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loveshotzz · 10 months

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All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him.

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked.

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that.

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant.

He’s not Steve.

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk?

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily.

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again.

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place.

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward.

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him.

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you.

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.”

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?”

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears. He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question.

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.”

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad.

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more.

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath.

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead.

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

#my wriitng #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #older!steve #older!steve harrington

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syoddeye · 17 days

Text

everything I was, burning slow

price x reader. 1.2k words. title from 24thankyou.

tags: implied/referenced illness+surgeries, implied/referenced self-harm, established relationship, panic attacks, brief vomit mention, nonsexual nudity

banner from @/cafekitsune

Your mouth is dry and gritty as if you inhaled half the desert and, after a swallow, as tacky as a bowling alley floor. The side of your face is cold and wet, but you’re too busy mapping your molars with your sticky-shriveled tongue to bother lifting it. Once you confirm that all your teeth are in their crooked places, your limbs return online. You push, arm shaking, beneath your weight onto your back. Another swallow. Tastes bitter.

When you were dragged to church as a kid, you’d lean in your seat and gaze at the vaulted ceiling and the murals of angels. Did the same with the open sky, staring at rolling clouds or blinking stars. No matter where you were, you relished how small you felt. How insignificant.

The view from the bathroom floor is a lot like that, too. Lends perspective. Partly under the toilet bowl (you’ve got to clean under here better), you stare at chipping paint and watch particulates float lazily on by. You lay there, telling yourself you’ll get up when the world stops turning. But it won’t, will it? It’s spinning and carrying on. You hear the neighbor mowing the lawn and the dog across the street barking at him. The radio is on in the living room, transitioning from music to a talk show. This is all going to carry on without you, and—

Your jaw pops, hinging open to suck in a sudden, desperate gasp for air as if you’re a fish dropped unceremoniously onto the deck of a boat. What you get, what you taste, is turbid and stifling. It tickles your windpipe and forces you to choke as your chest tightens. You clutch your shirt and silently beg the invisible fist around your heart to loosen its grip. Not again, your thoughts slur. Not again. This is getting embarrassing.

It passes. Eventually.

How long you lay there, you don’t know, but the sound of the front door opening and closing a floor down stirs you out of your stupor. You’re dimly aware of John calling for you, his voice steady and level–your name, maybe? Sheer terror and embarrassment keep you pinned on the tile, though at least it lets up just enough to let you curl into the fetal position. It’s gut-wrenching to hear his tone gradually swell from curiosity to concern.

The bathroom door opens at last, and your eyelids squeeze shut.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Before he touches you, the light flicks off, and he turns on the tap. He crouches. His knee skims your calves, and a warm hand slides up your back. He fixes your slightly bunched shirt, tugging it down, then rubs circles above your tailbone how you like. He’s talking, too, whispering something you know is kind and tender. It’s an internal tussle of whether or not you want to hear him. The brush of a knuckle over your temple pulls the cotton from your ears.

“–member we’re supposed to take deep breaths, yeah? Can you do that for me? In your nose, out your mouth. C’mon, with me,” He murmurs, tracing the shell of your ear as he demonstrates.

“Can’t.” It’s the first word you’ve spoken in hours. It tastes sour.

“‘Course you can. Like me, babe.”

In. Out. In. Out. In—

“I got my results.” You croak, eyes opening in slivers. Blearily, you turn your head, looking past him to the corner of the bathroom counter.

“In a minute.”

The hand on your back completes a few more figure eights before John hauls himself to his feet. The dull, muted sound of him punching in your passcode and typing keeps you tethered. You both hold your breath for very different reasons.

“I see,” John says a moment later, “I see.”

With some convincing, he maneuvers your body into a seated position, leaning you against the tub. He doesn’t complain, scrubbing the toilet and floor clean of your sick and taking breaks to rub your shins and give you sips of water.

“Bed or bath?”

“Bath.”

He hoists you by the armpits and sits you on the toilet, briefly cupping your face in his hands. Scarred knuckles and palms thickened with calluses; they’re the softest things you’ve ever felt. After checking your eyes and pressing a kiss to your forehead, he starts the tub and carefully undresses you.

“Join me?” You ask, leaning into him as he helps you step out of your jeans and underwear, fingers skimming the keloid on his shoulder blade.

A warm puff of air and a kiss to your neck. “Need or want?”

Sometimes, you need him in the shower when the shampoo bottle is impossible to lift.

“Both.”

He hums, sits you back down, then strips.

John climbs in first, offering his arm and supporting you by the hip as you follow. He situates your back to his chest, rubbing your elbows after you adjust. It’s a tight squeeze in a tub realistically meant for one, but he never complains. Steam curls off the water’s surface, and sweat beads at your neck. He kisses it anyway.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks after a time, voice rumbling through your spine.

Tracing the scars on his arm and comparing them to your own, you consider.

When you first started dating, it took months for you to let John see you with the lights on. So used to partners seeing the brutal constellation of marks, self-inflicted and surgical, and finding reason to flip off the light. Used to them suggesting clothes with sleeves and layers. You can’t recall what changed your mind to let him have you in the morning light so long ago, but you remember how he looked at you. How, before he even really touched you, he studied each of them. Invited you to do the same. A new kind of intimacy that told you how well your bodies fit together in more ways than just the one. It lent perspective.

“Later, in bed. I’m tired.”

An arm bands around your stomach, settling you closer. You don’t feel small with John. You don’t feel insignificant.

“Alright. I’ve got you.”

You feel like the world.

#price is right #this is purely for me tbh but maybe you'll feel it too #wrote this while feeling like utter shit so it is only lightly edited and i still feel like shit so let's just be nice #john price x reader #price x reader

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byunpum · 2 months

Note

hi!! i love your works and i’d like to request a ronal fic if you are comfortable <33 Ronal x female metkayina reader maybe where she’s her friend but they’re like so in love or something idk i love ronal she is so beautiful. thank you!!

