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onestopfanficshop · 8 months

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parenthood hcs (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)

tbh i feel like this sucks but like... i've been working on it too long to scrap it lol 💀 i might come back and add more as my brain starts to solidify again so if you read it and come back to more stuff just pretend you don't see it. so uh... enjoy the hot mess under the cut i guess

ghost/simon riley

during the pregnancy/delivery

—the reality of you being pregnant didn’t really sink in until after you started showing. that’s when he was like oh shit this is actually real this is actually happening

—if he was a light sleeper before (which i’m absolutely sure he was), he’s practically awake with his eyes closed at night now. very sensitive to every single movement you make, whether it’s you slightly shifting in your sleep or you getting up to use the bathroom. can’t really “fall asleep” until he’s absolutely sure that you are.

—has the most horrific nightmares of all the things that could go wrong with you and the baby, and he always feels so guilty afterwards, as if he was somehow willing those things to happen. he never told you about them until years later either

—likes to whisper to the baby when he thinks you’re asleep and can’t hear (except you can, and it nearly brings you to tears)

—was anxious to let you leave the house, insisting on getting all the groceries and whatever else you needed so you wouldn't have to go outside

—is paying attention to and remembers all of the important medical info that the doctor tells you two at your maternity appointments, especially when pregnancy brain is getting the best of you

—simon can't remember the last time he's cried in his adult life, but when he gets to hold your baby for the first time and they latch their tiny little fingers onto his larger one, he certainly does.

random parenting moments

—mans can hear the baby crying before the baby is even crying. being a light sleeper + having incredible hearing is a goated combo. he'll race into the nursery and try to take care of whatever the issue is to avoid waking you up at all costs

—absolute hell to fucking no to the hot diggity dog no when it comes to corporal punishment. no ands, ifs, or buts. (for the record, i don't think any of these men would do this, but simon especially, given his past). and it'll be a freezing cold day in hell before simon raises his voice at your kids; he simply doesn't see the need to

—gives his kids washable markers and lets them color in his tattoos

—shooting my girl dad blaster at this man because i can. (*pew pew*) he's the best tea party attendant in the history of tea party attendants. doesn't matter that he can barely even fit one thigh on the tiny chairs at his daughters' kiddie princess table–he'll make it work!

—i can definitely see him having sons too, which i know would be really bittersweet for him. he's determined to be a better father than the one that life afforded him. seeing that brotherly bond between his sons would be really therapeutic for him :(

—very surprised that his kids find funny, mostly because he's got that dry sarcastic deadpan humor, as opposed to the slapstick-type humor that most kids at that age gravitate towards. he's certainly not complaining, though; he loves making them laugh. he swears his kids' laughter is one of the best sounds in the world.

soap/johnny mctavish

during the pregnancy/delivery

—honestly is surprised at himself for deciding to settle down (finally). he knew he wanted a family eventually but he wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. he certainly isn't complaining though, because he thinks you'd be an amazing mother

—is constantly talking to your belly, even before the obgyn said that your baby had formed their ears. very determined for your kid to have his accent so he’s talking to them 24/7 lmfao

—and he definitely believes that the baby can communicate back 😭

—"okay, if you're a boy, what'd you think of this name? kick twice for yes."

—gives the absolute best foot rubs. would literally put a trained masseuse to shame

—so ecstatic when he finally gets his kid in his arms. he finally gets to see the little human that he's been talking to for the past several months; literally a dream come true

random parenting moments

—does the thing where he falls asleep on his back with the baby lying on his stomach

—his kids' first words will probably be curse words, no thanks to johnny 💀

—i'm picturing three kids: two boys (possibly twins; idk he just seems like a twin dad. it makes sense in my head, okay?)

—very relaxed parenting style, with an emphasis on letting his kids "fail" on their own and learning from their mistakes. relaxed shouldn't be confused with permissive, though, because he will definitely put his foot down and be more assertive if need be

—always down to play video games with his kids

—finds it absolutely hilarious to kiss you in front of the kids because they all make the most exaggerated sounds of disgust

—teaches your kids how to swim, which eventually leads to them convincing him to put a pool in the house (it took a lot of convincing but johnny just can't say no to them)

—has his own designated "dad" chair in the living room and gets disgruntled if he sees someone else sitting there. but one time he came back to one of the kids curled up in his chair late at night, fast asleep. he couldn't bring himself to wake them up so he just covered them in a blanket

gaz/kyle garrick

during the pregnancy/delivery

—lowkey has a stronger nesting instinct than you lol 💀 constantly is cleaning the house not only for you, but because it makes him feel calm

—always willing to hold your belly for a few minutes (or however long you need) to relieve you of the weight of carrying a whole human inside of you for a while

—also adores talking to the baby through your stomach, and loves putting headphones on your belly to play them music

—down to try your craving combos with you. sometimes he like “this is incredible" and other times he's like "what is this monstrosity" lol

—when you guys were putting together the nursery you discovered that ky has an impeccable eye for interior design. most of the unique pieces of furniture and paintings in the nursery were picked out by him

—has the biggest smile on his face once he gets to hold his kid for the first time. like his face hurts thats how hard he's smiling

random parenting moments

—literally doesn't want to put that baby down. like at all 💀 you practically have to beg him to give you your daughter so you can at least feed her

"just let me hold her for 5 more minutes!"

"kyle, your daughter is going to starve if you don't give her to me!"

—i'm thinking two kids for kyle is the perfect number to him; gender doesn't matter to him :)

—tries to keep up with pop culture so he won't be called old by his kids (and fails)

—always down to game with his kids

—has a really hard time saying no to them 😭 if you weren't there to keep him in check, your kids would be so spoiled

—LOVESSS halloween. taking his kids costume shopping and taking them trick-or-treating is one of the highlights of his year. and he's always down to customize a costume, too. anything from buying a bunch of different pieces to make one look or sanding down some plastic armor and painting it to look weathered—he's so unbelievably creative

john price

during the pregnancy/delivery

—collects sooo many books for the baby. especially loves the soft cloth books that have all of the different crinkly textures

—absolutely cherishes that first trimester where you’re not really showing and he gets to keep the two of you to himself and away from the rest of the world

—"sternly" tells the baby to stop kicking their mum (aka you lol)

—always has a protective arm around you while you two are out and about. was absolutely shocked by how many strangers would try and reach out and touch your stomach unprovoked once you started to pop. most of them were women, so the most he’d do was give them a hard look. still hated it though 🙄

—helps you make a checklist for your hospital bag + packs everything for you with military-like efficiency

—so so gentle when he holds his baby for the first time. he was never sure if he would get the chance to even be a father so it's quite emotional for him

random parenting moments

—your babies will have the largest vocabularies ever thanks to john, who refuses to use baby speak with his kids. instead, he speaks normally, as if the baby can understand him perfectly, and the results are pretty amusing

"love, did you move the almond butter?" john calls to you from downstairs.

"i swear i didn't!" you call back from upstairs, busy with your morning routine.

"hmph." he plants his hands on his hips, turning around, only to be met by the blinking stare of your infant daughter.

"darling, did you see your mother move the jar of almond butter?" he asks her, arms crossing over his chest.

*cue unintelligible-to-others-but-perfectly-understandable-to-john infant noises from the baby*

"bloody knew it. love, our daughter is saying you moved it. and she doesn't know how to lie yet, so i have no reason not to believe her."

—this man is so girl dad coded it's insane. but i'd like to think he'd have one son; he'd possibly be the middle or youngest kid

—you and the kids love to play "hide the bucket hat" from dad. price puts on his grumpy old man act but he secretly loves it because it always ends up with him chasing you guys until you all collapse in a laughing heap on the carpet

—constantly dropping bad dad jokes like he's paid to do it 😭 kids are always looking at him with a mixture of pity, disappointment, and mild annoyance

"dad, i'm hungry."

"why hello, hungry. my name's dad."

"no, your name is john.

