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tojjist · 1 month

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𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 ↳ r. sukuna

in which: the king of curses left you the moment you announce your pregnancy to him. but after nearly losing you... he might be having a change of heart contains: very slight objectification of reader, reader is a half-curse, mentions of injury and near-death experience, reader is pregnant, slight mention of pregnancy sex, sukuna is really ooc tbh A/N: yall really wanted soft sukuna lmao. i js wanted to write something more in my own style instead of the tumblr style. It's all over the place really, also obv trueform! sukuna. w.c : 1.6k

“Sukuna-sama?” Your voice comes out a breathy whisper, barely audible.

“Do– ugh,” The pink-haired curse sighs. “Don’t call me that. And don’t make me repeat myself.”

You haven’t known Sukuna to be tender. Actually, scratch that. You used to genuinely believe he mistook the adjective for an affront. He probably still does, despite the sheer softness of his actions. His mind is a marvel far beyond your, or anyone else's, comprehension. And if Sukuna hasn’t always been complicated, his sudden switch of behavior recently has rendered unriddling the complex being that he is even harder.

“What do I call you then?” There’s confusion in your tone; confusion fused with unadulterated innocence. His eyebrows crease further. He loved how naive and ingénue you are. Such a simple, sheepish thing. Easy to lead one, easy to use, easy to hurt. But as of late, he’d come to hate it.

He hates that he hates it. He shouldn’t care.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps back. It’s enough to bring you silence, the somber tone he uses coming with a sense of finality.

Rough callouses are surprisingly gentle against your flesh—callouses that slap, bruise, grope, but never caress. Despite that, he pulls your underwear up your thighs with utter care. If you didn’t know any better, you might even dare call his actions delicate.

“Does it hurt?” He reminisces. Curious digits stroke your lower abdomen and across the swell of your belly, where an ugly scar sits. It decorates your skin with a long, uneven line of dried blood cells.

“It’s not too bad,” You assure, daring to test your luck by bringing your own hand to his hair. It causes the king of curses to pause. His ember eyes continue to stare at your scar, unable to swat your hand away for some reason. The wooden floor beneath him feels too cold. Or he feels too hot. He’s unsure.

In the dimness of the room, there is no light but the flickering glow emitted from the fire, ensconced within a cage of brick—a fireplace, by name. Yet, the warmth that enfolds you does not excrete solely from the flames. It originates from within, a pulsating heat that comes with the beat of your heart as a large palm finds your shoulder, urging you forward with an urgency that seems to echo through the very fibers of your being.

“What about this one?”His intense glare persists, averting your demure gaze. Never before have you witnessed him in such a state, making you wonder whether this demeanor is a consequence of recent events.

“It’s fine, I promise,” Your whispered words cause his gaze to harden even further, his thumb tracing over another, deeper cut nestled in the valley between your breasts. This one could have been fatal. The realization sends a shiver down his spine, unsettling him to his core. Sukuna, the ancient and ruthless curse, has borne witness to countless horrors in his long existence, inflicted unspeakable cruelty upon countless souls, but none have shaken him to his core quite like seeing you teetering on the brink of death. The memory stirs within him an unfamiliar sense of disquiet, a realization that his desires may have consequences far more profound than he ever anticipated.

The brawny curse grunts in response, opting to continue examining the scar. He’s careful to not stretch it as your human flesh would hurt.

Sukuna’s agenda never included leaving a child within you. It never even crossed his mind. Such muses were not to be entertained, especially not with you.

You. Yeah, you who doesn't try to kill humans simply for the pleasure it brings. You who takes life so lightly, as if you have several souls to spare. You who accepts every word Sukuna says as an indisputable fact, every order executed before he has a chance to reconsider.

You, who has shared your bed with the strongest curse more times than he cares to count, always intrigued him—an enigmatic subject for his manipulations. You, who confided in him the startling revelation that your half-cursed body now nurtures a growing fetus.

At first, Sukuna swore he'd never visit you again, adamant in his belief that he wanted no involvement in your pregnancy, leaving you to navigate the situation alone. Despite his capability to end your life without hesitation, he chose to spare you. Sukuna granted you a reprieve under the condition that he never crosses paths with you or whatever child you carry. He told himself time and time again that you would be a rather boring kill, not worth the effort. But it wasn't about the difficulty of ending your life—it was an excuse. He'd never admit that he doesn't want your blood staining his hands

Sukuna swears he’s not soft, that he doesn’t care for you at all.But the notion of being the one who brings you to your end does not enthrall him in the least.

He doesn’t care for the inferior likes of you, he reminds himself. That’s absurd. It’s laughable. It’s offensive, even. He doesn’t ‘care’, It’s simply curiosity that keeps him around. Curious of what kind of child the one you carry would come out to be. To see if they’d be worthy of being called his kin or not.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is dulcet, a melody that cuts his train of thought smoothly. Unlike anything he’s ever heard before. There’s a pleading tone, a need so urgent it's almost painful. He finds pleasure in that. Your perpetual longing for him, your unwavering loyalty even after his defeat by sorcerers the first time around—you kept him close like a devoted guardian to a fallen hero, even when you knew is anything but a hero. It's a power unlike any other—staying but not out of fear, it's a choice. A strong belief.

Balancing on his knees between her parted legs, he reaches out, his fingers finding purchase on the edge of the bed. His grip tightens instinctively, fingers slipping beneath the hem of the sheet as he steadies himself. With a controlled effort, he pushes upward, leveraging the bed for support as he rises to his feet

“Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?” He muses, his towering frame looking down at you. The flickering flames of the fire, their orange hues swirling and weaving a macabre tapestry around his countenance, lend him an aura of terror that would instill fear in any who behold him. Yet, unlike others, you find his presence strangely comforting. Despite the aura of terror he exudes, you've grown accustomed to it, finding solace in his formidable presence now more than ever before.

Your only reaction is to chew on the inside of your cheek, careful to not bite the fiber too hard. There’s an ambivalent air to him, remaining motionless as he towers over you. It seems as if he’s looking for something. Anything. He wants a reason to stay, but he can’t seem to find one satisfying enough.

He owes you nothing. But when you look at him like that… He’s never been one to falter at your pleading face, but perhaps he’s changing little by little. He staunchly refuses to acknowledge this change still, for him to do so would be an admission of vulnerability, a humiliation he cannot bear, even to himself. How he yearns for the willpower to end you, to push you away so you never obstruct his way like this again.

The worst part of it all is his acute awareness of why he feels so strongly now. He knows that it’s all him, and not at all you. He can pinpoint the exact moment he regret leaving your side. The memory is seared into his very core.

He wishes he could forget, to erase the haunting image of you, wounded and bleeding, from his mind.

It was when he came back a few days after his departure, for reasons he can’t recall, only to be greeted by the sight of a malevolent curse looming over you, hungry and poised to make you its next meal. He shouldn’t have intervened. It's the natural order—a relentless cycle where only the strongest survive, preying upon the weaker. He knows he's no exception. Nor are you.

But seeing you sprawled out on the floor, barely intact, with his child inside of you.

He gulps at the memory, feeling an overwhelming urge to touch you once more, to make sure you’re not some figment of his imagination. To keep you from harm. You’re so stupid, so goddamn naive. He doesn’t know what to make of you. Other than a fucking headache.

“What is it? What do you want, brat?” He hopes to catch some semblance of his normal attitude. “Get it over with.”

“Please stay,” You plead, fingers gently gripping the open kimono he had thrown on once finished with you. “Please, Sukuna-sama.”

He sighs. You’re so obstinate.

Perhaps it's his lack of understanding that breeds hesitation within him, or perhaps it's his inherently fierce nature. A thing like you deserves to be treated with the utmost delicacy, cherished and nurtured. Sukuna, with his staunch commitment solely to his ideals, can never be the one assuming such a role for you.

“You’re doing things to me, you know?” Sukuna gets down, kneeling between your parted legs again, placing a warm palm in either side of your hips and seizing you within.

Maybe… staying with you tonight wasn’t such a ludicrous notion. He’s the king of curses; he has all the time in the world to fret the trivial details.

#arabella writes #jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #sukun x reader smut #ryomen sukuna smut #dividers by benkeibear

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norris55s · 1 month

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drunk in love - carlos sainz

driver reader x carlos sainz smut

warnings: mature content ahead. please don't read if you're under 18! afab reader, smut, penetrating sex, oral f receiving

a/n: first published written piece! i've overthought it for a long ass time so here it is and i hope it's not half bad lol and there isn't much of a plot either so there's that, it's just thirst and me being weak for a carlos x driver pairing

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Time seemed to stop as Carlos’ hands went from resting on your neck and cheeks, to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He couldn’t envelop you enough in his arms, he somehow wanted more.

“Carlos”, you whined into the most passionate kiss you had ever been given. “If you want me to stop you have to say it now,” he pulled away to speak but returned his lips to yours a fraction of a second later. After tasting you, he wasn’t sure how he would ever pull away again, and prayed you wouldn’t want him to stop.

You should want him to stop. You should want to run away. You should, because he was your greatest threat in the championship battle, and going any further with him complicates the already high stakes. But you don’t want him to stop.

You couldn’t even speak with the way he was kissing you; he was a man starved and you felt dizzy with how desperate he seemed to be close you. After you didn’t tell him to stop and only held onto his hair harder, wanting to deepen a kiss impossible to deepen more, he pushed you against the wall and began to move towards the zipper of your dress.

He felt your goosebumps and almost grinned at the effect his touch had on you; almost like the one you had on him. After pushing the zipper down, he pulled away from the kiss again to look into your eyes for your final consent. “Are you sure?” Carlos asked as his brown eyes stared you down filled with lust but wanting you to be certain about what you were doing to ease his heart. “Please,” you moaned back at him, and it was enough for the man in front of you to go right back to kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before as he pulled down the straps of your dress. You returned the favor of helping take his clothes off, undoing his belt and taking of his shirt. In a split second he carried you to his hotel room bed, and finished undressing you even faster but paradoxically taking his sweet time admiring the sight in front of him.

It had been years and years of Carlos imagining you naked in his bed and the real thing was a million times better. You are a goddess in his eyes and he couldn’t believe he has the chance to touch you in all your divinity.

He wasn’t hard to look at either. His tan, glowing skin looked beyond perfect under the dim lights, and you seized the opportunity to feel how he tensed his muscles under your touch. His attractiveness was beyond your comprehension, but your body knew exactly how to react.

His right hand spread your legs as he kept looking at you, and very much almost moaned at how wet your cunt felt already. His ego beamed and he softly, consistently rubbed your clit to continue the trend. Your mouth quickly began emitting the most beautiful sounds Carlos had ever heard, and he wanted more, so he positioned himself between your thighs and pressed his tongue against your beautiful pussy. There was no sweeter taste on the planet than that of your cunt, no better sounds than those of your moans and whimpers, and no better sight than you naked under him. He’d be damned if he didn’t take you to heaven for allowing him to witness you like this.

“Fuck, Carlos, you’re so good,” was all you could think about as his tongue fucked into you over and over again, with just the right amount of pressure and speed. Soon enough, he slid two fingers in your hole and moved his tongue expertly against your clit. You cried out his name again, music to his ears, and he pumped his fingers at a painfully slow pace contrasting to his rapid licks on your ever more sensitive clit.

It was only a matter of time before you came in his mouth, nearly screaming and holding onto his hair. “God, you taste so good,” he climbed on top of you, never breaking eye contact as he locked your lips again. “Tell me I can fuck you, please,” he asked earnestly, as if there was a chance you would say no. “Carlos, fuck me. Give me your cock, please,” you begged, drunk off the pleasure he was giving you, and guided his member in your entrance with your hand.

He was inside you before either of you could wrap your hands around the fact that there was no turning back. He swore so many times in his head, and a couple out loud, as he felt your tight walls wrap around him. You felt the delicious sting of the stretch his big cock was giving you, moaning his name to his mouth.

“Fuck, you were made for me,” he stated as he took the first thrust. And you believed it. Your bodies and minds were so in sync it gave you whiplash; the passionate sex he was giving you was like nothing you’d experienced before. “You are incredible, you are making me feel incredible” you thought and said, almost as a prayer, as a sign of a newly found devotion. “Fuck me harder.” And Carlos didn’t need to be told twice. His thrust pace became merciless, your breasts bouncing roughly as he mounted you. “Your dick is so big,” all the thoughts in your head were pouring out, praising the man who was giving you the best sex of your life, “I feel so fucking good.” “You’re taking me so well,” he replied, sweat dripping down his defined chest, “Me encanta tu coño”. (I love your cunt).