Pair: Ronal x fem!Metkayina x tonowari

Warning: None <3

Ronal had never felt as upset and frustrated as she felt right now. Even when the sully came to her clan, it did not cause the anger she felt now. She had gone for a walk around the clan, and then stopped by your marui. She wanted to know how you were doing and if you were going to have dinner with her. But all her peace was gone, when she saw you next to the person she could least stand right now.

Neytiri was standing in front of you, smiling from ear to ear. Touching your arm, while you were telling her something very interesting. Tucking your hair back behind your ear. Ronal's eyes widened, you were flirting with neytiri? She couldn't believe it…you were supposed to have been going along with her courting moves. Ronal takes a deep breath, and turns to begin his walk home. She was so upset, walking as fast as she could towards home. She was blaming the hormones for her pregnancy, but felt some tears running down her cheeks, she couldn't believe you were changing her for that woman. Entering the marui, not noticing the presence of Tonowari, who greeted her innocently. "Love?" asks the man, seeing how his partner ignores him.

You and Ronal have known each other for years, since you were both young. Always close…always together. As life would have it, Ronal and Tonowari end up as a mate, while you get yours as well. But this never separated them. Ronal always explained to tonowari that she had always loved you as her mate, but that she had to respect the fact that you now had your own mate. Ronal had her children, ao'nung, tsireya and the baby on the way. While you only had rotxo. To your good fortune, your children had grown up as a family. So the couples were always close… it wasn't until about 6 years ago that your partner passed away, due to a strange illness. Leaving you and rotxo alone and helpless. Of course, tonowari and ronal were not going to sit back and do nothing, and practically became your partner. Supporting you, caring for you and loving you as one of their own. They weren't going to let you be alone….but nothing about their union had been spoken for. It just happened, that's why Ronal had spent the last 7 months giving you courtship gifts, showing you what your life with them would be like. Then formally asking you to join them. But now her heart was broken.

"Well…I think it's getting late, I hope you really like the gift" you speak, watching as neytiri held the basket of fruit you had given her. She was holding it with great care and appreciation. Rotxo had told you that Kiri had told him that his family still felt strange and that they could hardly find food. That they were new and things were difficult. You couldn't stand by and do nothing…you wanted to help them. You were glad to see that Rotxo was so kind, you had raised him well. So with your son's help, you prepared a basket full of food. "Thank you…this means a lot to me" says neytiri, she felt comfortable with you, you treated her like a normal na'vi. "No problem…whatever you need, feel free to come see me. We're practically neighbors" you speak, laughing with her. Your marui were very close. Neytiri gives you a hug, and says goodbye to you.

"Rotxo come on!!!" you call to your son, watching him say goodbye to the sully girls. Running towards you. "Let's go to dinner… I think ronal made your favorite today" you take your son by the hand. As you both start the walk to ronal and tonowari's marui. On the way you meet ao'nung, who sticks to you like a limpet. After all, you are his favorite mom. You three quickly arrive at the marui, noticing that everyone was there. You walk over to Tonowari, greeting him. He takes your hand, placing a soft kiss on your palm. "Hello beautiful…how are you feeling?" the man asks, watching as you sit down next to him. "Fine…but I see not everyone is happy" you speak, looking over to where Ronal was. She was preparing the last details of the meal.

"Ah, she came in like that…I don't know what's wrong with her, she doesn't want to tell me anything" tonowari says, lifting his shoulders. You decide to give her space, maybe she was feeling bad. You were sure she would tell you everything later. The meal passed quickly, everyone was happy as usual. Laughing and having a good time, but you could feel Ronal's discomfort, she didn't even talk enough all afternoon. When everyone was done, the kids went for a little walk, leaving you alone in the marui.

"Ok…what's going on with you?" you ask Ronal. Watching as she looks up with anger. You were supposed to be her friend, just her own. "Tell me you?" speaks Ronal with sarcasm, Tonowari is a little surprised by Ronal's attitude, she is not usually like that with you. "Me? What did I do?" you look at Tonowari looking for an answer, but you see how he lifts his shoulders. "You were talking to that woman…the omaticaya. Laughing…you're" ronal shouted out of nowhere, pausing for a few minutes.

"You were flirting with her…I thought my feelings for you were clear, that you understood that we want you as our mate and you were talking that way with her" Ronal shouts, you could see the tears falling from her eyes. You laugh a little, watching as Ronal slaps you on the knee. "Ronal, sweetheart!!!" you speak, moving from your space, to sit next to her. Wrapping your arms around her waist, resting her on your body. "You're misunderstanding…look. Rotxo told me they were having difficulty with food, so I made her a present. We were just talking, that's all," you speak. "But…she" whines Ronal. "Don't worry about that stuff…I'm happy with you guys." You speak.

"So you know we want you to be our mate?" asks Tonowari. You laugh again, you loved seeing them so confused. "Sure… we have been for years, haven't we?" you ask. There was a short silence, until tonowari spoke. "You should have told me that before…so you would have been invited to spend the nights with us" he winks at you. Feeling Ronal give him a slap on his thigh, while you laugh.

"I want you to be with us forever…like we've always been together," says Ronal, looking into your eyes. Watching as you move closer and press your nose to hers. Hugging her tighter. You pull away a little, "although I must admit ….jake sully is very handsome" you joke. "Ok…so much for that man" says Tonowari, getting up from the floor. Feeling you stop him by the hand, they both laugh. Maybe they weren't the perfect family, but they were trying.

P.s This is the first time I write something about ronal… I didn't know how I wanted to write it. But I still hope you like this reading.

