Tumgik
#he was willing to throw everything away just to TRY. and because he refused to fight his brother
kingmaximusboltagon · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
karnak, who's main thing is seeing the flaw in everything, telling triton that his disability is actually a strength,,,,, crying
7 notes · View notes
wardenparker · 3 months
Note
Heeeeyyy. Congratulations on 2.5k followers. Great Milestone you got there just know we're all proud of you.
Anyways, can I request an angst fic from the propmts "Wait! Please don't go!" and "There is no 'us'." for none other than the slick cowboy, Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels?
I can wait. Thaaaanksss!
Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. 1,373 words. "Wait! Please don't go!"/"There is no 'us'." (Warnings: angst) Co-written with @absurdthirst
Tumblr media
The house is a disaster when he opens the front door. Making his heart drop and his instincts take over, reaching for the side of his hip even though his pistols aren’t there. He never wears his guns home. “Sugar!” He calls out, eyes searching and trying to make sense of the items strewn around.
If he follows the sounds and the trail of items that have been moved around and messed with, he'll find most of the commotion centered in the bedroom. That's where the most things have changed. Where they have been torn apart and not put back into any semblance of what they were before. Where the center of the heartache really lives.
“Baby! What the hell is going on?” He’s relieved to find you, bag opened and shit being shoved into it like you have thirty seconds to evacuate. He’s also confused as to what is happening. There’s been no alert, no word from Statesman.
"What does it look like, Jack?" You don't stop moving, spitting the words out at him while you shove some rolled up jeans into a travel bag. "I'm packing."
“Why?” His hat is off his head, a frown on his handsome face and his hands on his hips. “Where are you going?”
"I don't want to tell you that." If you tell him, he'll inevitably show up there in a day or two, and you might be weak enough from missing him to undo this stance that you're taking and come home to him again. Your mother said you could come home, so that's where you're going. Your old home. The home where you don't go crazy wondering if Jack is safe or what it is the two of you even are despite the fact that you've lived together for months now and been sleeping together far longer.
“Well sugar, how in the fuck am I supposed to accept that?” He asks, frowning deeply. “Talk to me. Everything was just fine and dandy when I left for work this mornin’.”
"Everything was not fine and dandy." Throwing the jeans down in anger, you whirl around on one ankle to face him with tears pricking at your eyes for only the fourth time today. The decision to leave wasn't an easy one to make, but you've convinced yourself it's for the best. "It hasn't been fine and dandy in weeks, but you refuse to see that. The issues don't magically go away just because the arguement is over, Jack. Or did no one ever teach you that?"
“We talked.” Jack defends, huffing. “What more do you want? We said our piece, what more was there? Did I miss something?”
"We talked but nothing changed." Angry steps seem to be the only ones you have in you today, and you storm across the bedroom to sweep your books off the dresser on the other side of the bed. Your side of the bed. Or it used to be. "If we have a fight because things aren't going well and we talk about the things we need to fix, then we actually have to fix the shit we talk about afterward." There are four novels in your hand, but you notice one of them is a Louis L'Amour novel -- one of Jack's -- so you put it back down and stalk back to your suitcase. "You never fix anything I ask you to unless it's a Honey Do chore. The apartment and the relationship aren't the same thing. Hell, I don't even know what our relationship is anymore."
“This is why you’re mad?” Jack sputters and then huffs. “Because I’m not jumping up and down to talk about my feelings?”
The books follow the jeans into the bag you are haphazardly filling, and you groan at the disbelief in his voice before facing him again. "Yes." You tell him flatly, hating that you let it get this far in the first place. "I'm allowed to be upset about the fact that you are never willing to talk about how you feel about me. I am entitled to be mad about that."
“I show you how I feel.” Jack manages to flash you a grin and waggles his eyebrows. “As often as you let me.”
"Jesus fucking Christ." The groan that rips out of you is downright angry, which holds well enough in line with how you're feeling that you don't bother to stifle it. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. Right there."
“Sugar….” Jack lifts his hands, helpless as he realizes that you aren’t taking his little act as something cute. Not like you had before. “What do you want me to say?” He asks seriously.
You pause in your steps, sighing heavily and shrugging your shoulders with so much defeat that you feel like you might just collapse backward on the bed. "Nothing," you admit after a long pause. "I don't want you to say anything. I just want you to let me finish packing so I can go." As much as it makes your heart break, as much as you feel sick to your stomach, this is the decision that you've made. You can't give all of your love to a man who refuses to acknowledge that love even exists.
Jack’s brows pull down, knitting together and he shakes his head. “I don’t want you to go.” He admits quietly, a shiver of dread rushing down his spine as he hears the quiet finality in your tone.
"It's too late." A last sweeping look around the room says that you've packed everything from the bedroom that you care to. This room was last, and then that's it. You'll walk out of this place for the last time and battle with your regrets on your mother's couch for however long it takes. "Maybe the next girl will avoid having her heart broken for a little bit longer because of me, maybe not."
The panic, the fear that he has been avoiding when it comes to emotions starts to set it when you pick up the bags and start to walk out of the room. Jack waits for you to stop, to change your mind like you have before. Never actually going so far as packing before. “Wait!” Jack rushes out of the bedroom when you don’t turn back, don’t come back. He chases you down the hall and into the living room. “Please don’t go!” He begs, his eyes wide and worried.
There are a few things to gather along the way, but your car is almost full and you have your arms full when you pause in the front hall to turn and face him one more time. "Give me one reason to stay," you challenge, knowing you won't forgive yourself if you don't at least let him try. If you don’t give it one last ditch effort. You've been in love with Jack Daniels since the day you met him, but this is the last chance you're going to give him to disappoint you. Unless he's ready to actually say something about real emotions, you're walking out that door. "Tell me why I should."
“You belong here, with me.” Jack tells you stubbornly. “You’ve practically moved in and I’ve - we- we are good together.” Saying the words, truly saying them, has scared Jack to his core. Even with the boss ordered therapy. Afraid the world will rip away another person he loves if he says those words, so he doesn’t.
“If you can’t even muster up the words when I’m about to walk out the door, I think that just proves my point,” you murmur sadly, reaching for the door handle. “Have a good life, Jack.”
“Baby girl, wait.” He reaches out and takes your hand, heart pounding and he feels like he’s about to throw up. Swallowing harshly, he stares into your eyes, trying to say the words you want to hear. “But I have plans for us.” He promises seriously. “Big plans for us.”
“There is no us, Jack.” You whisper, hand on the knob and tears in your eyes. “Goodbye.” His hand falls away and his world crumbles as you walk out the door and out of his life.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
My Masterlist!
156 notes · View notes
deramin2 · 2 months
Text
(Spoilers for Critical Role Campaign 1)
I don't have any expectations for wherever FCG will stay dead or come back somehow because I've spent 9 years watching Sam Riegel totally subvert my expectations in a narratively compelling way.
But I will say that "FCG shouldn't come back because it would lessen the impact of a narratively perfect death" is EXACTLY what people were saying about Percy's first death after C1 E68. (The first televised character death.) If he had to have an end, it was a fitting end that, while tragic, neatly tied up the thesis of the story. Would Taliesin even want him to come back? With Whitestone saved and Ripply killed, was there even much left to explore?
They found Percy's death letter telling them he loved them all but please bury him in a ditch with all his designs so he could be forgotten by history. He was so sorry for all he'd done and he could never make it up.
But they tried anyway, having to wrest Percy's soul away from Orthax. The players knew what they said in the resurrection ritual was meaningful along with their rolls. But they did not know they were also having to convince Taliesin. If they'd tried to appeal to Percy's soul in the wrong way, dice be damned, Percy was going to refuse. What we got was really meaningful and powerful roleplay (especially from Marisha and Laura) that did convince Percy along with successful rolls.
Being brought back did not at all weaken Percy's own sacrifice or the impact of his death. It forced him to confront everything he'd been running from. It forced him to see that there were people who loved him and would not let him throw himself away for them. They didn't want a martyr, they wanted their friend. It utterly changed the trajectory of his character.
There's only four ways I can think of on the table to bring FCG back:
True Resurrection — Incredibly expensive high level spell. They would have to find the materials as well as someone who both can and is willing to cast the spell in the middle of a war to stop a second Calamity. None of this would be easy. The ritual could still fail. FCG could decline to come back and the other players would not know that until they went to all the effort. The Raven Queen views True Resurrection as heresy which is why they didn't try it on Vax. How would a second chance change them?
Reincarnate — Lower level and cheaper spell. FCG would come back as a fleshy being instead of an Aeormaton. Would the experience live up to FCG's fantasies about it? How would it change them to realize they are truely alive, and always were, but are now also mortal? Reverse Veth story? Wild ass Pinocchio retelling? What does it mean to get a second chance but everything about you is different?
Wish — I think this would count as duplicating True Resurrection. High component cost and requires a high level magic user. (If it's duplicating a spiral there's no risk of no longer being able to cast Wish.)
Hag Deal — They do know a fatestitcher Hag who likes them and limes making deals even more. Orym may be able to just extend his existing deal. What are the consequences for the deal marker as well as FCG? Would the robit feel responsible for that person's fate? How would that affect how they feel about coming back and the meaning they need to make from it.
I don't think there's a right or best option because whatever we speculate on, the actual result will be full of meaning and very poignant. I can't imagine that Bell's Hells won't try to bring him back. They've lost so much already. They couldn't bring back Eshteross or Bertrand or Will & Derrig. They couldn't live with not even trying. Maybe their method works, maybe it doesn't. But at least they tried.
And if FCG does come back, they have to live with knowing that even though they saved their friends and put an end to Otohan, they also hurt their friends by treating themselves as disposable. They forced their friends to confront that each of them might have done the same and that's deeply unhealthy. It will change the character development tremendously.
My favorite film and play genre is where the protagonist dies (or nearly dies) (usually self-inflicted) at the beginning and has to journey through purgatory to find themselves again before they can return to the living. Films like Wristcutters: A Love Story (2006) or Castaway on the Moon (김씨 표류기 2009). Death matters because it reminds you to live. The journey is finding meaning in both life and death and coming back utterly changed.