"...how do you know that 😐"

alejandro vargas

during the pregnancy/delivery

—always showing you off to LITERALLY everyone, especially his family

—always finds a way to bring up the fact that your pregnant in every single conversation with a stranger lololol

—if you're the first one in ale's family to be pregnant (which you very well may be because i headcanon him as the oldest child in his family heehee) prepare to be spoiled by his siblings and the rest of his family. you have enough gifted clothes for your kid to wear an entirely different outfit every day for a year i'm not even kidding

—very protective, but not in a controlling concerning way. it’s more so seeing you visibly pregnant with a ring that he put on your finger that gets him all riled up

—was driving like an actual mad man to get you to the hospital when you woke him up in the middle of the night and told him your water broke (and by "driving like a mad man", i mean he forgot to use his blinkers and ran one singualr stop sign lmfao)

—first time he got to hold his baby it was absolutely love at first sight. gives you the most tender kiss on the forehead to say "thank you"

random parenting moments

—if you have all girls he is SUCH a girl dad. i think out of all the boys, he's the one that i can say would 100% have all daughters. he's playing princesses, doing hair for school, letting the girls experiment with makeup on him, all the works.

—and he absolutely doesn't let those "oh you're trapped in a house with all of those girls poor you!" comments slide. like at all.

—"not trapped, just lucky." he always says (before glaring at the person once they turn around)

—tries so hard not to curse in front of his girls but fails 💀 swear jar is always full

—the idea that your girls can do and be anything they want is drilled in from day one. naturally, this means that ale is the biggest sports dad EVER. he's at every recital, every game, every showcase, every scrimmage– you name it, he's there if he can make it. whenever he can't be there, he's always doing two mandatory facetimes; a pep talk before the game, and a debrief after

—one non-negotiable? self-defense. signed up each of his girls for self defense classes when they each started middle school

—not overprotective by any means. i mean, he can definitely be protective at times, but he knows his girls can handle themselves (you two raised them, after all).

—takes saving for their quinces as seriously as saving for their college funds (as he should)

—secretly a huge disney fan. he's watching all the disney princess movies, pretending like he's doing it for his daughters, but he's really doing it for himself hehe. still whisper-yells everytime he watches snow white eat the poison apple 💀

roldofo “rudy” parra

during the pregnancy/delivery

—is literally the most gentle person with you ever and it’s so sweet :(( always willing to massage out any knots you have in your shoulders or neck

—does all your pregnancy exercises with you (even though he’s not the one delivering the baby lol) just so you won’t feel alone :)

—always down to cook whatever cravings you desire (or run out to the nearest grocery store or gas station to get them)

—he's already a pretty touchy person but it's amplified times 10 during your pregnancy. he can't keeps his hands off of you, especially your stomach

—his abuela is always on back, asking you if he's taking good care of you and scolding him if she's sees you so much as lifting a plate by yourself 💀

—when your baby was born, he was quite sensitive to the noises of the hospital, getting fussy and crying a bit whenever he heard doors closing and loud beeps and such. you noticed however, that when rudy was holding him whenever this happened, he never shushed him to keep him quiet. he would simply rock your son back and forth, whispering quietly to him about whatever was on his mind until the newborn would calm down. just witnessing this alone solidified the fact that you'd basically picked the perfect man to be the father of your children.

random parenting moments

—carries his kids everywhere when they're young, even when they can walk. he just loves holding them :(

—incredibly rational, even in the face of conflict. when your kids get to be teenagers and get into typical teenage trouble and whatnot, he sits down with you first to break down what happened and what an appropriate response would be. not a fan of reacting on emotion (which teenagers can make very tempting to do) , which is always appreciated by both you and the kids

—i think he'd have the biggest family out of all the boys; i'm thinking 4 at the very least, with more girls than boys

—takes birthday party planning seriously, even when they're little and won't remember it all

—lovesss cooking with his babies. he gets ‘em those little kiddie knives that are safe to use and teaches them the proper technique and everything

—very frantic whenever one of them gets sick. even if it’s the mildest headache or a slight upset stomach, he just hates seeing any of them in pain

—drop-off duty warrior. has a whole system in place to get all the kids into the car on time and he’s literally never been late. it’s honestly very impressive

—vicks vapor rub is the solution to everything. sore throat? vapor rub. headache? vapor rub. bad day? vapor rub. broken leg? vapor rub (jk) (not really)

könig

during the pregnancy/delivery

—if you have mood swings, könig has to try his absolute hardest not to panic right along with you. he knows that your hormones are giving you a hard time right now, so he really wants to be your rock through all of it (however, if you start crying out of nowhere, he'll probably definitely start panicking)

—once you start showing, he likes talking to the baby in german to "give them a head start" (his words not mine)

—also good luck with that delivery babes because that's gonna be a 10 pounder at LEAST 😭 high probability you're getting a c-section

—if there's any complications, especially with a c-section, best believe any shred of social anxiety is disappearing and he's running on pure adrenaline when he yells at tells the medical staff in the room that he refuses to watch you and his child die here

—was so thankful you two were both okay that his hands were shaking a little when he cut the umbilical cord

—holds his kid like they're made of glass because he's so big that he fears hurting them :(

random parenting moments

—when the kids finally get to the toddler stage, he's pumped. they can run now, and he absolutely loves chasing them. also the kids love to treat their dad like a tree, climbing him and dangling off his arms like he's a human swing, which has given you a mild heart attack more than once 😭

—loves reading to them every night before bed

—i’m thinking two kids for him; either a boy and a girl or two girls

—big fan of doing doing arts and crafts with them (your house is constantly covered in scraps of construction paper)

—also loves taking the kids to a local fairground where they can go on a bunch of rides, pet some animals at the petting zoo, and play games. könig is usually too tall to ride the rides comfortably (rip), but he doesn't mind. as long as the kids are having fun, that's all that matters to him!

—yearly trips to visit his mom and grandma in austria are an absolute must

—kids are always clinging to him during the colder months because he just radiates heat

—his homemade remedy: soup! the kids absolutely love the different soups that he makes and it always seems to make them feel better whenever they're under the weather :)

#könig x reader #john price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #rudy parra x reader #cod headcanons #onestopfanficshop

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songsofadelaide · 6 months

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Promise ring

tw/cw: set in 2018, female reader, established relationship, fluff, slice of life, single dad geto with his teenage daughters, a proposal— you know that feeling when you want someone to stick around with you for life but you don't know how to say it? Geto was going through that lol wc: 778

Suguru was quick to toss the little box in the drawer of your bedside table when you walked in on him in your shared bedroom all of a sudden.

"Something up?" You asked him, curiously peering at his already empty hands. "Dinner will be ready in a bit."

"Cool, cool," he replied with a smile, trying not to show any hint of nervousness on his face. "I'll be there in a few, then."

That was close, he thought to himself with a small sigh. It was already enough that this wasn't the most romantic proposal. A home proposal was the farthest thing he had in mind when he finally decided that he wanted you in his life for good, even though you'd stay with him without asking for anything in return.

He envisioned a grander proposal with some wine and flowers, perhaps… But in between his work and taking care of Nanako and Mimiko, he hardly had enough time to think about anything else, let alone plan anything.

Suguru could ask his friends for help, but they'd surely end up botching the whole thing even before it started. That's how loose-lipped those menaces were, but they'd be elated by the occasion for sure.

When he opened the drawer to retrieve the ring he bought, he was surprised to find another ring box in there.

Oh. Wait, it can't be— But of course, it was panic and thoughts of the worst-case scenario that flooded his mind first, and even though it was against his good judgement, he brought out the older box first.

It was lighter as opposed to the weight of the engagement ring he chose, but what surprised him even more was the content of the box—

The remnants of a ring pop he bought for you— and it was like, what? Four years ago? You didn't even ask for one, but the girls wanted you to match with them…

It hits him all at once all of a sudden— to think that you had put up with his crazy life and antics and his two adopted daughters who already love you just as much— you clearly deserved better than this.

But nothing was more important than letting you know the soonest he could that he wanted to marry you. That he wanted you to be his wife, to be the mother of his children, to stay in his life for good—

"Suguru! Nana-chan and Mimi-chan have been waiting— H-Hey! Why d—" You poked your head in the door and nearly fell over when you saw what was in his hands. "Th-That's—!"

"From the first time we ever talked about marriage. I remember," he chuckled before eventually handing over the plastic ring to you. "Don't you think it's about time I made good on that promise?"