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candlecoo-sideb-art · 1 year

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You said that Martin would be mentioned in some statements between like 1997 and 2003 (❓)

So hypothetically how would Jon react❓Even if he just had a small mention in the statement❓

Martin is only briefly mentioned in a couple statements but never directly or at least not as a focal point.

1995

He appears first in the statement of Molly Blaire's statement about her Neighbor Eleonore's illness.

Molly Blaire was considered a neighborhood Betty, peeking out her windows watching the lives of her neighbors for entertainment. Which led her to discover that Eleonore Blackwood had a rather foul temperament whenever her husband was away on business, and that her prime target was her son. A rather lonely boy who Molly could not remember the name of only that it started with an M.

The events of the statement don't occur until after the boys disappearance in early 1994, which is quickly followed by Eleonore being abandoned by her husband.

That is the last mention of him in that statement.

1998

He is briefly mentioned in the statement of Roderick Steele a dock worker regarding finding himself lost on the piers. Claiming to find himself alone on a previously crowded dock, as if every person had disappeared into thin air. This event happened after finding a child wandering the docks. But when he tried approaching the boy to see if he was lost he was confronted by a large frightening man.

2001

Darius Garner makes note of a teenager on the Tundra during his employment. The boy didn't seem to be part of the crew and didn't perform any daily tasks like the rest of the attendance. Often seen working on textbooks or other unusual tasks to see on a ship. He describes the strange absence the boy left in his wake though he hardly spoke a word and how he affected the crew. Darius only discovered that the boy was Captain Luka's son in the later half of his voyage, and is only referred to as the young captain.

2008

The last mention is made by Bianca Harper regarding her sister's poetry obsession and disappearance.

Bianca's sister Clair had always fancied herself as a poet and poetry enthusiast. Often seeking out published works from new upcoming poets. Which is how she stumbled upon a collection by a person by the name of M K Blackwood. Clair's regard for the book started out rather mundane, until she found one poem in particular;

"If lonely souls help each other

Then I must find one as sad as I

But I've searched the world

And haven't yet

And have to wonder why"

Clair would repeat it over and over and as she did the less she would reach out. And the dimmer she would become like all the life had drained out of her and all she could say was those five lines. Until one day it was like she never existed at all.

Jon does make the connection between the statement in 1995 to the 2008 statement as possibly referring to the same M Blackwood, but nothing that would connect to Martin.

#made for the lonely au #tma au #martins mother #martin blackwood #lonely!martin #lukas!martin #the magnus archive #tma #tma podcast #the magnus archives

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lacedinweb22 · 5 months

Text

Beginnings of Someone Else ⋆｡𖦹 Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader (Ch.9) prev part

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Miguel sleeps beside you, facing you. His breathing is soft, warm on your skin. You never imagined you’d be this close to him.

You savor it

… until you feel the pressure on your bladder.

You slowly pull the blankets off of you and head to the bathroom on your tiptoes.

After you flush, you see a drop of crimson beside the toilet. You crouch down, investigating.

There’s a bigger puddle in the corner, at the base of the bathtub.

It’s… blood. Has to be. Dark, dried up blood.

You rush to his bedroom, then softly tap his shoulder.

“Mig, Miguel,” you whisper.

He wakes up, “What? What’s wrong?” He stands up suddenly, looking around, the tinge of crimson in his eyes brighter, canines sharper, moving perfectly fast enough to go unnoticed.

“Jesus, calm down! It’s just a– in the bathroom, there’s… on the floor… it looks like–”

“What? What looks like what?” He’s panicked, trying to read your face.

You pull him out of his room, and push him down the hall and to the bathroom.

You point at the bathroom floor.

“There. Mig, what the fuck is that?”

“Oh. Oh. That’s– I cut myself shaving.”

He’s lying.

“What? Mig. You shave on the toilet?”

“I was in a rush for work a few days ago, and I uhh shaved in the shower, then I cut myself, you know, started bleeding, and got out. It’s just a little blood, Y/N,” he shrugs, nonchalantly.

He crouches down to grab disinfectant spray from the cabinet under the sink. You watch him clean the puddle of blood. You aren’t buying it. It freaks you out.

You start to think about the nightmares, the screams; maybe they were a warning, and maybe the nightmares were real. Maybe Miguel isn’t the person he was in university. Maybe he’s a serial killer, or a druglord, I mean he’s rich. Maybe he’s just a man, a cold-hearted man who's fooled you into thinking differently. Maybe you were right to lose trust in everything and everyone you’ve ever known. Maybe you should’ve left this dream in the past, along with everything else.

Your heart is in your stomach, but you don’t want him to see that, so you mutter, “Think I’m gonna get going.”

He turns up at you from his cleaning, and looks at you confusedly, “What? I was gonna make us breakfast.”

He stands up slowly, now towering over you, and the naivety that’s been blinding you is lifted; you now see him as the threatening, huge, manly guy you should have seen him as this whole time. How could you trust him? After everything…

“No, it’s fine, Miguel. I agreed to get coffee with a friend, and umm I also gotta check up on the maintenance work. I have a super busy day, so umm I’ll be heading out.”

He looks at you, head tilted, eyebrows scrunched, “Okay… okay. I’ll catch you later then.”

You leave his apartment, and lock your door.

****

Ash’s jaw drops.

“Y/N, you know what this means, right? He’s a serial killer,”

You scoff but there’s truth in her words.

“Or even worse,

he’s sleeping with someone,” she says before sipping her coffee.

“I hate you. I really do. This is serious.”

“And I’m being serious! Blood? Could be intense BDSM. That or he’s a serial killer,” she shrugs, lightly.

“God, Ash, so helpful. Those are two completely different possibilities. How am I supposed to figure out which one he is? No, no, he told me he wasn’t sleeping with anyone. I have to trust at least that.”