101 notes · View notes
dragongirl642 · 3 months
Text
The eyes are the windows to the soul (part 2)
Masterlist
First <> Next
Cameron, or Not-Cameron as you've started calling him in your head, has been nothing but wonderful to you. Warm. Caring. Loving. He treats you like a diety or gift he doesn't feel he deserves.
After realising that Cameron had been replaced, you made the split-second decision to act like nothing was wrong. Hopefully, you had surmised, that would lull Not-Cameron into a false sense of security and allow you to investigate where the real Cameron was. After all, in every horror movie you'd ever watched with monsters taking the place of people, they only ever seem to turn violent and start going after the heroes once their disguise has been broken.
At first you assumed the worst, but none of your internet searches turned up any unidentified dead bodies or missing person reports in your area.
You don't know what happened to the real Cameron, and you can hardly ask your neighbours or his friends.
Not-Cameron seems to have access to the real Cameron's memories. None of your "innocent" questioning had caused them to slip up or give anything away. They've been going to work at the investment firm and even going out for drinks with his friends in Cameron's place. No one has reported any strange occurrences and none of his work colleagues have called you to ask about "strange behaviour".
Everything has been surprisingly normal.
A few of their mannerisms even appear to be improvements on the original's behaviour. Not-Cameron remembers your favourite drink and muffin combo when they bring home takeout, asking how your day was and letting you vent about that one annoying customer who can't follow instructions. They flip your pillow to the cold side before bed every night. They compliment your outfits, eyes wide in awe (a little too wide but you try not to let the fact that you're freaking out show on your face). They ask you for permission every single time they want to be intimate or even give you a kiss, and they don't throw a fit or get angry when you refuse intimacy with the excuse that you are tired, they ask how you're feeling and what they can do to help and if you would be willing to compromise with holding hands or watching a movie together.
But they still act like Cameron. His mannerisms, his voice, his opinions all sound the same. They prefer action and detective thrillers to chick flicks, sweet over spicy, comfortable clothes over tight ones...just like the real Cameron.
Whatever Not-Cameron is, they seem to be committed to pretending to be your boyfriend long-term.
Some key things are very different, Not-Cameron is very touchy, one hand always hovering over you just waiting for permission, (you can tell they're holding back from something).
They seem to be working towards making friends with some of their work colleagues, people the real Cameron called annoying gannets.
They also got into a fight with some of Cameron's drinking buddies. You only found out because your neighbour's son happens to work at their favourite bar; as it turns out, Not-Cameron got into a fist-fight with two of his oldest friends, from what bystanders could tell, his friends had mentioned something about a "planned break-up", "a bet" and a "wet rag of a person"...and Not-Cameron flew into a rage.
They'd come back to the house late that night. They had seemed completely fine for someone who had been in a fight, but when you tentatively questioned what happened, they suddenly started apologising, saying they just love you so much, and miraculously gained a cut lip and bruised ribs when you weren't looking. They also looked at you with an exact replica of Cameron's puppy-dog eyes when asking if you would "kiss it better".
Not-Cameron is the boyfriend you wish the real Cameron had been, (the one you thought he was in the beginning).
However, there have been many strange occurrences after his arrival.
Voices in the house when no-one else is home, calling your name or reminding you to check your phone.
Strange clicking and cracking sounds in the night.
Shadows moving in the corner of your eye or a face hovering in the upper corner of doorways that is gone when you turn to look at it directly.
But even these strange occurances don't scare you too much.
Nothing has sought to harm you, and the few times you've tripped or burnt yourself when cooking due to being spooked by one of the occurrences, Not-Cameron acted extra sweet and apologetic those evenings, all for no particular reason he would say.
Even Not-Cameron himself sometimes slips up. You catch a glimpse of Not-Cameron's horrifying grinning countenance out of the corner of your eye, sometimes you swear you see their bones crack and shift under the skin when they move, and a few times during evening cuddles, (a new ritual you feel you can't get out of for fear they'll realise you know they're not the real Cameron), you could have sworn you caught them purring. Not to mention, about once a week, they disappear for the entire night and only return in the morning, you never hear the key in the door or them leaving and you never hear them return either.
Three months after Not-Cameron arrived you started believing you would never know what happened to the real Cameron. All lines of investigation had gone cold and you couldn't prod more for fear Not-Cameron would suddenly turn violent if he was exposed.
Sometimes you feel yourself slipping into the dream, believing that maybe all those quiet prayers were answered and Cameron has returned to the fun and loving man you fell for, but then the sight of those cold silvery eyes brings you back to reality. This is not Cameron, this is something else.
So far, your only place of complete privacy is in the bathroom. Occurrences don't occur when you're in there with the door shut, and Not-Cameron always asks permission to enter.
It seems Not-Cameron respects your boundaries, something the real Cameron sometimes struggled with.
A small quiet thought echoes, so loud, in your mind. A thought so sweet and hopeful, a thought that burns you from the inside and yet makes you feel light and giddy.
You almost hope the real Cameron never comes home.
Bile rises in your throat and you immediately turn and drop to your knees by the toilet.
First <> Next
145 notes · View notes
belit0 · 10 months
Note
Would you be willing to write angst where Madara and indra (separately) finally broke the last straw and they and their lover have a heated argument. It escalates to the point where she threatens to take off her ring. How would they react. (The argument was their fault.)
I am convinced Indra is one of those persons who says hurtful things without feeling it just to make the other one angry, and no one can change my mind.
Tumblr media
Indra
He knows the argument is his fault, he is aware of how he pressures (Y/N), and how she feels lesser for not being able to give him a child. It is no one's fault really, only the Otsutsuki's impatience and helplessness for not being able to control nature itself.
Indra is mighty in every way, the most powerful man in the world, but he is failing at the one fundamental task of his present time: to conceive an heir and start a clan with his own blood.
He does not know where the failure lies, he has no idea if it is because of him or (Y/N), all he cares about is how he fills his wife with his seed every single night, hoping for an immediate result that never comes. It is frustrating, having achieved the most difficult goal of his life, conquered everything he wanted, and not being able to achieve the most common and ordinary task of any man.
An afternoon of problems is when he explodes against his beloved, bearing the pressures of his followers and resolving situations within the village he managed to create after his victory. Everyone counts on him, everyone needs him, and the pressure of authority becomes exhausting.
(Y/N), worried about her inability to grant him an heir, seeks validation and reaffirmation from him. She just needs to hear everything is okay, that they will get through it together, and that patience will be the greatest virtue for them both to get through the predicament, finally getting a child. The woman goes to her husband's private training camp, where she always counts on being able to find him. The man senses her arrival and stops his practice to give her his attention. "It's nothing urgent, my love, I'm just worried."
With a cold stare, Indra hides his concern, refusing to let his wife see the worry is shared. Unable to show he feels fear about it too, he chooses a distant stance, kicking the problem down on her, "You should be, it's been a while since we started trying."
"You talk like it's my fault...we have no idea what's going on and-" (Y/N) is interrupted by curt words, throwing responsibility on her actions, as if she doesn't want to have a family with him.
"I'm not certain about that, and I'm afraid consequences must happen soon." The Otsutsuki glares at her, red-eyed from his height, inwardly regretting not knowing how to put his feelings into words without hurting her in the process. He knows his position will only lead to trouble, but he can't do anything about it, riding a train with no brakes.
"Consequences...would you risk all our years together for a stone in the road...? Indra, I've been with you from the beginning, long before everything that happened..." There are tears in (Y/N)'s eyes, threatening an early free fall down her face. The woman stares at him in disbelief, genuinely mortified with every response she receives. Does her company mean nothing to him, the unconditional love she gave him through all their moments?
"My life was built upon losing people I believed to love. If I had to lose you for this, it wouldn't be news, (Y/N)." His sentences are like many kunai burying themselves in different parts of her body, and the woman can do nothing but rethink everything until now.
"You should probably keep this then." She throws the gift he gave her on their wedding night, a beautiful ring engraved and embedded in red gemstones, at his feet. Pain is visible on her features, and the anger with which she turns away from him is palpable.
Worst of all, Indra does not feel any of the words he said. He would never abandon her, even if it meant not being able to bear children of his own blood. He cannot control the image he pretends to have in the outside world, even if that includes hurting those he truly cares about.
(Y/N) has been with him since before his curse, was with him during his eternal fight with Ashura, and helped him build the place he now calls his. She is his safe space, his little home, but he can't help the awful unreasonable words flowing out of his mouth in frustration, anger, and rage. She knows him, and understands he's usually a pain in the ass to argue with, but this time she seems to have been truly affected by his statements.
Maybe he took it too far, without even meaning to.
He picks up the ring at his feet and puts it in his pocket before deciding to run, get away from the place, and find a distant and remote village to kill every single one of its inhabitants. Indra lashes out at the life of all the innocents he finds in the tiny town, destroying children, women, and fathers alike.
His anger is directed at himself, raging at his inability to control and suppress his reflex to hurt others. Of course, ironic to analyze his own self while dismembering humans left and right.
Madara
It is in the early evening when Madara decides to leave in search of (Y/N). Having arrived earlier than usual, he wanted to surprise her at home, but she was nowhere to be found. He opted to go to Izuna and ask about her, his brother always being everywhere and nowhere, knowing the whereabouts of every person in the clan.
The younger Uchiha recounts how he saw her walking a while ago, presumably towards the local Uchiha market, intending to buy something to make Madara some dinner. How Izuna knows so many details is none of his concern, yet he is grateful for the information.
Arriving at the market, he scans the place for her presence, too tired to use the Sharingan and deciding to do it the old-fashioned way. He walks among the stalls and greets every person who dares to speak to him, being stopped many more times than he would like at this hour.
As he talks to a little old lady, he sees her in the distance, having a very animated conversation with a man he recognizes from his army. He is an average warrior, one of the many Uchiha who never managed to develop a Sharingan, and he is too close to his wife for his liking.
Quickly excusing himself, Madara frees from the old woman to get closer to where (Y/N) is, without revealing himself to her but close enough for the man to notice. Behind his wife's back, the Uchiha stares at him with eyes full of hatred and menace, causing the warrior to flee in terror without even saying goodbye to her. Confused, (Y/N) turns around to see what spooked the man, caused him to be so horrified, and meets her husband face to face.
