cold war, the red scare, intense government conspiracies.... And Time Travel! complicated but amazing plot and a big cast- i would recommend not pausing and listening to something else, it gets complex! mischa stanton directed it so you Know it has stellar sound design (added bonus: lgbt main characters) complete, ended in 2018

the bright sessions: people with superpowers go to therapy! plus: shadowy capitalistic conspiracies, amazing romances and phenomenal character development! i'm not a fan of romances and i Loved the ones here (it's not heavily romance focused though!) (added bonus: lgbt main characters + main lgbt romance) complete, ended in 2018. i think a spin off series is running rn tho!

the adventure zone: this isn't an audio drama, it's an actual play d&d podcast! the first season (balance) is amazing- hilarious and heart wrenching! (the heart wrenching takes a while to kick in but MAN it's so good) the first season ended in 2017. i haven't finished the second big season (amnesty) but i loved what i did listen to, same with the currently running season (graduation)

sayer: starts off as sinister night vale but with an ai and in space, evolves into a complicated save-the-world plot concerning several ais. it's in second person and it's Amazing! lots of meditations on the self and personhood. currently on hiatus but will be ending when it resumes

alice isn't dead: from the people who did night vale! starts as a trucker trying to find her wife, evolves to include shadowy government conspiracies and the power of regular people banding together. ending made me tear up it's really good! it's Big on the horror (the first ep is the only podcast that's ever truly scared me and it continues to scare the shit out of me to this day) but its Extremely Good Horror. very americana too! complete, ended in 2018.

ok that's the more well known ones out of the way, i think? i'm not too confident about how well known some of them are nowadays ^^' all i can say is that i heard abt them frequently in 2016. now onto the lesser known ones ! the ones that are complete are generally pretty short listens (relatively- they're still a good handful of hours at the least)

zero hours: by the wolf 359 people, it's a short anthology that released all at once last year. to pharaphrase/quote the official blurb: each episode is a take on the end of the world, whether the apocalypse is planetary or personal. each episode is separated by 99 years, starting in the past (1722) reaching the present and then overtaking it. surprisingly hopeful ending, made me <:')

i am in eskew: you've probably heard me holler about this before- it follows the trials and tribulations of david ward, who lives in the nightmarish and otherworldly city of eskew. 30 episodes long and complete, with a phenomenal ending! i can't rave about this enough i could Keep talking but i'll cut myself short. it's horror and it's damn good horror! does deal with extremely heavy topics, please be careful!

janus descending: sci fi horror with what has to be the most interesting formatting i've seen in ages: the two points of view alternate each episode... but one is chronological and one is backwards! amazingly done, keeps you guessing until the end! complete. follows peter and chel as they undertake a survey mission on an alien planet

midnight radio: made by @/theradioghost! big on the idea that "all ghost stories are love stories". a 1950s radio hostess gets letters from a fan. horror, big on the 1950s aesthetics, focus on the relationship between one and one's hometown. lovely ending! it's sapphic too :]

the far meridian: by the same people who did ars paradoxica! follows peri, a bit of a hermit who has extreme social anxiety, who lives in a lighthouse that suddenly begins to teleport. each morning peri wakes up and the lighthouse is in a different place! there are like... some horror elements? kinda? but it's not intense imo. it mainly follows peri learning to cope with her anxiety & helping others, with each episode usually having a one off encounter (usually pretty strange!) often has wholesome vibes. s3 is currently in production and is the final season. plus: lgbt characters, and kinda spoilers but peri uses a cane later on!

old gods of appalachia: honestly it's what it says on the tin! a collection of short stories set in historical appalachia that deal with entities beyond human understanding. they're good about trigger warnings, but it's Horror. produced by actual appalachians! stellar music, a Lot strong female characters, and a good amount of lgbt rep! killer music!! it's currently releasing but the latest short story is finished. (do listen in order though!)

the deep vault: by the archive 81 team! in an "almost-post-apocalyptic" america a group of friends chase a rumor about a secret hidden vault, only to Find it! follows the group as they traverse the deep vault. horror, actively points out capitalism a Lot, definetly has an interesting ending! amazing sound design, which is to be expected from dan powell!

tides: the official blurb is short and sweet: "tides is the story of dr. winnifred eurus, a xenobiologist stuck on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces". extremely snarky and endearing main character and fascinating worldbuilding! i don't know the status of s2, but s1 was really good!

limetown: follows one lia haddock, a public radio reporter, as she tries to unravel the mystery of what happened at limetown. all she knows is that 10 years prior, over 300 men, women and children vanished. horror, mystery, and some sci fi elements. presented in a found footage kinda way. i really enjoyed it, especially the first season. complete.

mabel: horror (big on the haunted house type specifically), sapphic romance, fun take on the fair folk/fae! follows anna limon, an in home carer who's trying to get in touch with her client's estranged granddaughter. evolves into a big fae-horror-romance-thing! really interesting romance tbh. amazing imagery and prose- lots of prose + almost poetry, but it's really good i promise. currently on a post season hiatus

spines: horror but it evolves past just horror in an interesting way (keeping the horror bits, of course). follows wren, who woke up in an attic surrounded by the remains of a cult ritual without any memories of who she is or what she was doing. she searches for answers, encountering creepy shit along the way. really interesting take on the super-secret-organization-that's-always-been-there trope! really good ending. one of the main characters is nonbinary + there's other lgbt main characters.

mirrors: by the people who did spines. also starts as horror but evolves past just horror (it's also sci fi). follows three women in three different centuries who are all experiencing the same haunting. phenomenal take on ghosts! like i can't articulate how cool this angle on ghosts is! s3 is supposed to start this year :] one of the main characters is sapphic, and her wife is a supporting character.