“Y/N. Blood. You still trust that man? I mean, the noises at night, a puddle of blood on his bathroom floor. Sex addict or serial killer. You choose.”

“Enough with the sex. God, it makes me ill to think he could be sleeping with someone, right there in front of me. Even worse, he could be killing right in front of me, and I’ve been too oblivious to even notice.”

“I wouldn’t blame myself. You read too much into everything. It’s not your job to investigate him, or play detective. I would just keep my distance.”

“But he’s not just my neighbor. He’s… he’s Miguel. You remember back then, how much–”

“God, yes. How could I forget? I remember how heartbroken you were when Kat Nilson walked with him after class, or when he didn’t write anything on your midterm paper. I know what he meant to you, or what he means to you. I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N. This is a man, and right now, we don’t know if he’s a serial slut or a serial killer, so I think you should keep your distance.”

You sigh. Your stomach hurts. Maybe the blood on your fire escape and the blood in his bathroom were just the beginnings of a monster, one with a double life, someone else.

***

✧❅ Next chapter here

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secular-jew · 7 months

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Please share and help stop propaganda and educate people.

I was born to hate jews. By Kaseem Hafiz

It was part of my life. I never questioned that. I was not born in Iran or Syria. I was born in England. My parents moved there from Pakistan. Theirs was the typical immigrant story: Move to the West hoping to create a better life for themselves and their children.

We were a devoted Muslim family, but not extremists or radicals in any way. We only wanted the best for everyone - everyone except the Jews. The Jews, we thought, were aliens living in stolen Muslim land, occupiers involved in a genocide against the Palestinian people. Our hatred was therefore justified and just. And it left me and my friends vulnerable to radical extremist arguments. If the Jews were as evil as we've always believed, shouldn't those who support them - Christians, Americans and others in the West - be just as evil?

All of this had its desired effect. At least it did on me. It changed the way I looked at the world. I began to look at the suffering of Muslims, including in Britain, as the fault of Western imperialism. The west was at war with us, and the Jews controlled the west. My experience at the university in the UK only reinforced my increasingly radical conviction. Hating Israel was a badge of honor. Set up an anti-Israel, pro-Palestinian rally, and you were sure to attract a huge, approver

While in uni, I decided that the protests and propaganda against Israel were not enough. Real jihad requires violence. So I made plans to join the real fight. I want to drop out of college and join terrorist training camp in Pakistan. But, fortunately for me, fate intervened - in a bookstore.

I came across a book called The Case for Israel by Harvard law professor Alan Dershowitz. The case for Israel? Which case could that be? The title itself infuriated me, and I started reading the pages almost like a travesty. How ill-informed, how stupid, can this guy be to defend the defenseless? Well, he was a Jew. That must have been the answer

👉Still I am reading. And what I read challenged all my dogmas about Israel and the Jews: I read that it was not Israel who created the Palestinian refugee crisis, it was the Arab countries, the UN and the corrupt Palestinian leadership. I read that Jews did not exploit the Holocaust to create the state of Israel; the movement to create a modern Jewish state dating back to the 19th. century, and eventually to the beginning of the Jewish people almost 4000 years ago. And I read that Israel is not engaged in genocide against the Palestinians. On the contrary, the Palestinian population has actually doubled in just twenty years.

👉What I saw with my own eyes was even more challenging than what Dershowitz had written. Instead of apartheid I saw Muslims, Christians and Jews coexisting. Instead of hate, I saw acceptance, even compassion. I saw a violent, modern, liberal democracy, full of flaws, for sure, but fundamentally decent. I saw a country that wanted nothing but to live in peace with its neighbors. I watched my hate melt before my eyes. I knew just then what I had to do.

Too many people on this planet are consumed by the same hate that consumed me. They have been taught to despise the Jewish state - many Muslims through their religion, many others by their university professors or student groups.

So here's my challenge to anyone who feels this way: do what I did - seek the truth for yourself. If the truth can change me, it can change anyone.

I am Kasim Hafeez from Prager University.

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

milkman reader milking rootbeer cause is that time of the month

(Reader is a "farmer" rather than milkman because that's a different can of worms. Minors shoo. No outright smut, but you do milk the guy's tits and it almost gets there. Obvs warning for male lactation)

Farmer.

A nickname lovingly bestowed upon you by new neighbors and friends. You didn't have any crops, nor animals in a literal since, but you were the proud owner of the old farm house on the outskirts of their town. The place was a little run down, but livable until you had the chance to fix things up. With the price it would be good as new in no time. It was quite the shock to discover the town was full of hybrids, but the locals were all friendly and welcomed you with open arms. Especially Rootbeer.

Riley was a walking stereotype with his thick, southern accent and smooth tongue, but he had also taken a liking to you since the day you moved in. A steady flirt who was always there when you least expected it and at your door when you needed a shoulder to lean on, sometimes even when you hadn't told a soul about your problems. Brought you gifts often too such as embroideries he worked on in his shop and the occasional bottle of fresh milk. He really was nothing short of a gentleman when it came to you, and tonight was the night he'd reap the chances of his efforts.

Riley has... been avoiding you. He'd greet you just the same, but stop the conversation there. He would constantly stare at you so it's not like he was completely avoiding you, but whenever you tried to reach out he'd make an excuse of chest aches or simply leave. Even now, sitting alone on your couch, you have your messages open - unsure if you should try just one more time.

A heavy fist on your front door snaps you from that pipedream.

"Coming!" You toss you phone onto the couch as you hop to your feet and over to the door. Your visitor knocks again as you unlock the door, opening it for you. It's Riley. Out of his normal get up and in a hoodie and some old beat up jeans. There's stains on the front of his shirt, still bleeding through the fabric as he pushes you inside.