Judging by his expression, it looks as if he has just met Tobirama, and the woman is extremely embarrassed when he lifts her over his shoulder, abducting her from the market and concluding her shopping moment.
"Madara what the fuck! Put me down now!" She yells angrily, slamming a fist into his back and trying to lift her head to keep all the blood from going to that area. He doesn't comply with her demand until a few minutes later when they are in the privacy of their home, and away from any prying eyes.
"What got into you?!" (Y/N) exclaims indignantly, trying to understand what could have affected him enough to not even say hello.
"Who the fuck was that man and why were you conversing so cheerfully with him?" He asks with both loathing and resignation, expecting a terrible answer from his wife. Maybe it was her lover, maybe it was the person she would want to replace him with, or maybe she already had.
"He's one of the guards you assigned to take care of me today, you idiot! He was with me all day, under your own orders! Don't you even register what you decree, all day locked up in your office?!"(Y/N) is overcome with indignation, being indirectly accused of unfaithfulness wrongfully.
The Uchiha is speechless, not knowing what to say about it. He deals with so many things per day and at the same time, he tends to forget one or two matters. He feels disgusted for having assigned such a weak warrior as his wife's bodyguard, but even more so for not being able to remember it. The stress was consuming him to such an extent he was beginning to forget important things, skipping some and erasing others altogether.
"Even if that hadn't been the case, seeing me talk to another man doesn't give you the right to freak out like that! Interacting with people of the opposite sex doesn't mean I'll be looking to cheat on you, Madara! Grow the hell up, and learn to respect me as your wife, or it ends here!"
Enraged, (Y/N) storms out of the house, leaving a stunned and shocked Uchiha in the middle of the room. The only thing Madara is thankful for is the fact she didn't take off her ring, which could mean two things: either she didn't notice, or she doesn't see it as serious enough to genuinely leave him. Either way, he feels terribly guilty, and can't understand how he lets himself be driven by jealousy like that.
Unfounded jealousy, even worse.
The Uchiha is left pondering in solitude before he goes off to find her, determined to apologize on his knees if that's what it takes to get (Y/N) not to be angry at him anymore.
243 notes · View notes
younmexreaders · 1 month
Text
~~ Valus x Reader 18+~~
Tumblr media
You get really curious about demons and decide to summon an incubus. He's willing to go slow and help you explore.
Fem Reader/Incubus OC | 4k words
Includes:
Demons
Tentacles
Oral
Tumblr media
The rumors of witches with the ability to summon creatures of the night have been ringing through the town since long ago. You never believed any of it before, but your friend did. Lilith would adamantly try convincing you of its authenticity, claiming her mother and her mother's mother were a part of the coven and witnessed the creatures themselves. Of course, you didn't believe that, but you let her have her beliefs because she was your friend.
Then she brought a book of shadows to your home. You weren't too comfortable with that... Lilith refused to listen to your complaints and insisted that you would not even remember you were hanging onto it. But she gave no reason as to why she needed you to keep it.
No matter how much time passed, you couldn't ignore its presence. It was almost magnetic. You could swear it was drawn to you and, sometimes, you swore you could even... hear it. Calling to you. In a language you couldn't figure out nor find.
Late into the night you were lying awake, staring at it as it laid on your desk. Your nerves couldn't take it anymore. Every facet of your being begged you to tear it open and see what was inside. You shot upright, throwing your blankets aside and pulling on the lamp chain. The light hurt your eyes for a moment. Blinking it away quickly, you flipped open the book of shadows. The pages were full to the brim of different spells. You were nowhere near skilled enough to understand the differences between anything, but it seemed Lilith had written several notes all over the book.
She had given you an annotated copy of the book of shadows. With everything explained in depth and alternatives to several of the spell ingredients listed out. You felt... something. You couldn't really decipher what your brain was giving you. Thankfulness? It was sweet of her to take the time to explain every little thing in there knowing you were completely unaware of magic. Remorse? You did feel bad that you were so grumpy and scared of the whole thing. Continuing to read showed you that she scribbled over and tore out spells she knew would only make you uncomfortable. Fertility, curses, weird spells that affected the will of others. Things you wouldn't want to touch in your life. Destroyed so you wouldn't even know them.
There was one set of spells that caught your eye though. Summoning, annotated to mention that it was basically a lost art until a witch from decades ago revived the practice. You looked it over, curious what all these creatures with weird names were. Only the minor ones had any drawings attached. Thank you, Lilith. But the page titled "Incubus" gave you the most pause.
...You had grown exceptionally curious. The pages were only annotated to say what things meant, but it didn't mention anything about the creature's appearance or abilities. Lilith must not have summoned it yet. If she ever planned to.
You knew exactly what you wanted to do now.
You stormed to her house the next morning. The book was so comfortable in your hand, as if it were made for you, but the leather was so oddly cold to the touch. Lilith came to the door quickly with a grin that said she was expecting you to show up. There was a puff of incense smoke billowing out around her that carried the scent of lavender. Pleasant in any other light, but it was making you tense.
You stood there, trembling, book in hand, but you couldn't speak. The words refused to reach your throat at all.
"Nice to see you finally. How are you doing?" She said, tilting her head at you and wondering what you were doing there. You were still a shaking leaf without a voice. Lilith raised a brow.
"Did you... want to ask me something?"
...
"Were you just coming to say hi?"
...
Lilith frowned and looked around you to see if you were here for a different reason. She didn't see anyone in the vicinity, but she wasn't going to let you walk away like this just in case there was someone on your tail. That was the only thing she could think of that might do this to you. Taking your shoulder, she ushered you inside and shut the door swiftly, locking it.
"Are you okay? Was someone out there?" She asked, looking you in the eyes and firmly jostling you out of your freeze.
"I-I want to try this." You muttered finally, holding up the book. Lilith breathed a heavy sigh of relief and leaned on the wall.
"Jeez, don't scare me like that! Of course, dude. I'll help you out with any of them. Which one were you thinking?"
You flipped the book open until you found the page and showed it to her. Lilith scanned it before widening her eyes and turning red. She closed the book with your hands and turned her eyes away.
"Summoning is really hard for beginners! A-and who knows how that thing will act? It might get all insatiable with us..." Lilith stammered, finding excuses not to do it.
"Are you embarrassed?"
"D-Don't be ridiculous!"
She set the book on a stand on her desk, flipping to the page, and looking over the ritual. She hummed as she read it and nodded once she was done.
"Hah... well... I really want to try it. Maybe you can just tell me how to do it?" You suggested, hugging the book to your chest. Lilith pursed her lips and looked away. There must be some reason she hasn't done this summon and is so weird about it. You were hoping she would just tell you, but you both kept things from each other sometimes. Just saying how you felt could be really hard.
Lilith sighed softly and offered her hands to you. You handed her the book and followed her to a room near the back of her house where the floral scents were the strongest. There was an altar that was meticulously cared for. Precious gems and various minerals were high on shelves with stacks of different colored candles for future use.
"Alright. I'll show you how this is done... but I might leave before you start, okay? I'll just be outside just in case the Incubus gets... intense. Okay?" Lilith warned as she started gathering the materials from around the room.
"Okay... can I ask why?"
"Why it might get intense?"
"No, why you are leaving."
"Oh... uhm..." she paused, cradling the items in her arms and looking down, "I just don't want to get fucked by a demon. It's a line I won't cross."
"Is it wrong to do? Should I stop?" You were growing concerned. Maybe you made the wrong choice.
"No. It's a personal choice. There's nothing wrong with asking a sex demon for a bit of sex. You should enjoy yourself and they get to "eat". It's fine. I just don't want to be a part of it." Lilith set the items down and started setting up the summon space. She starts painting on the floor. A circle to border the large symbol. the symbol a strange design. A box with a line through it. Arrows on both sides with the top one being much thicker and changing color when colliding with the box. And two sideways S shapes on either side.
"Okay. Now I need you to, uh... undress." Lilith muttered.
"Right now?" You burned in the cheeks and fidgeted nervously. Lilith nodded and took a rose and a vanilla orchid with her to the desk, tying them into a bundle together with a green string. It was all precise and specific. Exactly what the ritual called for. But you didn't recall needing to be naked for it.
"It's an Incubus. It requires you to, uh, "present yourself" to them." She explained, lighting a white candle placed at the tip of the arrow through the box.
"o-oh ok" You say in a very small voice. You start pulling your shirt off over your head and yanking your pants down around your ankles. Once they were all off, you folded them up and set them on the floor beside the circle, just outside of the border. Lilith handed you the bundle of flowers and directed you to sit in front of the candle, leaving the majority of the symbol clear.
"Alright. Here are your notes. After I give you this, I'm heading out. Okay? Are you still sure you want this? You can back out." Lilith took your hand and placed the paper in your palms, looking you in your eyes as she asked for confirmation. You thought for a moment. You looked at the symbol, then the room, holding your opposite hand over your chest to attempt some decency.
"I'm sure. I want this." You nodded firmly.
"Good. Then here. You need to chant this phrase five times. No more, no less. It's in Latin and I have the pronunciation written just in case you haven't been practicing your Latin." A small jab, and yet still thoughtful. You gave a small pout, but you said nothing. Taking the notes.
"Burn the flowers. Wait for them to lose their petals. Then start chanting. It MUST be five times." She reiterated that point with a lot of stress. You could only assume what might happen if you failed to do that. Luckily, you won't be careless enough to forget. Lilith went to the door and waited for you to sit in your position before closing you off into the room alone.
You were a little nervous and shaky, but you were determined to do this.
It's been so long since you had some fun...
You took a deep breath and slowly lowered the flowers over the candle until they caught fire. You held them out and away from you while they burned, scrunching your nose at the smell. Once the petals all burned away, you set them down and opened your notes.
"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul." You muttered.
Once.
"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero s-simul." You shook a little on the last word. You could hear... wind? Was there a draft in there?
Twice.
"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul."
Thrice.
There was a whispering in your ears that made you flinch and close your eyes tightly. You gulped and breathed deeply once more. You couldn't lose focus.
"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul."