In between all the kisses, love bites, curse words and back scratches, you both came at the same time. His hot cum filled your pussy and he placed his head in the crook of your neck.

As you came down from your high and took deep breaths together, his eyes looked up at you. You couldn’t tell the emotion behind them, but he quickly let you know. “I love you.”

#f1 #f1 au #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz au #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader

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jiejies-corner-store · 22 days

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THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #hsr 2.1 #penacony

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agent-grey-fics · 3 months

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Who we are | Paul Lahote | Part 3

Paired: Paul Lahote x reader

Wordcount: 2300

Summary: Paul decides to tell you about the bond you share. Will you stay or walk away?

Writers note: Here is part 3 of 'who we are', part 1 | part 2 | part 4

As Paul touched the gravel of his driveway, he shifted back into his human form. The cool night air clung to his damp skin. The familiar place, now bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, served as the backdrop for the pivotal moment that lay ahead. He stood there, muscles tense and mind racing, trying to collect his thoughts before facing the reality he had been avoiding for far too long.

He decided to go to bed and confront you first thing in the morning. As he stood under his shower, and the warm water let his muscles relax the memories of your initial encounter flooded his mind—the undeniable connection, the magnetic pull between you two. The way you smiled at him, oblivious to the supernatural world that lurked in the shadows of their lives. It was time to unveil that world to you, and Paul couldn't shake the fear of what might happen once the truth was laid bare. He took a deep breath, the hot air filling his lungs. The silver light of the moon shone through the bathroom window.

He was going to tell you, tomorrow.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its silvery glow through your window as you lay in bed, unable to find solace in sleep. Tossing and turning, your mind was a tempest of thoughts and emotions, each one a torrential wave crashing against the shores of your consciousness.

What Paul had said lingered in the air like an unspoken truth, weaving itself into the fabric of her thoughts. ‘It's complicated, y/n. It's about... a situation back home that's getting complicated since you’ve been gone. A lot of stuff is happening, and I've been trying to keep you out of it.’ The weight of his words pressed on your chest, and the gentle rustle of leaves outside your window seemed to echo the uncertainty that now clouded your mind. The hours slipped away, marked only by the slow progression of shadows on the walls. Your thoughts circled back to the moment outside the bar, where Paul had acted so weird and vague. You replayed his words in your mind, each sentence a puzzle piece in a complex picture you were trying to decipher. Was he in love whit you? Was that the reason he acted so strange? The anxiety and anger in his eyes as he spoke haunted her thoughts. You had always been a seeker of truth, but now that truth seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of her comprehension.

In the stillness of the night, you couldn't escape the questions that gnawed at your consciousness. Why did his behaviour have such an effect on you? Even though he acted like a dick, it seemed like you couldn't leave him alone. Somehow you were always around each other. The soft glow of your bedside clock signalled the approach of dawn, yet sleep remained elusive. You found yourself yearning for the simplicity of the past, the laughter you had shared, the dreams of a new beginning under the sun. But now, the shadows of the unknown loomed large, casting doubt on the path ahead.

As the first light of morning painted the sky outside your window,You knew that the two of you needed to talk things out. You couldn't shake the feeling that the journey ahead was both unpredictable and inextricably tied to him.

When you were leaning against the countertop eating cereal, you heard a knock at the door. Quickly you put your food on the countertop and wiped your mouth with the back of your sweatshirt. You hadn't agreed to meet anyone? Maybe it was someone from the boys to see if everything was okay after you disappeared like that yesterday. ‘I can't keep running from this, from you,’ Paul admitted as you opened the door his voice carrying the weight of sincerity. You lifted your brow in confusion, taking a couple of steps so you stood in frond of him outside your house, surrounded by the forest. ‘There's something I've been keeping from you, something that's a part of me, and it involves you too.’ As he spoke, the shadows cast by the surrounding trees seemed to dance with the gravity of his revelation. The truth, long concealed, hung in the air like a tangible force.

‘I've been avoiding it, scared of what might happen if I told you.’ He rambled, not giving you the chance to intervene. ‘Scared of how it might change everything between us,’ he continued, his gaze locked onto yours, searching for any signs of understanding or confusion. But you couldn’t follow his thoughts. ‘Paul, what the hell are you talking about?’ He sighed. ‘Do you remember Emily’s birthday party?’ He recounted the day of Emily's birthday party, the moment everything changed, and the subsequent struggle to reconcile his own fears with the undeniable connection the supernatural world had thrust upon him. You slowly nodded. ‘I need you to know the truth,’ Paul urged, his vulnerability laid bare in the moonlit clearing. ‘You deserve that much. And whatever happens, I can't keep you in the dark any longer.’ Confusion was writing all over your face as he spoke. ‘Dude I can’t follow a thing. What are you talking about?’ The air seemed to crackle with anticipation as Paul awaited your response, uncertain of how the revelation would reshape the path laid out before you both. The forest, a silent witness to the unfolding moment, held its secrets close, allowing the weight of truth to settle in the moonlit space between you.

‘Since that day, haven't your feelings changed?’ Paul's voice, filled with an undercurrent of hope and uncertainty, pierced through the contemplative silence. He tried to guide your thoughts, urging her to explore the depths of emotions that now connected you. The air hung heavy as Paul's words echoed in the stillness, and a moment of silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of the revelation.

You took a deep breath, the forest around you seemingly holding its breath as well. The question reverberated in your mind, and you allowed your thoughts to drift, retracing the invisible threads that had woven through your lives since that fateful birthday party. Images and sensations flooded your mind—the magnetic pull, the undeniable connection, and the inexplicable warmth that seemed to emanate from Paul. It was like being drawn toward the sun for the first time, the brilliance of the revelation illuminating her understanding of your bond. ‘You feel it too don’t you?’ You slowly nodded.‘It's like seeing the sun for the first time ever,’ you whispered, your gaze locked with Paul's. The rustling leaves overhead seemed to echo the heartbeat of their shared moment, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air. Paul took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on Y/N as he prepared to unravel the complexities of the imprint bond that bound them together. His eyes, usually guarded, revealed a vulnerability that mirrored the sincerity of his words.

‘Do you remember the stories from the bonfire?’ He hinted, hoping you would know where he was going. You just nodded, vaguely remembering Billy Black telling tribe tales while the Quileute sat around a bonfire. You had felt like an intruder, hearing the tribe's secrets but Jacob had ensured you that you were more than welcome. ‘The stories about shapeshifters?’ you questioned. He nodded in response. ‘Yes, good y/n.’ You nodded dubiously, not knowing where the conversation was leading. ‘All the stories are true y/n.’ You started laughing. ‘Yeah right, you can change into an animal.’ But he didn't laugh. He looked at you seriously as if waiting for the penny to drop. ‘You’re joking right?’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t freak out please.’ You took a step back, stumbling almost losing your balance. ‘I can show you, but you can’t freak out.’ Before you could say anything he started stripping down his clothes. ‘What are you-’ Suddenly you were face to face with a grey wolf. Paul's skin seemed to explode and suddenly the huge beast was in front of you. ‘What the fuck?’ You took some steps back, afraid of the unknown situation in front of you. He took a deliberate step in your direction, and a soft whimper left his mouth. He lowered his head and moved it toward your arm. Carefully you put your hand out and rubbed gently through his soft fur. Holy shit. You thought to yourself, what did just happen? You stood there for a couple of minutes before he took some steps back and turned back to his human form. When you saw his naked body you quickly turned around. Your cheeks turned a soft pink. 'You didn't run away.' You heard him say behind you. 'I don't think I had a chance if I ran.' A soft chuckle left his lips. ‘You can turn around.’ Uncertainly you turned again. ‘What is all this?’ He sighed, uncertainty read on his face. It was now or never. ‘Do you remember the story about the wife sacrificing herself to save her husband? That it was because she unconditionally loved him? That they were soulmates?’ You nodded again. ‘‘They were imprints’ ‘Imprints?’ ‘When a shape-shifter imprints on a specific person, he becomes unconditionally bound to her for the rest of his life. When it happens, it is described as being gravitationally pulled toward that person while a glowing heat fills him, and everyone and everything else in his life becomes secondary, and only the imprintee is left to matter, leaving the shape-shifter with a deep need to do anything to please and protect his soulmate.’ Your mouth fell open. Soulmates? ‘Paul slow down, you just changed into a giant wolf and now your talking about soulmates. What the hell is going on?’ He nodded sideways toward the forest. 'Come we'll go for a walk and I'll tell you everything you want to know.’ You considered your options. Did you want to know what was going on? Yes what kind of question was this now, of course you wanted to know what was going on.

Uncertainly you began to walk beside him. ‘Who knows about this?’ He laughed softly. 'All our friends actually. We're a pack.' A pack? What was he referring to? 'How many of you are there?' He scratched his neck uncomfortably. 'Well, you have Sam, Jake, Embry and Quill. Then you have Jared and Seth and Leah. And Brady and Collin just recently joined.' Your jaw dropped. ‘Why the fuck am I just hearing about this now?’ He laughed softly. ‘We can’t tell everyone, Sam won’t let us.’ You stopped in your tracks and tilted your head to the side. ‘Sam is the leader of the pack.’ Your mouth made an ‘O’ shape as it clicked. ‘And Emily is his imprint?’ He nodded. He was glad you could follow along throughout the story. It was a lot to suddenly take note of. ‘The imprint bond is something beyond our control, something primal and ancient,’ Paul began, his voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken truths. ‘It's like a force that connects two souls, drawing them together with an intensity that defies explanation.’ He paused, as if searching for the right words to convey the intricacies of the supernatural phenomenon. You listened, your eyes focused on Paul, eager to understand the enigma that had become an integral part of your shared existence. ’It's not just about attraction or love as we know it,’ Paul continued, his tone tinged with a mixture of reverence and solemnity. ‘It's a deep, innate connection that transcends time and space. When the bond forms, it's as if the universe itself aligns to bring two people together.’ Your brow furrowed slightly, your curiosity piqued. Paul pressed on, attempting to demystify the inexplicable.

‘Before that moment, I- It's not the result of choice or conscious decision. It's like an unspoken promise written in the stars, and when our eyes met at Emily's birthday party, everything changed,’ Paul confessed, the sincerity in his eyes unwavering. He gestured between you as if indicating the invisible threads that connected your souls. ‘The imprint bond is a part of us now. It means that we are bound together in a way that goes beyond our understanding. My emotions, my well-being, they're intricately tied to yours. I’ll be anything that you need me to be, a brother, a friend, a lover.’ You absorbed his words, a mixture of awe and trepidation coursing through your veins. The forest around you seemed to hold its breath, as if nature itself acknowledged the gravity of your connection.

‘It's not something we chose, but it's something we have to navigate together. It's like a guiding force, and whether we accept it or not, it's a part of our story,’ Paul concluded, his eyes never leaving yours. ‘You don't have to commit, you can keep your distance. i just thought you should know what was going on.’

You felt it then, that pull, the unspoken force that seemed to bridge the gap between you. It wasn't a simple attraction; it was something deeper, more primal. A connection that defied logic and reason, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the darkness.

In that quiet corner of the forest, surrounded by the ancient trees and the whispers of the wind, Paul had laid bare the essence of the imprint bond—a force that had reshaped their destinies and bound them together in a dance of fate and love that transcended the ordinary.

Part 4 coming soon :)

#paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x y/n #twilight fic #wolve pack fic #jacob black #edward cullen #twilight #bella swan #imprint fic

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poop-diddy-scoop · 1 month

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maaaybe Jareth with a trans-masc reader pretty pleeeease with cherry’s on top (Jareth sucking t-dick) pretty pleeeease 🤗

jareth x reader - it's different

a/n: reader has a t-dick (look it up)

In the dimly lit chamber of the Goblin King's castle, you sat perched on the edge of the ornate bed, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the duvet. Jareth stood before you, his gaze unwavering as he studied your hesitant expression. Despite the countless adventures you had shared and the intimacy you had experienced, there was still a barrier between you, one you had been reluctant to breach.