the six disappearances of ella mccray: also by the people who did spines and mirrors. evolves past just horror but keeps more of the horror elements? follows the 6 povs of the people who witnessed the surreal disappearance of ella mccray. each saw something different and surreal, and as they search for her, surreal things start happening to them. unsure abt the status of s3 but s1 and s2 are really good! lgbt main characters, including a trans lesbian (played by a trans woman!)

the bridge: horror. follows the crew of watchtower 10 on the transcontinental bridge that spans across the atlantic ocean. i listened to it back in like 2016-2017 so my memory is hazy, but i remember really enjoying it! currently on hiatus.

within the wires: sci fi... horror..? i listened to the first season a few years ago and enjoyed it and i've continued to hear really good things. it's by the people who make night vale! my memory isn't great but iirc the first season is a sort of romance that's formatted as a set of relaxation/meditation cassettes. it's a few seasons in and i think each is generally self contained, im unsure if it's currently running or not

the orbiting human circus of the air: also by the night vale people! again i listened to this a few years ago so im hazy. follows julian the janitor who works at a radio station that broadcasts from the top of the eiffel tower! surreal but in a wholesome way, iirc! i remember tearing up with happy tears at the s1 finale ^^' really good music! i think the second(?) season ended recently

stellar firma: i've only listened to a handful of episodes, but i've liked what i've heard. sci fi improv comedy that follows the newly made clone david 7 and the mess that is trexel geistman as they try and design custom planets. i think it's currently running but i dunno

rusty quill gaming: also another one that i've only listened to a few episodes of. actual play pathfinder (basically d&d) podcast set on an alternate earth. alex newall (martin's voice actor) is the dm. i've heard really good things from a lot of people! i think it's currently running but again i don't know for sure

right! that's. that's what i got.

i mentioned @/theradioghost earlier (shes behind midnight radio) but i would absolutely recommend looking at her rec list tag! she has impeccable taste

#ask #anon #podcast recs #cae speaks #mine #long post #<- incase the read more doesnt work

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silvysartfulness · 4 years

Note

Writer meta asks: 3, 19, 20

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

I already answered this one in another post - there’s no special such scene; if I want to write just a standalone scene I’ll do it as a one-shot and imply context and set-up in-writing. But there are scenes I look forward to writing; for the Roadtrip, a lot will go down and shift perspectives all around in the arc I mentally call the Mountains of Mist arc. That’s definitely a bit I have high hopes for!

... Technically the scene I’m supposed to be writing right now has also long been one of the ��oh yeah, I’m really looking forward to this one!” bits, except now that I’m actually about to write it, I’m finding myself a bit frozen. Hopefully I’ll be able to push through this block and make it as good as I previously envisioned it...

Oh, no wait! To be honest - there are a few scenes I haven’t managed to find a good place for in the Roadtrip timeline yet, but have been very entertained by in headcanons, and that’s a fair number of WWX and XY interaction scenes!

I don’t know if I’ll manage to work things out enough in the story to make any of that fit, but I have a vivid image of WWX and XY literally bumping into each other at the market street of a random town while departing a liquor stall and candy stall respectively. XY is delighted by the chance meeting and toothily compliments WWX’s reflexes in catching the falling bottles, WWX is mostly “wtf how are you still not dead??” about things. If I can get the timeline to allow for it, it’s a scene I’d still love to write, but we’ll see.

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

Ahaha. I suspect if you do a word count in my writing, you’ll see the word “pain” repeated at somewhat alarming frequency?

I like to describe body language, especially what people are doing with their hands. And eyes, I pay a lot of attention to eyes.

As for tropes, just stamp me with the “redemption arc” stamp and move on. I love, more than anything, characters who have to face their mistakes and go through a painstaking journey of sorting messes out, setting things right. Sometimes willfully, out of a genuine desire to make things better. Sometimes reluctantly or even trying not to, only sullenly agreeing in the end for one well-founded reason or another.

I love to write messy characters, greyscales, heart wrenching situations where both sides are equally wrong and right. Am also absolute sucker for “hard, cold-hearted character, absolutely coming apart at gestures of care and kindness”. That gets me every single time.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Uh-oh. You've done it now. I'll place the rest under a cut, because I can and will talk about this at length.

I already wrote in a previous post about the layers of meaning in my chapter titles, so I'll leave that aside for now.

I love using symbolism and allegories in my writing. There are some obvious ones at first glance – I often refer to Xiao Xingchen as the moon himself, especially from Xue Yang’s point of view (the moon has been one of the few proxies for Xiao Xingchen he’s had for a long time) His inner light, something with beauty and integrity but also phases of both light and dark and the ability to shift inbetweeen, unreadable. The same way I will often use ice and frost to describe Song Lan - ”he realized with frostbite clarity” is a sentence I remember that I liked writing for him.

Xue Yang isn't as clear cut; his themes shifts depending on the pov character – Song Lan thinks of him as serpent-like, and there's a wolf-theme coming up as well. But my main subtle motif for Xue Yang in this story is the tiger. Drawn partly from the obvious angle of him being able to create a Yin Tiger Amulet of his own, as well as wearing clothing with a leopard-spot like pattern in Yi City, and finally Wei Wuxian's comment of ”releasing the tiger back to the mountain” when learning Xue Yang escaped punishment for the Chang massacre. In Chinese animal symbolism, the tiger is the king of beasts, something very powerful and clever, but also unreliable, prone to lash out.