F...frice? Four times.
A wind began to swirl around you, picking up your hair and making you shiver. The flame never flickered.
"Spiritus cortici et vitis. Servus carnis. Ego tibi cuncta quaero simul!"
Five.
You shouted, spitting it out before the growing nerves made you freeze up. The wind stopped and the candle went out, leaving you in utter darkness. You sat frozen in the dark. Waiting for whatever might happen. The symbol gradually lit up with a mint green hue. Once each line was illuminated, the circle filled with light. Hands grabbed the edges of the portal suddenly, making you yelp with surprise and slap a hand over your mouth fearfully.
The demon pulled itself out of the portal, flicking a long tongue across his sharp teeth and standing tall over you. There were no eyes in it's face. The back of it's head was hollow and filled with blue fire. It was listening carefully with its pointed ears, turning its head down to face you.
"Good evening." It purred in a low tone that vibrated the visible muscle on its throat.
"G-g... Good..." You couldn't form more than that. You stared at the creature with your mouth agape in surprise and awe. The creature chuckled, bowing to you and waiting for the portal to close before approaching.
"I believe we haven't met. I never forget a pretty face."
"N-no."
"I'm Valus, dear. May I have your name?" He asked, kneeling on the ground to be on your level. You told him your name and reached for the candle. It was so dark in there. You couldn't tell anything about Valus save for what his flames illuminated. You lit the candle using his fires. You don't think he noticed.
He was dressed very formally, which was a surprise. You thought he would be naked too. His hands were rough like the bark of a tree, his flesh green like a forest. He smelled like a garden. You were comforted by the scent and his calm, restrained behavior.
"I am at your command, ____" He said, using your name in order to be familiar with you, "what would you like me to do?"
"Are there limits?"
"Hahah! Only yours. I am bound to do everything you ask."
"A-ah... Well, I'm pretty vanilla, I guess," you admitted with a small laugh, setting the candle on the desk so it didn't hurt anyone, "uhm... I think I wanted to summon a p-person like you so that I could branch out a little."
"I can do that." He nodded. He leaned back to start pulling all of his clothes off, which took a moment and gave you time to decide if you wanted to continue. Seeing his firm chest and the... length... he was working with made you absolutely certain.
"Let's start small. So I don't get spooked."
"Fair. Shall I lead the dance?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. He was very warm. You almost wanted to rest against him and sleep. His hands trailed down your sides to your butt, giving you a little squeeze. You felt your face burn again. Valus smirked before meeting his lips with yours. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be. He kneaded his fingers into your plush flesh as he held you against his chest. Your breasts pressing against him and making him smirk.
Valus's piece was beneath you. With the gentle kissing, it was still rather flaccid. You rested your hands on his upper arms and rocked your hips slowly. Grinding your pussy against his cock. He gave a small groan, separating momentarily to shudder his breath before returning to your lips. With each motion, he grew a bit more stiff. More and more until his cock was flush against your slit.
You started to feel something creeping along your skin. As soon as you realized the feeling is spreading, you pulled back and looked around. Then you saw the tendrils wrapping around you from your back, creeping up to grip your breasts and coil them securely. All the way along your mounds until the vines are tugging on your hardening nipples. You whined and hitched your breath.
"How is this?" Valus asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.
"I-it's nice." You answered, leaning back to allow him room to reach. He lowered his head, feathering kisses down your neck and shoulders until he reached your nipples and gave them some attention. You mewed and closed your eyes. The sensations were minimal. Slowly awakening your nerves for what was to come.
The vines lifted you up with ease. Each tendril gripping you securely so you were not discomforted by the action. His cock stood tall beneath you. Steadily leaking a small pearl of clear fluid.
"I should make sure you're ready." Valus purred. He dragged his tongue along your stomach as he lifted you higher until your crotch was at his face level. Two tendrils slid down to hold your lips open for him. He licked his lips and blew a warm breath across your moistening slit. You shivered and squirmed a little. His tendrils didn't cease with their tugging on her nipples.
Valus lulled a long, flexible tongue out of his cage of teeth and dragged it up and down the whole of your pussy. You snickered and looked down at him curiously. When his tongue caught her clit and began kneading into it. He was relentless. Swirling it. Sucking on it. The warm shudders of pleasure radiating through you and making you writhe.
He rarely left for any breath, giving your clit a relentless assault of sensations. You could barely hold back your moans after a point. Your chest heaved and you tried to hold Valus's head down, but his tendrils took your wrists and held them over your head. Possibly to protect you from mindlessly touching the fire? He buried his face into your pussy. His tongue pushed and slithered it's way deep inside your core.
It lashed at your walls, prodding for your sweet spot. He left nothing untouched. Your body becoming so warm with all the sensations he sent through you. It tightened a coil deep inside you. His sharp teeth threatening your moist lips would inch the coil tighter. You panted and rolled your head back. Your chest heaving and your mind beginning to go blank. You muttered curses as the intensity of the pleasure started to become overwhelming. You hugged your thighs around his face and shut your eyes tight.
His tongue slithered out of your core with a flick against your clit. He pushed his vine-like fingers into you and billowed his breath on your wetness.
"Are you going to cum for me~?" He purred. You nodded but no words could escape your throat. You were tense and ready to break. His tendrils teased you mercilessly, flicking your nub and plunging into you. You could barely think anymore. Valus's voice began echoing in your ears.
"Cum for me, darling. Let yourself enjoy it."
You could hardly contain the powerful rush that made your body spasm. You cried out as you came, gripping the vines tightly and arching backward in the air. You shuddered and gasped, sustaining the overwhelming pleasure until he pulled away from your twitching pussy and lowered you to the ground.
It took a while for the sensations to subside and your mind to finally clear enough to hear your own thoughts. You rested your hand against your forehead and laughed breathlessly.
"Ah... Sorry..." You muttered.
"Don't apologize for enjoying yourself," Valus held himself over you and pecked your lips. He rested on one forearm. His arms were in two separate parts connected by ghostly strings of muscle. He brushed a hand over your arm. Gently ensuring you felt comfortable as you cooled down. "Have you had enough?"
"That was more intense than I anticipated... I might have." You admitted. Though you felt bad that he was erect and unsatisfied. You rolled onto your stomach and pet his thighs, laying your head in his lap. He smirked down at you.
"Hm?"
"It's your turn now." You purred, dancing your fingers up his thighs and gently pulling on him to lift yourself up. He didn't stop you, sitting on his knees with his odd, 3 toed claws tucked under himself so he couldn't hurt you. He was visibly dangerous. Sharp in so many places yet exceedingly gentle and reluctant to hurt you.
You gripped his thick piece and kissed his tip. You stroked it slowly, awaiting to hear some noise that showed that you were doing well. He was quiet. You frowned and licked his head, stroking a little faster. It was comfortable in your hand and the pre-cum that had dripped down his cock already gave it a bit of slickness so you didn't have to spit on him. You didn't like that, it always felt so mean.
But he was so quiet.
Raising your head and keeping your hand's pace, you tilted your head at him. He was grinning, a crack in his lips to aid his breathing. His chest heaved with his breath but he somehow panted so silently.
"Y-You can make noise too, you know." You hummed. His ear flicked and he chuckled, turning away. You could swear there was some pink in his cheeks. Though the flames made it appear just like a darker green which was hard to tell different from his flesh.
"Ah... I'm not very loud. It feels good, you don't have to worry."
"Well," you pecked his lips and returned to his cock, kissing him there before swirling your tongue around the tip, "I want to know you like it." You wrapped your lips around his piece and attempted to mouth the whole length. You lowered to half of it's length, unable to go further. You weren't very practiced with blow jobs. But you were determined to make it good for him.
His cock twitched a little in your mouth as you bobbed on it, your hand sliding down and cupping his hefty sack. He groaned a little, holding himself up with his arms behind him. His face was a little more flushed this time around. The flame on his head flickering as he panted. You inched it further down your throat, but as you started to struggle with it, he placed a hand on your cheek and urged you to pull away. He was still panting, but you knew what he was doing. He didn't want you to strain or hurt yourself just to play with him. Fine. You hoped that what you could do was enough for him.
You bobbed on the first half of his piece and massaged your saliva into the rest of it. As you massaged his sack and rubbed what was left, you found your hand trailing down his pelvis to tease his flesh. You pulled off and licked him as you caught some breath, looking up at him to see how he was liking it. He had a hand over his mouth, his breath billowing out with light smoke, the flickering flames making their shadows dance on the walls.
He seemed close to falling apart. You had some pride that you could do that to someone. You sucked on his tip and swirled your tongue around it, rubbing it with an increased pace and utilizing both of your hands. As you worked he started to arch and groan a little louder. Still no more than a whisper.
"Are you getting close, now~?" You purred.
"Yeah." He breathed the word dreamily, leaning back on one arm and combing through your hair with the other. His tongue dragged over his dagger-like teeth and the smoke billowed once more.
"Do you like it?" You hummed. You rubbed him a little faster. His cock throbbed in your hand, the muscles in his throat visibly tightening as he choked back a sound. You wished he wouldn't.
"I-I love it." His panting was getting worse. He started to buck his hips a little, his nails digging into the floor. You rested his tip against your tongue and held your mouth open, awaiting his lust. The touch of your tongue sent a shock through his cock that finally sent him over the edge. He snapped his teeth together and groaned behind them, his head rolling back as he stuttered his hips. Shots of warm cum coated your mouth and tongue. Much more than you were anticipating. You closed your lips around it to ensure you could catch as much of it as possible.
There was only the sounds of heavy breath as you two tried to cool down. Valus leaned back against a wall and held you in his arms. Your head on his chest and your hand tracing over his toned stomach.
"I had fun~" You laughed.
"As did I. I haven't been called upon in a long time." Valus said, stroking your arm and brushing a finger over your cheek.
"You're far more gentle than I imagined an Incubus to be."
"My specialty. I find the meal is much more satisfying when both parties are enjoying themselves. Thank you."
You nodded and hugged him, nuzzling his chest. You wished you could lay like that for the rest of the night, but his purpose was fulfilled. He couldn't remain there for long. As you settled in to attempt taking a nap, you found the warmth was fading until you noticed his heartbeat was gone. You raised your head. The candle light from the desk showed that you were alone once more in the room. Task completed.