"You're hiding something from me," Jareth remarked, his voice a silky whisper that danced through the air like the flicker of candlelight.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, your heart pounding in your chest as you wrestled with the words trapped behind your lips. "It's... complicated," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Complicated?" Jareth echoed, his eyebrow arching in amusement. "My dear, I am the Goblin King. I have tangled with complexities far beyond mortal comprehension. Try me."

With a sigh, you summoned the courage to meet his gaze, the weight of vulnerability heavy upon your shoulders. "It's about... my body," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I've been hesitant to... reveal myself to you fully because... well, because I'm not like other men."

Jareth's expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his features as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your chin gently. "You needn't be afraid, my love. Whatever secrets you carry, they do not diminish the beauty I see in you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, tinged with self-deprecation. "Beauty? You call this... this mess beautiful?"

Jareth's eyes blazed with intensity as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Yes," he whispered, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. "Every facet of you is a marvel to behold."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to believe his words, the years of insecurity and doubt weighing heavily upon your soul. "I wish I could see myself the way you do," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jareth's hand moved from your chin to gently wipe away a stray tear, his touch tender and reassuring. "Then allow me to show you," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that calmed the storm raging within your heart.

With trembling hands, you began to unbutton your shirt, the fabric parting to reveal the bare expanse of your chest. Jareth watched in silence, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

As you reached the last button, you hesitated, the fear of rejection clawing at your insides like a ravenous beast. But before you could retreat, Jareth's hand closed around yours, his touch grounding you in the present moment.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress that washed away your doubts like a wave upon the shore.

With a deep breath, you pushed aside the remnants of fear and insecurity, allowing the fabric to fall away and reveal the truth hidden beneath. And as Jareth's eyes widened in awe, a sense of liberation washed over you like a warm embrace.

"It's... different," Jareth murmured, his voice tinged with wonder as he reached out to trace the contours of your body with reverent fingers. "But no less beautiful."

A tear slipped from your eye as you gazed upon his expression, a mixture of awe and admiration that echoed the love you felt deep within your soul. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jareth leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the love he held for you. "You are perfect just as you are," he murmured against your skin, his words a vow that echoed through the chambers of your heart.

As Jareth's lips left yours, a tender warmth lingered between you, enveloping you in a cocoon of affection. But as his hands trailed down your body, a shiver of apprehension rippled through your veins. You had bared your soul to him, but now you were faced with the daunting task of revealing the most intimate part of yourself.

With trembling hands, you allowed Jareth to guide you, parting your legs with a gentleness that belied the intensity of his curiosity. And as the fabric of your clothing fell away, exposing the truth hidden beneath, you braced yourself for his reaction.

But to your surprise, Jareth's expression remained one of unwavering fascination, his eyes alight with a hunger for knowledge that surpassed the boundaries of mortal comprehension.

"What... is this?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to trace the contours of your body with reverent fingers.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you as you struggled to find the words to explain. "It's... a testosterone dick," you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "It's like... a really big clitoris and a really small penis... combined."

Jareth's brow furrowed in confusion, his fingers continuing their exploration as he sought to understand. "I've never seen anything like it," he admitted, his tone tinged with a mixture of curiosity and awe. "Does it... function the same as a... traditional penis?"

You nodded, relief flooding through you as you realized he wasn't repulsed by what he saw. "Yes, it... it can get erect," you explained, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "But it's... different."

Jareth's eyes sparkled with intrigue as he prodded at your genitals, his touch gentle yet inquisitive. "And does it... provide pleasure?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, a rush of arousal flooding through you at his touch. "Yes," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "In its own way."

Jareth's lips curved into a knowing smile as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Then allow me to explore," he murmured, his voice a seductive melody that ignited a fire within your veins.

As Jareth's exploration continued, his touch grew more intimate, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin with a precision that sent shivers of anticipation racing down your spine. With each gentle caress, you felt yourself growing more comfortable in his presence, the warmth of his affection melting away the last vestiges of your insecurity.

His lips descended upon you with a tender reverence, his tongue flicking out to taste the essence of your arousal. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure surged through your body, igniting a fire within you that burned with an intensity you had never known.

"Is this... pleasurable?" Jareth murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your flesh as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.

You nodded eagerly, the words caught in your throat as pleasure coursed through your veins. "Yes," you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with desire. "It feels... amazing."

Encouraged by your response, Jareth continued his exploration, his fingers dancing over your skin with a deftness that left you trembling with anticipation. With each stroke, he elicited a symphony of sensations that threatened to overwhelm your senses, leaving you gasping for breath as ecstasy consumed you whole.

"Tell me," Jareth murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers of anticipation racing down your spine. "What feels good? What makes you tremble with desire?"

You struggled to find the words amidst the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind, but Jareth's touch urged you onward, guiding you through the depths of your desires with a patience that spoke volumes of his love.

"It's... sensitive," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every touch…I can feel it through my body."

Jareth's eyes gleamed with intrigue as he watched your genitals respond to his touch, growing erect beneath his ministrations. "Fascinating," he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder. "It responds to stimulation much like a traditional penis."

You nodded eagerly, the rush of arousal coursing through your veins as you surrendered to the pleasure that consumed you whole. "Yes," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "But it's... different."

With a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered words of assent that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"May I?" he murmured, his voice a seductive melody that stirred the depths of your soul.

A gasp escaped your lips as you nodded eagerly, anticipation coursing through your veins like a wildfire out of control. With a deftness that belied his otherworldly grace, Jareth enveloped your dick in his mouth, his lips forming a perfect seal around your flesh as he began to suckle with an intensity that left you breathless.

Pleasure surged through your body like a tidal wave of ecstasy, each moan that escaped your lips fueling the fire that burned between you. And as Jareth's tongue danced over your skin with a skill that bordered on divine, you found yourself lost in a whirlwind of sensation that left you gasping for breath.

"How... how do you know how to do that?" you managed to gasp, your voice thick with desire as pleasure consumed you whole.

Jareth pulled away with a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he regarded you with a knowing gaze. "Oh, my dear," he purred, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers racing down your spine. "I have had... many lovers in my time, both girls and boys alike."

A surge of arousal washed over you at his words, mingling with the pleasure that still coursed through your veins like a river of fire. "And... and they taught you... this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as desire clouded your mind.

Jareth chuckled, the sound sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine. "Indeed," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "But none have ever tasted quite like you."

As Jareth continued his skilled ministrations, his tongue dancing with expertise upon your testosterone dick, you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to be released. With each flick and swirl, pleasure surged through your body, building towards an inevitable crescendo.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you teetered on the brink of release, your senses ablaze with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. And then, with a strangled cry, you felt the dam break, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave as your orgasm consumed you whole.

Your body convulsed with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with ecstasy as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. And as you rode the waves of ecstasy, you felt a warmth spreading through your core, a sense of fulfilment that transcended the boundaries of mortal understanding.

As your orgasm peaked, you felt a rush of fluid trickle out from your labia, your genitals pulsing with each wave of pleasure. It was a sight you had never shared with anyone before, a moment of vulnerability laid bare before the eyes of the Goblin King.

But instead of revulsion or disgust, you saw only awe and admiration reflected in Jareth's gaze. His eyes gleamed with a hunger for knowledge, a desire to understand every facet of your being as he watched you with a reverence that stole your breath away.

"You are truly stunning," Jareth murmured, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers of delight racing down your spine. "Every part of you... is a masterpiece."

You couldn't help but blush at his words, the warmth of his affection washing over you like a tidal wave of ecstasy. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad you... find me... pleasing."

Jareth's lips curved into a gentle smile as he brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his touch tender and reassuring. "More than pleasing," he assured you, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that resonated deep within your soul. "You are... exquisite."

In that moment, as you lay entwined in each other's embrace, you realized that in the arms of the Goblin King, you had found a love that surpassed all others. And together, you would explore the depths of pleasure and passion, forging a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

#jareth x reader #jareth fanfic #jareth smut #jareth fluff #jareth angst #labyrinth fanfic

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alumikyo · 10 months

Text

The Fear of the Past

Yandere!Barry Allen x reader

Chapter 2

The next day, [Y/N] couldn't shake off the fear that had taken root in her heart. She entered the café with caution, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Barry's presence. Every customer became a potential threat, and she was on high alert.

When the time neared for Barry's usual entrance, [Y/N] swiftly retreated to the backroom, leaving someone else to handle her job until he left. She couldn't risk encountering him again, not after the darkness that had consumed him.

As [Y/N] took refuge in the safety of the backroom, her pulse gradually slowed, and she dared to hope that perhaps Barry would finally let her be. Little did she know that his calm demeanor concealed a storm of rage and obsession brewing within him. Doubts began to creep into his mind. He realized that his emotional outburst had made him suspicious in [Y/N]'s eyes, potentially damaging his chances of winning her over. Panic surged through him as he frantically contemplated what to do next.

In a moment of desperation, an idea struck Barry. What if he could go back and change the events that had unfolded just moments ago? It had worked before when he tried to save his mother, so why not now? After all, how much could the timeline change when he was only going back a day or two?

With a surge of determination, Barry quickly retreated to the café's washroom. Within the confined space, he shed his suit in a flash of lightning, moving too quickly for anyone to notice. He sprinted with unparalleled speed, initiating the time-travel process.

As Barry reached the desired point in the past, he found himself facing his past self, the version of him who was about to reveal his emotions to [Y/N]. Without wasting a second, Barry explained the situation, emphasizing the need to maintain composure.

"Hey Barry... uh, hey me... or, um... hey, past Barry?... Me from the past?" he stumbled over his words, his explanation oozing with confusion and awkwardness. "You see, it's a total brain-bender. Don’t- DO NOT reveal your feelings just yet. I mean, it's like tampering with the space-time continuum, and trust me, it's bad. I totally messed up, and now I've, like, zoomed back to sort things out. Look- it's super complicated, but you gotta keep a lid on it."

The Barry from the past blinked, trying to decipher the jumble of words his future self had thrown at him. His brow furrowed with a mix of bewilderment and comprehension as he grasped the weight of the situation. Gratitude seeped into his voice as he said, "I... I get it. Thanks…?"

With their awkward conversation behind them, both Barrys shared a brief moment of nerdy camaraderie, united by the complexity of their predicament. They understood the need for careful manipulation of their own actions to ensure the desired outcome with [Y/N].

Returning to the present, Barry found himself standing in front of [Y/N] once again, who continued preparing his sandwich without a hint of fear in her eyes. It was a sign that his intervention had successfully changed the past, erasing the effects of his emotional outburst.

Relief washed over Barry as he observed [Y/N]'s calmness, reassured that he still had a chance to manipulate her emotions and gain her trust. The darkness within him surged, fueled by the satisfaction of his successful alteration.

With a composed smile, Barry approached [Y/N], his voice filled with false gratitude. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he said, masking his true intentions. "I really appreciate your understanding. It means a lot to me."

Deep down, he relished the power he held over her, knowing that he could continue his manipulative pursuit without consequences. Barry was determined to exploit [Y/N]'s forgiving nature, using it to establish a connection that extended far beyond friendship. Little did she know the twisted depths of his obsession concealed beneath his charming facade.

As [Y/N] turned to attend to the next customer, Barry's gaze followed her, his mind already plotting their next encounter. He couldn't wait to be by her side once again, basking in her forgiving nature and slowly tightening his grip around her fragile heart. His voice, when he spoke, held an eerie calmness, belying the storm of emotions swirling within him. "It seems she still needs time," he muttered to himself. "I must be patient, make her trust me again."

As Barry continued with his routine, his mind raced with thoughts of his recent actions. He chastised himself for being too hasty, for scaring [Y/N] with his intense emotions. He should have taken a more measured approach, slowly luring her into his web of obsession. But there was no turning back now. He had to devise a plan that would make her depend on him, erasing the memory of his unsettling behavior.

Days turned into weeks, and Barry meticulously carried out his plan, carefully orchestrating the staged attack on the café. His panic and self-doubt transformed into a cold determination. He knew this was the perfect opportunity to portray himself as [Y/N]'s savior, to establish a sense of reliance and gratitude.

—————

"Are you out of your mind?" A group of male teenagers looked at Barry with disdain. "We're not going to be a part of your sick games." Barry's gaze hardened, and in an instant, his true nature surfaced. Without warning, he seized one of the teens by the collar, his grip vice-like and suffocating. The room fell into a stunned silence as Barry's fist connected with the young man's face, the impact reverberating through the air. Blood trickled from the corner of the teen's mouth as he crumpled to the ground, a living testament to Barry's capacity for violence. "That's just a taste of what I'm capable of," Barry sneered, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Now, are you going to reconsider?"