"Look, there isn't a whole lot of time for me to explain, but I really need your help. I'm real sorry for the way I've been treating you, but I didn't want to hurt you or scare you away."

You watch the growing stains on his chest, the tee constricting his muscles and lungs fighting to breath. "You're gonna have to give some explanation."

"I know- shit." He runs his fingers through his hair, tearing off the hood ill fitted to his horned scalp. "As you can clearly see, we ain't normal cows. Every couple weeks we lactate depending on diet and whatnot. That can get more frequent if we find a suitable mate and.." He stops himself. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm not able to do it myself. Please.."

It looks like he's struggling to breath, about ready to drop to his knees from the look in his eyes. You can't just leave him like this. "Okay... I'll help you out"

You lead him over to the couch before he melts into the floorboards. You help peel off his shirt and roll it over his engorged pecs. You cup your hand around his left, beads of milk leaking from his inverted nipple from the cautious touch alone. The area was red and swollen, yet his chest as a whole was soft and plump - part of the former likely being due to his vain attempts at releasing himself. You gently kneed upwards, looking up at Riley for guidance.

"You're doing fine. Feelin' a little better already. You don't have'ta do more than your comfort with." He completes with an attempt at a laugh, shoving his rolled up shirt into his mouth to make his groans as you grip his chest with firm hands. At this position, and when you're standing up, you're about chest height with him. You lean forward and circle your tongue around his untouched bub which makes his eyes pop out of his skull as his spine curves against the arm of the couch.

The milk was creamy, with that faint root taste akin to the drink he got his nickname. It tasted almost like a richer rootbeer float. Come to think of it, that's exactly what the milk he gave you tasted like. Probably should've realized that sooner. You'd get on his case about it later, but your hands and mouth were quite literally to full to bring it up.

For now, you firmly wraps your lips around his tit and suck the tender bud. Riley shifts in your hold and tries to keep a bold face. It's the first time someone's helped him with a milking.. ever, really. He tried to imagine a scene similar to this while doing it himself, but obviously no fantasy could compare to the real thing. You move into his lap for better range, erect rutting against his jeans and the curve of your ass as you work the fluid from his chest. He grips your thigh to pull you further up before you could notice, but instead you roll your hips against his as you settle directly on that spot. His teeth pierce a hole clean through his shirt as he groans.

To lessen the later cleanup, you switch sides and lap up the milk running down his torso as you work back up to his nipple. Riley collects some of your saliva as his hand travels down to the heat between his legs, slipping into his boxers just to simulate what having your mouth around his girth could feel like. It's shameful, but he doesn't care. You couldn't return to normalcy after doing something like this and he wanted all in. To hold you like he's dreamed since the day you moved in. He taps on your back at you drain the last few drops from his chest.

"Heya, Y/n? I don't want to push my luck and all, but it'd be a real big help if you could help me with another kind of milking."

#Im going to hell #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere smut #yandere lemon #yandere hybrid #Milk farm tag

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thegreatyin · 1 month

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Your posts about Fallen London are slowly tempting me into playing it- do you have any tips to start or is it best to play it completely blind?

i have a few tips and tricks! mind you im far from a veteran and i basically got my hand held by tumblr for most of the game so take everything with a grain of salt. you can and should do whatever you want always. i don't personally play it blind, but you may get more enjoyment out of it if you do, and that's awesome and im super happy for you. this is what i can say from experience:

take your time with it. this is like. the numero uno fallen london tip. it's not a game where you rush to the end in a week. it's a game where you do 10-minute-intervals of a marathon to the end in maybe a few months if you know what you're doing. spending money on action refills usually isn't worth it when you can just mosey on through neathly life one storylet at a time. a vast majority of the game's content is completely free to everyone, and while the monthly subscription options are pretty neat and let you play some exclusive story stuff (that can be pretty fire- cricket anyone basically defined the scoundrel's entire character) none of it is required and 99% of the time you aren't missing out on anything by just taking your time and exploring the neath at your own pace.

you need to raise all of your skills eventually! this is, uh. something im horribly guilty of not following myself. you can (and probably should) pick at least two stats to focus on for your character (most of the time these will be your main ambition stats, aka the closest thing FL has to a main story questline) but eventually you Will be expected to have them all at around the 100 range, minimum. for certain Super Late-game Story Content, watchful 200 is mandatory to start it, so if you have trouble choosing i'd recommend leveling that bad boy first. don't neglect your other stats though!!! don't be like me. don't be like my poor poor neglected shadowy and dangerous. it's too late for me. save yourself.

friends are fun and free and you are legally mandated to exploit them for fun and profit. okay you really aren't mandated to exploit your FL friends list but you totally should anyway just for goofy sillies. to be less jokey about it, while fallen london is primarily a single-player gaming experience, the playerbase is super friendly and super open to helping each other out (especially new players!). go on reddit, ask around on tumblr, get yourself a few buddies and use them as resources to gain items and stats and menace reduction i mean. valued companions that im sure you will treasure forever and definitely not backstab to publish that inflammatory newspaper article you've been cooking up.

on a very loosely similar note, the fallen london wiki is your best friend. yes, we're following stardew rules with this one. this is the kind of game best optimally played with a wiki article or three open in the neighboring tabs so you can follow along and know what is what. there's tons of guides on basically every part of FL, and it's no shame at all to reach out to either it or the wider community if you get stuck or feel lost at something.