You would certainly have to summon him again.
61 notes · View notes
alwaysaslutforfic · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Tsukki Headcanons ❤️ - NSFW
Just some musings on my favourite Sendai Frogs middle blocker ☺️
Warnings: nothing super explicit. Mentions of sending nudes, hair pulling, and oral sex
Minors keep away from the cut and DNI!
Beta readers? Pft
Tumblr media
Listens to any and everything but with a purpose 👌🏾. Ask him for a recommendation in any genre and he’ll give you a top 5 tier list. Has playlists arranged by mood, genre, vibe and occasion (he even has one for you that he will literally never tell you about but plays often. He just tells you it’s his favourite mix). Dude is highkey a music snob. Like he’ll listen to a song in any genre but it better be a fucking ✨S tier song✨ or he will Judge. Will never concede the aux cord.
Meanest tutor ever. Will have you crying at the kitchen table asking the same question till you get it right. “If Johnny has 5 apples! 😤” typa tutor. But his notes are amazing and he’ll always lend them without question.
We already know how I feel about clingy Tsukki. But let me reiterate: this man is obsessed with being in your personal space. Like ”I’m gonna go take a shower.” ”….. without me? 😒”
But he also respects your space when you need it. Just don’t be gone too long or he’ll get lonely. He’s highkey touch starved.
An impeccable driver. And unreasonably hot while doing it. I’m talking hand on thigh, arm on headrest when reversing, will do your seatbelt HOT. And you’re his favourite passenger princess. Tsukki refuses to let anyone adjust your seat. If they’re feeling cramped they’re more than welcome to sit in the back, or even better, walk.
A great cook. He lets you be the taste tester when you cook together. If you can’t cook this is the one time he has an amount of patience teaching you. He is, however, a horrendous baker. Tried to make you valentines day chocolates and you had to throw out the tea towels cos they somehow ended up singed. You laughed till you cried he’d have been hurt about it if you weren’t so beautiful
Likewise, his actions speak louder than his words when it comes to affection. Obviously he compliments you and tells you he loves you, but only on special occasions like birthdays, christmases and blowing your back out ten ways till sunday. But mostly he’ll show you how much he cares by treating you like royalty. Carries your bags while calling you weak, says ‘no’ every single time you ask for a favour but does it anyways, takes you for walks to your favourite ice cream shop and pays for both of you while you bitch about a character in your dumb show that he hates (read: binges with you and gets invested in)
A slip it in while you watch a movie kinda dude. At this point the Netflix subscription is for show. There is literally no point in trying to watch something with him because your legs will be over his shoulders way before the halfway mark.
Much like his actions speaking louder than words, he’s willing to try anything once if you suggest it. This has led to a very interesting bedroom life. There were obviously things that you both decided weren’t for you, but Tsukki would do anything to please you even if he’d never confess it. Once you asked for a personalised dildo so you could have his dick whenever you wanted as a joke. It was there by next week.
Loves fucking you in public. You guys are banned from THREE different lingerie stores. You’re 65% sure he only takes you out so much so he can find somewhere to fuck you, since it’s how most of your dates end. The Karasuno gang clocked you two on a club night when Noya and Tanaka took a badly timed trip to the bathroom. They are constantly embarrassed when you two go missing for half an hour and return dishevelled.
Send. Him. Nudes 😩 Especially when he’s busy. He sends them back and holy shit are they art personified. He heard “don’t send dick pics, send cumshot vids with the sound on” and boy did he run with it in the best of ways. Has a password protected folder for all the filth you send each other.
Speaking of nudes, his dick is so pretty. He doesn’t even manscape. It’s just long and slightly curved with just the right amount of hair. Also so much pre-cum. He was actually a little embarassed by it until he saw how much you loved licking him clean.
Pull his hair and listen to him moan. If you pull it hard enough when he’s close he will just cum. He definitely wasn’t embarrassed the first time it happened. Now it’s sort of a game to see if you can use it to get him off when he’s going down on you.
He’s reconciled with the fact that he has a volleyball brain. Seeing you at his games, and feeling your eyes on him as he jumps blocks is like foreplay to him. It’s always a race to see how quickly he can get you naked and under him after a match.
I will undoubtly have more thoughts on this, because I spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about Tsukishima Kei
Tumblr media
437 notes · View notes
etaleah · 11 months
Text
No but you don’t understand. Sonic and Shadow are going to clash so hard in season 2 of Prime and it’s going to be so intense because both of them will be right. Or at least, neither of them will be entirely wrong.
Sonic is going to view Shadow’s willingness to destroy the other shatterverses and the characters in them for the sake of restoring Green Hill as him being cruel and apathetic to other peoples’ suffering, that he doesn’t care enough about them to try and find a better way. That just like before, he’s willing to blow up the moon, the earth, and everyone in it as long as he can have what he wants. He sees Shadow’s way as selfish and destructive and uncaring, similar to Eggman.
Shadow hasn’t spent any time with these other characters and therefore has no reason to feel any attachment to them. He’s also experienced way too much trauma in his backstory to ever have Sonic’s level of optimism about the way the world works. He can’t have the belief that “obviously everything will work out because it has to” because if that were the case, Maria would still be here, wouldn’t she? Shadow is going to view Sonic’s willingness to throw away their home and everyone in it for the sake of saving these “copies” as Sonic prioritizing moral purity over what really matters. In his mind, Sonic is more concerned with not having to get his hands dirty and avoiding the reality of the situation than he is about doing what needs to be done. He sees Sonic’s hesitancy as childish denial and wishful thinking, of wanting to believe in a fairy tale ending that can never happen and refusing to grow up and take responsibility. Maybe he’s even subconsciously a little jealous of that childlike optimism that can only come from not having experienced trauma before.
I’m so excited for Sonic Prime I cannot even tell you. It’s gonna be great.
369 notes · View notes
rc-writes · 1 year
Text
𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢
pairings: benny weir x reader (could be seen as platonic or romantic)
warnings: two curse words??, if you’re reading this as platonic there’s one mention of wearing couples costumes but friends can totally do that to, uhh i think that’s it
a/n: alright i could have probably thought of a million more but it was literally 1am when i wrote this and i was tired lol. also i will admit that was me fulling self projecting on the info dumping about movies part and wanting to text someone at an ungodly hour, but in my defense i do genuinely think benny would do those things as well. also this was requested by an irl friend of mine who mentioned friends to lovers after i finished this so look out for that coming soon! also this is my first writing related thing i’ve posted on this blog in like 2 years!!
Tumblr media
will try to learn spells just to impress you
of course there was a few that went wrong
maybe more than a few, but it’s the thought that counts right?
will send every meme or funny video he finds
does not matter if its 3pm or 3am he will send it immediately after he found it
which speaking of 3am i can see him not being able to sleep so he tries texting you
if you answer i can see him texting “hey what’s wrong?? why are u up so late?? everything okay??” and completely ignoring that he too is also awake at this hour
“you are aware you texted me first, why are you up”
“i asked you first”
benny absolutely loves video games and will want to play a few with you even if you don’t like video games
which if you’re with him there a good chance you love them too
but if you don’t you will most likely start liking them even just a bit because he makes them fun
getting to spent time with him and watch him do something he loves makes it special
it also can be really funny
can guarantee at least once he’d say “watch this babe” or “this ones for you” and immediately fail/die
this is also something that definitely happens in the outside world with him trying to throw something away or something
pure of heart, dumb of ass
also i don’t know shit about video games so i cannot go into anymore detail then this lol
is 100% down with spontaneous movie nights whether that be binge watching movies at home or going to the theater
if it’s a movie he’s obsessed with but you’ve never seen he will be trying his hardest not to info dump and potentially spoil the whole thing
but if it’s a movie he knows you have seen he is more than willing to explain every single fact about it he knows
“did you know that while filming this bit they had film it completely in reverse to make it look like that?? insane right!?”
speaking of movies if it’s a horror/scary movie you can bet he will try to act all tough and not scared before it starts
even if you already know how much of a scaredy cat he is he will try to play it off
but the second the first jumpscare happens there will be popcorn flying everywhere
he is no longer allowed to hold the bowl
you’re still finding popcorn in the couch
he will still continue to pretend that he’s not scared despite shaking like a scared chihuahua
you will have to be the one to grab onto him
which then leads to him hiding his face into your neck or behind you
he still refuses to let you turn it off even if you insist it’s okay
there is a part of you that feels bad but also a part that thinks it’s so funny
your contact names in each others phones are han solo and princess leia
the only suggestions i will take on this is that yours is han and his is leia
will take you to every convention within driving distance
if the convention if for some game/show/movie you don’t know be prepared for a whole powerpoint presentation or a weekend of binge watching whatever media it is
“didn’t you just say you hated doing a powerpoint for history??”
“babe this is way more important and interesting than anything school can teach”
you both will be going all out costume wise every convention
i can totally see you guys going in couple costumes or like hero and villain
if the latter you two take turns on who gets to be the villain or hero
if you are with benny there is no way you can be a halloween hater
he can do freaking magic, of course it’s his favorite holiday!!
this also can follow what i said for conventions with the costumes
at some point there is a competition on who can get the most candy
if he loses, he will say that the candy was just too hard to resist, and he had to eat just one piece that turned into him eating many pieces
this is a true fact whether he loses or not
side note if you can go a whole night of trick or treating without eating a single piece of candy while doing so i don’t believe you
Tumblr media
231 notes · View notes
rose-tinted-glasses671 · 11 months
Text
Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch.2)
read the rest: masterlist
Tag list: @junosbugs @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey
Tumblr media
You fucked up. Big time.
You conveniently forgot to mention to that Simon guy that you had work in the morning, and now he’s on his way over to the flat in five minutes and you need to leave for work in fifteen.
You barely had time to brush your teeth in the morning, throwing on last night’s mostly clean uniform and brushing back your hair before putting it in a ponytail. Possibly the worst decision you made was to promise Erica you’d be at the restaurant this morning. Now you were even farther behind on your schoolwork and doubly stressed because you had a prospective roommate who was gonna see what a mess you were and decide he’d have to pass on living with you.