Barry's grip on the injured teen loosened slightly as he straightened himself, relishing in the atmosphere of fear that enveloped the group. With a cold, calculating gaze, he addressed them in a chillingly calm tone. "I suggest you all think carefully about your next move," he hissed, a hint of menace tainting his words. "You see, I have a little plan, and it involves the very café right down this street."

The teens exchanged worried glances, their initial resistance giving way to a sense of trepidation. Barry's twisted charisma and the brutal demonstration of his power had shaken them to their core. They begrudgingly acknowledged that defying him further might only lead to more pain and suffering.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," Barry continued, his voice dripping with calculated manipulation. "I want you to scare everyone there a little. Please, take the money from the register too, go crazy, I don’t care.”

As the weight of Barry's plan sank in, the teens felt a sickening mix of fear and disbelief. They couldn't fathom the depths of his depravity, the lengths he was willing to go to control and manipulate those around him. Yet, with the injured teen struggling to rise from the ground, his pain serving as a reminder of the consequences of disobedience, they reluctantly began to consider their grim options.

Barry's smile widened, a twisted satisfaction filling his eyes. He reveled in the power he held over these impressionable minds, the sense of control intoxicating his twisted psyche. The stage was set for his grand manipulation, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his dark desires.

The remaining teens, their fear palpable, mustered the courage to speak up amidst the lingering pain and shock. One of them, his voice trembling, asked the question that weighed heavily on their minds. "And what happens to us after we do what you ask?" he inquired, his tone a mix of anxiety and desperation.

Barry's eyes narrowed, scanning the group with a predatory gaze. He let out a sinister chuckle, relishing in their vulnerability. "Oh, don't you worry," he replied with false reassurance. "Once the chaos unfolds, once you've completed your part, I will ensure your safety. You see, I have connections, ways to make sure the blame falls elsewhere. You'll walk away unscathed, with your part in this little game neatly concealed."

The teens exchanged uncertain glances, their expressions a reflection of their internal turmoil. The promise of safety offered a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of the situation. Barry's ability to manipulate their fears and doubts was both unnerving and persuasive, amplifying their hesitance to resist.

"Trust me," Barry continued, his voice dripping with a deceptive charm. "I have everything under control. I will take care of any loose ends and protect you. You'll be free to continue with your lives, untarnished by the events that unfold. But remember, betraying me would have dire consequences."

His words hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the power he wielded over their lives. The teens, though unsettled by the path they were being coerced into, felt trapped and cornered, believing that compliance might be their only chance at survival.

As the weight of their decisions settled upon them, the teens reluctantly nodded, their resolve wavering in the face of Barry's twisted authority. Deep down, they knew they were stepping into a world of darkness, a realm where the consequences of their actions might haunt them forever.

Barry, satisfied with their submission, wore a satisfied grin. His plans were falling into place, and the web of manipulation he had woven was tightening around them. The stage was set, and he would soon revel in the chaos and control he so desperately craved.

On that fateful day, when tranquility hung in the air, the cafe was abruptly thrust into chaos. The entrance swung open with a violent force as the group of teens stormed inside, their faces concealed by masks. Panic erupted among the unsuspecting customers, who cowered in fear, seeking shelter wherever they could.

Frozen with terror, [Y/N], the reader, stood behind the cash register, her hands trembling uncontrollably. The sight of the masked intruders and the escalating commotion left her paralyzed, unable to find the courage to take action. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run or fight back, but fear held her firmly in its grip.

Suddenly, one of the teens, a malicious glint in his eyes, spotted [Y/N]. He brandished a weapon, pointing it menacingly in her direction, demanding the money from the register. The adrenaline coursing through [Y/N]'s veins intensified, her heart pounding in her chest. She desperately searched for a way out, a way to escape the impending danger, but fear consumed her every thought.

"Give us the money!" the teen barked, his voice laden with aggression. The seconds stretched into eternity as [Y/N], her voice trapped within her throat, failed to respond. The teen's impatience grew, and he raised his weapon, poised to strike her.

Just as the blow was about to descend upon [Y/N], a figure lunged forward, knocking the weapon aside. It was Barry, the very person who had orchestrated this horrifying event. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and possessiveness as he shielded [Y/N] from harm, his fist connecting with the side of her face, delivering a punishing blow.

Pain seared through [Y/N]'s cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but the impact was a mere fraction of what it could have been. The sinister irony of Barry's actions was not lost on her—the very person who had terrorized her, the one she had hoped to escape from, had now become her savior in this moment of peril.

The chaos in the café reached a crescendo, as the other masked intruders struggled to regain control of the situation. Barry's calculated plan was unfolding perfectly, with him positioning himself as the hero amidst the mayhem he had orchestrated. The customers, caught in the crossfire, trembled with fear, unsure of who to trust or where safety could be found.

As [Y/N] clutched her stinging cheek, her gaze locked with Barry's, a mix of confusion, betrayal, and relief flickering in her eyes. The path ahead grew even more treacherous, as she grappled with the conflicting emotions of gratitude for being saved and the chilling reality of the person responsible for her torment now being her protector.

The conflicting emotions swirled within [Y/N] as she stared into Barry's eyes, his reassuring gaze tinged with concern yet possessiveness. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the cafe, he seemed like her only anchor, the one person who could shield her from the storm he himself had unleashed.

Barry approached [Y/N] with measured steps, his voice a soothing whisper amidst the cacophony. "Are you alright?" he asked, his concern laced with a possessive undertone. "I'm here now, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Torn between the gratitude of being saved and the realization of the darkness lurking within Barry's soul, [Y/N] hesitated. Her instincts urged her to reject his comfort, to run as far away from him as possible. But the fear that gripped her heart, the fear of what he might do if she defied him, held her captive.

As the plan unfolded, Barry couldn't help but recall the first time he had encountered [Y/N], his obsession taking root. Flashbacks flooded his mind, transporting him back to that rainy day when he had hit rock bottom. He remembered sitting alone on a bench, soaked to the bone, feeling the weight of his failures as The Flash. The lives he couldn't save haunted him, consuming his thoughts.

Lost in his despair, Barry had been oblivious to his surroundings until he felt the rain cease. He glanced up, his eyes meeting an umbrella shielding him from the downpour. And there, standing before him, was [Y/N], a stranger who approached with concern and kindness. She had comforted him, leading him to the café just across the street, not even knowing why he was so broken.

"I saw you sitting there for hours," [Y/N] had said softly, her voice carrying warmth. "When the rain started, I couldn't just leave you like that. Please, let me offer you a warm drink on the house."

It was in that moment that Barry felt a glimmer of hope, a sense of connection that he had longed for. [Y/N]'s genuine care and compassion had touched him in a way no one else had. For the first time in his life, he felt a genuine warmth radiating from someone, a feeling he desperately craved.

And now, as he executed his plan, Barry was driven by the memory of that encounter. He wanted to recreate that vulnerability, that moment where [Y/N] had offered him solace. In his twisted mind, he believed that by orchestrating events where she had no choice but to rely on him, she would forget the darkness he had revealed.

As the pieces of his plan fell into place, Barry muttered to himself, a mixture of panic and determination in his voice. "I went in too fast, too impulsive. But this plan, this brilliant plan, will make her see how much she needs me. She will forget, and I will ensure that our fates become inextricably entwined."

A sinister smile played on Barry's lips as he reveled in his dark intentions. To the world, he would be [Y/N]'s hero, her knight in shining armor. But deep down, he knew the truth of his obsession, and he reveled in the power he held over her unknowing heart.

Before [Y/N] could fully comprehend the situation, Barry turned his attention to the teen who had attempted to strike her. With a swift and brutal motion, he twisted the teen's arm, causing a sickening snap that echoed through the chaos-filled room. The teen howled in pain, his agony a testament to Barry's strength and cruelty.

But the horror didn't end there. As the teen struggled to form words, to reveal their agreement or betray Barry's plan, he silenced him with a violent act. Barry slammed the teen's head down onto the counter, the force of the impact silencing any further words. Blood stained the surface as the other intruders, witnessing the brutal scene, charged at Barry, driven by a mix of rage and desperation.

In that perilous moment, Barry cast a quick glance back at [Y/N], his eyes filled with a combination of urgency and determination. He whispered urgently, his words barely audible amidst the chaos, "Call the police. I'll handle them. Trust me."

As [Y/N] trembled with fear, her heart pounding in her chest, she found herself torn once again. The man who had orchestrated this terrifying ordeal, the man who had harmed her, was now urging her to take action for her own safety. In that moment, the weight of her decisions pressed heavily upon her, as she realized that Barry's desire for her had entangled her in a web of manipulation and danger.

With a surge of adrenaline and a lingering sense of self-preservation, [Y/N] found the strength to move. She cautiously made her way towards the nearest phone, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Her thoughts raced, torn between the desire to escape and the knowledge that the very person she sought to flee from was now playing the role of her protector.

As she dialed the emergency number, her mind clouded with uncertainty. The path ahead had grown treacherous, marked by a disturbing blend of gratitude and terror.

As chaos raged around them, one of the teens managed to utter, "Hey, this wasn't part of the deal..." His words hung in the air for a fleeting moment before Barry swiftly silenced him, striking him with a forceful blow that rendered him unconscious. Barry's eyes darted towards [Y/N], his expression a mixture of concern and panic, fearing that she may have overheard anything that could jeopardize his plan.

Meanwhile, [Y/N] had just finished her call with the police, her ears ringing from the commotion and her mind clouded with a mix of fear and confusion. She noticed the teen's mouth moving just before Barry's decisive action, planting a seed of suspicion in her mind. Yet, amidst the overwhelming chaos, she had little time to dwell on it.

Barry hurriedly made his way to [Y/N] as she struggled to maintain her balance, leaning heavily on the nearby table for support. His touch replaced the cold, unyielding surface as he gently held her hand, providing a sense of stability and solace. In that moment, she allowed herself to release the tension gripping her body, her legs giving way as she collapsed to the ground.

With a sense of urgency, Barry supported [Y/N], guiding her to sit on the floor. His touch lingered, and though he felt a surge of desire, he reined in his impulses, knowing he needed to maintain the false pretense of comforting her. His voice, filled with feigned concern, broke the tense silence.

"Take deep breaths, [Y/N]. You're safe now," he reassured her, his voice a tender whisper amidst the turmoil. "Just focus on calming down. I won't let anyone harm you."

Her heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The touch of his hand, the soothing tone of his voice—it all played into her vulnerability, creating a semblance of safety in this terrifying ordeal. Part of her yearned to believe his words, to find solace in his presence, while another part remained wary of the dark intentions that lurked beneath his facade.

Barry's eyes, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and desire, locked onto [Y/N]'s. He reveled in the power he held over her, the control he exerted through his calculated actions. Yet, he had to maintain his charade, to keep her under his spell for just a while longer.

"You're going to be okay, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous tenderness. "I'll make sure of it. Trust me, trust in us."

In that moment, as [Y/N] gazed into his eyes, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope mingled with a sense of dread. The lines between reality and illusion blurred, leaving her trapped in a web of manipulation, desire, and the desperate longing for escape.

Barry mustered a nervous smile, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with his phone. He pulled up his contact information and hesitantly extended it towards [Y/N]. His usually confident and quick hands were now unsteady, betraying the nervousness that coursed through his veins.

"Here," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "My... my number. In case... in case you ever need someone to talk to or if anything happens."

His eyes locked with hers, searching for a sign of acceptance or reassurance. The weight of his desire to be there for her in any way he could made his heart pound in his chest, causing his words to come out in a rush.

"I mean, not that I expect anything to happen or that you'll need to call me. But just... just in case, you know?" he added, stumbling over his own words. "I... I genuinely care about your well-being, [Y/N]."

She accepted the phone number with a gentle nod, her own hands trembling slightly as she took in the significance of the moment. The contradictory feelings of gratitude and apprehension swirled within her, leaving her uncertain of how to proceed.

"Thank you, Barry," she replied softly, her voice laced with a mix of gratitude and caution. "I'll... I'll keep it in mind. I appreciate your concern."

