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megamindsecretlair · 5 months

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Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out.

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit!

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour.

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office.

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch.

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge.

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help.

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore.

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man.

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?”

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them.

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal.

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss.

“Close the door,” he said.

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract?

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick.

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this?

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down.

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice.

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were.

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking.

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said.

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you?

“Count them,” he said.

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere.

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company.

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said.

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office.

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said.

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter?

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!”

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job.

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now.

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed.

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening?

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it.

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked.

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase.

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in your eyes.

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract.

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this?

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it.

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face.

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back.

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing.

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself.

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said.

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand.

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright.

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man.

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned.

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips.

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before.

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought.

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily.

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars.

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came.

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said.

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you.

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough.

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos.

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat.

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.”

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something.

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over.

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers.

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk.

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

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yuyu-bubu · 7 months

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invincibility candy!!!

#kirby #prince fluff #kirfluff #kirby fanart #Nintendo #nintendo fanart #the do's are me trying to write out the invincibility candy theme #all i do i show up every few months abd drop some kirfluff art for everyone that wants it #does anyone here listen to weatherday who here likes emo music who here likes emo i like emo music i think its cool i think its pretty cool

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gmaybe666 · 7 months

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will making ....a comic for mike

I propose that will draws all the time because losing himself in drawing is when he feels the happiest and most free, I also propose that he's obsessed with collecting images of knights and soldiers and medieval fairytales and sticking them on his wall because he is Very Gay And A Nerd

link to read will's comic

message me to buy will's comic !

#I wanna graphic novel byler so bad but it aint happening any time #take this spontaneous doodle that I've thought about making for a while #a few Easter eggs here! can you spot my jabberwocky comic pages my print!!#can you spot the tiger striped object!#can you spot the candy! I couldn't be bothered writing their logos #most of the images on the wall are from my cleradin Pinterest board I made while making the comic #also fun fact: drawn entirely from my mind with no reference :^)#will byers #byler #mike wheeler #stranger things #byler art #will byers art #stranger things art

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robiinurheart33 · 26 days

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CHAPTER 22 SPOILERS FOR THE NEON VOID‼️‼️

Haha wdym no I didn’t read the chapter almost one month after it came out wdym that’s crazy haha

ANYWAYS NEON VOID BRAINROT ANYONE?? As usual a magnificent read what can I say @sugarpasteltmnt is SO SO talented after I read this chapter I stared off into space for like a solid minute before laughing hysterically like Leo because MY GOD the adrenaline rush is so real. What compliment can I say that hasn’t been said about this fic. It gives me such goosebumps and the action sequences are just. Muah. Breathtaking. I cannot wait to read the next chapter and keep up the good work!! /lh /all pos

#my art #PLEASE TAKE UR TIME W THE NEXT CHAPTER #idw you to get burned out or anything #ur heath is the most important!#sorry this isn’t a full fledged drawing #I just read the newest chapter and completely blanked out #suddenly it’s 2am and the excited jitters in my brain finally calmed down #ur writing is like eating sour candy with a sweet aftertaste #SO GOOD #also is it weird that I have headcanons about ur fic??#hope it isn’t #but I like to imagine when Leo gets spastic his Krang eye goes haywire and shoots all over the place #same goes for his krang parts like it squirms and wriggles underneath the skin #Or when Leo is bored the sharp end of his tail will poke the ground rhythmically #HOPE YOU LIKE THE ART #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rotten #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #The Neon Void #The Neon Void TMNT #TNV TMNT

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alatushours · 28 days

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☆ LOVE POTION, various — he doesn’t know much about love, but he’ll try his best for you.

contents. featuring xiao, dan heng, and roronoa zoro. gender neutral reader, fluff. xiao + zoro is canon au, dan heng’s is modern! your first date with each of the boys ♡ word count. 537

notes. writing the prompt “love potion” for my own event despite it having been closed for a month LMAO i just need an excuse to write something… anyways uh pls pretend i’m not writing xiao when i said i wouldn’t in a while 🫣 i have a wip for tighnari otw i promise !!!

xiao has never been interested in mortal celebrations. but after meeting you, he can’t help but want to learn more about them. “would you… want to come to the lantern rite with me?”

you were pleasantly surprised when he asked; glad to see that the yaksha was finally coming out of his shell. you laughed, took his hand (which prompted a blushing mess out of him), and led him down to the harbor, where the festivities were already starting.

figuring he still wasn’t too comfortable being around large crowds of mortals, you took him to a secluded spot on a hill by the pavilion, close enough so that you could still see the lanterns that lit up the sky.