You must have gone through every emotion you could imagine when Suguru wordlessly pulled out the other ring box from your drawer and tenderly slid the silver band on your left ring finger.

And it fits perfectly. The twins did well on getting your ring size without you noticing at all!

"My life is… crazy as it is, and you're pretty much the only normal thing in it, but that's not bad, too, because that means I still have a little corner of normalcy where I can rest… Where I'm safe."

"Oh… Suguru, I…" You started, only for your lips to quiver into a small but sure smile. "I'd love to be part of your life for good, too."

A sigh of relief left his lips as he finally moved to cup your face and wipe away the hot tears filling the corners of your eyes. "I'm so glad…"

"Yay! Finally!"

The silence of the moment was cut short when Nanako burst into the room together, eyes sparkling as she cheered at her father's simple yet heartfelt proposal.

"Ah! The old man really got the princess cut!" She squealed in excitement as you showed her the ring with a teary smile. "So stylish!"

"I wouldn't have minded another ring pop, you know," you said with a laugh.

"As if we'd let his cheapskate ass do that!" The blonde girl stomped at the mere thought of their adoptive father proposing with another piece of candy. "Mimiko!"

And as if on cue, Mimiko entered the room with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in her arms. "Congratulations, papa and mama."

You couldn't say that you would have stayed even without any of their surprises, not with how happy they looked at that very moment. And how wonderful was it that you got to keep this happiness in your life for good as well?

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto fluff #geto smut #proposal fics always get me #i am dreaming of one myself

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totally-not-a-tickle-blog · 2 months

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I saw the requests for fics were open I just need to ask if it's ok to put one in and if it's ok to have an x reader even if platonic bc honestly I'm in a mood lol and I am craving LER ALASTOR idk why and I love your fics and you are a great writer

Author's note: EVERYTHING I NEEDED WAS AN IDEA AND WHEN YOU POSTED THAT ONE PROMPT I WENT

I KNOW WHAT I GOT TO DO NOW.

————————————————————————

"Good night"

Summary: You were struggling to sleep that night, so in defeat, decided to just give up and stay up all night. Sadly for you, Alastor didn't exactly approved your idea.

Warnings: Swearing.

————————————————————————

Bags under your eyes would appear if you didn't go to sleep, and you knew it pretty well. It sucks, really sucks, but laying down on your bed doing nothing and being unable to finally take a good night of sleep sucks the double of those two combined.

As much as the TV wasn't that entertaining, it was enough to keep you awake and slightly less bored.

3AM, still nothing. You took a nap on the couch, but then woke up again. Did you actually took a nap? Or did you brain just turned off? Not sure, not bothered enough to care.

But, suddenly, something else finally got your eyes off of the screen.

"And what are you doing down here so late?"

The sudden voice made you stop on your tracks, jump even, as it came right after hours of silence.

"Jesus fucking Christ Alastor, I almost had a heart attack!" You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. "I'm just watching TV."

Alastor looks to the TV with the corner of his eyes, squeezing them slightly to show his displeasure. "Those things can be quite unhealthy at this time, my dear. Why don't you just turn this off and go to sleep?"

"Because I don't wanna and I can't sleep." You didn't even wanted to sound abrupt, but your filters slowly disappear when you grow more and more tired.

"Now that's just rude." Replied, not offended at all but rather keeping this in his mind for later. "Can't sleep, you say? Well, I have a solution for that." He added with a confident grin.

"...does it include hitting my head onto a wall to knock me out or something?"

Alastor stared at you with a blank face, blinking a few times. "Two solutions."

You rolled your eyes and finally sat, raising an eyebrow. "What solution?"

Alastor lets out a snicker, and with a single snap of his fingers, both of you are back on your room. You fell on your bed a bit too aggressively, but it's not like he cares.

"We only need to get rid of that energy of yours. I'm sure it'll be as easy as pie, you're already almost falling asleep."

"Uh... okay... and what's your plan, exactly?"

Your question made him look at you mischievously, which startled you and already made you let your guard up.

"Alastor-"

But before you could react, something pinched your side right behind you. As you looked, it was one of Alastor's little creatures. Is that a little man? A doll? A little demon? A pet? Whatever this thing is, made you flinch with a single touch.

And just like Alastor could spawn one of those, getting more of them needed the exact same effort.

"What are those??"

"Oh, I never really gave them names, so call them whatever you want. They're also harmless."

Three of them surrounded you, poking your upperbody in different spots while giggling.

"H-Hey! Gehehet off!" They may be weird but also looked weirdly adorable, what made you hesitated on pushing them away. "Thehehey're tick-"

But you stopped yourself right away. It got the other demon's attention, since your fit of giggles was definitely not the cause of the sudden hold up.

"Did you just interrupted yourself?" He asked teasingly, leaning towards you with a more bratty smile.

"Whahahat?! Nohohoho!"

Alastor shrugged, throwing his staff lightly from one hand to another. "If that's the case, I must have misunderstood. After all, there's no reason for you to not say 'tickle'." His head turned back to you, curiously. "Correct?"

As they keep tickling you, you ended up falling on the bed, rolling back and fourth as a poor attempt to escape. "ShuhUHUHUT UP!"

The deer chuckled at your reaction to it. "Oh, I'm not the one who should! Your volume may wake up someone in the hotel."

"Thehehen STOHOP!"

Your words entered his ear and leaved the other, or even worse, didn't even entered in any at the first place, as everything he did was look at his nails.

"I can't, I already promised to help. It is getting you tired after all-"

"FUHUHUHUCK!!"

Your tone suddenly increased in a... huge volume. More than he expected, what startled the guy. Wanting or not, if anyone wakes up he'll end up getting in trouble aswell, so he's thinking twice about his plans.

However, something is off for him. Once you lay down, you didn't got up again nor tried to. It definitely isn't bothering you as much as it looks like, and this fact did not make it worse for himself. More likely to be the opposite, as an encouragement.

The inner conflict was agonizing to keep, and Alastor's eyes show that. With a sigh mixed with a humming, he snaps his fingers, finally sparing you from the shadows.

Your laughter slowly died down, and without realizing, your face shifts to one of disappointment.

"Hah... heh... what..?"

The taller one sits by your side, avoiding visual contact but, for some reason, not the physical one.

Before you could react, Alastor quickly recomposed himself, looking at you with a cheeky grin once again while his own hand touches your stomach.

"It is unfair for me to get punished because of your sensitivity, so I'll try something lighter this time."

The demon's fingers began to scratch, but not hurt, tickling you in a slow yet surprisingly effective way. You grabbed his wrist, but didn't have the courage to take it off as you knew it would come to an end if you did.

Your chuckles, snorts, cackles, any noises you would make, would spread the room as long as he wanted, and the silence would only return once you're finally asleep.

#tickling #tickle #tickle community #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #ler!alastor #lee!reader

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

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Someone who for whatever reason wants to get eaten by Vorticia and so goes to the gluttony ring hoping to find her. They by some miracle get to interact with her but when they beg her to eat them she’s like “lol no,” because it turns out they’re her match

[This is fucking hilarious. Fem reader.]

TW: Macro/micro themes; Vore.

Tightly tied to a chair, you can hear them talk behind the kitchen doors.

" You're telling me you just found this one trying to break into the premises?! " The short imp you've only caught glimpses of so far sounds exasperated.

" Yes... " The much taller demon with a dark mane replies. " She wasn't very successful, but I'm fairly certain her goal was to get caught. "

" And she said she wants to get eaten. " It's not even a question.

" By mother. Specifically her. "

There's a beat of silence.

" Vorago. You can't expect me to present a fetishist to your mother. That is ridicu- "

" Is it? I would much prefer if my meals walked directly into the plate. " The prince counters. " You're doing the poor thing a favor. I've advocated for this in the past as well, think about the time and resources we could spare during ceremonies if we take in people just like her. "

" My prince- "

" Do you like chasing after them, dad? Do you enjoy spending money on increasingly expensive hunting services? "

Dad?! That little imp? Imp-ressive.