“FUCK!” you yelled as you hurriedly tried to put your shoes on, the back flap bending down and refusing to go over your heel. Frustration rose and you felt like a pot of boiling water about to pour over the lip of the pan; your anger, stress, misery…everything, amalgamating into a giant soul-crushing sob.
The pair of ugly black non-slip shoes that refused to adjust themselves to your feet were now laying on the other side of the room, the force with which you had thrown them leaving behind a brash scuff mark on the otherwise pristine wall.
An intense pressure built up in your chest and refused to release, your eyes stinging with the onslaught of tears that forced their way down your cheeks. You’d been able to hold it together for the last week, but it was time everything caught up to you.
Your situation, though it could be worse, was not where you wanted to be at this point in your life; twenty-six, looking for a roommate, working a job that barely paid just so you could keep a roof over your head and get the education you so desperately needed. You thought you’d have figured your life out by now.
And you were trying, dammit. There wasn’t a moment in your existence where you hadn’t had to fight for what you needed, and you were sick of it. For once, you just wanted someone to be willing to give something to you.
The despair you were feeling showed no signs of letting up, almost paralyzing you in place as you hugged yourself. Your head now hurt from how hard you were crying, slumped over next to the bed in a fit of sobs.
You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there like that when you heard a harsh knock from the front door.
“Right. How could I forget,” you deadpanned, trying to rid your voice of its croaky-ness as you made your way out of your room. You quickly wiped at your eyes to dry them, but soon realized that your five-minute sob fest probably left a more lasting impact on your face. Because when you opened the door and slowly shifted your gaze up to glance at a face, what you saw instead was a set of narrowed brown eyes peeking out through the holes of a black balaclava.
“Sorry,” the man said, looking at you suspiciously. “I must have the wrong flat.” But you recognized his voice from the call last night
“Simon, right?” you confirmed.
“Ghost,” he said, his voice gruff and assertive.
“What?”
“I prefer to be called Ghost.” Again, with the no-bullshit tone that was forcing you to comply.
 “O-Okay.” You didn't even question why; it was an odd nickname, for sure, but you didn't have the time to delve into it. So with a deep breath and a fake smile plastered on your face, you moved on. “Sorry ‘bout the mess you’re about to witness. I’ve had no time to clean.” You stepped away from the door to let the man in.
His staggering height was surprising to witness. You weren’t short by any means, but you’d also rarely ever come across people this tall. It was gonna become a problem if you had to crane your neck ninety-degrees every time you needed to talk to the guy.
It was also strange, and a little off-putting, that he was wearing a balaclava. You’d understand if he was wearing it outside because of the cold weather, but indoors? That’s curious. And also something you didn’t have the time to question right now.
Simon stepped inside the flat and walked over to the living room; you passed by him into the kitchen. “So down that hallway are the rooms.” You used your free hand to point down the hallway to your right, your other hand reaching into the fridge to grab your lunch for the day. “Yours is the one on the right, the bathroom is on the left. There’s only one, so we’ll have to share.” A brief pause as you threw the Tupperware and a water bottle into your purse. “Rent is due on the 3rd of every month, but you don’t have to worry about the rest of this month; it’s already paid.” The spare key that you took from Ethan lay untouched on the kitchen counter. You grabbed it and walked over to Si- Ghost, whose broad back was still facing you.
“Here are the keys,” you jangled them as close to his ear as you could, catching the man’s attention. He turned around to face you, this time his eyes showing nothing. You couldn’t read him anymore.
You acted as if Ghost had already said yes and you were just giving him a tour for the sake of it, but really, you hoped the fake confidence you exuded deterred him from your most likely puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“That’s it, then?” he asked, eyeing the keys you held out but not making a move to take them.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re about to hand a man you barely know a set of keys to your flat. Hell, you’re about to let this man live in your goddamn flat without knowing if he’s a criminal or a creep.” Ghost’s tone was more livid than condescending, as if he couldn’t believe you were doing what you were doing.
And maybe you should’ve been more scared. Not only was Ghost tall, but he was muscular, and wore a balaclava, and had a deeper voice than you’d ever heard from a man. You should have been terrified.
But you weren’t. Nothing about Ghost, neither his demeanor nor his disposition, was giving you a bad vibe. He just looked like a man who really needed somewhere to live, and you were a woman who really needed someone to take the extra room in her flat. It was a win-win.
“Are you criminal or a creep?” you asked, pretending to do some sort of due diligence.
“Of course not,” Ghost replied, his dead eyes morphing into something of slight annoyance.
“Great, then here are the keys.” You shoved the metal towards Ghost’s chest, forcing him to take it. With that, you grabbed your purse, slung your coat over your arm, put on a pair of white sneakers that your boss would hate but would let slide for today, and started for the front door.
“Where’re you going?” Ghost sounded exasperated. Like you had suddenly become a nuisance to him.
“Uhm, work. I’m running late.” You twisted the knob and were halfway out the door when he got your attention again.
“You really wanna do this?” he asked, still rooted to his place in the living room.
You barely contemplated your answer. “Look, I’ll take my chances.” You breathed a heavy sigh. “For once, I need something in my life to go right.”
Not waiting for a reply, you closed the door behind you and sprinted out of the building.
Ghost stood in the now empty apartment, still a little dazed by the whirlwind of a morning he’d just had. He couldn’t bring himself to question why he was so exasperated by the thought of you letting him live with you. It was some sort of instinct within him that told him to reprimand you for letting a stranger reside in your flat with you, though he knew he wasn’t a threat to anyone but himself.
“Jesus,” he muttered into the messy space, forcing his feet down the hallway to take a look at his new room. The space was empty save for a floor lamp that was meant to illuminate the room in the dark. Ghost wondered what the area was used for prior to his arrival, though the conditions of the walls and floors made it seem like it wasn’t used at all.
A ding reverberated through the stale air of the room, Ghost realizing the noise came from his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a text message. From you.
Don’t touch the Indian takeout in the fridge. That’s my dinner.
Ghost chuckled, shaking his head. If anything, at least you had your priorities straight.
He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, spotting said Indian takeout, some condiment bottles, a half-eaten sandwich, and some fruits. But no veggies in sight.
A moment of deliberation and Ghost new what he would be doing today, besides moving in, of course. He didn’t know when you’d be back, but he assumed it wouldn’t be for a while.
Perfect.
225 notes · View notes
bullagit · 4 days
Text
honestly it's just funny to me when people are like "aziraphale had to be talked into even trying to save the earth blah blah blah" trying to make him out to be a Bad Person. meanwhile in canon it took like, 1.5 conversations and less than a day because he DID want to do it and jumped on the first feasible idea.
and then they conveniently ignore that he spends the rest of season one actively continuing to do everything in his power that he can think of to save the earth, despite every obstacle and despite CROWLEY actively saying they should give up on that and run away together instead
(which all these same people conveniently... never seem to mention or frame as crowley being a Bad Person. the same way they never seem to try to frame him calling aziraphale stupid or his little "i'm leaving forever and when i'm gone i'll never even THINK ABOUT YOU AGAIN" moment as him being a bad person, instead suddenly being much more willing to sympathize and give him the benefit of the doubt. hmm go figure).
like he literally tries to talk to GOD up close and personal to change her mind. he throws down his uniform, refuses the war, and goes AWOL back to earth determined to save it, even knowing that he's pretty much signing up to lose EVERYTHING that he's built on earth for himself, even thinking he possibly lost crowley already by pushing him away, like.
when satan is en route to the airbase, wouldn't you know, crowley is the one who says it's over we're fucked there's nothing we can do and aziraphale is the one who says no, we can't give up now after everything, and gives crowley the push he needs to buy them some time.
i'll never say he's a perfect uwu bean or that he always goes about things the right way but like, this weird thing (especially post s2) where people try to project some different character onto him just never goes over. he's not self-absorbed or callous or power-hungry or stupid or too naive or completely selfish. fundamentally.
also he wouldn't take angel crowley over modern crowley. he loves crowley in every capacity and every form and through every change and tbh like. he understands that those aren't actually two completely separate entities, and crowley is one person who's been through so much and had to change so much, and he loves all of him.
their relationship is not toxic or abusive. they understand each other in ways nobody else ever will. they push each other to be better and appreciate each other for everything that they are, that they have been, that they could be, and they continually choose to come back to each other no matter what fight they have or challenge they face.
every day i gotta get out here like you know you can just like the character crowley better... and relate to him more... without having to twist around to justify it as some moral superiority thing. like that's fine and normal, to just like a character better than a different character and focus on them more.
45 notes · View notes
animentality · 5 months
Text
I was thinking about that ask I answered earlier, and I decided that it's very interesting, how Gortash was raised in the House of Hope, watching people willingly sign away their souls, while he was never given the choice.
And how, bitter and angry and regularly tortured by Nubaldin and god knows what else, he would grow to absolutely despise these people, coming here, choosing to tie themselves to this place for eternity after death, and vowing he would not do the same.
He would escape, knowing in his heart twisted by violence and enslavement, that people must want to be controlled.
Not himself, of course.
He's special. He refuses to be a slave ever again. But others? The people who bargain with their souls and throw everything away?
If that's how they are, then he might as well use them. He might as well see them the same way as devils do. He might as well treat them as though they are mere mortals, and he is a god of Faerun.
I also want to say, that that's the logical conclusion for him to draw. The more emotional conclusion, is that he HATES the world for how it's treated him. How he was lower city scum, a child born in poverty, destined to die in poverty too, treated as less than nothing by the wealthy patriars of Baldur's Gate, born with the silver spoon firmly clenched between their teeth.
He would also hate the lower city scum, for his parents are its representatives, and what kind of people would sell their own child to pay off minor debts?
People who deserve to be subjugated and controlled.
And forced to love their children. To take care of their children. And if they won't, he will (he canonically has a soft spot for orphans).
See, that's why Gortash should've gone to the House of Hope, and not Bane.
His soul was promised to Raphael first, but it also frames him as a far more interesting villain than the current canon Gortash. Canon Gortash ends there. He's angry, he's bitter, he's determined to inflict his punishment on the world. He's a good villain, in theory (not gameplay wise, as he's easy to kill), but the buck stops there.