“they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” you ask him, following his eyes as he stared at tiny glowing dots fading in the night. xiao nods slowly, seemingly mesmerized by the sight. you smile softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you watch the fireworks show that followed.

dan heng, being a bit of a bookworm, was a little… socially awkward, to say the least. luckily, you found his quirks entertaining. “there’s a new bookstore that opened across the street… would you be interested?”

so one tuesday afternoon, you meet him by the park, where he stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. you giggle when he awkwardly offers them to you. “of course, why else would you have bought them for?”

making you way to the bookstore, dan heng watches as you stroll down the aisles, picking out some you wanted. he felt his heart swell as he spies his favorite novel in your hand. “i didn’t know you liked that book too…”

the two of you end up spending the rest of the afternoon in the cafe next door, chatting about your favorite books over coffee. he smiles, maybe being a geek isn’t a such bad thing after all.

zoro never quite wanted to leave the sunny when the crew docked on a new island; he preferred to stay behind and take a nap, or train. but you always encouraged him to come along, and he finally decided to go along with it. “i’m gonna go explore… if ‘ya wanna come with.”

there happened to be a small crafts market in the town nearby, so you and zoro (mostly just you) went admiring the handicrafts the stalls had on display. "aww, how lovely!" you admire a little clockwork deer that reminded you a bit of chopper.

then you realized you had some business to attend to in town, so you left zoro behind for a few minutes, saying, "don't you dare get lost while i'm gone!" he stands there awkwardly, before glancing back at the crafts stall. while i'm here...

...and then of course you happen to accidentally encounter the marines, causing you to have to run back to the ship with zoro in tow. when you're finally safe in the crow's nest of the sunny, however... he presented you with the mechanical deer toy from earlier, to your joy. "i don't have that many berries but.. i know you wanted it, so i guess i'll just have to pay nami back later."

end notes. i thought i would write a lot for xiao but i ended up writing more for zoro lmao he’s been taking up all of my brain recently but i hope you enjoyed <3

#candy hearts : an event ♡#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა mari writes !#this is long overdue huh…#xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng fluff #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro one piece #zoro fluff

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blushweddinggowns · 5 months

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Steddie Drunk Dialing Fluff

Steve Harrington-Munson was probably one of the happiest men to be alive in the modern era. He had the perfect life, against all odds. Because apparently having your late teens and early twenties ruined by demons equated to a fantastic adulthood.

He had it all. A loving family, the best friend/surrogate sister he could ever ask for, and he was married to the love of his life. And okay, yes. That had included some extremely embarrassing revelations and internal meltdowns and... a pretty brutal disownment. But he had figured it all out in the end. And here he was, a decade later with a ring on his finger and a nice hyphenated name. Not to mention how he was basically a trophy husband.

Eddie hadn't wasted a moment of the last decade. A symptom of almost dying it would seem. He went for the GED, gathered the band back up, moved across the country to chase his dreams and play in every shitty dive bar he could until they were discovered. All while dragging Steve along for the ride.

As much as Steve had believed in him, neither of them had been prepared for his music career actually taking off. Especially not to the level it did. It was undeniable that his husband was an A-Lister, despite how universally hated he was by half the country. You don't get many out and proud metal front man who loved parading around his high school sweetheart at every social event he could. But Europe loved him, as did the entirety of gay, rebellious youths world wide.

It was so stupid. There Eddie was, painted as an insane freak who was fake-married. With tabloids running story after story about his secret children, his drug addiction, a wife from another country, anything that they could think of. All while Eddie spent every free moment at Steve's side, always opting for a night in with his baby when given the choice. And when he wasn't doing that, he was busy playing surrogate fun uncle to the kids, who were definitly not kids anymore. But that didn't stop them from all getting together for Dungeons and Dragons once a month, hundreds and hundreds of campaign hours on everyone's belts. And that was his life. Spending time with his family, forcing them on hikes and runs, volunteering, working occasionally to help Robin with her translating work, all while coming home to the sweetest thing that ever existed.

God, did Steve love that man. Reminiscing about the love of his life while he was on tour was not helping his fretful sleep. He just... really had given him everything. He loved him so much in fact that he was only slightly pissed when he was woken up at three a.m. from the phone ringing off the hook.

Steve reached for it blindly, still half-asleep when he mumbled, "Mm-Eds?"

"Steeeeeeeeeevie," Eddie's voice slurred back at him, "Baby booooy. How's my baby boy? I miss my baby boy."

Steve smiled despite himself, yawning into the phone. Eddie was lucky he was so cute, considering how the love of his life who could not remember what time zones were, "He misses you too. And he's a little tired right now babe. What's up?"

"Day drunk," Eddie sighed, "Guys, morning show, mimosas, hotel room to sleep it off. Missing you."

"You won't be missing me for long," Steve softly laughed. Though... hearing his voice was quite the reminder of how cold the bed suddenly felt, "Just... one more week. That's not too long right?"