" No, but we can't just- "

" Then give this a shot, perhaps it'll open your eyes to more sustainable alternatives. "

An unmistakable defeated sigh rings out. " ... Fine. "

You smile silently, happy that the tusked high-ranker who caught you managed to get your dream to come true. For such a scary-looking guy, he's actually not that bad.

When the doors part, your head snaps towards the curly-horned imp. They spare you a skeptical glance.

" It looks like you're getting what you want after all. "

" Yes! " The cheer is immediate and juvenile, met with a grimace.

" ... Right. " They're clearly uncomfortable. " Undress please. "

Words cannot describe how wildly your heart is beating within your ribcage.

You've been dreaming of this day ever since you discovered the nuances of your sexuality. Queen Vorticia is the most gorgeous, regal, seductive demoness to ever slither upon this galaxy and to feel the caress of her tongue would bring you to a level so beyond Nirvana that you have to contain a freakish noise of delight just thinking about it. Not that it would have escaped very fair, with the strange fruit crammed in your mouth- It's starting to hurt your jaw a little actually...

Yes, you're not the most normal of humans, but that hardly matters now.

The cart you're laid upon is wheeled towards what you assume must be the main dining hall of Gluttony's mansion. The pace is slow, the imps in charge of transporting you dare not displace a single element of your large plate's design. See, upon hearing about your situation through the curly-horned imp, the chefs present decided that it would only be fitting if you got properly and excellently decorated for the occasion.

A few of them sympathized with your situation. Few things are as romantic as loving someone so much that you would like to become a part of them, be consumed by them. One of the girls was a bit emotional hearing you talk so sweetly about the Queen. All in all, you feel lucky to have gotten this far so smoothly.

A noise from beyond crashes your train of thought.

A crash. Hissing.

The imps pushing your cart whimper and look at each other fearfully.

Ah, a tempestuous mood. You wonder what has the Queen like that.

Your chaperones slow down even more, and if you could, you'd stomp your foot on the cart to make them hurry up. You're not about to be left stranded in this hall because these cowards are doubting their life's decisions.

Finally, oh finally, you can see the tall, intricately carved doors to the dinning hall. The last room you'll ever be in, if all goes according to plan. The realization breeds a heavy feeling that causes shortness of breath in you, but for some odd reason, you have no second thoughts about any of this. More servants stand stationary, guarding the doors.

At the sight of your cart approaching, said guards hurriedly open the doors much taller than themselves, seeming frantic in the way they hurry everyone inside.

You have to strain your neck to get a good look at the scenery.

Tones of orange, red and gold shower the room, it's large enough to be mistaken for some kind of bombastic ball room- But you've done a bit of research, and you know the dinning areas are the real focus of the Gluttonous Household.

Little does it all matter. You can't bring yourself to focus on anything other than the absolutely gigantic scaled woman currently seated at a massive, tall table. Her sandy yellow scales glimmer under the jeweled chandelier's light, everything from the twin-tipped tail that lounges across the room to her drooping black robe and pupils nearly as sharp as her eyes make you want to swoon, toes curling in delight.

Queen Vorticia reaches down below, you get to watch the demoness grab a flailing, kicking man by the ankles. He's muffled just as you are, but a lot more bruised and roughed up, trying his damndest to scream past an unforgiving muffler. He knows what will happen to him the moment he's raised in the air, as do you. And there's nothing he can do but close his eyes and accept his fate when the bottomless pit that is the Queen's maw stares back.

One second of mind-numbing anticipation is all it takes, then he's gone. Dropped. Her jaw clamping the second the man was submerged. Hardly a lump forms in the column of her long throat before it's over. With neither a scream nor a whimper, his doom arrives. The Queen however, looks unsatisfied. It's almost as if she didn't even eat anything to begin with, frowning at the wall pensively.

Until the platter that man was in goes flying across the room and nearly rips a chunk out of the wall. It was so fast you barely saw the flash of gold before your human eyes.

Two of the imps escorting you scurry beneath the cart for safety.

" I trussst you've brought me ssomething worthh my time? " Her voice finally rings through.

" Y- Yes, your Majesty! " One of them is brave enough to squeak, rattling the cart and everything on it as he pulls it forward, the others sticking to the back.

You can kind of understand them. Vorticia could easily swipe a hand down and capture two or three of these imps as an appetizer.

" Then hurry! Do you wisshh me to starve here?! "

A slam of a powerful fist causes the ground to quake.

" Never, my Queen! "

In a blink, your platter not only lifted off the cart but rushed onto the table, quickly turned and pushed to be in front of the demonlord herself. You almost get dizzy from all the jostling, and as your vision settles, you see the Queen wordlessly wave before scrambling steps follow. The servants nearly trample each other to leave the room alive.

You don't even look their way.

You can only bore holes into the gorgeous woman before you.

Vorticia raises a brow ridge, humming.

When a single claw descends, you imagine she'll slice your skin, peel you like an apple or go for your innards first. Instead, she stabs a tomato next to your waist and brings it to her lips, tongue roping it inside in a blink.

You're sure she can hear your poor heart thunder in its fickle confines.

" You mussst be the human they mentioned earlier. "

You blink.

" Pretty thhhing, wantss to be my dinner... " She nearly purrs, making something stir low in your belly.

At the way you attempt to frantically nod, she actually cracks a smile, incredulous. Although the hunger you've always yearned for resides in her thin eyes, there's also a hint of genuine curiosity you wouldn't typically see in the gaze of such a predator.

" Hmph. Well I hardly buy it. "

" MmMMF! " Even if you had something eloquent to counter with, muffled grunts are all you manage.

" Don't mumble, it'sss rude. "

She begins flirting with the decorations on your platter again. Every single time, you study the movements of her calloused, scaled hands as they move, waiting for the cut that never comes, the grip that never follows, she simply steals bits and pieces of vegetables and frivolous dressing. You're almost offended for a second. But... The anticipation is actually causing some curious effects in you.

In a way, every single time her claws scheme the platter, brushing over the bare skin of your legs and tickling your sides briefly before retreating with a slice of fruit or veggie, she's playing with you. Having her fun, as both an apex predator and a teasing mistress. Fear mingles with sparks of arousal you've poorly contained thus far, creating a fire that has you sweating under her serpentine gaze.

" You're almossst too cute to eat. " She chuckles eventually. Something wooshes nearby, it takes you a moment to notice it's her large tail.

You notice, rather belatedly, that there's no one else in the room but you and Vorticia, and a suspenseful quiet has fallen between you. You could not have asked for a better environment. It feels as if you're both sharing a very intimate, sacred moment.

The next time her hand dips, instead of skirting around the main course, she tip taps her way up your trembling figure and circles a long claw under the swell of your breast, watching you shiver attentively before edging the decorative leaf covering it. A more than pert nipple catches on her sharp extremity, and she uses a thumb to flick it idly, casually, head tilting at the way you squirm and exhale through your nostrils.

Your other breast is easily uncovered as well. The Queen betrays nothing in her expression when she grabs a piece of bread and soaks it in the condiment that coats your skin, dragging it upwards, swirling it around one of your tits before eagerly devouring it.

This is repeated enough times to drive you a little stupid with want, groaning miserably when she merely teases your tits and continues to torture you with featherlite caresses.

The sweet torture continues when she takes care of the rolls covering your spread legs, watching the shameful state you're in become more and more noticeable. Your cunt flutters beneath her mere stare.

" Ssstrange, I've yet to cut you, and you're already dripping. "

You'd shake your head in denial if you weren't able to feel your own soaked folds right now.

She has the mind-numbingly erotic audacity to grab another useless vegetable decoration and generously coat it in your wetness. The rounded tip of whatever she's pressing against your womanhood bumps your clit. She swirls it intentionally, tapping it down and circling the nub with enough pressure that you strain against your binds and whine behind the gag, wanting to beg her for more yet only drooling pointlessly.

She makes a noise like an amused snort, and when you toss your head back, you can hear her practically slurp the thing for all the flavor it has, her thumb replacing the vegetable and leisurely keeping you stimulated.

When you're able to look back, her pupils have blown wide, the black nearly drowning her acidic sclera.