But if you add this...terror, of returning to Raphael?
And the idea that he only ever served Bane and committed all these atrocities because he was desperately trying to acquire enough power to take on Raphael's House of Hope and steal back his contract?
It humanizes him. It makes him a three dimensional villain, the way Ketheric was. It makes you understand, when you go to the House of Hope and find out how they treated him, how a person could be so warped.
Gortash as a character being arrogant and dehumanizing to everyone around him - that's fine. That's not bad. That's fun, actually.
But a Gortash who is arrogant and dehumanizing...and deep down, terrified beyond his wits, at the thought of being reduced to that slave, trapped in the House of Hope again...
And ALSO. Willing to sacrifice literally the ENTIRE WORLD just to save his own skin...
I mean come on.
That's like...next level writing.
That's not even woobifying him. It just gives him depth.
And they...they just...they just didn't do that.
And I don't understand why.
Just kidding, I do. It was because they rushed the game's release so they could make a boatload of cash after years of laboring on it.
He literally has a note on him, saying he wants to go back to the House of Hope...why else would he go, other than to steal his contract back?
But you know.
Cut content.
So Gortash is just some prick you can kill. He wears a no fear coat for some reason, not that it really matters. It's just loot, basically.
Oh well.
101 notes · View notes
anthotneystark · 5 months
Text
One taste of your life (And I own your soul)
So I heard it was @thefreakandthehair's birthday and then I finished writing this, so Lex this is basically just for you now!
The day starts like any other.
He wakes up screaming, shaking, a cold sweat trailing down his spine. He takes a few minutes to pull himself together, reminds himself it’s all over, ignores the feeling of heavy, dark air on his skin. He ignores the sound of screaming in his head, the tightness in his chest. Before he’s really ready, but after he should already have been moving, he pushes himself up and drags himself into his routine.
He showers, feels like he’s trying to scrub the fear and pain off of himself, and hopes that one day that will actually work. He catches himself looking around as he gets dressed, an uneasy feeling prickling at the back of his neck. It’s the feeling of being watched. But there’s no one in his room, so he shakes it off and moves on.
He has his morning phone call with Robin as they both make breakfast. His heart aches at the thought of her being so far away, just the same as he knows hers does, but he’d refused to let her put off school just because he wasn’t ready to leave yet. She comes back when she can, he’s made trips to visit her, but it’ll never feel right until they can live in the same place again. He won’t make her feel bad for getting out, not when he wanted her to, not when he’s so happy that she’s out there doing things she loves and having fun.
When it’s time, when he can leave too, they’ll get a place together and never have to be apart again.
For now though, instead of gossiping during a morning car ride, he tells her all the drama she’s missing out on and lies about how he’s definitely eating over the sink so his bagel crumbs are contained.
When she has to go, her classes beckoning, he lets her go and tells her he’ll update her with the next schedule his boss puts out. He’s on days right now, but he’s hoping he’ll be on nights soon.
With Robin gone, and Family Video destroyed back in March, he hasn’t bothered to go back into the rental business. He opted to follow a different career path, and with the amount of people who fled the town, the fire department had gladly taken him on. Turns out, for someone who likes to take care of people and is willing to take on tasks like herding a group of rambunctious pre-teens, being a paramedic has been the perfect fit.
He throws on his uniform, laces up his boots, and ignores that feeling pricking at the back of his neck as he walks to his car. He looks around, but it’s a calm day. There’s barely a breeze in the trees; the leaves are still, the world is quiet.
There’s no one there.
The drive is easy, navigating the new roads built from his house to the center of town. Once everything started being rebuilt, mostly by the people who were convinced it was worth it to stay, things settled down. With the cracks in the earth closed up, with homes rebuilt, it looked almost like nothing had happened.
He lost count of how many times he wished nothing had happened.
He let himself get lost in the boredom of no emergencies throughout the day, let himself be distracted by the adrenaline of people needing help. There’s a kitchen injury on Maple Street, a ladder incident on Avalon Court, even a legitimate kitten in a tree call just down from the high school. Being the youngest, and thus the one thrown into the grunt work more often than not, he’d been sent on up to get it. It wasn’t his first kitten rescue, not with more than a few displaced pets, but the kitten only scratched him a little as he pulled it into his arms.
Back on the ground, kitten back in the arms of its person, he’d made quick work of cleaning up the blood that welled up on his hand. His movements stilled as he went to bandage it, his eyes darting up, looking around but seeing no reason for the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He brushed the feeling aside.
There was no reason to be on edge.
If anyone had asked him back in high school, he’d have said that 24 hours was a long time, plenty of time.
If anyone had asked him after he found out monsters were real, he’d have said 24 hours was an eternity when the chips were down.
If anyone had asked him today, he’d say 24 hours is a blink, a breath, it’s nothing, a blip of time that only carries meaning once it’s over, once you can feel the loss of it.
Loss or not, he’s more relieved when it’s over and he can go home again. The feeling has stuck with him, the hair on the back of his neck, the on edge, the vigilance. It happens, he’s aware, but he’s also aware that today he’s just being dramatic, just being paranoid. As he waits for his shift to end, his 24 hours nearly up, he watches the bats finish their hunt in the almost-dawn light. They’re a mix of swooping and flailing, graceful and clumsy, and not for the first time, he thinks of a boy who was the same.
He thinks of curly hair and a devilish smile, kind eyes and loud laughter. He thinks of rough hands and the gentle curl of smoke from his lips.
It’s not the first time he’s stolen his thoughts and made his heart ache, and it won’t be the last.
The sting lessens the fear that’s shadowed him all day, and he looks up at the approaching dawn with the phantom hand on his shoulder.
The alarm doesn’t ring in the time he’s got left. He shares the easy camaraderie he has with his team, familiar but not family, because even if he doesn’t love them like his kids, he has to love them enough to have his back when they’re out on the truck. Trusting them enough is easy, he’s used to relying on partnerships and love has always come too easily to him.
But that love isn’t the same as what he’s built through much more real dangers. They know him, but they don’t know him enough to see the struggle of pulling on a smile. They know how to read him in the smoke but they don’t know how to read the emotions he shoves down under bravado and jokes.
It’s fine, they don’t need to. But knowing they can’t does nothing to ease the ache and alarm under his skin.
His whole drive home, he sees shadows out of the corner of his eye. A fleeting movement there. A noise here. He doesn’t run from his car into the safety of his home, he knows better. He knows what lurks in the shadows.
As he steps through the door, the feeling fades, vanquished by the safety of a space that’s his. He slips out of his uniform, puts off doing laundry for later, and drops into the couch in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He closes his eyes and flicks on the TV, the sound just loud enough to drown out the noise of a creature approaching.
Without warning, with only the briefest sense of alarm flaring up, a small weight comes out of nowhere and lands squarely on his chest.
He doesn’t flinch.
Instead, he lifts his head, lifts an eyebrow, and pulls on his most unimpressed look.
“If I was standing, I’d be doing the Mom Pose.”
The bat, fluffy and almost too dark, just chirps happily at him before crawling up to hide in the crook of his neck.
He doesn’t try to move it.
It doesn’t take much longer for that telltale poof-flash-pop of time and space and whatever else is involved in the transformation, and then he’s left not with a clingy flying rodent, but a clingy metalhead with too-sharp teeth and an unusual diet.
Eddie yawns and settles into his side, nosing at his neck until Steve sighs and tilts his head away.
“You didn’t get enough mosquitos this morning? Or throughout the day when you were following me around?”
“How did you know I was following you around?”
“Survival instinct, I felt you,” Steve retorts. He feels Eddie’s grin against his neck before the sharp sting of his fangs, the sticky-warm feeling of pleasure kicking in moments later. A moan escapes him, but he’s long since given up on being ashamed of enjoying this moment too. Eddie doesn’t take much before his tongue is sealing up the wounds, pulling off of him with a wet pop.
“I’ll have to work on being sneakier then,” Eddie says, using Steve’s blissful relaxation to turn his head toward him, stealing a kiss much the same as he’d stolen lunch; with zero complaints and Steve wholeheartedly on board.
“You do that,” Steve laughs, the words muffled against Eddie’s lips. His own yawn interrupts the next kiss, but he doesn’t need to worry about being too tired. It’s a perfect excuse for Eddie to scoop him up and carry him to bed. The curtains are pulled closed, the covers pulled back, and there, in a bed that felt hostile just 24 hours earlier, Steve sinks into the safety of a man who any sane person would be terrified of just by reputation alone.
There, in arms that are stronger than any human, looking up into eyes that are red when the light hits them just right, Steve lets himself surrender into the sleep that calls his name. There are no screams in his head now, just whispered words about hobbits and dwarves and an adventure that Steve never manages to stay awake to hear in full. That’s okay though, Eddie will read those words to him as many times as needed, with a devilish smile and the occasional curl of smoke from his lips, with rough hands so gently brushing through locks of chestnut hair.
All is right with his world, the weight in his heart has lightened, and there’s no need to be afraid.
Posted on Ao3 too!
61 notes · View notes
jlwritesstories · 9 days
Text
The eyes are the windows to the soul (part 2)
Masterlist
Previous <> Next
Tumblr media
Cameron, or Not-Cameron as you've started calling him in your head, has been nothing but wonderful to you. Warm. Caring. Loving. He treats you like a diety or gift he doesn't feel he deserves.
After realising that Cameron had been replaced, you made the split-second decision to act like nothing was wrong. Hopefully, you had surmised, that would lull Not-Cameron into a false sense of security and allow you to investigate where the real Cameron was. After all, in every horror movie you'd ever watched with monsters taking the place of people, they only ever seem to turn violent and start going after the heroes once their disguise has been broken.
At first you assumed the worst, but none of your internet searches turned up any unidentified dead bodies or missing person reports in your area.
You don't know what happened to the real Cameron, and you can hardly ask your neighbours or his friends.
Not-Cameron seems to have access to the real Cameron's memories. None of your "innocent" questioning had caused them to slip up or give anything away. They've been going to work at the investment firm and even going out for drinks with his friends in Cameron's place. No one has reported any strange occurrences and none of his work colleagues have called you to ask about "strange behaviour".