"Too long!" Eddie groaned, dramatic, "I miss you now. Why can't I see you now? Wait-Can I see you now? Cause planes and trains and-"

"And no," Steve interrupted with a chuckle, "You'd only get me for a few hours before you'd have to leave again."

"Worth it," Eddie mumbled out, his voice a little muffled as he tumbled around in his hotel bed, "Want my baby."

The pathetic tilt to his voice was enough to make Steve's heart clench. God he was too precious. Suddenly a red-eye in the middle of the night for a two hour make-out session didn't sound like such a bad idea. But he could be the strong one for tonight, "You have me sweetheart. Want me to stay on until you fall asleep."

"Yes please," Eddie sighed, "Love your voice. It's so... nice. Like... audible perfume. Like poetry or something."

"Oh baby you are wasted," Steve said as he laid back down, nestling the phone to his ear, "Please tell me you drank some water before laying down?"

"... maybe?"

"Babe."

"I knoooow. Keep nagging me though. I missed that too."

"Is my bitching your bed time story?"

He could hear Eddie nodding, rusting against the fabric, "And it's the best. Keep going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he did what he was asked. Saying every silly little grievance he could think of. He whined about how cold it was in bed without him, how Eddie had promised to take out the trash before he left and forgot. Again. How he hated how quiet it was without him, how much he missed hearing his voice trailing in and out of every room.

And Eddie listened, mumbling out a few sleepy m'sorrys and I love yous along the way. Until all Steve could hear was the slow, steady sound of his breathing. But he didn't hang up. Not when that was one of his favorite sounds in the world. And the perfect thing to fall asleep to.

Steve smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, a little amazed that Eddie could still make him feel so loved, from hundreds of miles away.

But one thing was for sure. He still had to be the happiest man on earth.

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cyberpunkren · 6 months

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Blood & Wires

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Ren x RiverWard

Raiting: explicit

Summary: Amidst thrilling bounty hunting missions and perilous confrontations, Ren and River discover that, despite their differences, they share a common commitment: unmasking the mega-corporation and restoring justice in Night City. But as they delve deeper into the depths of the conspiracy, they also find a connection that goes beyond friendship and professional collaboration.

In the heart of betrayal and danger, love blooms in this tale of action, intrigue, and romance in a cyberpunk world filled with bright lights and dark shadows. As Ren and River fight together against ruthless foes and deadly conspiracies, they also fight for a love that defies all odds.

Author notes: this is going to be a long series so... im ready for it because I haven't seen a lot of stories of River and im obsessed!!! This is a brief summary of what's to come. Hope you all enjoy it

PART II

This is the chapter II of the series I'm doing, hope you enjoy it!!!

Ren's path

Ren's alarm clock jolts her from her slumber at the crack of dawn.

"Good morning, Heywood," Ren murmurs silently as the city that never sleeps greets her with its endless car honks and the constant waft of filth that haunts the city. Ren had a childhood marked by tragedy on the streets of Night City. When she was just a child, a ruthless cyberphycho killed her parents in a senseless act of violence. This tragic event left Ren orphaned and traumatized, struggling to survive in the shadows of an unforgiving city.

After the tragedy, Ren was taken in by the Heywood district, which became a kind of maternal figure to her. The people of the district rallied to care for the orphaned girl, providing her with support and protection in the midst of Night City's cruelty. Although the city could be a dangerous place, Heywood offered her a refuge and the opportunity to grow up in a safer environment.

Throughout her childhood, Ren developed a strong will and unwavering determination to face the challenges presented by the city. The loss of her parents and her experiences on the streets shaped her character and drove her to become the brave and determined bounty hunter she is today.

As always, her routine begins with a rigorous morning workout. Hand-to hand combat and target practice keep her peak in condition. After a refreshing shower, Ren dons her hunting suit and prepares to head out into the streets of the Night City.

As she rushes down the apartment building's stairs, she decides to make a quick stop at the neighborhood cafe, where she often runs with her friend Max. Max, a skilled hacker, has been her friend for years, and although Ren is unaware, he secretly harbors deeper feelings for her.

Ren enters the cafe and finds Max at his usual table, surrounded by electronic devices and cables. He looks up and smiles when he sees her walk by in. "Does Nigh City's bravest bounty hunter need her morning caffeine fix?" Max quips as he gestures to an empty chair across from him.

"Wel, you know I can't start the day with a decent cup of coffee," Ren replies with a smile. As they enjoy their drinks, they discuss her upcoming mission, and Max offers some technological advice that might come in handy. As they chat, Max can't help but feel a mix of admiration and unrequited love for Ren, emotions he carefully keeps hidden. Knowing the past of Ren.