" To thhhink that, ssomehow, suchh a preciouss gift would fall upon my table... Withhout notice... "

Even if you're loving the attention, heating up like a small fire -Probably enough to cook the ingredients around you- You could never have guessed the Queen would take such an intense liking to you. It feels like a dream.

" Do you wisssh to be eaten, my sssweet morssel? " She curves, shadowing you, strings of drool falling onto your neck and chest.

Her hues acquire a nearly hypnotizing quality, prohibiting you from glancing away while she toys with you. All you can respond with is frantic, vapid nodding while you grind yourself down on her finger like a mutt.

" Truly? "

" MMMhmnn!! "

Not even the gag could have curbed that whorish bleating.

" Then I will. " Vorticia grins wide enough to crinkle the edges of her eyes. " Tonight. In my chambersss. Your wissh comess true, in a way. "

You're not given enough time to rationalize anything before her touch vanishes, leaving you cold and miserable. The snaps of the Queen's fingers attract the same imp you met when this all began.

They look at you with a mixture of confusion and mild caution. " You called, Highness? "

" Yess. Run a bathh for me and my Queen to be. "

He coughs and chokes.

When your head snaps to Queen Vorticia, you find no hint of mockery on her face.

You're fairly certain one of the sauces you were doused in must be causing you to hallucinate...

#Vorticia oc #monster girlfriend #minors dni #terato tag #monsterfucker #not sfw

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erosuguru · 11 months

Text

Hidden Bride

Sae itoshi x reader, royalty x commoner marriage au, characters are 18+, Sae is a little ooc, reader is female, Shidou being gross cameo, reader has a considerably younger sibling, approx 2287 words

CW: none, maybe very VERY slightly suggestive towards the end? No proof reading

Note: I’m so sleepy waaa blew off studying to finish this lol sobs, not super proud of this but I was gonna explode if I didn’t write prince Sae related thingy so enjoy !!

news spread like wildfire in the kingdom when the Royal family announced their oldest son was looking for a bride, everyone had assumed that Prince Sae would marry a woman of similar status however he had refused any offers and suggestions of who he should marry and insisted that he would choose the woman who would become his bride.

His parents tried talking him out of it, they introduced him to a wide selection of women who were of age to marry and yet Sae didn’t spare them a glance, most girls were either after his family’s wealth and status or they had fallen for his mysterious nature without actually knowing a lick of information about him to which he found pathetic. No matter who was presented, he would be filled with irritation and would discard the suggestions with a disgusted frown.

Sae’s denials echoed in the palace hallways to anyone who dared mention the topic to him, insisting that if he’ll marry a woman then he’ll make sure she’s worthy of him and not just because of the coincidental similarity of their blood being royal.

No one knew what method he would go about for choosing a bride, his routine consisted of finishing his daily responsibilities and he would head out with a single guard (a hand-picked guard he decided was fitting to stand with him after monitoring a training session, although he could do without his blabbering and lewd comments), the guard had told him his full name but he’d only caught ‘Shidou’, not caring enough to remember his full name.

For weeks, Sae would follow his usual pattern of searching: walk around the marketplace, study the civilians who would sell, purchase or just peruse and then go home unsatisfied. His search would be unsuccessful every time he went left, no one displayed behavior that promised an obedient queen, all he saw was nonchalant faces or slack-jawed surprised expressions at his presence, as if his people couldn’t believe he’s a real person and not an unreachable deity of some sort.

Every time he returned to the palace, Everyone around him nagged him that he can’t just stare at civilians and hope to magically find a bride, to which he’d always reply: “as if you have the capacity to understand”, these advisors, his parents, no one understood the vitality of the issue. He believed his parents’ marriage was sheer luck, that their marriage and the fact that they loved each other was the outcome of some bored wager made by fate. As for his advisors, what do they know anyway? They were all old men that cupid himself would be repulsed by, either divorced or destined to die alone.

The one time he leaves palace walls to unwind in the fields beyond the town borders he finally saw a chance of ending these foolish theatrics of bride hunting.

Sae walked down the path trying to think of his current options, either continue his needle-in-a-haystack search for a bride or accept some air-headed rich girl. His main goal out of wedlock was to simply produce an heir and mold them to perfection, he figured he should be able to find a tolerable lover to make this burden less bothersome.

before his mind could even reach a conclusion, he felt something hit his back, he froze in confusion and slowly turned to find… a child? with what he assumed was an angry face, the child’s attire seemed to imply it was from one of those families that preferred to stay on the outskirts of the territories for god knows what reason, the fabric and cut looked different than the ones civilians would wear deeper in the town. A wooden carved toy was on the ground near him, so that’s what hit him.

“Go back to your dumb palace, royal scom!”

‘Scom’? …Did it mean to say ‘scum’? Sae’s guard, Shidou who had been quietly following behind him approached the child with an irritated expression telling him to back off, he was almost tempted to stop his guard to see what this child was raving on about.

Sae knew there were people who opposed the ruling family but he hadn’t known that the influence would reach kids like this, how did this child even recognize him? Before anything could escalate, he saw another figure approach

The figure looked to be near Sae’s age, their features and clothes matched the child’s save for the fact that her features were more feminine and her outfit was best described as a common everyday dress, one that a family with decent savings would give their daughter. He watched her hold the child’s hand and reprimand them softly yet sternly, at least that’s what he assumed from her expression and whatever words his ears had caught

“Where did you go?! You know better than to run off!”

“But he was-“

“No buts! You’re in big trouble! Do you know who this is..?!”

Her voice was laced with concern, she didn’t have the cruelty to be angry at a child for their simple curiosity yet she couldn’t let this child frolic away from the situation without proper lecturing. Sae stopped his over-analyzing as his eyes met hers, Shidou moved forward.

“Listen missy, get that kid of yours on a leash! Or else-“

“Shidou, back off.”

The prince stepped forward, he approached the girl and as he did, the child lifted their small fists as if ready to fight, the girl immediately ushered the child behind her legs stuttering excuses.

“Its.. an honor to be in your presence like this, your royal highness! I apologize for my sibling’s behavior- they’re very wary of strangers.“

‘Sibling’? So this isn’t her child, Sae assumed that she was unmarried then as usually commoner families children would not be married off at this age, unlike royal families that rushed to build family trees and secure heirs.

“What is your name, maiden?” He examined her as he spoke, she acted like a cornered wild animal, worried that she and her sibling would receive punishment for the child’s careless words. She responded with her name.

“I see, I’d like to have a word with your parents.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your parents wouldn’t believe you if you told them the prince himself was in the fields outside town, its a good thing he’d insisted.

Your mother pulled you aside to help prepare a meal for the prince even after he assured he wasn’t hungry, you could hear your father try to interrogate him discreetly and Sae replied smoothly to everything he threw at him. You could feel Sae’s calculative stare as you tried keeping busy assisting your mother at preparing the meal.

You were called over by your father, you mentally thanked the gods for their discussion ending, you could not have prepared yourself mentally enough.

“Your daughter possesses the proper attributes to be my wife, I will be marrying her.” the prince’s utterance sounded more like a command rather than a question.

Your heart fell to your stomach, immediately a look of shock was evident on your features, Sae didn’t know whether to laugh or awe at it. Your father had a look that did not hide the murderous intent, he wanted you to hear this directly from the supposed ‘honorable prince’.

After your parents took a moment to discuss this seriously, the prince waited outside your home ignoring his guard’s rambling about you. Your family decided to allow you to choose, they didn’t want to throw you to the prince however they were worried about what would happen if they denied him a bride.

You thought about how this position as the prince’s bride would help you help your family directly, at least you would be able to live in the town instead of making those exhausting back and forth trips, even if the prince would move the small home you lived into town as it is you would be happy.

Opening the front door after your parents had a tearful last discussion with you, the prince turned away from his guard.

“And I’m telling you- those hips? perfect for-“

“Shut your mouth, horny demon.”

The prince swiftly silenced the guard, you suspected what they were talking about given the smug look on the guard’s face but decided against thinking about it. The prince approached you, waiting for your answer.

“Well, maiden? What is your answer?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You felt out of place, like a doll made of wood among porcelain figures, Sae had hired trainers and tutors for anything and everything he deemed necessary for you to learn as his wife. An etiquette consultant for dinners, dancing instructor for balls, to top your busy days off the tailor regularly visited you in your quarters to drop off dresses and such you were expected to wear around your husband or in the ‘comfort’ of your new home.