As the door closed between them, Barry retreated from [Y/N]'s doorstep, his heart heavy with a potent mix of anticipation and unease. He knew that the true depth of his intentions, driven by obsession and manipulation, could never be revealed. Yet, he clung to the false pretense of caring for her, cherishing the moments they shared, even if they were shrouded in deceit.

As [Y/N] stared at the phone number displayed on her screen, she couldn't help but wonder about the man who had become entangled in her life. The lines between hero and villain blurred in her mind, leaving her torn between the gratitude for his actions and the lingering doubts about his true intentions.

In the silence of her room, she contemplated the enigmatic figure who had saved her, unsure of the treacherous path that lay ahead. Little did she know that the web of deception woven by Barry was growing stronger, threatening to ensnare her further in its intricate threads.

#dc #the flash #barry allen #flash x reader #x reader #yandere barry x reader #yandere! flash #yandere barry allen #fan fiction #my writes

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dayseternal-blog · 1 year

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In a NH angst fic, is it a no-go to have some smut between one of them and another character(s)? Or should it only be implied when it happens?

It's not a no-go. I've read a few different fics and written scenes like this, so it depends on what you want to show...

Here is my advice!

"Smut" refers to any kind of sexual intimacy, from touching and petting over clothing to full-on naked lemons. You can write as far and as detailed as you want into the deed.

Something to think about: What do you hope to impress upon a reader from this smut scene?

I'm assuming that since it's a NaruHina fic but the smut scene is between one of them and a different character, your main objective would be PAIN 😭😭💔💔💔.

But what else? What kind of character development are you hoping to achieve through the scene? What do you want the reader to understand?

For scenes in chapters 1 & 2 in my "White Lilies," I show Naruto touching and kissing an OC Rumi. They never actually get down to it, mostly because I didn't want to inflict that kind of damage on myself or on the reader. My intention here was to show that Naruto and Rumi's relationship is progressing too fast and at a very surface-level. I also wanted to show that Rumi is a "good" character. She is in love and she wants Naruto to love her back. She is not a villain, which complicates the narrative beyond "hate the competing love interest." I wanted to show that Naruto is Not in love and that he doesn't understand what love is. I used smut scenes to convey the physicality of their relationship as well as the youthful, immature dynamic between them.

Another scene I can immediately recall is @sessakag's "Secrets of the Hidden Leaf" where in Chapter 1, there is a short, paragraph-length scene that reveals Naruto's past sexual experience with previous women. In terms of character development, we come to learn that Naruto had a humiliating first time. Yet true to form, he overcomes his problems and is able to empathize with Hinata's nervousness.

Oooh, also Chapters 16 & 17 of "I want you to cry" by Devahhole, Naruto and Sakura are close to doing it. For character development, we see how this Naruto really lacks morals. We also get another example of Sakura's reluctance that hints at her repressed sexuality.

In terms of the plot of the story, does this smut scene serve a good purpose?

For "White Lilies," the Naruto/Rumi smut scenes are sort of necessary. Yes, I could have implied their physical intimacy without describing it, but overall the scenes serve as a contributing factor to his bouts of sickness. Naruto gains an understanding of sexual intimacy, thereby catalyzing his jealousy of Susumu.

Same with "I want you to cry." Devahhole uses the Naruto/Sakura smut to push Hinata into revealing her crazy sides. Plot-wise, it was necessary.

Another example! In Chapter 7 of "Side Effects" by Cheating Death, we see Hinata molested on the train and Naruto molested at a bar. These scenes are meant to drive home the fact that the drugs being used on them have negative effects. Later on, videos of these scenes are also used to coerce them further into being taken advantage of in the study. "Side Effects" has many, many scenes of graphic non-con, which are all an important aspect of the plot.

How do you expect readers to react?

In chapter 3 of "Mending Hearts" by NotosK, Hinata and Toneri are about to take the next step in their relationship. The scene serves 2 purposes. Readers come to understand that Hinata is feeling pressured into it and does not truly love him. Second, the author wants us to hate Toneri!

In "Side Effects," Cheating Death was surprised by the readers' reactions, not expecting so many of them to be upset by the non-con, even though they warned the readers beforehand. Ffnet does not have as comprehensive of a tagging system as AO3, so it's likely that many readers started the fic not expecting so much non-con. If you publish your fic on AO3, simply tag appropriately and leave serious author's notes on the chapter to warn readers. For ffnet or other sites, put warnings in your story summary.

For my "White Lilies," readers expected Naruto/Hinata smut due to the Naruto/Rumi smut. This is definitely a desired reaction! Same for "Side Effects." Cheating Death makes extremely graphic smut between Naruto and Hinata to balance the noncon smut, which readers expected. If you have one of them getting into the smutty with a different character, readers will expect smut later on between Naruto and Hinata.

Most NH writers won't write the actual deed with a different character. Most get as far as nakedness. In terms of rape and noncon with a different chara, usually it's implied. But there are a million different ways to express smut.

How detailed do you want the smut?

Consider @char-lotteral's Chapter 1 of "On the Outside Looking In," where Naruto walks in on Sasuke and Hinata doing it. It's implied, but through Naruto's pov, we get a sense of how passionate it was. Also consider "Secrets of the Hidden Leaf," where Naruto's inexperience is described as "shuddering and howling like an idiot" and so forth.

Or! You can go all-out like Cheating Death in the bonus scene of "Side Effects." I think Cheating Death does a great job of expressing Naruto's and Hinata's conflicting feelings during the smut scenes with other people.

In the end, consider what kind of emotions you are focusing on. Is it possible for you to express those emotions without getting graphic? Do you need to be graphic to express those emotions?

In my "Genghis Khan" fic, I don't describe him doing it with Shion at all because there aren't any emotions for Naruto involved. I can achieve the fuckboy character development without getting graphic. I can hint on his experience with others, and that is enough to get my point across.

Hope this helps! As reference, take a look at the links I put in so that you can get an idea of what you want to write.

Be prepared that the more graphic you are, the more angsty it is, and the more negatively emotional your readers' comments may be. You may also receive flames, but that's mostly avoidable if you warn and tag appropriately. Even with being clear, though, there will be people who have little control over themselves, so just be aware! Moderate your comment section or reply kindly to such people and it won't be too big a deal.

#anon #my opinion #about my writing #i tried to answer this as quickly as possible so hopefully it helps you #my writing advice

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salagauno · 8 months

Text

A Book Home Doctor

In an era where self-sufficiency and empowerment are paramount, the concept of taking charge of one’s health and well-being has gained significant traction. The book “Home Doctor” emerges as a beacon of guidance, offering readers an invaluable resource to navigate the world of DIY health care. In this article, we delve into the essence of the book, its significance, and the benefits it bestows upon those seeking to become proactive stewards of their health.

Empowerment through Knowledge

“Home Doctor” is more than just a book; it’s a compendium of knowledge designed to equip individuals with the tools they need to handle common health issues within the confines of their own homes. Written by medical experts and seasoned practitioners, this comprehensive guide offers readers insights into identifying, understanding, and treating a wide array of ailments.

By demystifying medical jargon and presenting information in an accessible manner, the book empowers readers to make informed decisions about their health. From basic first aid and minor injuries to managing chronic conditions, “Home Doctor” covers a diverse range of topics that cater to individuals of varying medical literacy levels.

A Holistic Approach

One of the book’s strengths lies in its emphasis on a holistic approach to health care. It recognizes that well-being extends beyond the physical realm and encompasses mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects. “Home Doctor” advocates for preventive measures, healthy lifestyle choices, and stress management techniques, all of which contribute to a well-rounded approach to health maintenance.

Moreover, the book acknowledges the role of alternative and complementary therapies, supplementing conventional medical advice with insights into natural remedies, herbal medicine, and mindfulness practices. This well-rounded approach resonates with readers who value a comprehensive understanding of health.

Navigating a Changing Landscape

The landscape of health care is evolving, with an increasing emphasis on patient autonomy and self-care. “Home Doctor” aligns seamlessly with this shift, enabling individuals to take control of their health in a responsible and informed manner. As medical costs rise and access to professional care becomes more complex, the book emerges as a timely solution for addressing minor health concerns independently.

However, it’s essential to note that “Home Doctor” is not a replacement for professional medical advice, especially in cases of serious illnesses or emergencies. Instead, it complements the existing medical system by providing readers with the knowledge to assess situations, make informed decisions, and seek professional help when necessary.

Benefits of “Home Doctor”

The advantages of embracing the principles outlined in “Home Doctor” are multifaceted:

Cost-Effective: By being equipped to handle minor health issues at home, individuals can save on medical costs associated with routine visits to healthcare providers.

Empowerment: Knowledge is empowering. The book instills confidence in readers to manage health matters effectively, reducing anxiety and uncertainty.

Proactive Health Management: Prevention is better than cure. The book promotes healthy habits and preventive measures, reducing the likelihood of future health complications.

Resource for Caregivers: “Home Doctor” is a valuable resource for caregivers looking after family members or loved ones, offering guidance on managing common health concerns.

Immediate Accessibility: In situations where professional help might not be readily available, the book equips readers to respond promptly to health issues.

Conclusion

“Home Doctor” transcends the boundaries of a conventional medical guide. It signifies a paradigm shift in how individuals approach their health, fostering a sense of responsibility and empowerment. With its comprehensive insights, holistic approach, and focus on informed decision-making, this book is poised to become an indispensable tool for those seeking to lead healthier, more self-reliant lives. As we navigate an ever-evolving healthcare landscape, “Home Doctor” stands as a testament to the potential of knowledge and individual agency in promoting well-being.

Are you ready to embark on a journey towards empowered health management? “Home Doctor” is your guide to understanding, preventing, and addressing common health concerns from the comfort of your own home. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to:

Empower Yourself: Gain the knowledge and confidence to make informed decisions about your health and well-being.

Save on Costs: Learn how to handle minor health issues at home, reducing unnecessary medical expenses.

Promote Preventive Health: Discover holistic approaches and proactive measures that contribute to a healthier lifestyle.

Become a Resourceful Caregiver: Equip yourself with valuable insights for taking care of your loved ones’ well-being.

Respond Swiftly: Be prepared to tackle health concerns even when professional help is not immediately available.

Unleash the power of knowledge and take the reins of your health journey. Grab your copy of “Home Doctor” and embark on a path towards healthier living today!

Remember, while “Home Doctor” empowers you to manage common health issues independently, always seek professional medical help for serious illnesses or emergencies. Your well-being is in your hands — take the first step towards a healthier, more self-reliant future now!

#books & libraries #books #health #healthcare #health and wellness

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e-b-reads · 1 year

Text

Some things about Summer Sons

Absolutely not a comprehensive list of things about this book, but I wanted to post some thoughts since this is a book I have seen on tumblr! As per usual, I will attempt not to spoil major plot points, but below the cut, there will be some discussion of character development etc. that may technically classify as spoilers.

(@therefugeofbooks if you were serious about being interested in my thoughts, here they are! there's like 4 paragraphs under the cut tho so definitely don't feel obligated to read.)

This may have been a product of the book, or my reading mood, but: while I was reading this book, I wanted to keep reading and find out what was going to happen, but whenever I put it down, I wasn't particularly yearning to pick it up again. This doesn't mean I didn't want to read it; it just didn't feel urgent. Overall, though, I really liked it, and not for reasons that are obvious in the plot summary!

There are things that probably are graspable from the plot summary that were well done: the general southern gothic vibe (including acknowledgement of the history of plantations and slave labor, without dwelling on these); the spooky magic system (I like how the MC, Andrew, doesn't know all the rules of this, but we can tell there are rules); some ~academia~ (although mostly Andrew is only peripherally interested in this). I also personally like that the characters are grad-school-aged, so this is probably technically a New Adult book (as opposed to Young Adult). I guess I'm not even really a New Adult anymore (even though I don't feel like an Adult at all sometimes), so I generally like books with characters who are over 20!

Really, though, I think Summer Sons can be best described as a book about grief, and also about Andrew coming to terms with his sexuality. This is the part that's really well done, because it's all tied in together; Andrew's grief about his best friend's death is complicated and drawn out (and also made very symbolically clear at times) by the spooky ghost stuff going on, and it's also complicated by Andrew's own lack of self-understanding and his internalized homophobia. The spooky, mysterious plot, driven by other characters, twines well with Andrew's personal journey. And I also like that, while I think it's pretty clear to the reader what's going on with Andrew, we don't get told explicitly "Andrew thought maybe he was gay, but he had internalized homophobia" or "Andrew had moved beyond denial into anger." We see Andrew's actions and his preoccupations, and can draw conclusions from them.