In one of the first chapters, Xue Yang is described as being ”bound with enough ropes and knots to subdue a tiger” and there are many references to the Yin Tiger Amulet throughout. I drew him and Song Lan as shishi statues in the illustration for chapter 7, feline guardians of the dead that can be interpreted as lions but also tigers. So that's a semi-secret theme. :)

Another layer of symbolism is the Daoist philosophy sprinkled throughout. Sometimes directly, through outright quotes, but often more subtly in how Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan relate to the world and other people.

”Take action by letting things take their course, he reminded himself. The more he hurried, the longer it would take to get where he was going. He could be patient. Would be.”

”He smiled again, grateful for the understanding, for the simplicity, patience, compassion.”

“An empty patch on the ground,” he signed. “We'll make the future a spot where nothing is yet growing.” “An empty spot, where the Universe may plant a seed,” he finished. Song Lan nodded, made the softest hum of agreement.

“Now, now - haven't you heard, Song-daozhang?” he giggled, unsteadily, hauled along in unceremonious jerks. “Treat those who are kind with kindness, but also treat those who are not kind with kindness, only thus is kindness obtaine-... ow.” ← Xue Yang is not above throwing their teachings in their faces for his own benefit, either.

Another thing I enjoy writing is how Xiao Xingchen will very easily fall into familiarity with both Song Lan and Xue Yang when he interacts with them, but they're two very different kinds of familiarity, and he's often not at all aware himself that he's doing it. (They are. Especially the party not currently being interacted with, glaring daggers at the other.) He often just... assumes they'll do a certain thing, and they'll automatically find themselves doing it.

They are both utterly dedicated to him, though they may not realize it themselves, and he certainly doesn't. He doesn't want to take anything for granted with Song Lan, and he doesn't dare trust Xue Yang, but in the little moments of thoughtlessness, they'll just accidentally fall into old familiar roles of attachment, and then blink awake, surprised and disturbed at the ease of it. ♥

I also find it delightful how Xue Yang absolutely despises Song Lan, but is still ready and willing to rope him into herding Xiao Xingchen when necessary - and Song Lan will grudgingly follow his lead, to a point. They may not like it, but they do have a goal in common in keeping their person safe.

There is a certain point to the fact that Xue Yang mostly only mentally refers to a-Qing as ”the girl” in his mind. Nothing quite as strong as actual remorse, but it's a slightly chafing subject he does avoid thinking about. She wasn't supposed to die - hurt, yes, be punished for her perceived part in the destruction of their happy home, but not die - and now that Xiao Xingchen is back, it is odd, at times, that she isn't there as well.

Finally - have some teasers for future written chapters! The apples of the merchant in Tanzhou will make a reappearance, as will the beggar girl by the gate. Xue Yang will write Song Lan a heartfelt poem in an upcoming chapter. Song Lan is made to promise to write a couple of old ladies letters. Xiao Xingchen performs emotional manipulation so badly it offers the other two an unexpected moment of bonding. Xue Yang slips and does an unprompted Good Deed and instantly regrets it. (it does help when Xiao Xingchen smiles at him.)

There are more themes of foreshadowing in there, but I also don't want to spoil things, so I'l leave it at this for now.

As always, if anyone has any specific questions about the Roadtrip, please feel free to ask! I may evade if it's spoilery, but 99.9% of the time, I'll happily flail for hours about this story – and it helps keeping me inspired and writing, too! ♥♥♥

#asksilvy #the happy songxuexiao roadtrip story #untamed artfulness #nagisachan1

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pan1c1ng · 5 years

Text

leaving on a jet plane | alex brightman x fem!reader

prompt: ❝ i think i’m in love with you....and i don’t know what to do. ❞

summary: when you get the amazing opportunity to appear on a television series in the uk, leaving your life in new york becomes a massive challenge. but the encouragement of your best friend helps the change. what happens when he suddenly confesses feelings for you at the airport?

warning(s): fluff, angst, cursing

gif credit: @broadwayfaceshq

author’s note: first off, thank you to the amazing human who had requested. it means a lot that you want to see more writing from me. i took a lot of inspiration from the infamous ‘running through the airport to say goodbye/i love you’ trope. cliche i know but it’s cute dammit. basically look at that scene in love actually and pam’s goodbye to michael in the office. also, i’m so sorry it’s so long. i’m gonna get murked by how long this is so haha woopsies. ( i also wrote this before robb mclure left. rip my angel you were an amazing adam )

alex brightman had been your sort of guiding light for the past decade. the two of you had met at a 54 below show you were doing alongside drew gaspirini. the two of you had done a song called ❛ overboard ❜ that drew had written. and you seemed to click immediately. alex was supportive of every role you had landed and vice versa. you were inseparable. alex made sure that the two of you were sitting next to each other at every tony’s that you had attended. over the years, feelings had arisen on both of your behalfs, but nothing was ever done about it. maybe you were too scared to say anything. no, not maybe...you were definitely too scared to say anything.

in the present-day, both of your careers had taken a turn for the better. alex had been nominated for his second tony award for ❛ beetlejuice ❜. he did end up losing which you believed was totally rigged but both of you had brushed it off. you had just been cast as the newest jenna in waitress before it’s untimely closing. life couldn't be any better. or so you had thought. the opportunity to appear on an upcoming television series based in london had been given to you. it was a step for sure, a massive one at that. but it was your dream. and the fact that it was in one of your favorite cities in the world; nothing could be better than that. so you said yes.

to alex, the news hit hard. harder than he thought it would hit him. the fact of the matter was, he would be losing his best friend for a full year. and he didn’t want that. alex didn't want to show his negative emotions towards you. all he could do was put on a brave face and say that he was proud of you; say that he was always going to be there for you; say that he loved-