After bidding Max goodbye, Ren readies herself to face the day's challenges and head to the underground bar where her next bounty awaits. The city never stops, and Ren knows it better than anyone.

The underground bar, known as "The Neon Shadow", is a clandestine meeting place where hackers and criminals rub shoulders in search of valuable information and secret deals. Ren meticulously prepares for the mission.

Before entering the bar, Ren syncs up with Max.

"Are you there already?"

"Yes, Max, I'm starting to smell the stink of poorly places chrome in these sons of bitches'flesh," Ren's murmurs as she scans the crowd in the underground bar, her cybernetic eye discreetly analyzing people for clues.

"Be careful this time. I don't want to pick you up again by your pretty hair to take you to see Viktor," Max responds, concerned in his voice.

"I don't think Viktor has had time for me lately. He's too busy with another patient," Ren sighs. "I should go check on them. Misty must be devastated by the loss of Jackie. I didn't know him well, but I know he was one of the best Valentinos. Have you heard the news about what happened? I don't know how they got themselves into that mess."

"And I hope you never find out or you'll end up like them," Max warns. "I don't know how his chum survived. People say he's turned into a cyberphycho"

"Well, I'm going in," Ren concludes as she is prepared to confront Arachnid and the uncertainty that looms over the mission.

As she scans her surroundings, Ren notices an individual who seams unusually nervous and avoids eye contact. This could be Arachnid. She discreetly scans him and confirms his identity.

"Max? Confirmation?" Ren asks happily knowing this man was scared to death.

"Bingo"

"Why is it that the ones with the toughest nickname turn out to be the most terrified, Max?" Ren whispers through the holographic device.

"I don't know, all I know is that lately, you've been way too lucky. I swear, I sense something bad, like in those old space war movies."

"Max, it's Star Wars please! A little more retro culture. And yes, I also have a feeling that something bad is looming over us, chum, karma can't be that good to us, or that's what Misty says. But as long as we enjoy this mediocre place and make some eddies."

As Ren and Max exchange these words, Ren can't shake the feeling of impending danger. The dimly lit bar, filled with shady characters and the buzz of clandestine deals, only adds to the tension in the air. Ren takes another sip of her drink, her eyes constantly scanning the room, alert for any sign of trouble.

Meanwhile, Max, back at their safe virtual hideout, keeps an eye on the bar through the security cameras, ready to assist Ren if things take a turn of the worse. He knows that Ren's instinct is usually spot on, and he's prepared to act swiftly to help her in any way he can.

Max is a tall, lean man in his late 20s with a hacker's signature edgy style. He has shaggy dark hair that falls messily over his forehead, partially obscuring his sharp, intelligent eyes. His pale complexion is a testament to countless hours he spends in front of computer screens. Max often sports a black leather jacket adorned with various cyberpunk-inspired patches and a t-shirt featuring obscure references to old-school pop culture.

A pair of stylish augmented sunglasses, which he often pushes back onto his forehead, adds to his mysterious and slightly rebellious appearance. Max's fingers are agile and nimble, well-suited for intricate keyboard work. He's always seen with a holographic device, constantly fiddling with it to access information, communicate with Ren, or hack into systems.

Max's personality is a blend of tech-savvy brilliance and a quirky sense of humor. He's fiercely loyal to Ren and would go to great lengths to protect her. Despite the dangers of Night City, Max maintains a cool and composed demeanor, but there's a deep sense of concern for Ren beneath the surface.

Ren positions herself next to the bar in the filthy and repugnant bar to speak quietly, without drawing attention with Arachnid. A few words could be enough to apprehend him without any problems, as he was alone according to Max's observations on the security cameras.

"Arachnid, do you think you can escape this? You're surrounded, and there's no way out."

"Oh, Ren, you've always been the tireless hunter, haven't you?"

"Oh, what a surprise, how do you even know my precious name?"

"Of course I know it, how can't I know one of the legends of Hellwood? Ren the bounty hunter, even though that's not your real name..."

"For you and all this scumbag yes, It's Ren, nothing more and nothing less, just Ren. And now with the deal..."

"Let me tell you, you don't know who you're dealing with. I have influential friends in dark places."

"Your threats don't impress me, Arachnid. You've committed crimes, and you'll pay for them. There's no escape."

"You know something, Ren? You might be right, that there's no escape. But that doesn't mean I'm the only one with secrets to hide."

"Speak, Arachnid. You don't have much time."

"Maybe you're right, maybe not. But there's something you should know before I hand you over. Night City is about to change forever, and not in the way you imagine."

"What are you insinuating, Arachnid? Speak plainly."

"You'll find out soon. I can't reveal more. But keep in mind that nothing is as it seems in this city."