if an in-game storylet has bold text, it will never lie to you! except for when it does. but that's very very very rare. you can always trust the bold text. it is always your friend. i prommy. which brings us neatly into our next bulletpoint,

seeking the name is ill-advised because it's the only storyline that can permanently brick your account at its conclusion. don't worry, the ease at which you can avoid this is practically comical, and the game will Always give you multiple chances to opt-out if you somehow accidentally start it anyway. most people make a dedicated alt character entirely for the purpose of sacrificing them to the well of doom. unless you're playing with your eyes closed for multiple months straight, you'll never run into SMEN without deliberately chasing it, and if you somehow get to that point honestly man just ignore this entire bulletpoint and see how far the rabbithole goes. go on. it's friendly :)

batfucking is always the right answer to any problem ever

echoes/the game's standard currency should always be thought of as a method of gaining items rather than a strict hoard of video game dollars. money-making can be super difficult in the earlygame, but it gets exponentially easier as you go further on. you shouldn't be afraid to sell anything you don't need, though personally i'd recommend keeping an "insurance stock" of the most basic items just in case. this includes rostygold, moon-pearls, honey droplets, etc. by-and-large, these are the easiest items to get in a pinch, and it usually isn't worth buying them from the bazaar when you can otherwise get them naturally through other methods around london. once you've got a good lodgings setup and feel decently familiar with the earlygame zones and their options, you should aim to have at minimum 1,000 of these bad boys on hand at any given time, then feel free to sell any excess you make for some quick cash in a pinch.

menaces aren't as bad as you may think, but be wary of specifically suspicion! the four main menace qualities you'll encounter in the earlygame are nightmares, wounds, scandal, and suspicion. when one of these menace stacks reach 8, you'll automatically be trapped in a unique location corresponding to whatever menace you raised too high and will have to spend time working your way out. some (nightmares and wounds) tend to fly-by rather quickly, while others (scandal and suspicion) tend to take a bit longer to get out of. none of these mean the end of your playthrough or your character, and some quests even require you to visit certain menace-exclusive locations! there are tons of items and ways to reduce menaces and keep yourself out of Situations such as these, but suspicion in particular is probably the only menace you should avoid maxing At All Costs. when your suspicion gets too high and you get sent to its special menace zone too often, you build up a criminal record that makes it harder to reduce suspicion in the future. fortunately, suspicion is the only menace with this gimmick, and before this record gets too high it's just as easy to keep row as the rest of the lot. TLDR, death from wounds is easy to escape from, but avoiding the strongarm of the law is substantially more annoying and inconvenient.

or you could be like tumblr user @with-bells-upon, who's apparently avoided death at all costs and apparently hasn't died once in the entire several months they've been playing. i don't even know how they've gotten this far without doing that. it's kind of impressive, kind of funny. especially since their ambition is one the few requiring you to die to proceed. this isn't a piece of advice i just wanted to affectionately call them out because what the heck

speaking of ambitions, pick the ambition that's right for you! ambitions are the biggest overarching questline in the game, and their requirements and rewards span the entire neath and occasionally even beyond. all four ambitions are meant to be started early and last well into the mid and late game. outside of a certain special situation regarding the light fingers ambition (the only ambition that explicitly lies to you in-game when describing its premise) you can't change your ambition without spending money, so choose carefully and choose well. they're all (mostly) equally rewarding and equally fulfilling adventures that will define your player character and your journey through the neath. there's tons of advice and spoiler-free summaries of each ambition online, so i won't cover it all here. just do your research (or don't, if you prefer) and follow your heart. maybe playing the world's most high-stake poker game ever speaks to you. maybe you want to commit a murder. maybe you want to commit a murder in the name of justice and/or revenge. maybe you just want a really really big really really shiny rock. all can be found in the neath, and all shall (eventually) be well.

if you buy 400 lucky weasels you get a special achievement. i don't need to say more.

make up a guy. this is another legal mandate if you're a fallen london player. you have to make up your own little sicko victorian london guy and roleplay them while you play. trust me. it's fun. it's free. they're going to haunt you forever. the scoundrel got a nickname like 4 months ago and ever since my mind has never known peace.

and probably most important of all, fallen london might not be the game for you, and that's okay. it includes a lot of reading. and grinding. and i do mean a lot of reading and grinding. particularly the latter, which tends to throw people off the most out of anything. it's a very niche game for a very niche audience and getting into it can be an acquired taste at the best of times. but when you do get into it, it's some Really good writing and Really in-depth worldbuilding and the most fun you'll ever have imagining sicko victorian guys running around building train stations and railway tracks directly to hell. take your time, have fun, and most important of all, always look to love.

anyway yeah that's my fallen london tips and tricks list isn't it really short and comprehendible

#im not really good at writing advice. hope this helps u out regardless #ask #fallen london #long post

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whammyy · 3 months

Text

➜ ‘ fuck you.

$ in which austin (your next door neighbor) is going through his hoe phase & disturbing your peace so you decide to do something about it.

austin x black!femreader the thumping of your next door neighbors room was so fucking annoying. you get it, he just got out of a relationship. he’s hurt. but did he have to go stick his dick in something every other night? it’s hard as fuck for you to concentrate with the sound of wailing sluts crying for austin to go deeper.

10:34 thump, thump, thump. all you fucking heard. does he not realize a bitch gotta work? you got out of bed & put your slippers & robe on. fixing the way your bonnet was sliding off your head. you walked out to the hallway & knocked hardly on the apartment door.

it took at least 5 minutes for him to answer the door & when he did he was shirtless with his v-line hanging out of his navy blue shorts. and also sweating like a damn pig.