❝ alex? ❞ a knock came from the outside of alex’s dressing room. ❝ we’re calling places now. ❞ the voice of the production stage manager called to him in a softer voice. everyone in the production understood how hurt their lead actor felt. but being gentle around him wasn’t helping, in a sense it made him feel worse. they all knew that deep down, alex loved you with his whole heart. but he was still so blind to it. or so everyone thought. he took one last look at himself in the vanity mirror. his complexion white and green due to the makeup. ❛ come on man. ❜ he turns off the lights and starts walking towards the stage for the show.

upon arrival to the wings, the sound of the audience chattering away immediately captures alex’s ears. people running around backstage to find certain cast members and props that weren’t set beforehand. the noise and the commotion is clouding alex’s mind so much, that he doesn’t notice a familiar site walking towards him. but the sudden grip on his arm stops his thoughts and brings him out of it.

the exact second his eyes meet yours is like something out of a woody allen rom-com. ❝ hey, what are you doing here? ❞ he pulls you in for an immediate hug. your face shows excitement to see him, but there’s a shadow of sorrow and worry. ❝ i came to see you before i left... ❞ your words choke near the end. his hands rest on the sides of your arms and the smile that once plastered his face is slowly starting to fade away into confusion. ❝ but, i thought you weren't leaving for another month. ❞ the lights flicker in the audience. ❝ i know, i know... the studio called and they needed me sooner. i leave for london in three hours. ❞ alex lets go of your arms and his expression slightly changes from confusion to grief. the stage managers take their place behind the podiums. your hand grips alex’s as it gently slips from your arm. ❝ alex listen to me. please don’t let this cloud your mind. you have to promise me that you’re gonna go out there and make this your best performance yet. don’t let me ruin any of this for you. okay? ❞ you were on the verge of tears at this point. he lost eye contact with you at some point during this speech. he could feel tears start to fill his eyes. the first booming notes of the show roll through the theater. he looks up at you again, a single tear slipping down his cheek. you smile through the heart-wrenching pain and dab the liquid away. ❝ you’ll ruin your makeup if you keep this up. ❞ alex laughs at the comment and sniffles. you immediately wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly. alex’s head gets nuzzled into your neck as he closes his eyes and continues the gesture.

the stage manager calls for alex to take his position. it’s so fast and so sudden that you can’t think of what you’re doing. as he pulls away from you, you plant a kiss on the corner of his lips. it’s gentle and soft just like you. and underneath the heavy makeup, you see him blush slightly. alex locks eyes with you for one more second before turning towards his place for ❛ the whole being dead thing ❜. you cross your arms against your chest and turn to head towards the door. you can feel alex’s eyes on you one last time before you walk out into the cold night.

laguardia airport was the busiest you had ever seen it. it wasn’t a holiday or anything special. but it was just busy. as you sat at the gate, gazing out the window on to the runways of the airport, alex brightman clouded your mind. your mind was racing over the thought of that kiss. if it even counted as one. rain had started to fall down on the tri-state area the minute you had walked out of the stage door. perfectly fitting the situation you had just found yourself in with alex. from this moment on, everything seemed to go into slow motion.

alex brightman had just given his best performance yet as the infamous ghost with the most. but it came with a cost. his mind wasn’t in the right mindset the entire night. sure, he still could act and sing and dance and kiss robb mclure twice; but his mind was fogged over with the thought of you. so much so that he had finally realized something. something that he’s known for so long. the minute he’s in his dressing room, alex grabs his phone.

a notification from your phone interrupts the sound of george salazar in your ear. a tweet from alex brightman. ❝ not stage dooring tonight. personal emergency. apologies ❞

alex did his best to leave the theater before anyone could notice he left. leaving the majority of the makeup on his face and hands. on the street, he yelled for a taxi but found no luck getting one in all of the rain and the chaos. he yelled and yelled and yelled before the loud sound of a whistle came from beside him. a taxi immediately pulled to the side. a girl wearing a black and white striped dress and a raincoat stood next to him. her hair was black and as short as lydia’s. she smiles; looking up at the man who she had seen as an idol for so long. he smiles back at her and hops in the yellow cab before yelling at her over the rain. ❝ come back tomorrow and i’ll sign that playbill. ❞

❝ attention passengers. flight 238 to heathrow airport has been delayed for another forty-five minutes. we apologize for the inconvenience.❞

❝ hi, i need a ticket please. ❞ ❝ and where will you be flying today sir? ❞ ❝ london. cheapest flight possible. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry sir, all london flights have been booked, and the last flight leaves in twenty minutes. ❞ alex sighs. ❝ listen, there’s a girl somewhere in this airport that could quite possibly be the person i wanna spend the rest of my life with. and she’s about to leave me for a whole year. i can’t have that happen without telling her how i really feel. i just need something- anything to get to the gate in time before she leaves. please. ❞

❝ flight 238 to heathrow airport is now boarding. repeat, flight 238 to heathrow is now boarding. ❞ you stood from your spot and adjusted the green romper and large overcoat that covered your body. before you could even move towards the gate, the buzzing of your phone startled you in your pocket. ❝ alex? ❞ ❝ don’t say anything. it’s taking me longer than i thought, so i gotta do this now. ❞ you looked around the area confused. ❝ i think i’m in love with you.... and i don’t know what to do. ❞ you freeze in your tracks. ❝ alex... i- ❞ ❝ no-no, i just need you to listen to me. when you came to the theater tonight and told me you were leaving, it sounds weird but everything; at that moment; had started to make sense. for the past decade, i have lied to myself over and over about how i truly feel about you. saying that you and i were just friends. and now that i’m looking back at it all, i am kicking myself for not realizing all of this sooner. you have been the reason why i do what i do. i go out onto that stage every matinee and every night thinking about you. and it’s all because i love the shit out of you. ❞ you could hear the cracking in his voice over the phone. alongside the shortness of breath.