Suddenly, a police patrol surrounds the place, and all the scum in the bar flee for their lives. Of course, everyone had a record, not even the bartender was clean. In cases like this, the NCPD doesn't get involved; they know how dangerous these people can be, especially cyberpsychos, and it wasn't a good night to call Max Tag, they were a pain in the ass, even for the NCPD.

"This is the end of the road, but I might come to visit you in prison and maybe bring you some flowers,"

Arachnid, though with a defiant expression, knows he's cornered. The police surround Arachnid, handcuff him, and proceed to take him into custody.

"Thank you, Ren, you should work with us more. You're really good at this, chum," says Watson, Ren's partner who gives her the toughest cases of the police.

"You're welcome, chum, but you know I don't get along with the NCPD. Too much corruption, even more than in this dive of a place."

"Not all of us are like that, Ren, you know it."

"I only do it for the eddies, Watson, and because I don't let down my lifelong chums."

"Goodbye, Ren, and thanks again. They'll transfer everything to you tomorrow without fail."

Ren nods and watches as Arachnid is escorted out of the bar. As they take him away, Arachnid glares at Ren with resentment and unfulfilled promises.

Ren observes the scene with determination, knowing she has fulfilled her duty. As the police move away with Arachnid, Max approaches Ren.

"As always, a job well done, chum."

"Yes, Max, but I can't help but think about what Arachnid mentioned earlier. Night City is on the brink of change, and we don't know in which direction."

After the mission, Ren and Max find themselves outside the underground bar, where the night in Night City is still alive. Max looks at Ren with concern in his digital eyes.

"Ren, would you like to grab a drink? We could celebrate another job well done."

"Not today, Max. Today is the day when everything happened." sights deeply

Max nods, understanding the reference to the tragic loss of her husband.

"I understand, Ren. If you need anything, I'm here."

Ren bids farewell to Max and walks away from the bar, lost in her thoughts. As she strolls through the illuminated streets of Night City, she takes a small photo of her husband from her pocket. She gazes at the image with nostalgia and affection, reminiscing about the happy times they shared.

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hotcinnamonsunset · 4 months

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the nutcracker ballet but make it knitwear💜🩰

#knitting #knitblr #wip #the pattern is march of the nutcrackers on ravelry #i’m mostly just impressed that i managed to write a pattern that made me feel just as insane about the nutcracker as i did deep in #the throes of show week😅#and as always. it’s full of a few fun details!#the raglan shaping is twisted like candy canes a la Land of the Sweets in Act II. the nutcrackers themselves in all their spooky glory.#and my favorite! the march of the nutcracker theme on the cuffs - the left sleeve has base staff notes & the right has treble staff notes🎹

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lem0nademouth · 5 months

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idk who needs to hear this but diabetics can have sugar. they can have as much sugar as they want as long as they take the appropriate amount of insulin. the only reason diabetics are ever told to lower their sugar intake is to reduce the amount of insulin they use. and almost every sugar free alternative sweetener is either a literal carcinogen or insanely expensive. not to mention the fact that sugar is naturally occurring in every. single. thing. you. eat.

#leave diabetics alone challenge #write ur diabetic characters eating whatever they want and bolusing accordingly #and stop denying children halloween candy and birthday cake because you’ve convinced yourself sugar will kill them #t1d #type 1 diabetes #t2d #type 2 diabetes #type 3 diabetes #type one diabetes #weird and niche rant

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sea-buns · 10 months

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Never did I expect myself to be mourning the absence of english essays and writing exams and theatre class critiques. Do you understand how fucking amazing of a grade I could get on an analysis of trauma in Critical Role? On Lou Wilson and Emily Axford's finesse in portraying the heavy expectations and double standards placed on children? On Ylfa Snorgelsson's relationship to death? On the journey of a man's relationship to violence? On an analysis of grief in Dimension 20? On the pitfalls of youth? On the dynamic between humanity and religion? On the journey of self-discovery and acceptance? On love in all its forms? On the nature of choice? On everything Brennan Lee Mulligan has to say about capitalism? On the tragedy of im/mortality? On Gerard and Elody's divorce? On the unfeeling and aimless happenstance of the universe? On the role of fate and destiny? I'm not saying it would be easy. I'm saying can you imagine how fucking cool it would have been to turn in 5 pages about a dnd show, feeling good about it?

#not that i knew about cr and d20 back then. or that they even existed at that point. but give kids the chance to work from what they love.#rather than boxing them into one medium and then slicing it in half cuz of book bans and shit.#i can only imagine someone asking if they can write their essay about the tragedy of war using a crown of candy as their source material.#and getting turned down cuz the administrator looked it up and was blasted with the phenomenon that is getting 'slammed down big style'#a million tags here we come. in no particular order. most can be mixed and matched anyway. and im sure ill miss a couple #critical role #cr1 #cr2 #cr3 #exu calamity #dimension 20 #d20 #neverafter #fantasy high #fh #fantasy high sophmore year #fhsy #a crown of candy #acoc #the ravening war #trw #a starstruck odyssey #aso #a court of fey and flowers #acofaf #the unsleeping city #tuc #intrepid heroes #ih #cr cast

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cuubism · 4 months

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@prismaluv I promised an actual eon ago that I would write something for Dream and Desire, and here it is, though I fear I haven't landed exactly where you were aiming for...