The change was exhausting to deal with and even now, a month after the overly extravagant wedding, you found yourself struggling to keep up with Sae’s expectations although he seemed lenient enough towards you.

Speaking of your husband, he rarely showed you any affection at all. he had small ways of showing you he did care but it takes a sharp eye to notice.

on your wedding day Sae kept his hand over your shaking one as a silent way to comfort you, in a moment of privacy during the wedding he had whispered to you lowly and smoothly as if you were an antique fragile doll: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you”

he would reprimand your instructors if he received word of them being cruel to you, Sae was usually calm and collected but you had wondered what happened for your ballroom instructor to apologize so earnestly to you the next time you had a lesson.

The last thing you can think of that reminded you of Sae’s genuine feelings was his cool gaze, if his eyes were to sweep a room and briefly stop at you- you could feel it. an enveloping feeling overwhelms you whenever he stared at you, even if you were in your deepest sleep you could feel it. You never felt threatened or scared of his observance; it made you feel safe in this foreign setting, as if a constant reminder of your wedding day.

Another day in this royal hell has been completed, you recently bid farewell to your tailor who had dropped off the final batch of clothes for you, the newest garments were nightgowns soft to the touch made of the smoothest silk Sae could find. as you examined one of the many nightgowns you felt flustered at how revealing they are, some were translucent others were a bit short- you had no idea how royals were able to indulge in these.

You heard the room door open and close, turning away from the clothes you saw your husband removing his baroque-patterned vest allowing his white shirt to flow off his chest, you heard him putting away the vest while you were putting away the nightgowns and that familiar feeling would wash over you; he was examining you.

The room was quiet and you could hear him slowly approach, Sae took his sweet time examining the view, you looked adorably clueless trying to act oblivious to his movements until he settled his hands on your shoulders. He had to hold back a smile at the way you squirmed at the feeling of his cold hands contact your skin.

“They look lovely,” he muttered, looming over you to examine the clothes. He leaned down to your ear as if to coax you out of your shyness that you harbored so closely when you were around him “would you like to wear this for the night?”

“.. Are you sure? Is it not too revealing..?”

“Nonsense, you’re my wife and I am your husband, I would love to see you in any and all appearances.”

His suggestion made you more flustered than you already were and yet for some reason you found yourself nodding slowly, he took the liberty to help you out of your dress unable to keep his eyes from wandering across any newly exposed parts of your body. He found you divine, a hidden gem in this cave of boring rocks who weren’t even worth a second glance.

You knew your place, he loved that about you, you kept your head down when you needed but you weren’t completely submissive to the point of being pushed around easily by equals.

Removing the dress fully, he took this chance to glide one hand down from your shoulder to your arm and slipping to your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he let out a sigh that made your heart quicken.

“You’re radiant, whether fully dressed or completely bare.”

The nightgown he chose from the collection showed off your shoulders, he landed a kiss onto your exposed shoulder, his hold on your waist returning after he’d helped you slip on the silk comfortably. This is the first time he’s been this openly affectionate with you, the stress of his search and the relief of finding a bride were the only two things he could think about right now.

He kissed at your neck, featherlight kisses tickling your skin as he resisted the urge to continue, he didn’t want to force you into intimacy so early into your marriage as to not scare you off. he snapped out of his lustful haze when he felt your hands settle over his that were around your waist as if to assure him that you’re here, his bride, his queen.

This night would bestow another sound slumber to the newlyweds.

#sae itoshi #itoshi sae #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you

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makeste · 5 months

Text

BnHA Chapter 408: Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain

Previously on BnHA: HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi decides he’s going to cover the rest of the AFO/OFA saga in the span of just seven pages, the majority of which are mostly just filled with lovingly detailed closeups of AFO and Kudou’s eyes. Back in the present day, Kid For One takes a couple of seconds to trample the last of the “Kacchan is OFA II or is related to OFA II” theories into the dust, and is then all “fuck it, I’ll just take him out with one last spectacularly grotesque supermove.” Kacchan is all “lol you fucking dipshit”, and he says it with such confidence that it truly makes me believe he can defeat AFO’s “ALL THE QUIRKS EVER!!” attack with his piddly little exploding bloodsweat quirk. AND IT WILL BE A SIGHT TO SEE.

interesting!

Yoichi’s name btw is written with the kanji 与 which means “bestow” or “give”, and 一 which means “one.” so basically “one who gives”, which is fitting as the creator of OFA, but also fits in with this new context of being the first “possession” bestowed upon AFO

oh yes and also AFO I guess has just torn his brother to shreds or something too. idk. I’m going to be honest with you guys, this panel has such a surreal vibe that I just sat here blinking stupidly at it and wasn’t even shocked or anything. like what. is he dreaming this?? or did he really just make a “STOP! IN THE NAAAAME OF LOVE” gesture and in doing so remove half of his brother’s jaw

ewww

idk what’s wrong with me today guys. AFO just disintegrated Yoichi, and Kudou and and OFA Tres (who apparently still doesn’t have a name???? freaking Kudou got named before you??) are literally RIGHT THERE and presumably horrified, and all I can think about is how fucking gross it is that they’re all hanging out in a fucking sewer

oh shit y’all it’s about to go down

he can’t kill Kudou right off the bat can he? does Kudou even know he has OFA yet? are we going to see him transfer it to OFA III? I’m so fucking excited omg

LOL WHAT

“weirdly matte” omg. so apparently he’s like All Might, where the “he’s just drawn differently” thing is something people actually acknowledge in-story. “yeah he actually has no pupils. that’s a real thing. technically that should mean he can’t see since pupils are what let light into your eyes, but don’t worry about that part. just know that his eyes canonically look weird to the story people as well, and everyone is creeped out by it, not just you”

yeah he’s actually blind

so he literally can’t see outside himself. way to lay those metaphors on thick, Horikoshi

(ETA: this is my “just in case my impeccably dry wit doesn’t translate well across the internet” ETA to assure everyone I know he’s not actually blind lol.)

now we’re cutting to some random city where AFO is broodingly staring at Yoichi’s severed hand because he’s perfected the art of always doing incredibly unsettling things

I cannot believe the fucking hands thing has an actual origin story. of course it does. this man has never done a single hinged thing in his life. it’s all unhinged or bust. am I talking about AFO or Horikoshi? YOU DECIDE

he’s sitting at a table with a bottle of wine holding his dead brother’s embalmed severed limb and thinking about fucking quirk shit

so your transformation from Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain happened almost completely offscreen huh. I’m kinda disappointed, ngl. I could have read a few more chapters about that. maybe a spinoff miniseries

WAIT WHAT

are you serious. we finally get a panel that’s INCREDIBLY RELEVANT to pretty much ALL OF MY BNHA THEORIES, only for that same panel to contradict itself ONE SPEECH BUBBLE LATER?? so what is the truth???

omg omg omg

so many fucking questions, omg. what the hell does “through research” even mean. how did he confirm Yoichi’s quirklessness, and why did he later change his mind? how the fuck can Yoichi have a quirk factor and yet not have an actual quirk. “it was just so weak it didn’t count or something I guess” okay??? how much of this is unreliable narrator vs. the word of god? how is it we’re getting so many answers and yet all I have is more fucking questions you guys

BRUE?CE?CEE??!

bruce

Kudou is so goddamned hot. I hope you washed the hell out of that arm wound after getting it all covered in sewage you stupid sexy man

I can’t get over Three’s name. “idk if anyone noticed, but it’s kind of a subtle homage to another very famous superhero” Horikoshi your nap wasn’t long enough, please go home

also love how Bruce is talking shit about OFA being a puny loser quirk for wimps. how the fuck do they even know what’s going on, anyway? was there a tutorial???

oh you just had a feeling huh??? that it was “something like this”, huh??? how is it that I, who knows all about OFA because I’m from the future and have read 408 chapters of this nonsense, am somehow still less in the know than this handsome clown who doesn’t know shit but just “had a feeling”