❝ where are you right now? ❞ you let out the smallest laugh that’s only filled with joy and shock. and before you could say anything else, someone taps on your shoulder. you turn around to greet a drippy hair, beetlejuice face, alex brightman. his phone still pressed to his ear. ❝ i’m right here. ❞

alex brings one arm around your waist and brings you towards him, his lips instantley locking with yours. it’s a moment in which your mind is reeling with different emotions. first off, his lips are incredibly soft. and it’s something you’ve always imagined. you pull away from him for a slight second to examine his face. his makeup is smudging around his mouth which makes you laugh. ❝ you’ll ruin your makeup if you keep this up. ❞ alex smiles at you. ❝ fuck the makeup ❞

#my writing #my stuff #alex brightman x reader #alex brightman #people #cute boys #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice broadway #( this is so long )#( i am so sorry )#( jesus )#( i also had a long day today and i'm sorry it's up so late )#( but lol i hope you like it )

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nolongerapileofashprobably · 5 years

Text

Whenever my sister plays BoTW, she utterly confounds me.

She never did the Memory Quest. She never got to know the Champion’s or Zelda. After she played it the first time through, she thought Zelda was still DEAD.

And I... just don’t understand that.

How can someone not want to watch the memories? Especially in BoTW where the majority of the story takes place in THE PAST.

How can someone not watch that first memory, with Zelda doing a ceremony for Link with so much annoyance in her voice? Or how the Champion’s all saw this contempt, the only one understanding it being Urbosa.

But it leaves the player with so many questions. Why does Zelda dislike Link so much? They’ve just recently been bound together in their fate. What could have happened for her to be so cold? Why does Revali feel the same way? Why does Urbosa see right through Zelda?

And the second memory, as the pair makes their way to Goron City. The distance, the pure annoyance and distain in Zelda’s speech. The two are far from friends. More like forced acquaintances. You can smell the trope at this point. But, it has yet to really get you. They have no bond yet. It isn’t deep enough.

The third, oh this one is a doozy. First, Zelda explaining something very vital to the game. Then, Link riding up which means Zelda literally escaped from the castle and fled to this shrine so far away. Why? There’s a shine right outside Hyrule Castle. One inside as well. Why would she want to be away from the castle? And away from Link’s protection? And Zelda freaks out. She establishes their relationship as everything but a relationship. They have had to form a reluctant bond with each other to fulfill this prophecy. Link is intent on keeping up his role. Zelda is refusing to cooperate with him. It builds angst. It gives Zelda some background, as we learn her contempt is not only at Link, but also at her father.

The fourth one. The one that literally changes everything. It’s one that sets up the rest of their relationship. It mirrors their fate. Zelda is being CHASED so there’s the action appeal. And then Link, the ever loyal knight, manages to step in last second and save the Princess. Cue the slow music and Zelda’s stare that shows emotions from disbelief to adoration. It’s a mix of everything but it gives them a turning point. How can someone not want to see if they use it to move forward or use it to again block their development as Princess and her knight?

The fifth bad boy. Oh man. The sudden shift is BLANTANTLY OBVIOUS. Zelda is seen actually interacting with Link, scolding him for being reckless, and assessing his wounds. She’s begun to care about Link. Not caring about how his role hinders hers in some way. No, instead caring about Link and his own safety. She shares her concerns, letting us see a little more of Zelda. She is quite aware of the threat and can sense the omens that keep popping up. She’s set herself to stopping him. And she used plural terms. She’s accepted Link. The distance between them has lessened greatly. How am I not supposed to go hungrily searching for the next location to see them interact with each other?

Boy does the sixth bring some smiles. This entire memory establishes Link and Zelda as friends. They’ve become much closer, now just hanging outside the castle in a field. Zelda should probably be training. Instead, she establishes the importance of the Silent Princess. The symbolism is huge. It also gives us an insight on how close they actually are. I don’t know about anyone else, but I would have to be pretty comfortable with someone to try and force feed them a frog. How were my shipper senses not suppose to kick in and go into hyperdrive?

The seventh one is another one of my favorites. It gives a domestic vibe as the pair are forced to delay their travel to wait the rain out. Zelda is sitting down, just watching Link and the nature around her, rambling about her thoughts. Link is training, not unaware of her stare, but comfortable enough to not be hindered by it. Zelda reveals a piece of herself by relating it to the limited knowledge she has of Link. We see some true development and get to really see Zelda as who she is. The princess with a bad temper is really just a girl forced into a destiny that she can’t seem to fulfill and this cannot he truly dedicated it as her interests lie elsewhere. Character development? Checkkkkk

This one. This eighth memory that really clues in two things for the player. Zelda and her father have a very strained relationship due to the responsibilities that weight down both their shoulders. The way the scene is set up allows the player to see that Link is the reason she gathers the courage to stand up for herself. Ultimately she concedes, taking in the failure she must be in her fathers eyes. And, Link’s presence is only explained by the simple fact that he was there for Zelda. Not as her knight, though that has become a natural state for him, but as her friend. He is there to keep her company as she researches and to listen to her thoughts. They have gone from unwilling companions to wanting to be near each other even if there is no need for it. Am I suppose to stop now?

The ninth scene. Oh this one really tugs at my heart. We see the true frustration and toll Zelda has been enduring. Though it doesn’t justify it, this scene really makes the player understand her cold attitude towards Link in the beginning. But this scene gives us so much more about them. Though subtle, Link obviously reacts to Zelda’s pleas and later her cries. He turns his head, more interested in hearing her words, than watch the Spring for any enemies. And then, he turns around as she blames herself for something being wrong with her. This just gives us a glimpse into Link’s own feelings and that he won’t stand for anyone doubting Zelda, even if it is herself. He’s no longer just her knight, but someone who cares deeply about her and can’t stand when anyone degraded her. How was I not suppose to notice that?