It has come to Dream’s attention that something is… wrong… in the Threshold.

It is not usually for him to take note of his siblings’ affairs. Particularly when said sibling is Desire. He would sooner let them wallow; perhaps it would teach them a lesson. But the malady, or irritation or scheme or whatever it may be is now seeping into the Dreaming, and so Dream must determine if it is intentional or not and what, depending on the answer, he must do about it.

The Threshold naturally shares a border with the Dreaming, for, to Dream’s chagrin, dreams and desires do find common or contested ground in love and ambition and other feelings besides. And those desirous dreams have been sickened. Corrupted. Dreamers see their lovers’ ravening maws and wake nauseous from what should have been visions of lovemaking; children’s songs curdle mockingly in their ears as light expands beyond joy beyond pain beyond burning. These dreams are not serving their purpose and Dream must put a stop to it.

“Sibling,” he calls, and receives no reply, but the Threshold allows him in, when he steps from the border of his realm into Desire’s.

The long pathways of Desire’s body are empty as ever. A mockery of blood vessels pumping nothing. Dream walks the known paths, alert in the silence, past the lungs with no breath, to the heart with no beating.

He steps into the curving chambers of that heart, the center of Desire’s power in the Threshold. His steps echo on the hard walls.

“Mmm,” comes Desire’s voice, slurred with malaise, echoing from deeper within, “come to gloat, have you, brother?”

“I have come to determine your purpose in poisoning my realm,” Dream says, following their voice. “I warned you not to toy with me again.”

Desire lets out a disgusted sigh. “Not everything I do is about you.”

“Recent events would suggest otherwise.” Dream finally reaches the central atrium of the Threshold’s heart. Desire is sprawled out on a chaise lounge, head pillowed on their arm. Their eyes are closed, their clothes wrinkled and ill-fitting, their hair lank. They appear to be wearing Despair’s ripped and stained jumper. Dream frowns.

“Go awayyyyy,” Desire complains. “Leave me to my misery.”

“What afflicts you?” Dream asks, standing over them. “Or are you simply experiencing remorse for your crimes, at long last?”

“‘Afflicts’,” Desire mutters, mockingly. “I am being persecuted and abused. Abandoned. Wasting away in apathy.”

Dream sits delicately on the arm of a chair by their side. If there truly is something wrong, and Desire is not just being melodramatic, or trying to annoy him, then they must take action. He will not allow the Dreaming to be harmed. “I fail to see how it could be persecution and abandonment at once.”

“Have you not seen them, Dream?” Desire complains, finally cracking one bleary golden eye open to look up at him.

“Seen whom?” Dream asks, with what he thinks is admirable patience.

“The people! Nobody wants anything. Not in a way that matters. Oh, it’s too easy. It’s too easy to take shortcuts. They don’t understand desire anymore.” Desire clutches their heart dramatically.

“I have not the faintest clue what you are talking about,” Dream says.

“I am a starving and bottomless mouth,” Desire tells him, looking up at him with both shining eyes now. “See, my teeth.” They bare their teeth at him. Their incisors are very sharp.

“I am aware of this.”

“And they think they can feed me with tiny little candies like a yapping chihuahua that’ll finally shut up. They’re poisoning me. They’re starving me. They’re glutting themselves on whatever makes the brain chemmies go weeweeweeweewoo for a second and look— look.” They drag down the hem of Despair’s jumper, peel back a layer of skin. Under it is not flesh, nor blood, but void, an expanding, hungry, agonized void. Dream stares into it, alarmed.

Desire lets their ‘skin’ snap back into place. “What does it even mean, Dream?” they ask rhetorically. “Nothing. It is all fleeting. Nothing deep about it. No one yearns, Dream. No one YEARNS!”

This is said in a despairing wail. Cautiously, Dream pets their hair.

“You crave deep and abiding wants and there is a glut of trivialities and distractions,” he summarizes, and they nod, teary. “Would it appease you if I removed all memory of mobile phones from the face of the earth?”

It doesn’t appease them, but it does make them laugh. Desire laughs, choked and teary, clutching at his hand. “God, I forgot that you’re actually funny when you’re not trying to be.”

It is strange, after all that has transpired, to have what could be considered a civil conversation. Dream still does not forgive them for anything they have done, and perhaps never will, but he sees, for a moment, a much younger year, when they were, in a fashion, friends.