The mystery is solved by the end, but Andrew's personal stuff, while it reaches a partial resolution, is left nicely open in a realistic way. His grief has shifted stages but is still there, and his other personal relationships (romantic and not) have moved into new stages as well, some more fragile than others. This is the kind of ending I like; not one that begs for a sequel, but that makes it clear the characters are going to keep living even though the book is done.

#some things about:#summer sons #things about a magical realism book #<- had to make a new tag b/c i'm not sure what genre this wld be called #but i do like books with magic intertwining with everyday contemporary life #also: insert some joke abt my love for parentheses and semi-colons here

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sunshineistyping · 2 years

Text

Plans

Pairings: Established Sundrop/Sunny x Fem!Reader, Light Moondrop/Moon x Fem!Reader

Au: Mobster au (?)

Warnings: Mention of drinking, mentions of kidnapping

There they were, the two most extravagant folks this side of the city. The dame with her deep blue dress sat at the bar, her friend wandering off to collect what he assumed they really came for. Those two were simplistic in wants and deals, neither having had their names with heavy influence until recently. The Lady and her possible Tramp had carved their own path through this crime ridden city with a switchblade knife and a cigar. Her nails, well-manicured, tapped impatiently against the wooden bar top. Oh now he had to know to know more, he shook his glass of whiskey and ice before making his way over. He slid into the seat beside the young woman, his hat gently tipped over his eyes and suit crisp. She turned to him with her lips gently parted. Her sweet, gentle eyes met his and for a moment his thoughts spilled away. So this is how she manipulated countless rich, cocky men.

“Well hello, what’s an Angel like you doing in a little hole-in-the-wall place like this?”

“Angel? You flatter me, Sir.” Her honey coated voice slid off her tongue with such ease he’s certain his mechanical heart would’ve stopped if he was any weaker of a man.

“I don’t mean to Doll, you’ve got an air about you not fit for this place.”

“Are you implyin’ something?”

“Maybe, All’s I’m saying is you and me could easily get out of here.”

“A bit of a playboy, huh? I’m sorry but I’ve come here with someone.” She practically purred out the words and, as if on cue, her friend had returned with a suitcase. The blue of his eyes scanning over the situation as he walked up. Now, Moon was certain he could’ve convinced her to leave with him had he not arrived. She would be a good capture, the leader of an opposing family.

“Something the matter?” Her friends gaze remained on her as if waiting for silent confirmation. She closed her eyes and tilted her head down.

“Yes everything’s quite all right, this man was simply keeping me company. Isn’t that right Mr…?” She extended an invitation but didn’t turn her head even slightly over to him.

“You can call me M.”

“Well, you sure were getting close to my wife.”

“Didn’t mean to encroach on your territory, I assure you. Simply saw a young woman at a bar alone, would you have not done the same?” He brought his whiskey a tad closer to him and watched the others movements in case a fight was to break out. Oh but this gave him a lot to think about, the leader was married and this surely complicated things, now didn’t it?

“I suppose I would’ve.” The man huffed and gently extended a hand for his wife, she stood carefully. The yellow of his rays glowing under the bars dim light. Her extravagant dress shifted as she stood, showing her right leg through the split of her dress. The two appeared almost beyond comprehension. They truly were beautiful together, ghostly as if apparitions. At last her gaze met his once again.

“Thank you for speaking with me Mr. M, otherwise I might’ve gotten myself a bit tipsy.” She giggled and brought a gloved hand to her glossed lips. It was only then he realized she had the eyes of a predator, her stare was narrowed and hunting. She wasn’t just a little house cat as he had wrongfully assumed.

“Yes, of course.” Well, his plan had failed. It wouldn’t be very easy to pull her away as he’d hoped. The two walked right outside of the bar, the woman grinning.

“It all went according to plan.” The sun mumbled and opened the door of their car for her.

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

(I'm sort of back? Random inspo writing✨)

#fnaf au #fnaf x reader #security breach x reader #moondrop x reader #sundrop x reader #female reader #female reader insert #sunnydrop x reader #moon x reader #fnaf fanfic #mafia au #mobster au

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pompompurin1028 · 2 years

Text

Existing

Summary: With complicated feelings surrounding his day of birth, Dazai ponders how to respond to "happy birthday"

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Genre: Angst to Comfort

Warnings: Internal Dazai thoughts (some self-hatred, inferences to suicide), mentions of alcohol

A/N: My first piece actually talking about birthdays with Dazai for his birthday, knowing how Dazai feels about himself, it is a wonder as to how to express sentiments for him on such a day. And this can also be seen as a kind of a play on one of the first Dazai fics I wrote

My Masterlist

Existing.

Merely existing, as if he were a feather drifting in the winds called life is perhaps the best way to describe how Dazai felt for most of his existence.

Like a sailor intent on finding the treasure he seeks even among the roughest currents of the ocean, Dazai throughout his life sought purpose amid the rough waters and agonies of the world. All too often, as a result, he found himself dancing his dangerous dance of chance with fate on the fine rope between death and life. Both in anticipation and fear of the enlightenment of human existence that would dawn on him, but simultaneously at the disappointment that would result if he were to find his hopes for happiness were already shattered even before he was born, and he would be with nothing but a solace to be found in death is left awaiting him.

But so physically and mentally caught up in this waltz which Dazai had choreographed for himself for years in his search, as time progressed he could do nothing but dance alone further up along the way to the clouds, beyond the comprehension of others, until he reached a point which almost no one else could attain in this scheme he created for himself.

Gazing down at the bigger picture of humanity and existence from the skies he sat so high upon, it was only so long before the grips of loneliness reached out for him, clutching him tightly to the ground. And unbeknownst to him, in the process of doing so you often found Dazai seemingly to have lost sight of his own existence and humanity in the process of finding a reason for himself to live.

By reducing the present to a mere point from which his desires have yet to be realized, that is his hope for a light which he continually wishes to achieve, which is only accelerated by his ability to predict the actions of individuals. Even matters such as his date of birth had become no more than trivial, a mere number dating the length of his existence in the world. Yet, Dazai didn’t exactly mind this, for it allowed him momentarily to forget about the contempt he held, the suffering he had been enduring.

Besides, Dazai was never particularly that fond of the date to begin with, especially when filled with a sense of self-loathing as he, it became a cruel reminder of the present, the contempt he held for life, the actions he had done which he cannot wipe away no matter how hard he tried.

Though on a normal year, upon the day of his birthday, Dazai would brush it off, distracting them with jokes and other subjects if anyone were to mention it in the agency, or even take off on his own adventure in Yokohama to avoid the sight of people whom he knows. Laying atop the roofs of buildings, with his headphones close to his ears, hoping the music blasting through the speakers would distract his racing mind from the thoughts and sensations that come to him in waves.

However, this year, with you by his side as his partner, as the day slowly encroached upon him, a growing sense of apprehension filled him.

Knowing deeply that you appreciated him by your side as you have assured him and spoken aloud numerous times, even though he himself continues to question in his head the reasons for your acceptance when he often found himself still with, slowly decreasing amounts, resentment towards himself. Dazai ran different scenarios through his mind, trying to come up with the right response to your words to accept your kindness as beyond a that of a cruel joke despite how thankful he was that you even bothered to think his existence as important, let alone one to be celebrated.

However, would he be able to find it in him to put on his facade of a smile at your heartfelt words he knew he could hardly accept? Especially when it pains him to not only put on a pretence towards the person whom he feels affection for, but also at the truthful words of celebration you felt towards his existence that was only complicated by the fact that he himself was too weak to accept and acknowledge them without pain. Despite Dazai's habit of holding in his emotions, he feared, in your presence, his feelings would leak through.

How would you react if that happened?

Two simple words that have become a statement of normalcy that others often speak without thinking about it, and you would be doing no wrong by saying them. Even so, Dazai often finds trouble taking them in. At this, a feeling akin to guilt that tugged at his stomach has him contemplating disappearing for the day entirely.

But, at the thought of your saddened expression that will result from his actions, in the end, Dazai could not bring himself to do so.

There was nothing more to find but a simple look of calm hung upon Dazai's face when your gaze met the lithe silhouette of the brunette, leaning lazily against your balcony with his bandaged arms draped across the railings upon your return. You stood silently for a second watching him looking out towards the sky-high buildings that filled the skyline with slowly brightening lights while the light of the setting sun enveloped his figure, the breath of the winds danced against the ends of his trenchcoat.

Though to a regular onlooker, the image presented before you would seem nothing beyond serene. Yet, the almost blank look in his brown eyes, sunken into darkness, while seemed to be starring at the sight before him, felt as though they were gazing at a place beyond your comprehension. And the lack of a smile that usually dawned on his face, which under the brush of sunlight seemed to have looked like it may have melted against the sun into a vacant expression, suggested otherwise.

To say you were caught by surprise at the sight of him when you returned was perhaps an understatement. Especially since he had skipped work, seemingly to avoid your presence as well as that of the agency entirely, you were almost certain that you would not see him today.

Calling out his name softly to garner his attention. Perhaps having caught him in deep thought, you were able to observe his expression change as his gaze turned towards yours. From the seemingly effortless wide smile that quickly met his lips when his eyes met yours, and the cheerful voice that exclaimed your name, it felt as though the Dazai who wore the vacant expression you had just seen moments ago was a mere fragment of your imagination.

“Thank goodness you're back, my love! I was starting to get worried you wouldn't return.”

Snatching the first words between you, Dazai immediately found the reins of directing the conversation, leaving you and the questions boiling in your head unexplained, even if you didn't plan to ask them anyway knowing it will only pain him to answer.

Wearing his typical closed-eye smile, he tried to joke to diffuse the situation. But catching a glimpse at the sadness that couldn’t escape his eyes that was quickly covered up, your heart clenched at the sight, because swore you almost heard his soul crack.

“Dazai,” calling out to him once again with a palpable sense of sadness laced in your voice, Dazai found himself unable to utter a word when you slowly approached him and embraced him.

Tensing up at the warmth of your form against his, holding him ever so gently as if he would break in your arms if you were to hold him any tighter. In your tenderness, a part of him was both softened and pained.

“Thank you for existing.”

Eyes widening at the unexpected words that fell from you filled his heart. Dazai could only breathe out a chuckle, as a wry smile fell onto his lips.

Without a note of a demeaning tone within your words for the difficulty he found in the mere act of staying alive, no pressure towards him to feel merry about his date of birth. But at the same time displaying the sincere appreciation you felt in his presence, also a reminder of how much time he unconsciously spends in his head scheming and predicting...

As you followed up your statement with an invitation to join you for his favourite sake and crab, what more could he do but grab your hand as you lead him, even just for the night, down to earth to appreciate the present he has so often ignored.

When was the last time he allowed himself to feel that way?

But with sounds of your soft laughter, the clinking of sake cups against one another mixing into the nighttime air as the sunset behind the two of you, as he found him twirling you around in an impromptu waltz under the moonlight in your living room or simply indulging in conversations late into the night. Even though Dazai has yet to escape the grips of merely existing and feel truly alive. Even as melancholy continued lingered deep in his heart.

But just for tonight… Maybe, just maybe, simply existing is alright as well.

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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

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What makes me human

[Cyberpunk! America x reader] 6

(remastered)

Wordcount: 3, 286 Rating: M for strong language and gore Chapter synopsis: Alfred takes you to the Afterlife to get intel on the heist from an old friend. Meanwhile, Allen is conflicted about the mission he’s assigned, so he looks for an old friend and mentor for advice. When he speaks to him, he realizes something fishy about the task. Especially about Alfred, the man he is meant to kill. When he digs around for more information about him, he stumbles across his company’s darkest secret.

Bloodlines

He was barely a stranger, someone you had no place to care about. But what happened to him was so horrific, your reaction would have been universal. Non-consensual body modification—to take what can’t be replaced, to violate what everyone had a God-given right to. You wouldn’t wish it upon your worst enemy, and Alfred was far from it.

“I’m sorry.” You gripped the balcony, eyes burning with remorse. It was all you could manage as you stared holes into the ground.

“It’s not your fault.” He turned his head away.