Tenth scene and they’re riding almost side by side. They have come so far from the distance in the second memory. This memory confirms Link can speak, but it also confirms that he’s a softie when it comes to horses. PLUS this memory gives us Zelda’s little speech about her last Hope on Mt. Lanayru. Zelda has reached her end point and tomorrow Link will be the only one truly supporting her as he makes his way with her to the Spring.

Ooohhhhh and this one. The one where the entire threat of Ganon arrives in the eleventh scene. Zelda and Link walk back, everything clear on their faces. Link, is utterly focused on Zelda. He knows her personal disappointment in herself and how she’s surely beating her self up mentally at that moment. No one else there really matters. Just Zelda. Even when Mipha is talking, giving advice, Link’s gaze never wanders from Zelda. Then, Ganon appears. Link doesn’t let Zelda even STUMBLE because his hands are already there supporting her. She is his entire focus and this memory really highlights his shift from just a knight, to someone who cares so deeply about someone who is experiencing so much pain. This memory gives us another look at the Champion’s too.

And this last one. The twelfth memory. This entire memory sealed the deal when it came down to these two. Running away together from death machines? Check. One slipping and falling and the other having to stop and go back? Check. The one having a breakdown. Check. The other comforting them. Check. Zelda breaking down, Link letting her get it all out... It truly shows the depth of their relationship. It has surpassed being mere friends at this point. Zelda is completely distraught. Link is endangering them both by sheathing his sword. But he needs to let Zelda her her feelings out. He needs to be there for her. So he fails his duty and comforts her. Even he is surprised as she embraces him, but it quickly settles into one of compassion and endearment. They’ve truly accepted the other. They are not the princess who holds the power to seal Ganon or the knight who wields the sword that seals the darkness. They are Link and Zelda. After than emotional toll? How can I NOT go get the last one.

And this one..The thirteenth memory. Boy is this one’s heart wrenching. Link is gravely injured, Zelda begging him to run. But Link doesn’t because it is his duty and he would never leave Zelda is there was danger around. Not a chance. And she unlocks her power, as she is forced to protect the one she loves, the one who understands her in a way no one else can. The boy who showed her more to life than Sheikah Tech and sealing powers. And Link, he’s completely aware that he’s going to die. He’s even giving her a “we both know that’s not true” when Zelda swears that he’ll be fine. And he isn’t. It’s heartbreaking, watching her spb over the boy who made her feel more than the princess everyone looks at her to be. A soft lullaby, casually breaking my heart in the background. Then, the moment where it all goes down. Zelda can save Link. Her fingers curl against his chest as she realizes he can still be saved. She can’t cry. She has to be determined. And she is.

How was I not supposed to fall into this story head first? Not fall in love with Link and Zelda’s relationship. The entire plot and trope it follows. It’s angsty, it’s soft, and it is HEARTBREAKING.

How wasn’t I suppose to fall into an obsession and write posts like this at 2 in the morning when I should be sleeping?

#guys im so tired #but reLly #how was i not suppose to falk for zelink #sooiler alert #i was always going to fall for rhis zelink #love the nerds #zelink #botw link #botw #botw zelda #loz botw #botw zelink #legend of zelda breath of the wild

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barb-aricyawp · 5 years

Note

Ohmy goodness all the tropes plese um so im seeing sold with peter parker along with mistaking hero for tourturer and begging with misterio as whumper and if you dont write it i most likely will but it would be awesome if you did your writing is amazing

Oof, I love this! You should def fill it, too. This was a lot of fun.

@i-blame-my-love-of-whump-on-ryan, here you go babe.

Peter has spent so long dipping in and out of reality that he can’t be certain which one he’s experiencing right now.

He thinks that he’s sprawled on the ground now, heaving from the impact of his body against hard concrete. The knees and elbows of his sweatpants ripped open, but he’s not bleeding.

Yet.

“Oh, kid,” Tony says when he sees the damage.

He takes Peter’s hand and helps him to stand. On his feet, Peter is wobbly, so Tony braces him by the shoulder. Vertical is difficult, but better. Much better.

’“What happened to the suit I gave you?”

“Mr. Beck took it,” Peter wheezes. He glances around the cell, if they’re really in a cell at all. “Tony, we gotta get out of here. We can’t stay. Beck, he’s cr–I don’t like to say it, but I think he’s actually--”

“Crazy?” Tony smiles, the edges curling up sweetly. The angle of his furrowed brow is wrong, too high into his forehead.

Peter’s heart plummets. This isn’t Tony’s smile. This isn’t Tony.

—

Peter wakes up alone, hand clasped over his thundering heart. He’s in his bunk at the apartment. May is in the kitchen, banging around and singing “Walk Like an Egyptian.”

Peter collapses back, sighing with relief. A nightmare.

He stares up at the ceiling for a moment, following the familiar cracks in the paint. In the far corner near the door, there’s a glow star that he’d pinned up when he was seven. There had been others, but Peter tore them down when he turned thirteen. This was the only star he couldn’t rip off.

Reasonably certain that this is reality, Peter ambles out into the kitchen.

“May?” he calls out, his lungs feel lodged in his esophagus.

She turns around from the stove. There’s a shock of flour in her hairline and along the lower rims over her glasses. Peter's heart eases at the sight of her.

"How do pancakes sound today?”

“Really good.” Peter takes a seat in a stool at the counter. “Can we put chocolate chips in them?”

“Definitely.”