“Many deep desires live in dreams now, for they have little hope of fulfillment,” he says. “But these small morsels, candies as you say, these are not dreamt of, except perhaps in nightmares of eternal wasting. It is still what dwells deepest in the heart that drives dreaming.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I matter?” Desire bites, and Dream simply says—

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Desire seems genuinely disturbed; perhaps they really did think he came to revel in their misery. Perhaps Dream did. But one of his siblings struggling in their duty can only have ill effects on his dreamers, and on their waking selves besides. Dream would be incredibly remiss in not addressing it. Or so he tells himself is his reasoning.

“I do believe there are still fierce desires in this world, though perhaps they have become buried. Usurped,” he says. “Disconnected from the body which is, as I understand it, their rightful home. Though addressing this is not something with which I can aid you.”

The body of living creatures is far outside Dream’s purview, and not something he well understands, except as it manifests in dreams—of hope of change, of twisted horror, of curling heat. And even then, it is far from him.

“I can’t believe you’re giving me advice and it’s not just telling me to go fuck myself,” Desire says faintly. Dream begins to protest, but they continue, “Not that you’d ever use those words, Your Highness.”

“It serves no one if one of our realms is in disarray,” says Dream, and if there is a sharp point to it, a reminder of exactly the damage Desire had so carelessly wrought in Dream’s realm, all the better. “I cannot assist you in managing it, only offer the perspective of dreams. If it proves good counsel, then I will be glad.”

“If it proves good counsel,” Desire mutters. “Fuck you, you superior prick.”

But it is not as sharp and cutting as it might once have been.

Dream abruptly realizes his hand is still touching their hair, and removes himself. He stands, arranging his cloak around him.

“Well,” says Desire, craning their neck back to look up at him upside down, “you must be right on one count. Lingering about here is doing no good.” They stretch, arms above their head, spine cracking. “I suppose I will go stalk the outside world and see if I can’t stoke their desires from ember to inferno.”

“I am certain you can, if you feel that will achieve your aims,” Dream says. Desire’s ability to draw out human wants and push their pursuit is not in question, their mere presence in a space accomplishes that. Whether that will turn their charges away from passing, unsatisfying trinkets and to deeper pleasures is another matter. “Meanwhile, please withdraw your malaise from the borders of my realm. The small children are being hypnotized by dreams of meaningless drivel and it displeases me.”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t like YouTube,” Desire sighs. They maneuver themselves to sitting in a slanted, tired lean. For a moment, the silence lingers, stretched between them like syrup.

Finally, growing uncomfortable but stiffening his spine, Dream says, “If you are not going to imminently fall apart and cause havoc, then I will take my leave.”

“I love how much you care,” says Desire, sarcastically. Then, tilting their head, “You do care. Just a little bit. Don’t you?”

Dream does not respond to this.

“You could have simply disentangled all your little dreams from my realm and instead you came to check on me,” they say, with glee, and Dream glares. And Desire, apparently sensing a fight, subsides.

“Always lovely when you come around, dear brother,” they say, reclining back against their chaise lounge, eyes glittering despite the neglected state of their form. “Do come again.”

“If you remedy your affairs, then I will not have to,” says Dream curtly, and steps backwards into the Dreaming.

Desire does so love to press buttons at moments when they have almost reached an accord. Desire, once his most loved sibling. Those days are gone now, and Dream does not see them coming back.

#desire versus the plague of phone addiction #desire yelling into the void: STOP PLAYING CANDY CRUSH AND GO HAVE MESSED UP SEX YOU WORTHLESS THINGS #desire of the endless #dream of the endless #my writing

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silverspadesss · 11 months

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there’s something about how a huge theme in acoc is the role of a daughter - jet and ruby, saccharina, amethar’s sisters, annabelle cheddar, plumbeline uvano, probably more that i’m forgetting

and now we have a theme within the ravening war of the role of a son - deli, colin, the son of amangeaux, even prince amethar

idk what it is but it is something.

#the ravening war #a crown of candy #d20 #dimension 20 #acoc #jet rocks #ruby rocks #saccharina frostwhip #annabelle cheddar #plumbeline uvano #thane delissandro katzon #colin provolone #lady amangeaux epicée du peche #amethar rocks #i could write a longer post examining this. but not today.

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bitethedustfools · 3 months

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TWST story idea (3)

Warning: Death and mild spoiler alert

Ace, Deuce, and Grim witnessed Yuu's death. It was horrible, traumatizing even. The vision of their death haunted them and played repeatedly in their minds, even as the monster in the dwarf mine was defeated.

They saw the way Yuu slowly succumbed to death from a front-row seat. The pickaxe impaled them in the middle of their chest with a sickening noise, slicing it open and splattering everything that wasn't supposed to be outside.