“what can i do for you ‘princess?” He asked, eyes burning a hole in your body. “you can’t keep it down dude? your loud as fuck and to be honest ion wanna hear that shit.” He laughed at your response. such a cunt. “yea, ill keep it down baby.” he said, the response making your cheeks flush especially with his deep tone. he closed the door and you walked angrily back to your apartment.

he did in fact stick to his word & kept it down so you let it go. a week later he was at it again. you couldn’t take it anymore, so fucking annoying. if the apartment wasn’t such good rent and close to your campus you would’ve been moved out, but you didn’t.

did he never get tired? his dick in all these i know have to be loose ass girls. and why did he use this as his resort for stress? it couldn’t be working out, reading, anything else? it had to be sex for what.

weeks & weeks go by and he’s still going. you couldn’t get good sleep because the noises were so bothering. and your grades were starting to turn into c’s from the lack of sleep. your pretty face was starting to look tired out from the lack of sleep & oh hell no? on yo soul that wasn’t gone end well for him.

you stormed out the house & beat on his door. when he didn’t answer it you beat on it for a second time, a third time was gonna come but he swung the door open his figure hovering over you with a scowl. “what?”

batting your eyelashes at him you spoke with annoyance. “I’m sick of you and your noises! i asked you could you keep it down & you can’t and if you don’t i’m gone tell the office. ion wanna hear that shit i tell you.”

resting his beautiful body in the doorframe he didn’t see to be one bit bothered by your words. “your real pretty to be such a whiny bitch. if you wanted to get ruined all you had to do is say that.” your pussy clenched & was starting to drench your panties at the words. “who do you think you are fucking manwhore?” he smiled and got closer to you. “I can be anybody you want me to be baby, I don’t appreciate the name though we can work on that..” you were so disgusted but obsessed with him. “i fucking hate you.”

he kept his word & was quiet. you were happy. & looking pretty again with no eye bags and with maintained A’s. but you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to try him?

you found yourself at his door again knocking on it. he opened the door with a lollipop hanging out his mouth. “what ya’ need? I been quiet little miss complainer.” you rolled your eyes at his words. “i just wanted to tell you to stop- don’t call me that fucking manwhore.”

he gripped your face and stepped out his door. “you a fragile little girl. m’ gone suggest you watch your mouth baby.” you scoffed. “what ya’ gone do if i don’t?”

you were quick to be put in a face down ass up position on his bed. his thick dick stretching you out badly. “your so damn tight baby? if i knew i had this next door i wouldn’t have to worry about fucking other girls.” you clenched down on him tighter after hearing that. making him groan.

he started picking up his thrusts, fast. real fast. he was so goddamn deep in this position it hurted. “I can’t take it.” you whined. he laughed as he kept pounding into you from behind ignoring what you just said, so you put your hand back there. he quickly slapped it away and put both of your hands above your head.

“where’s all that mouth at now baby?” you couldn’t even say nothing right now back to him. you were feeling so good. “you still hate me baby?” the way you deep in my guts right now? “boy—fuckk. i love you.” he laughed. you started throwing yourself back faster as you felt yourself getting close.

“I think—oh my god, i think im finna cum!” he held your hips tight with one hand, other hand gripping the ass fat on your body. “cum baby.” and you did. shaking real hard as you came he kept going because he hasn’t came yet.

“pussy so tight, gotta keep this around baby. you on the pill mama?” you nodded eyes rolling to the back of your head as he still kept going. “good baby, cause m’ bout to feel this pretty cunt up.” he picked his thrusts up fast, holding onto your neck as he kept thrusting. thrusts getting sloppy & dick twitching, he came. inside of you. and he did feel you up.

he pulled out and watched as the seed was dripping out of you. “look so pretty baby, and by the way. i love these dermals in your back. look real good on you baby.” smh. “fuck you.”

#austin butler #austin butler smut #smut #black reader

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thelureking · 1 year

Text

I had this idea to make a list of all the games I played in 2022, half as a recommendation list, and half because I struggle to remember when I played what. I have a really bad time ranking stuff, so I'll just list them chronologically (or, as chronologically as I can remember).

Note: Sometimes I dont have a lot to say about a game, but that doesnt mean I didn't like it or that it isn't good.

So, with that being said:

1) Our Life: Beginnings and Always

This game has put visual novels on another level entirely. How must I go on knowing that I will never be treated like royalty by any other game like this did. Our Life tells the story of your friendship and/or romance with Cove Holden, your new neighbor. This Visual Novel remembers an insane amount of stuff you choose, and it can put you in the state of mentioning something you did as a kid that you completely forgot about. I actually really liked how you can go the entire game as just friends, or choose when your character develops romantic feelings. I cannot overstate how well made this entire thing is. Can't wait to play the DLCs and for the sequel to be released.

Absolute recommend.

2) Iron Lung

If you have a computer, you can play it. It is not an option.

Claustrophobic above all, this game captures the pure dread of the unknown, building tension and atmosphere as you travel through this unknown planet's red sea. Highly recommended.

3) An Outcry

Amazing game that I don't see enough people talking about. The first game that made me actually physically ill while playing an alternative route. I don't know what hit me the most, the subject matter or the type of person I played in that route, a person I know exists and maybe I've met, a person I hope I never become. I knew what the game was specifically referencing, but I found it good that it was able to trigger that response on someone who lives in an entirely different place, with different historical events, but with enough similarities that made the feeling of dread and disgust that much real. Its message is clear and loud as it should be, and one that I think maybe now more than ever needs to be heard. I cannot recommend this game enough.

4) Stillwater

Now this is a Visual Novel that I really liked and would have loved for it to be longer, but I love it as it is. It left me wanting more about the world and its characters, and I think that's a good thing. It feels unfair that this is the one I typed the least about, knowing how much I liked it. It's really worth the read/play.

5) The Caribbean Sail

Have you ever wanted to be a sailor or a pirate? Have you ever wanted to grab a ship, sail into unknown destinations, encounter supernatural phenomenons and watch as your fellow crew members die of disentry five seconds after leaving your first port? Because if so, I have the perfect game for you. It's inspired by the Oregon Trail game, and that's literally what the gameplay is like, except on the sea. Which was enough of a selling point for me.

6) Carrion

My child, it has every disease. Loved the concept when I saw the trailer, forgot I can actually buy games now, and then proceeded to do that. Being able to live my fantasies of being a flesh creature that destroys and eats everything in its path was a delight. The creature is my child and I love it very much.