“Make an extra for me,” someone says, laying a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter’s head jerks back and for a moment, he’s aglow in Tony’s presence. Then the warmth sours. Why is Tony in his apartment? Why is he alive?

Peter jerks back, towards May, but she’s gone. And then the whole kitchen is gone, swallowed up in the dark, and it’s just Tony. Tony walking towards Peter with his palms up, placating. Tony with the too big, too sweet smile.

“What’s the matter, Petey? You look like you’ve seen–” He’s burning. The left side of his body blackening with char. “–a ghost.”

—

Peter’s elbow collides with the hard concrete of his cell. There’s a terrible pressure in his temples and his stomach feels empty to the point of hollow. Beck stands outside the bars, smiling.

This feels more like reality.

“You figured it out pretty quick that time,” Beck says, one hand wrapped around a bar. “Both times, actually. What was the giveaway, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“You know what?” Peter says, rising to his feet. His knees shake, but the tremor is worth it to be at eye level. “I kind of mind.”

Beck laughs, shakes his head. “You’re funny, Peter Parker. I’m sure that’s why you and Stark got along so well.”

There’s a sharklike gleam in his dark eyes. Knowing and sinister. Peter winces.

“I take it my impression of him isn’t so spot on.” He unfolds the EDITH glasses from his jacket pocket and quirks an eyebrow at Peter. The resemblance is a physical hurt in Peter’s chest. “I’ll keep working on it. Don’t you worry about it, kid.”

—

Days stretch by slow in the cell. Peter scratches a tic in the concrete for each meal he receives to keep rough estimate of the passing days. He gets no other visitors for 36 meals. No Beck. Just a silent guard in a SWAT helmet who slides his food to him under the bars.

His 37th meal comes and this time the guard lingers, staring down at Peter.

“You know,” Peter says, sipping the bottle of water first. He’s desperately thirsty. “The whole ‘take a picture, it’ll last longer’ thing is overplayed, but I don’t have much else to say to you.”

Still staring at him, the guard slowly takes out a ring of keys and unlocks the cell door.

Peter springs to his feet. He glances back at his neat rows of tally marks, the talisman that grounds him in reality. The guard nods down the hall and takes off. Peter follows closely after, understanding that he’s about to be led to the exit.

“Do I know you?” Peter whispers, unable to help himself. The guard doesn’t answer.

Alarms go off the moment the door comes into sight, and the guard sets into a dead sprint. Peter can barely keep up, though he’s running at full tilt.

They make it outside, but the moment the door closes, it bangs open again. Peter chances a glance backwards just in time to see Beck standing behind him.

Aiming a gun. Peter has time to flinch back, but the guard who helped him escape doesn’t.

Beck fires the gun. The guard goes down.

“No!” Peter calls out, voice cracking. He rushes to the guard. Blood seeps from the wound, pooling around Peter’s knees as he crouches next to the body. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! If it weren’t for me...I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the guard says and cold dread creeps through Peter at the sound of his voice.

He wrenches back the helmet and chokes out a sob at the sight of Tony Stark. Bleeding from the mouth.

“Miss me, kid?” he says, spluttering and smiling crookedly. As if it pains him, but he can’t help but try.

Peter sits back, holds his face in his hands. “That’s pretty good, Beck,” he says. “You’re getting better.”

#caaan you tell I cut my teeth in the inception fandom?#whump peter parker #quentin beck #torture tuesday

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datenightfright · 5 years

Note

I know I asked for the angst and depressing content but now I am so sad that Thomas is hauling the dead girl back home after she confessed ;-; Do you hate me for requesting it? And do you hate me even more for asking if she actually manages to survive but just avoids Thomas until he has to come to terms on what to do? ;-; I need angst and sadness but now I just want a happy ending >.

*glares at you* The culprit is back again….You are SO LUCKY I love a good happy ending! In truth, I was gonna do part two of this anyway, cuz like…this was such a good prompt. I love the ‘one sided pining until someone gets hurt and the other realizes their feelings’ trope. It’s such a good trope.

This one kinda got away from me too. I put most of it under the cut. Thank you for such a cute request!

Pt one: Here

Well, this was embarrassing. Instead of going out with some dignity you managed to survive your knife wound. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but, ironically, the only thing that hurt worse was your heart.

You groan as the water passes over your wound. Hoyt stitched it as best he could, which was pretty damn good actually, but they had to be undone once you realize the damn cut was infected. Now you were trying to wash it out as best you. Lots of warm water and peroxide. It stung so bad you damn near puked. You inhale deeply, taking a break from tending to yourself. Looking at the ceiling of your bathroom, you have to wonder if the plan for your death was the slow and painful kind rather than the quick kind.

Whatever the case, you were hear now, in a dingy bathroom, trying to take as long as possible tending to your needs. The floorboards creaking just outside the door makes you grimace harder than bandaging your ribs. Tommy was out there, waiting for you.

Thomas had changed. He doted on you hand and foot. Fed you, helped you get dressed in the morning, rubbed your feet even though they didn’t need to be rubbed. You were tired of it. There was no meaning behind it other than his attempt to assuage his own guilt.

You press your lips together, holding the edge of the sink. How the hell had things gone so fucking wrong? Scrubbing at your eyes you manage to straighten out. You unlocked the door. Yup, there was good old Tommy, worriedly waiting for you. He reaches for you, but you slap a hand away. “I’m fine,” You say, not daring to look at him, “Just leave me alone,” You rush past him as quickly as your injury allows. Before he can follow, you close your bedroom door and lock it. Things were hard enough as it was without him complicating everything.