Yuu screamed as blood gushed out of their mouth continuously, "Kill it! Kill it quickly!"

They were terrified to move. Yuu's eyes slowly lost their light, staring at them.

It was too much; they barely remembered how they defeated the monster. However, they knew they truly defeated it because the monster's ink-like blood covered their uniform and stained their skin.

They returned to NRC with complicated feelings and a bloody magestone in hand.

How else were they going to explain that Yuu was dead? That it was their own fault that led to Yuu's death?

They confessed to the headmaster with a trembling voice filled with regret and sorrow, their eyes puffy with tears as they presented a bloody magestone stained with ink.

Only for Yuu to rush in through the door with an exasperated look.

"Hey! Why did you guys leave me behind?"

"H-huh? What?"

"Why are you here!?"

"Aren't you dead???"

An offended look crossed Yuu's face, "Guys, this isn't funny. After what we've gone through? Are you saying you want me dead?"

They got confused. Yuu is alive? But they just witnessed their death not too long ago, yet Yuu is here and fine? Sure, their uniform is tattered and also bloody…

They bring it up to Yuu, and Yuu scoffs, "What? You guys got so scared you started to hallucinate? As you can see, I'm still alive."

They spend the rest of the day thinking that maybe they did hallucinate; otherwise, it wouldn't explain why Yuu is still here.

They witnessed Yuu's death again when Riddle overblot. Trey was too slow to save Yuu, and Yuu got smashed to a pulp by the rose tree that the monster held. There was nothing left that resembled Yuu, just flesh and bones flattened on the ground with hair sticking out.

The trio screamed in horror, remembering the tragedy that may or may not have happened in the mine dwarf. Cater was taken off guard and went green at the grotesque sight, covering his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. Trey gasped, feeling a lump in his throat. He had locked eyes with Yuu just a few seconds ago and failed to do anything to save them.

When Riddle woke up in a daze, everyone around showed complicated expressions. The trio looked like they wanted to throttle Riddle, their faces full of animosity. Cater looked detached and was now pale. He was also standing still and spacing out, which was unlike him. He looked like he was trying to process something.

And Trey, Trey looked at him like he was disappointed and also regretful. His eyes were rather glassy, and his mouth opened and snapped shut repeatedly, gulping in between as though he couldn't decide what to tell him.

"You overblot, and Yuu… is dead."

It wasn't the greatest news to listen to when he wasn't aware of what he had become and had done. Riddle's face immediately morphed to horror before bawling and mumbling in between sobs about how sorry he was and how he didn't mean to.

"Guys, the headmaster is here!" yelled Yuu while panting from running, Crowley, the headmaster, followed behind them, looking worriedly at his surroundings and the victims.

In an instant, everyone's eyes went round with confusion and shock, as if they had seen a ghost. Then there were shouts, hugs, and other things.

Yuu huffed at their exclamations of seeing Yuu dead again. "Again? You guys need to see a doctor. I'm not sure why the others see me dead as well. I'm clearly alive."

"But, but—you were there!"

"Yeah, and then I went to fetch the headmaster! You guys are seeing things; I'm worried about you. You need to rest or something. It could be your imaginations and fear working together."

Despite their attempts to explain, Yuu merely cast a worried and slightly judgmental look toward them.

Yuu didn't believe them at all, and they began to doubt themselves.

This happened to multiple people. Some even said they saw Yuu fall to death, and when they came to check out, Yuu merely sprained their leg or broke a bone or two. Or when Yuu said theh knew how to fake their death when they got squeezed until their lips turned blue and breathed out their last breath as they went limp. The story of how they saw Yuu dead varied in so many ways.

And just like before, when one confronted Yuu about it, Yuu didn't believe them all, dismissing their sick sense of fun in murdering Yuu and told them to see a doctor, not taking their so-called traumatization of getting exposed to Yuu's death into consideration. They're losing their mind at this. They were not even alone in this, so what could be the reason they keep seeing Yuu's 'death'?

Could this be someone else's unique magic, or a disease that slowly affects Twisted Wonderland? Are they really that sick in the head to the point they imagine this?

It must be; there's no explanation to this mystery.

But the twist is this: Yuu got revived almost immediately, and all wounds will be healed, revealing no scars, and therefore, no evidence.

Yuu is fully aware of this, and they don't want to tell someone. So what did Yuu do when people happened to witness their death? They gaslight them all, and goddamn they nailed it. Sure, the others are spiraling into madness, but hey, Yuu's secret is safe.

Extra spice if they got really sick in the head and attempt to murder yuu just to prove something. Yuu either do like they always do or fake being a dead body until they got disposed of and then go far away just in case.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst yuu #writing prompt #yandere twst #depends since i focus on the idea #yuu is not a therapist #Yuu is gonna give more trauma like candies on halloween

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