We need more games that let you play as the monster, I'm serious.

7) The Life and Suffering of Sir Brante

This game is both my beloved and the thorn on my side. Who would have thought that in a game like this you would proceed to suffer through life? I said to myself as if I hadn't known what I was getting into. You'll experience loss, you'll struggle to make a name for yourself, your family will fall apart, and you may never kiss your best friend Tommas who gave you a totally platonic ring to commemorate your friendship because the game doesn't want you to.

Or you'll have a different experience than me on my first playthrough.

You follow the titular Sir Brante from the moment of his birth to his last breath, exploring the world he lives in, full of injustices that at times made me go "I do not care about the lots, give me a fucking gun so I can take you to the fucking Twins". There are many branches regarding life paths, the fate of your family and that of the entire city you live in. But don't worry about it now, keep looking at those toy soldiers at the store as a little kid, I'm sure nothing will happen in the future.

8) Princess Maker 2 Refine

And apparently I didn't get enough of walking a kid through life.

Who looks at a game about raising a little girl by managing her monthly schedule and balancing her stats, health and money and says "yes, this is the game I'll play to destress"?

I do that. Don't ask why.

I have only reached two endings, in one my beautiful daughter became the royal painter, her art held as the most beautiful and inspiring in the entire world. In another, my girl made a name for herself by exploring the lands surrounding the kingdom, so fast on her feet nobody could even scratch her; she married a dragon prince and became the teacher of her own fighting school.

And even with all of that, her goddess mother was not happy.

So yes, this is the "divorced dad who got custody" experience.

9) Planescape: Torment

What can change the nature of a man? That is a question posed by one Ravel Puzzlewell, night hag of the Gray Wastes. It is one of the many questions that this game asks, intertwined by the many philosophies it presents. Planescape Torment does not stick to one question, it asks many, and it lets you answer.

It is a beautifully written game, one of the best I have ever read. There is one moment that I do not wish to spoil, but it still sticks to my head months after I experienced it. As a writer, I found myself fascinated by how a certain event was told, all because of the way it was presented.

It feels like an injustice to not talk in length about Planescape: Torment, but I seriously don't want to spoil anyone who hasn't played it yet. A blind experience is fully worth it. All you need to know is that this is the game that made me post for the first time here, two dumb memes for myself and one short analysis that sometimes reminds me that yes, people can interact with it. Shameless link to it here

10) Growing my Grandpa!

If I had to describe this game without saying too much, I would say it's "heartwarming horror". Two words that don't usually go together, but that they perfectly fit here. The story is, like the title says, about growing your grandpa, more like helping a girl grow her grandpa, but still. Strangely sweet and unnerving, I was tense the entire time, and even when I had to replay it to get the second ending (this was entirely my fault, since I could have gotten it way easier) that tension never left.

11) FAITH: The Unholy Trinity

I don't remember how I found out about this game, but I remember waiting patiently for it to get a steam release so I could buy it and play its three chapters all together. The day finally came, and all that waiting was worth it.

The gameplay is simple, yet the developers found a way to have me both crying in fear and frothing by the mouth out of anger every time I saw the game over screen (affectionately). In terms of difficulty, I would say the game is easy until it isn't, looking at you Chapter 2 and 3 Final Bosses, you bastards. Then again, I saw people say they struggled in places I didn't, so I would say it depends on the player.

The story is so interesting and it's still marinating in my brain please I need people to talk about how the prologue of chapter 2 and the one note in chapter 3 relate please. The cutscenes are also so well done, and I had to restrain myself from using one as a second picture because I didn't want to spoil any of them.

All in all, a must play, fully recommend it.

And remember:

GARY LOVES YOU

12) Inmortal Mantis

This is a tricky one. On one hand, the game starts off by basically spelling out every action you have to do, and suddenly it goes full on "fuck around and find out" mode. On the other, the game implements some interesting mechanics that I would love to see developed on a longer game, but I am not going to put the length against it while knowing how hard it is to make a game. And maybe being short plays in its favor.

13) Who's Lila?

This game is my King in Yellow. I cannot stop thinking about it. I finished it with all endings and achievements in a day, and it wont leave me alone. It is always there, forever crawling at the back of my head, stretching itself over my brain and weaving my thoughts into a spiral as easily as a spider weaves its thread. It made itself a home in my mind and I won't kick it out any time soon. I played it because the concept of controlling a character's face in place of a dialogue wheel was interesting, and the story and the way it's presented (hand in hand with the gameplay) lured me deeper and deeper. I cannot even describe it without giving it the praise it deserves. It takes full advantage of its medium. Playing this game is an experience that I can't recommend enough, and I'm surprised it hasn't gotten the recognition it deserves.

14) Someone stole MY LUNCH!

This visual novel is pure fun. The humor is so good I found myself reading the entire thing out loud while wheezing. I actually found out recently that it's made by the same people that made Stillwater, which, looking at it now I should have known. It's good and I'm not still over not seeing that one joke coming; well played.

15) MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF-

... INSIDE A BAG OF MILK is a short visual novel about a girl going to the grocery to buy milk, and the challenge this seemingly small action can be. It is your responsibility to help her through this.

The steam page description perfectly summarizes it: "This is an artistic manipulation with word and form, only then - a game."

Reblog with more games

Or, you can jump to the 2023 list!

#already reblogged with three more games!#game recommendations #our life beginnings & always #iron lung #an outcry #stillwater visual novel #the caribbean sail game #carrion game #the life and suffering of sir brante #princess maker 2 #planescape torment #growing my grandpa #faith the unholy trinity #inmortal mantis #who's lila #whos lila #someone stole my lunch visual novel #milk inside a bag of milk inside a bag of milk #lilium post

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