Everything has been surprisingly normal.
A few of their mannerisms even appear to be improvements on the original's behaviour. Not-Cameron remembers your favourite drink and muffin combo when they bring home takeout, asking how your day was and letting you vent about that one annoying customer who can't follow instructions. They flip your pillow to the cold side before bed every night. They compliment your outfits, eyes wide in awe (a little too wide but you try not to let the fact that you're freaking out show on your face). They ask you for permission every single time they want to be intimate or even give you a kiss, and they don't throw a fit or get angry when you refuse intimacy with the excuse that you are tired, they ask how you're feeling and what they can do to help and if you would be willing to compromise with holding hands or watching a movie together.
But they still act like Cameron. His mannerisms, his voice, his opinions all sound the same. They prefer action and detective thrillers to chick flicks, sweet over spicy, comfortable clothes over tight ones...just like the real Cameron.
Whatever Not-Cameron is, they seem to be committed to pretending to be your boyfriend long-term.
Some key things are very different, Not-Cameron is very touchy, one hand always hovering over you just waiting for permission, (you can tell they're holding back from something).
They seem to be working towards making friends with some of their work colleagues, people the real Cameron called annoying gannets.
They also got into a fight with some of Cameron's drinking buddies. You only found out because your neighbour's son happens to work at their favourite bar; as it turns out, Not-Cameron got into a fist-fight with two of his oldest friends, from what bystanders could tell, his friends had mentioned something about a "planned break-up", "a bet" and a "wet rag of a person"...and Not-Cameron flew into a rage.
They'd come back to the house late that night. They had seemed completely fine for someone who had been in a fight, but when you tentatively questioned what happened, they suddenly started apologising, saying they just love you so much, and miraculously gained a cut lip and bruised ribs when you weren't looking. They also looked at you with an exact replica of Cameron's puppy-dog eyes when asking if you would "kiss it better".
Not-Cameron is the boyfriend you wish the real Cameron had been, (the one you thought he was in the beginning).
However, there have been many strange occurrences after his arrival.
Voices in the house when no-one else is home, calling your name or reminding you to check your phone.
Strange clicking and cracking sounds in the night.
Shadows moving in the corner of your eye or a face hovering in the upper corner of doorways that is gone when you turn to look at it directly.
But even these strange occurances don't scare you too much.
Nothing has sought to harm you, and the few times you've tripped or burnt yourself when cooking due to being spooked by one of the occurrences, Not-Cameron acted extra sweet and apologetic those evenings, all for no particular reason he would say.
Even Not-Cameron himself sometimes slips up. You catch a glimpse of Not-Cameron's horrifying grinning countenance out of the corner of your eye, sometimes you swear you see their bones crack and shift under the skin when they move, and a few times during evening cuddles, (a new ritual you feel you can't get out of for fear they'll realise you know they're not the real Cameron), you could have sworn you caught them purring. Not to mention, about once a week, they disappear for the entire night and only return in the morning, you never hear the key in the door or them leaving and you never hear them return either.
Three months after Not-Cameron arrived you started believing you would never know what happened to the real Cameron. All lines of investigation had gone cold and you couldn't prod more for fear Not-Cameron would suddenly turn violent if he was exposed.
Sometimes you feel yourself slipping into the dream, believing that maybe all those quiet prayers were answered and Cameron has returned to the fun and loving man you fell for, but then the sight of those cold silvery eyes brings you back to reality. This is not Cameron, this is something else.
So far, your only place of complete privacy is in the bathroom. Occurrences don't occur when you're in there with the door shut, and Not-Cameron always asks permission to enter.
It seems Not-Cameron respects your boundaries, something the real Cameron sometimes struggled with.
A small quiet thought echoes, so loud, in your mind. A thought so sweet and hopeful, a thought that burns you from the inside and yet makes you feel light and giddy.
You almost hope the real Cameron never comes home.
Bile rises in your throat and you immediately turn and drop to your knees by the toilet.
Tumblr media
Previous <> Next
27 notes · View notes
jjungkookislife · 5 months
Note
B, you know I love your drabble nights!
Member: Namjoon
Phrase: Are you flirting or starting a fight?
Jess <33
Flirt or Fight
pairing: bff!namjoon x f. reader
warnings: making out, erections, implied smut? just admire namjoon in a turtle neck okay?
Tumblr media
"What are you going to do about it?" you ask.
Namjoon knows he shouldn't laugh. He promised he wouldn't, swore on the "best friend" bible, which was an old journal you used to pass back and forth in high school.
"Are you flirting or starting a fight?" Namjoon asks seriously worried for you.
"Namjoon!" you stomp your foot. "That's supposed to be sexy."
Namjoon tries his best to muffle his laughter, but he can't. He grips his stomach as he laughs, ignoring the ache.
"Oooh, I hate you," you huff, as you playfully smack his arm. "You're supposed to be helping!"
"Babe, nothing can help that. Fuck you mean, 'What are you going to do about it?' Are you the Karate Kid or some shit?"
"Namjoon!" you shout.
"Look, you asked me for an honest opinion," Namjoon reminds you. "And you shouldn't have because that was atrocious. How do you even get dick like that? I'd run the opposite way."
"Namjoon!"
"Your shit is sour, baby." Namjoon shrugs.
"Then what do you recommend, oh-wise-one?"
"Actual flirting for starters?" Joon shakes his head as he rolls up the sleeves of his black turtle neck.
"Flirt with me then," you huff.
Namjoon chuckles. "You wouldn't be able to handle it."
"Try me," you goad.
Namjoon rolls his eyes. Why were you so stubborn? Shouldn't you have grown out of it by now?
Namjoon steps closer to you, smiling with his dimples on display. He notes the way you swallow thickly.
He doesn't need to say anything as he looks down at you. His smile disarms you, head empty as you look into his dark eyes, forgetting everything you've ever known about him.
"I-I" you're not sure what you're trying to say. You're imagining things you haven't thought of in years...
What if you took him to bed? What if you made him yours? Marked him as so?
Namjoon's powerful gaze sinks into your very bones. You blink owlishly, your tongue like lead as you try to speak but he's too ethereal for you to respond.
Two of his fingers grip your chin, making you look up at him.
"You wouldn't be able to handle me flirting with you," he states seriously. He licks his lips as he maintains eye contact and you feel your heartbeat between your legs. You refuse to look away from him, afraid to give in but also willing to.
Namjoon can read you like his favorite book. Perks of being your best friend for a decade.
You lock your gaze on him, ignoring the thundering in your chest as he leans forward. His eyes flit to your lips then your eyes. The ball's in your court.
You kiss him, throwing caution to the wind.
Namjoon responds immediately, pushing you against the wall. He doesn't even think of your failed attempt at flirting. All that matters is your lips moving in sync with his, your leg hooked on his hips as his erection presses against you.
"Joon," you moan.
"Can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock, baby." Namjoon grins as you melt beneath him.
51 notes · View notes
gffa · 1 year
Note
Kinda vibing off the other anon’s ask…how did you reconcile with Anakin’s portrayal in the clone wars cartoon? I keep trying to, but the movie version and cartoon version seem like completely different characters at times. Like Hayden’s Anakin is so emotional and reserved and idk, vulnerable? (also prettier lol) Just generally more relatable in his struggles with his fears, anger, etc. And the cartoon version is so…not. Just kinda feels like a generic hot headed, himbo protagonist. Which is weird since that’s supposed to lead to the man we see in RotS. (I have similar issues with Padme and Obi-Wan’s portrayals at times too. But that’s not nearly as bad as with Anakin) So like any advice  or words of wisdom would be greatly appreciated!!!🙏
This may not be a super helpful answer, but it's the truth of how I came to reconcile the two: 1. Trying to view Anakin's character through the lens of how the war changed him, how in some ways he was rewarded for it (because he's so good at killing things, he has a new confidence, ego in the stratosphere, self esteem still in the toilet, so he seems "settled" in his own skin at times, he gains a more confident demeanor, his issues manifest as the more traditional anger issues, etc.) even as it was slowly chipping away at his emotional foundations. I try to view Anakin (and the other characters) through the lens of how being in the middle of an active war zone practically 24/7 would change his day to day demeanor, even if I acknowledge that the real answer is "because they were trying to 'correct' Anakin's portrayal", this can pull the two versions a little closer together in my mind. 2. Focusing on the bigger themes, like rewatching the first season of TCW, I was struck by just how often Anakin was willing to throw people to the wolves to go rescue the ones he cared about. Like the whole thing with refusing to wipe Artoo's mission logs, so he's willing to risk his entire squad of clones to go rescue him, because that's what attachment is--the willingness to get a thousand people killed because you have been afraid to live without the one you love. Moments like that help bridge the gap a little further for me as well. Or the entire Mortis storyline is one I will defend as being a great look at Anakin's character and the themes of the Force (basically, it's the Force trying to get Anakin to get his shit together, that everything that happens in that arc is a reflection of Anakin's struggle as the Force tries to get him to face his inner self, because that's what the Force does) and that helps me with enjoying TCW, too. 3. Just giving it some time, not just since I first watched it, but settling into the idea that I will never fully reconcile it, it's just not possible for me, and that there are some ways I can reconcile it. Just... time to settle into the idea of its imperfections being okay and I still enjoy the good parts of it. 4. Maintaining my boundary of, "My foundation of understanding of Anakin's character comes from the movies, that is who the character is at his very core, that is the structure that everything else must rest on." and anything TCW adds on is still canon but is the layer over the movies. The movies/Hayden's portrayal will always come first for me, and anything that conflicts with that, I tend to view as "something else is driving the way he acts", "this is a partial layer, rather than a whole layer, like the movies are", rather than that it's a core component of who he is. That's pretty much it for me--I view TCW as part of Lucas' canon, but I also see it as connective tissue to Lucas' canon, rather than the foundation, which means that sometimes it feels a little off, and I can go, "Well, Anakin's acting like this because the war has made him appear more confident, but once that's over, at his core he would still have been that reserved, emotional, soft-shelled person we see from Hayden's performance."
176 notes · View notes