“Listen—”

“—I just wanted to say it.”

He suppressed a frown while he spoke, but the pain was unmaskable. It was in his voice, and hearing it radicalized you to what you thought impossible.

“I’ll do it.” You looked him in the eye. “I’ll help you.”

What he saw in your company, you were beginning to. There was a darkness you didn’t want to believe, something sinister beyond your comprehension. Of all the secrets you would uncover, Alfred’s would be the first—his story, from the beginning to the end.

The job was easy enough. Everything sounded more technical the way Mizumoto put it, but all Allen took away from that conversation was this. Let the guy walk in and out. So straightforward, so simple. But that was what made everything so complicated.

When something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. To throw you into the mix didn’t sit well with him, either. But then again, you were always involved, one way or another.

He drove further South, watching the lush parks and skyscrapers fade into dingy residential complexes. Rich corpos lived where he did, up North, but this was where he really came from. Allen passed a basketball court, a McDonald’s, then a Seven-Eleven. He never thought he’d say it, that he missed the smell of these parts. Smog, grease, human waste. You walked these streets; you stank like them too. The scent was long gone from his clothes, but he wouldn’t mind topping it up again.

He made a right turn before accelerating towards a single-story building. The double garage was open, letting him pull inside of it. He poked his head out of the window, instantly at ease from the familiarity of his surroundings. A quaint little repair shop he had the privilege of working for. Stepping out of his Alvarado, he approached the car occupying the space adjacent. A pair of legs stuck out the bottom.

“Got time for another?” Allen began, sliding his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

“Yeah, just give me a tic.” A minute later, the mechanic slid out on his car creeper. He had short, choppy blonde hair framing a roundish face, which was marred by engine oil and disdain. “Oh. You. Here to check if my business has gone under yet?”

It was Arthur, a former teacher, friend, and his soon-to-be killer if he didn’t word things right.

“You still hung up about that?” Allen sighed.

“Still?” The other scoffed. “I don’t think ‘still’ can be applied here. Not as long as I have to work ten hours to put food on the table because someone—” They slapped his shoulder with a rag. “—went off to work for a bunch of suits and became a class traitor.”

“Can we not talk about this?” He grumbled.

Every time he dropped by, the topic would be the same. And the man always sounded crankier than the last time. But it wasn’t exactly undeserved.

“Right, right, of course.” Arthur nodded, cleaning his hands with the rag. His voice dripped with sarcasm, making Allen wince. “So, what are you really here for? I don’t suppose to give me a hand, will you?”

“Not really, no.” He bent down and picked up some spare parts before someone could trip on them. When he straightened up, he had a wrench in hand. Giving that a small toss, he added this sheepishly. “But I can stick around for a bit. How ya been?”

“Same old.” Arthur tossed the rag to the side.

While he was stuck in this greasy, hole-in-the-wall repair shop fixing other people’s accidents, Allen was out in the streets. He couldn’t say he wanted what he had, living life in the fast lane, but it must’ve been nice to be in an ivory tower above it all.

“Nothing really changes down here. What about you? Have any exciting mission impossibles lately?”

“I wouldn’t call them exciting.” Allen watched the man pull a stool over. Before he got further into it, he fished out a cigarette and wedged it between his lips. He licked the paper, letting the bitter taste envelope his tongue. “And it’s not like it’s happened yet.”

Arthur raised a brow, never taking his gaze off of him as he sat down. This was certainly a change of pace. His protégé usually enthused him about his work after it was over. It was really fitting for his character, a do first, think later type of guy.

“Don’t suppose you’re here for my advice, are you?”

Whatever had him stumped must’ve been something. And he was about to find out what.

“I don’t know.” Allen lit the end, shielding the tiny flame with his hand. When he glanced up for an absent stare, he blew out a jet of smoke. “Maybe.”

“Come on, a maybe? You’re not here to help me, so it’s gotta be the other way around.” Arthur stood up.

“Or we could just hang out like normal people.”

“Oh, but you always want something.” The blonde folded his arms. “So, what do you want?”

“Can’t keep a secret around you, can I?” He furrowed his brows. Thinking about his circumstances was hard enough, but saying it? He put out his cigarette and flicked it into a bin. “It’s my boss.”

Arthur stared in silence, beckoning him to continue.

“He offered me something I can’t say no to. I just don’t like that (F/N) is involved.” He hung his head, face darkening. And yet, anger could hardly begin to describe what he was feeling.

He couldn’t be bought with money, only opportunity. He couldn’t be tempted by women, only love. You encompassed both of those things, the pathway to everything he could want in life. And to hold that over his head made him feel like he had no control over anything in his life. “He’s using her against me.”

“How?”

“He wants me to kill a guy. Said he’d give me everything I could ever want for it.” His gaze fell to the floor. Blood flushed his cheeks, and he wished he could say it was from embarrassment. But he could never be ashamed of you. “She’s all I ever wanted.”

“Did he say it explicitly?”

“Yeah, no, well, he basically said it.” Allen shrugged. “Said he’d give me his blessings. You know what that sounds like? Marriage. I don’t believe in marriage, but I bet sure as hell he does. He’s traditional as.”

“Right,” Arthur murmured. He hadn’t heard much, but he was already suspecting foul play. Giving away your daughter in exchange for someone’s murder? “Looks like you’re onto something. Why would he put something like that on the table if not to lure you in?”

“Fuck. So, do I do it or what?” He huffed.

“I don’t know, who’s the guy you have to off?”

“Some psychoterrorist.”

Alfred took you to a club. Afterlife, the heart of the city. It was a cross between a country-western bar and a motorcycle guild hall. It wasn’t somewhere you would take your mom to, that was for sure.

“I need you to meet somebody,” He told you, keeping a hand on your back. Gothic rock played in the background, and over that was the occasional shouting. “They’ll tell you everything you need to know about the chip. How to find it, anyway.”

“Okay,” You turned to him. Your wariness grew by the second, listening to the loud clamoring in the back. “What about you? Aren’t you doing this with me?”

“Of course I am,” Alfred frowned, darting his eyes over face. He’d never seen you so afraid. “Think of it like a stealth mission. You open doors for me and I just have to take what I need when we get there.”

“Then what about the talk?”

This place was infamous for its merc clientele—not a single patron here was on the right side of the law: fixers, solos, hired guns, and all of them industry professionals who had every right to be here.

Alfred was one of them, you weren’t.

To everyone else, you were just a piece of meat. Especially when he insisted that you wore short shorts and a white tank to ‘fit in.’ Whether you made the cut wasn’t important. You just had to look ordinary, like your last name wasn’t Mizumoto.

“I’ll be in the room with you,” Alfred assured. He let out a light chuckle when you kept glancing around, restless from your surroundings. “Don’t worry. I trust him. I’ve done a few jobs for him, so he’s straight.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You sighed. Walking deeper into the club, you passed section after section.

The front near the entrance was The Antechamber. Next, was The Crypt. A surly man slammed someone else against the wall in a chokehold. You flinched. Alfred held out an arm and moved you behind him.

This was Hades. The darkest and most dangerous section of the club, swarming with combat veterans and people who didn’t give a fuck. He covered you with his body while he walked, only slowing down when he arrived outside a private room.

“Sorry I can’t hold your hand while you’re in there.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing you.” Alfred gave you one last look. He lifted the beaded curtain after the bouncer gave him a nod, a simple yet hard-earned gesture. “Doesn’t do to be close to anyone in the business.”

He wasn’t wrong, but the implications were a mystery. Your relationship with him was an enigma. Whatever it was, you were relieved to have him around—even if you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“Alfred,” A man greeted. He had long, copper brown hair tied in a low ponytail, and his eyes were as red as blood. He was seated at the center of a U-shaped couch, legs wide-apart. There was an alluring air to him, something dark in how he presented himself.

“Sup, Zao.”

He was the top fixer around these parts.

In Layman’s terms, a middleman between clients and mercenaries. Being so well-connected, he knew the coming-and-goings in the streets, a sort of information broker, if you will. Fixers offered jobs for mercs, keeping this corner of the black market alive.

“You said you needed a way to get past security.”

When Zao turned to look at you, his eyes went wide.

“Meet my friend.”

A psychoterrorist, Allen said.

If that ‘psycho’ part wasn’t an exaggeration, he was up against the bane of everyone’s existence.

“Is he…?”

“A cyberpsycho?” He raised his brows, his voice no higher than a whisper. It made him sick just thinking about it, that he left someone like that with you.

It was a mental illness with a body count.

Cybernetic enhancements came with a hefty price of your sanity. After all, metal and flesh aren’t supposed to go together. The more your body wasn’t yours, the less you associate with it. You start losing yourself. You identify more with machines than people.

Your self-preservation decays. You stop eating, sleeping, and having sex. Human interactions become irritating. As you move down the slippery slope of madness, you start feeling superior to regular people. Somewhere down the line, contempt turns into violence, then a complete disregard for life.

“Let’s hope the fuck not.” He uttered nervously.

Mizumoto told him it was impossible for Alfred to turn cyberpsycho, but he hated taking chances.

“Asshole had a field day back at headquarters, though. It was like open season for us poor bastards.”

“I can see why he would offer his daughter’s hand for killing them,” Arthur noted, visibly uncomfortable.

“Right,” Allen scoffed. Be that as it may, he was still unhappy about the arrangements. Involving you should’ve made him stupid from eagerness. And for a short period, it did. He remembered running into the family vault, looking at a future within his grasp.

“I just don’t wanna do something I can’t back out from. Killing someone.” He murmured.

“You said so yourself he was a terrorist.” Arthur quipped, studying the other’s pensive expression.

“Good idea, bad execution.” Allen sighed, throwing his head back. “It’s not my place to decide what’s good for the world. I have something going for me, he’s just another punk. He doesn’t have shit to lose.”

“You’re siding with a terrorist, now?”

“No! It’s just the fact that I have to be bribed makes me think there’s more to it than we know.” He shot back. A silence ensued. The truth was finally out, and it was sobering. “I don’t wanna kill someone because of the reward. It’s like I’m missing something.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but never got to it. Allen wasn’t just reeling, he was in pain.

“I don’t wanna look at her and be reminded of everything I had to do.” He let out, voice faint.

“Then don’t kill him.” Arthur finally answered. The redhead stared at him like he was crazy. “Or do. But if you do, you have to be absolutely sure about it. And it can’t have anything to do with her. Or anybody else, for that matter. Make it something you chose.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Look into him.”

The next day after work, he snuck into the security room. Dead in the night when nobody was around, he could do this undetected. When he got inside, tens of blank screens reflected his focused expression while he booted the system on. A tiny camera sprouted like a plant; it was an eye detector.

He leaned into it, letting it scan his iris.

“Welcome, Allen.” A female automated voice spoke. The camera tucked itself away. Here, in all its glory, was a complete database of information, past and present. His job came with a few perks, this being one of them. He typed in the exact date of the fateful day he first crossed paths with Alfred.

4th of July, 2074.

“Start with what you know,” Arthur had told him. His voice replayed in his mind while he sifted through an entire library of videos. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, but this jogged his memory pretty damn good. “Or what you think you do.”

youtube

Thirty-one counts of murder and the most severe case of property damage the city had ever seen. Allen practically gagged seeing heads roll all over the place, and literally. One would’ve thought someone of his affiliations could handle gore, but a glimpse of it could make his stomach churn.

“You make the decision if he deserves it.”

What he saw should’ve been more than enough justification to go through it, killing him like he should’ve done three years ago. And yet, he pushed on, fueled by a suspicion that there was still more. More to the eye, more to the reason why you were roped into the mix, again and again.

What he didn’t understand was how he broke into the building in the first place. All the doors were shut, and he couldn’t fit in the vents. It was a question he didn’t think relevant, but he was desperate for answers. And every slither of truth could bring him one step closer to the light. Who was Alfred?

The only lead he had was his earliest appearance.

He was leaving a room and into a dim hallway at around seven in the evening. He was running. Either from, or to something. But judging from walls of the place, it must’ve been one of the underground floors.

So, he went to investigate.

Shutting off the system, he left without a trace of ever being there. He went straight for the private elevator. Allen hovered a finger over the buttons before pressing the one that would get him into the most trouble—the bottommost floor that supposedly housed the company’s prototypes.

It didn’t take long for the elevator to stop, then for the doors to slide open. When they did, a void of darkness was all there was. He loaded up his night vision. Then, he walked into death’s embrace.