(ETA: while editing this post I noted that Bruce is sitting in front of a computer in what seems to be some sort of medical lab, so maybe they ran some tests or something? except that only makes me more confused, because it implies they didn’t actually figure out OFA’s workings via convenient plot instincts. so then how the fuck did they figure out the transfer process?? questions)

meanwhile AFO is sitting in the panel next to him whining about how someone stole Yoichi’s quirk. excuse you. he did not steal it. it was in fact a gift

these flashbacks are all jumbled up and it’s unexpectedly fun to read, but also really chaotic

I guess he’s talking to Kudou on the right and AFO on the left

so many intense closeups of eyes in this chapter oh my goodness

Horikoshi even drew the individual goddamn eyelashes. this looks like the margins of someone’s notebook from when they were really bored in middle school

oh my god the information overload!!!

so much for AFO actually feeling emotions lol. or is he just lying to himself about why he cried. that delicious ambiguity

so we don’t even get a flashback explaining how the transfer actually happened?? to either Kudou OR my beloved Bruce?? goddamn you Horikoshi. omg I would seriously kill for more of this. make a movie about it. I want the OFA origin story prequel movie damn it

I like how AFO just sits there on a throne holding court with a single tiki torch beside him for aesthetic reasons

I can’t quite figure out how he killed Banjou and I’m not sure I really want to know. it looks very violent

friendly reminder that Shinomori is Sir Not Appearing In This Flashback because he’s the only OFA user who died of natural causes! good for you Shinomori. En probably wishes he was more like you

poor En

was Nana just taking a stroll or something one day and stumbled across this epic fight with the evilest man on the planet vs some kid in a trenchcoat, and then the poor kid got bisected and he looked at her and he was all “please eat my hair” and she was just like “ok”?

OH WOW

what a transition omg

LOLLLLLLLL

you know, part of me always wondered how All Might was so certain he’d killed AFO that he apparently never bothered to confirm it. but looking at this panel now, I can understand

fjjfdzjgf

he’s sweating so much. like “okay yeah he punched the top of his face off, this is pretty bad but I’LL DO MY BEST”

BACK TO THE PRESENT DAY AWW SHUCKS

so let’s recap. over on Kacchan’s side we have “GOTTA USE THE PAIN TO WIN!!!” haha ouch. and then over here on KFO’s side we have. whatever the fuck we just experienced over these past two chapters. so basically it’s a battle between the two most deranged characters in the entire series. glorious sweet chaos

DSFJKSLDKGJL he’s now trying to figure out how the fuck they look so much alike and whether they’re actually related

“no, that can’t be it. so then maybe... this kid grows up and then somehow travels back in time...?!” HE’S JUST LIKE US FR

so now he’s saying it’s because Kacchan didn’t have character development yet the last time, but now that he does his eyes are all Full Of Determination just like Kudou’s and so we’ve basically come full circle!

transcended WHAT? :O :D :D omg I’m kidding you guys please don’t hurt me

lol

actually the more we learn about Kudou the less I personally see the resemblance now lol. because Kudou seems so calm and collected, but Kacchan is just... [gestures to literally everything about Kacchan]

so AFO’s trying to strategize, but he can’t warp Kacchan away because the only available targets are too close and he’s still got that SUPERSPEED, BOYO so it wouldn’t make a difference. lol but if you kept doing it repeatedly it might be kind of funny though

and he can’t keep fighting him either because he’s getting his ass whooped and it’s speeding up his de-aging or whatever. well you could just give up then I guess. your call, AFO

oh was that your plan?

spoiler alert for me lol. but it’s not exactly shocking or anything since he’s dying, guess he wants to abandon ship

(ETA: just FYI for anyone reading this who’s not familiar with my dumbassery, I have currently only read chapters 1 through 374 at this point in time, before skipping ahead to 403 because Kacchan came back and I lost all willpower. I am working on catching up with the rest!)

oh so now you did come up with a strategy?

lmao what the FUCK

how much of this is going to be clearer to me once I finish the chapters that I missed, and how much of it is just plain old “nope this is all brand new zero-context BnHA bullshit” lol. this looks like every single quirk AFO ever absorbed combined into one gigantic horrifying blob that forced Horikoshi to take an extra week just to draw it

oh my god!?

Kacchan hovering there bravely facing all this is giving me Gandalf “you shall not pass” vibes and I’m LIVING FOR IT

so either AFO is going to kill Kacchan for the second time right here and now, or he’s going to fail and turn back into a squishy evil baby fdslfjkls

love how All Might is all “DODGE IT YOUNG BAKUGOU!” thanks for the warning, champ. doing his part

more exploding bloodsweat closeups. are these just going to be a mainstay of Kacchan fights from now on

“are you stupid?”, when faced with [gestures to the entirety of the previous page], is possibly the best line ever uttered by anyone in the series. even better than the polite “coming through” uttered only seconds before it

ah man. you love to see it. he literally doesn’t even care. HE ALREADY DIED ONCE TODAY, AND IT CLUED HIM IN TO THE FACT THAT HE’S A MAIN CHARACTER AND ACTUALLY IMMUNE TO DEATH. sorry AFO it’s curtains for you. CURTAINS

#bnha 408 #all for one #bakugou katsuki #ofa the second #kudou (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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iraprince · 2 months

Note

do u have any advice for those that want to run a quest?

it feels a LEETLE silly answering this when all my own are currently on hiatus bc i got busy (SORRY TO CALLIST0 READERS LOL) BUT!!! yes i do. i have only ever run quests/interactive comics on the site questden, so i guess as a baseline this will kind of all be geared towards that, but i think most of this should translate to any hosting situation

you have to be cool with your plots branching and mutating in unexpected ways, and you have to be willing to play ball with your readers. quests are a collaboration between the author and the audience. it often feels a lot like gming a tabletop campaign (and that's the origin!! questden, specifically, was originally an offshoot of /tg/.) -- we've all had or heard about bad GMs who view their position as that of a narrative dictator who exists to punish and prod a captive group of players thru their own personal novel, but a good GM is interested in telling stories as a group. u have final say and have to stay true to the important stuff abt ur story, but if u get mad or frustrated when ur readers want to explore something "off topic" or aren't following the threads of ur narrative the way u expected them to, u don't actually want to run a quest, u just want to make a webcomic w mandatory comments. (the flip side of this is: consider if the story u want to make is the right one for an interactive quest. if it is REALLY important to u that the plot beats of a story go a certain way, maybe save it for a medium where u have more control!)

keep it loose and fast. the art does not matter. i am rly guilty of not following this one, but i still think it's really important! one of the things i like best about quests is the barrier to entry is very low and you SHOULD be able to start and maintain one very quickly. if i were better at keeping my art scrabbly and sketchy and loose, my stuff would not go on hiatus as often as it does. draw fast! it's NICE if the art is gorgeous to look at and definitely will draw readers, but it's way better if the art is simple enough that you can update frequently and without much stress. the quality of ur writing + character building, and whether u are telling a story that's engaging and that ur readers feel meaningfully involved in, is 100000x more important than the art.

on the more nitty gritty side: try to have a hook in each update. one of the most common reasons suggestions die off is readers being unsure of what they're supposed to do next. sure, too much spoonfeeding could end up feeling like railroading, and you don't have to end every single update by getting right in their faces and yelling "WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT??", but when you finish an update try to take a second to put yourself in a reader's shoes and see if there's an obvious next step. is there a course of action to decide on/debate, are there clear questions they can ask an npc, etc -- i can't think of a great way to describe it, but you want to avoid ending an update on a note where the player character and readers are basically sitting there looking at each other like "um... okay. that's that, then." some ppl even just end all their updates w multiple choice options, which is a super simple way to keep things moving if it fits the style of what ur doing. if you don't want it to be that overt but you still can't think of a way for there to be a clear hook, you can at least try to leave a little nudge in the narration that invites the readers to try to tie whatever they've just done/learned back into the pc's main goals/motivations or current tasks. (on this subject, VERY useful for your main character to have a very specific goal or end destination that everyone is on the same page abt. it's harder for your plot to lose momentum if you can always point at what your readers are supposed to be moving toward!)