Nightfall sees Tommy in the basement. For once in his life, he’s loud. Throwing things against the wall, yelling, punching, upturning his workbench. All the frustration, the pain, the hatred, all of it unleashed in one massive tantrum. He’d fucked up so bad.

He loved you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. Of course, he never allowed himself to fall for you completely, not at first anyway. He couldn’t allow himself the indulgence of infatuation. He managed to keep his head screwed on straight…for the most part anyway.

You hadn’t reacted with the others, not with fear. Shock, of course, which was understandable, it isn’t every day someone rushes at you with a chainsaw, but not a trace of fear. You were so gentle with him. Smiling at him, hugging him. He slides down the wall, all energy spent for the time being. Once…he brings his hand up to his cheek, once you had even kissed him.

He recalled the memory perfectly. He’d been getting ready for the day, frantically looking for his mask. You were the one that found it. He left it on the counter when he came home from getting dinner. He’d been so tired, and his face hurt so bad he just dropped it on the first surface he came across.

You were kind to him, smiling at him so warmly. He’d froze in front of you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see his face. “I found your mask Tommy,” You say, handing it to him. He takes it, frantically trying to do damage that’s already been done. Before he could put it on, your lips were at his cheek. Your lips had been so warm, so soft. He wanted thousand more, a million more. “You’re very handsome Tommy,” You told him.

It was at that moment he fell for you completely. You thought he was handsome! You kissed him! Surely you must love him too! He waited for a sing. Anything that gave away your affections, but he could find nothing. You were the same as always. Cooking food, making sure he had enough to eat, repairing his clothes. He waited weeks, then months, then years. Nothing.

He realized that maybe you didn’t love him like he loved you. Maybe you loved him like Luda Mae loved him. Like a mother, or a friend. He cried for days when he realized it. He wasted so much time on a stupid fantasy. He came to a decision one night, if no one as beautiful as you was going to love him, then he’d take it from the next girl.

The next one wasn’t pretty like you were. She wasn’t smart or capable. She was loud, whiny, and altogether irritating, but Tommy was sure he could take care of that. Even so, no matter how much time had passed, she simply didn’t fill the void that you left.

At night, when he went to sit with her, sometimes he’d put his head in her lap, pretending it was you. He even made her read the same books you read to him, and run her fingers through his hair. He made dresses that looked like yours, made her brush his hair for him. In the end, it just wasn’t you.

Now things were worse than ever. You really did love him! You had all along, he was just too wrapped up in himself to see. But then he went and stabbed you, nearly killing you, now you hated him. He tried to make up for it. He took care of you as best he could. Feeding you, helping you get dressed, brushing your hair. He’d been nothing but gentle. The damage was done. There was no going back.

He pulls a small bunny from his pocket. He kept it with him always, you made it for him. He sniffles, staring at it. Normally, the little rabbit calms him, because he knows at least someone at home likes him enough to be kind to him. Now, it’s just a representation of what he’s destroy. Within moments his sniffles become sobs.

You stand at the top of the stairwell. Hoyt, who’d had enough of all this, barged into your room and laid it all on the table. Tommy’s been in love with you for years, but moved on when you seemed no closer to reciprocating his feelings, now he was crying in the basement.

You hardly believed him. If Tommy loved you so much, why had he rejected you? But, here you are, listening to the heart wrenching sobs of a man that most definitely had his heart broken.

You take the steps slowly, wincing as you did so. With as long as it took you to stop in front of Tommy, you’re surprised his sobs hadn’t let up. He isn’t paying attention to you, simply holding the Easter gift you’d given him long ago. You aren’t sure how to get down to his level, so instead, to settle for nudging him with your toe. “Tommy,” you mutter. His sobbing stops, yet, he only curls into himself more. You aren’t exactly sure what to say. “Tommy, my side hurts, help me sit down will you?” Tommy does as asked, gently bringing you to the cold, wet floor. Yes, this environment is definitely going to help the healing process.

Tommy scoots away from you. “Come back here,” You mutter, tugging at his sleeve, “I need to lean on you.” He does as asked, allowing you to use his arm as you wished. For a long while, all you can hear is Tommy sniffling. You run Hoyt’s tirade through your head. No, you think, there’s no way Tommy has been in love with you for years. You outright laugh, bitterness beginning to overtake the heartache. “Oh Lord,” You sigh, “I can’t believe I bought into Hoyt’s dumb speech.” Tommy looks at you, curiously. “He thinks you’re in love with me! Isn’t that a hollar and a half? You? In love with me?” You scoff, not registering the hurt in Tommy’s eyes. “As if someone could fall in love with me.” You let out another chuckle, shaking your head.

Tommy worries at his lip. He DOES love you! More than anything. He just doesn’t know how to show you! “What am I compared to a busty blonde anyway?” Your head plops itself in his arm, feeling pathetic about it all. “I think maybe I should leave once I heal up. You know? Take one of the abandoned houses in town? A trailer maybe. I could find work in the next town over, I’m sure of it. What do you think Thomas?”

You crane your neck to look at him, sitting straighter when you notice panic in his eyes. You aren’t exactly sure what to say, but Tommy has a plan at least. He grabs your face and presses his lips roughly to yours. Unsure of how to kiss, he pulls back immediately. Shaking his head he kisses you again, and again, and again.

This time, you laugh for a completely different reason. Now everything seems just so incredibly silly and inconsequential. “Ok, ok,” You giggle, “Maybe I’ll stick around for a while.” Tommy nods, his kisses getting softer. “But there’s one condition,” He still, listened to you intently. “You get me to my bed as quickly as possible, I’m so tired, Tommy.”

He lifts you gently into his arms and carries you to the bedroom, giving you kisses all along the way.

#thomas hewitt #slasher imagine #texas chainsaw massacre #fic

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