The shapes and outlines made this identical to the hallway he saw in the footage. Before he celebrated too early, he opened the door Alfred was seen getting out of. Immediately, he was bombarded with the smell of death, somebody’s last breath.

Someone had been rotting in the room for a while.

Allen covered his nose with his sleeve and grimaced. The stink was unbearable, but he walked in anyway.

If secrets had a scent, this was it.

The room was mostly empty, save for two box-like shapes in the distance. The closer he was, the clearer the image became. There were two, one of them he recognized to be some kind of pod. He was never tech-savvy, so he could only guess what it was.

A cryosleep pod? If he was right, what could the company be doing with a cryosleep pod?

He knew he shouldn’t touch what wasn’t his. It was something he had to get good at working in a place like this. But he got this far, and the curiosity was eating away at him. So he gave in, opening what should’ve stayed closed. He asked the question he now wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

He lifted the hatch while pinching his nose.

And what he saw would stay with him for as long as he was alive. Because what was inside wasn’t.

The explosion of steam dissipated to reveal a mummified body, brown and well into the process of decomposition. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as every fiber of his being froze in terror. Yet, he stared wide-eyed at the corpse’s face, mouth wide agape, hypnotized by the sight of death.

As much as he hated it, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. While its eyes were closed, there couldn’t possibly be anything inside them. Just empty eye sockets. The thought made him gag again.

What the hell happened to this guy?

The only thing that snapped him out of this fearful trance was his sudden urge to vomit. He shut the hatch and leaned over to hurl. Before he could, he forced it all down, swallowing the hot acid and burning his throat. If he’d let anything out, he’d leave too many traces. But God, was it difficult.

He couldn’t bear to stay here any longer.

Turning on his heel before making a beeline to the door, he scrambled to the elevator and slammed his hand against the buttons like his life depended on it. While he stood there with wet, clammy hands against the wall, he hyperventilated until he was light-headed. Even then, it wasn’t enough to take his mind off what he saw. The sight of a rotting body would be ingrained in his mind forever.

Who was he? Why was he there?

What was Alfred doing in there?

From the brief moment he saw the corpse, he noted the blonde hair that stayed on its head. He hoped it was just a coincidence, but a part of him believed otherwise. So what the hell happened in there?

Next chapter: The power of belief

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sotwk · 1 year

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Girl you're so nice like what the hell 😢 I feel like I go a tad bit too excited on ppls blogs sometimes because I get all rambly about the fics or fandoms lol so at least I know you don't find it annoying 🤣

OH MY GOSH GINA! when I was first watching b99 I wanted her to be my wife but on second thoughts honestly I couldn't handle her she's too chaotic 🤣 Holt is my fav I freaking love that man so much and madeline wuntch! But yeah holt and jake and terry are my favs. I wish I could send Gina to work for me tomorrow, she just show up all fabulous throw confetti at people and tell them no sorry we're not doing this today

Charlie as Daredevil is the best thing to ever happen to marvel as well as Hailey Atwell as Peggy Carter. I really hope Foggy is back for born again. I could rant more about dd but I'm supposed to be asleep rn

It's actually kind of nice to listen to he keeps relatively short and easy but then I go and complicate it by having two different bibles out and tryna highlight one and journal and go further into things than what is necessary so I just made it too much for myself but yeah I got to like day nine and it took me two attempts but hey I'll get there eventually hopefully 🤞

Also just while I'm here 🏆👏👏👏 your fili fic so far is so so good, it's beyond my comprehension how in the name of durin one can write so well!

Please please don't ever hesitate to be super excited and ramble to your heart's content when speaking to a writer about their content. 🤩 I 100% guarantee that your enthusiasm will never be seen as annoying and will be met with only tons of appreciation. Readers/supporters like you are literal heroes to us. That's why I am so grateful that among the many amazing writers out there, you count me as one of those worthy of your time to follow and cheer on. ❤️ I can only with Tumblr can see a magical increase of people like you. Thank you, mellon!

#thank you readers #thank you followers #follower appreciation #you are awesome #sotwk answers

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rabbitsaxophone · 2 years

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The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

This book is so fucking metal.

I forgot vengeance is fun. I forgot slashers were good. There is pleasure that comes with watching unadulterated fury unfold through action. Especially in a novel like this, where the villain is a wail of subaltern rage.

But when the victims are victim to the machine themselves, it’s not entirely uncomplicated.

The Only Good Indians covers a lot of ground in investigating violence and memory. Four men are haunted by the ghost of an elk herd, elk cow, and calf, which they murdered in violation of local hunting law and tradition. They make a few capitulations in atonement for what they’ve done, not that they uphold those promises.

These ghosts come back to use the ghosts of white supremacist violence against these men and make their lives hell. These ghosts are more cunning than one would expect from animals. Their grief is comprehensive and powerful. With precision, Jones investigates the transmission of memory through culture and violence.

The elk herd’s memories become anthropomorphized in the Elk-Head Woman. Her POV is second-person, a very interesting choice because the narration will often lead you right into a physical, bodily experience. Not least because there’s so much basketball involved in this story.

Anyway, the Elk-Head Woman is both mother and calf. Her every instinct is honed to taking the lives of Lewis, Gabe, and Cassidy. She comes to relive her story with Gabe’s daughter Denorah, however. Denorah should have been as dead as her calf. But the narrative interrupts the transmission of memory in that final moment where Denorah lives, where her stepdad ends his part in Elk-Head Woman’s story.

What animates these characters is that they exist in our lives, and their stories are the stories of people we know. Jones is not only describing the mechanisms of memory but is skillful in sharing his own through narrative. These characters hold many grievances and lots of laughter that exist beyond what we see in narration, while lending depth to what we do see. We learn about Arthur, Cassidy’s brother who was arrested by the same officer sending his son to Cassidy’s sweat lodge. Peta won’t have kids with Lewis because her last pregnancy had unnamed complications. Gabe has been letting himself down with each act of self-destruction. That elk herd was roaming the land before four pairs of eyes set sight on them.

My very favorite detail of these character portraits is a scar Shaney has on her stomach. Lewis cycles through loading it with his own meanings. First, it is a point of sympathy and commonality; ‘the scars we bear’. Then we watch him cycle out of this sympathy and into paranoia, so the scar is a point against his own guilt. A reminder of his own actions, his own virility

The Elk-Head Woman traces their memories, feelings, and wishes to make them become weapons. In this haunting and slasher, violence comes to be a rite and ritual. From her death, a reenactment of their own people’s tragedies, their deaths become another echo of the grief they have seen in life, for people they have lost, and wishes they couldn’t fulfill. To kill them in a stampede isn’t enough, the violence of other people is the only equivocation.

My favorite thing is how Jones will give you a careful character development so that what ensues is believable but still supernatural and extraordinary. The narration sets the notes to hit, the Elk-Head Woman plays them all like a violin aficionado. Lewis trying to fix the light bulb. Gabe's tall tales and general unreliability. Denorah's jersey, and then Nathan’s. Cassidy’s truck money. His wife, Shaney’s cousin, under the truck. The jokes these characters need to make light of life, the jokes the narrator makes for the reader to notice. All of the fine details pay off in every way; the socio-political themes, identity formation, the atmospheric dread, characterization, all of it.

With the massacre of the elk, the final murder of that elk cow and her calf on the day of the Thanksgiving Classic, Jones takes the reader through these stories which are all reinterpretations of the elk cow’s death, the men’s actions, and a mother’s grief.

#Stephen Graham jones #litblr #the only good indians #horror #art journal

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wordacrosstime · 1 year

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Practical RF Design Manual

[Practical RF Design Manual by Doug DeMaw (Milton F "Doug" DeMaw). 1997. MFJ Publishing. 2nd Edition 1997 : 246 pages. ISBN 1-891237-00-4]

For many years I was an amateur radio - "ham radio" - operator, beginning when I was 13 years old and going up until I was about 40 years old. For those who are interested, my call sign was WA6FEB and I held an Extra Class ham radio license (this is the highest classification). My fascination with radio was fostered by my step-father, the late Sam Martin (WB6WZN, later N7TBV), who had learned his electronics and radio theory while serving in the US Navy.

Sam had many years’ worth of a magazine called QST, which was one of the premier journals available for ham radio enthusiasts. Doug DeMaw, the author of the book under review here, was a prolific contributor to QST and to other ham radio publications. I was (and remain) a huge fan of his writings, especially his transmitter and receiver projects for ham radio folks.

What I did not know then, but have come to learn, is that DeMaw was truly a world-class electrical and electronic engineer. He was known to much of the world as a ham radio person first and foremost, but he was a professional engineer who had an extraordinarily broad grasp of all aspects of radio transmission and reception, covering all power levels from the very tiny (what we in the ham radio community called QRP, or low-power, operation, usually less than 1 watt) to the industrial (the 50,000-watt and 100,000-watt “clear channel” broadcasts from commercial radio stations, for example). DeMaw was well-versed in design considerations spanning operating frequencies from the US AM broadcast band (560 KHz to 1600 KHz) all the way up to the UHF range (where television broadcast channel 14 begins in the US, or around 470 MHz and beyond). His knowledge went beyond component-level design of devices to include the design and tuning of antennas and other auxiliary devices to aid in the radio experience.

All of this knowledge is subsumed under the aegis of RF - radio frequency. RF in modern terms is usually linked to RF ID chips, which are becoming quite common in scenarios that require tracking (such as shipment packages), but this is a very restricted window into the RF world. To really see just how vast an enterprise RF electronics is, one might consult this book.

This volume is truly a gem. I dearly wish I had access to it back in the early 1970s when I was first getting into radio. It would have illuminated a lot of practical design issues for me, especially on the design of receivers. Receivers are generally more complicated and finicky than transmitters – it’s easier to generate radio energy and cast it out into the universe than it is to gather it in and make sense of it. This book leads the reader through 7 broad-based topics and roughly 40 overall subsections within those topics, starting with transmitter and receiver fundamentals and leading the reader through considerations related to power regulation, signal quality, the use of different types of components for different frequencies of operation and different power levels, and so on.

Unlike much of DeMaw’s writing with which I had been previously acquainted, this book is definitely not a book for someone looking to do a home project. There are no comprehensive instructions on assembling or testing transmitters, receivers, or other associated machinery. This book is written for a true engineer who wants to become familiar with many (most) of the gotchas that accompany real in-the-trenches electronic engineering work. And in this vein, this book is as useful to a professional radio engineer (such as someone who is the engineer-in-charge at a radio or television station, for instance) as it is to a radio hobbyist. It is also not the sort of book from which to learn first principles of electronics; for this, there are many more suitable books that introduce electronics at the most elementary level (Ohm’s Law, Kirchhoff’s Law, how vacuum tubes and transistors work, what makes oscillators work, and so on). This book assumes that the reader already has some engineering skin in the game, as the saying goes.

Whom would I recommend this book to? Anyone who wishes to know something about electronics that precedes the modern all-digital era where whole systems are embedded on integrated circuit (IC) chips. While those circuits may make for easier and more controlled design, they take away a lot of the learning, guesswork, and outright fun of figuring these things out for yourself. DeMaw’s work hearkens back to what many of us current and former ham radio people think of as a sort of golden era of communications – a time before cell phones and before email.

A couple of comments about the text itself:

There are some typos both in the text and on the many diagrams. For the most part these are easy to spot if you are already versed in basic electronics, but they would be profoundly confusing to someone who doesn’t know what they’re looking at. Anyone who doesn’t know how to read a basic schematic diagram of a circuit will not find this volume very helpful.

Bearing in mind that some of the material in this book dates to the 1970s and 1980s, it is possible that some of the actual components cited in the text no longer exist or are not easily available. Happily, the author describes them in sufficient detail that a modern engineer or hobbyist can find current components whose characteristics match what DeMaw had at his disposal when the book was written. DeMaw was fairly fastidious about describing the important pieces of each circuit or circuit fragment in the book. One needs but to pay attention to the text to make the connection.

I was delighted to read through this volume. I am not currently an active hobbyist, but as I near retirement age, I am giving a return to ham radio serious thought. With that in mind, this book will be an invaluable title in my collection when I once again wield a soldering iron and set out to make some more home-brew radio equipment as I did so many years ago.

Kevin Gillette

Words Across Time

10 January 2023

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