finally: KEEP UPDATING EVEN IF YOU GET VERY FEW/NO SUGGESTIONS. it's a niche genre. questden is a small website. it's hard to get people to read something new, especially if it's in a new and unfamiliar format (and especially especially when it's on a website that looks like a chanboard lmao). picking up readers takes a long time, and a lot of people lurk without suggesting (ESPECIALLY if it's a difficult/plot-important decision, and also especially in the opposite, if it's a very obvious next step and someone else has already commented what most ppl would say). it's very tempting to want to wait for more suggestions bc u "only" have one or two, and then that wait becomes stagnation, and then you're frustrated and u end up dropping the quest bc "nobody cares." instead u just have to push thru!!!! u only have two suggestions and u wish u had more? maybe next update u'll get more. u have NO suggestions and u feel like that means ur quest is dead in the water? NOPE! the solution is to update again, bc maybe ppl with latch on more and have something to say in the next scene. the more u update ur quest, the more u'll be able to talk abt it (and maybe get more readers), and specifically in the case of questden the more ur thread will be bumped to the front page. think abt how many times you've seen ppl talking abt a webcomic or a book and thought "i need to check that out eventually...." but it takes months for you to actually do it. 99.9999% of the time, ppl need to see something MULTIPLE TIMES before they check it out!! most readers do not come from clicking something the very first time they see it!! i know it can feel lonely and discouraging, but u owe it to ur art and the stories u want to tell to keep trying, even if engagement is very low at first, otherwise you're killing it before it's even had a chance. like, get shameless about it. ask your buddies to comment on your quest. but give that horse a few really good whacks before you decide it's dead!! i think that's my main thoughts. if you have any more specific questions i'm happy to help if i can! but also i think you'll learn the most by just jumping in and fucking around. quests are easy to pick up and easy to drop, and imo do really well as a playground where u test different ways to draw and tell stories, so might as well just get messy.

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heartcereql · 10 months

Text

blue jeans

☆ neteyam sully x fem!na’vi! reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- even now that your relationship has forever changed, neteyam can’t help his desires of a better life for the two of you.

𝐂𝐖 - minor angst, domestic, pregnancy themes, english is not my first language lol, aged up characters (like 20)

𝐀/𝐍 - classes are over omg (relieved and nostalgic at the same time)

mo’at knew way before the single thought of it even crossed your mind. the silent signals your body gave couldn’t have gone unnoticed by someone of her experience. mo’at had considered the idea of blatantly confronting you about it, but she decided to wait and observe. yet, seeing as you remained oblivious, she finally chose to tell you.

“isn’t this paste too thick?” you asked the elder woman. “i feel like i may not have added the adequate proportions”

mo’at sighed. again. your apparently new lack of concentration was stressing her out. and so, that was the last straw.

“that’s not important. come” she signaled for you to sit besides her. “do you really have no clue, ‘eveng?” (child)

“about what?” you looked mo’at in the eye. had you done something wrong? did this have something to do with-

“you are with a child”

oh. oh. that certainly explained the sudden morning nausea, the fatigue, and the late changes you had been experiencing.

the news were so out of the blue you couldn’t even react at first. after excruciatingly long instants, you tried to form a coherent sentence, or even a word.

“i- uh- i- em” nothing. while trying to elaborate something, you looked at mo’at for help, comfort, reassurance, you didn’t know. but she got ahold of your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

and, whether you wanted it or not, neteyam and you were afloat in this life-changing experience.

walking into the room, neteyam made your eyes burn with adoration. he fit you better than your favorite jewels. your face instantly illuminated by a smile as he walked over to you.

“hey” he greeted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead and rubbing your growing belly, his touch fresh to your skin. “how are you two?”

“as good as an exhausted future mom and an exhausting future baby can be” you hummed “which is great. how was your day?”

as neteyam procceeded to talk about clan campaigns, you mentally sighed. he had been obsessing over a “better life” for his growing family, aiming to obtain more power.

you understood his perspective, and fully supported his projects and ambitions, but you feared the corruption power could bring. you knew love was mean, you knew love hurt. but you’d manage to see through the tears.

“y/n, it’s for the better.” neteyam said, lacing his fingers with yours. “c’mon, you’ll barely notice i’ve left, and when i come back, i’ll be able to offer the two people i love most a worthy life”

“we already have a worthy life.” you said. you didn’t want him to leave. his power obsession had only grown over the past weeks, and now he wanted to leave home? yeah you had your limits.

“the project is already in motion, i can’t stop it now. you know how hard i’ve worked”

“but we don’t need anything more. being here, together is what matters isn’t it?” you tugged at his hands. nothing. “isn’t it?” he looked away

“y/n it’ll be no longer than a month, i swear” now you were the one looking away.

“postpone it then. i’m sure you can do at least that.”

“the campaign is working too well, i can’t put a halt to it, i can’t just stop it”

“you can’t stop it? or are you too blinded with power to stop it?”

“it’s not like that, and you know that. but i’m leaving, that’s final, y/n”

you mustered up the courage to look at him.

“no, please. stay here”

“i can’t” he brought your hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “i’m sorry” he mumbled.

days later, he and the crew were gone. you were left with a bitter feeling and a good deal of promises. you had told him you’d always be by his side, in hopes that would help you convince him, but it didn’t seem to stop him from leaving.

you stayed up waiting, anticipating his arrival, but he was too caught up chasing strenght. but, having all that time to yourself, you concluded that you wouldn’t let power get in between you both. you’d love him to the end of times. and you’d wait a million years for this project to be finished if that meant you could be together again. hoping he’d remember his promises, praying he’d remember.

inevitably, resentment started to grow. as did your belly. and neteyam hadn’t returned.

whether you wanted it or not, you had developed a routine in neteyam’s abscence. and some other things, too. the part of the crew who had stayed home tried to approach you at first. but you were hostile towards them. how could you not? they stole neteyam out of your life, after all.

though you’d be assaulted by intrusive thoughts, you remembered his promise. and yours. he would come back.

you weren’t able to perform many of the tasks you used to, because of your state, though you did as much as you could. as of now, you were picking some berries, tossing them in a net. the sounds of the forest and your own thoughts often engulfed you, plunging you into a daydream. nevertheless, you noticed the sudden rustling of leaves.

you turned around, hands holding a berry, trying to identify the source of the noise. you were about to turn around, dismissing the sound as wind, when something really convinced you not to.

the fruit dropped from your hands.

“neteyam?” you were in utter and complete shock. finally, you reacted “oh, thank eywa”

you ran to his side, arms embracing you, like they were made for doing so.

“it’s me, baby”

“so how’d everything work out?”

he looked away. you’d guess.

“well, i told you that no matter what you did, i’d be by your side, and i plan to stand by that” you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“forgive me, y/n. i told you i wanted more, but that wasn’t what i had in mind. amidst the corruption, i realised i wanted it like before”

“hey” you cupped his face, pecking his lips before looking into his eyes. every last dash of possible resentment disappeared for good. “i’ll love you till the end of times, remember?”

“yeah” he chuckled, looking back at your first months of pregnancy. “yeah, and believe me, there wasn’t a day where i didn’t think of you two”

his hands moved to trace patterns on your belly.

“‘m sorry, i really am”

“don’t, okay? you’re here now”

“i just missed you so unbelievably much”

“missed you too, mighty warrior. and he did too” you slyly slided mo’at’s most recent diagnosis about your child.

#avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #heartcereql #atwow x reader #atwow #neteyam x reader #avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you

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marigolddove · 11 months

Text

Love Begins With Murder, Believe it or Not.

Part 3

Request by: @yandere-dark-cupid

I stayed up until 3 am writing this, passed out and then woke up at 6 am to finish it lol. It's okay though I'm not tired, I'm just happy to be writing. I hope you all enjoy this part there will definitely be another part which will probably be the final for a while. I'll probably try and leave this story with a not-so-official ending because I might make one-shots based around this in the future.

Also I'm getting a new job soon so that might cut into my writing a bit but I'm going to keep writing no matter what I'm so grateful for Welcome Home and all it's characters and all my fellow fanfic writers and artists out there making more and more content for this fandom. You guys are all awesome and Welcome Home is officially my comfort Fandom, without it I might've never wrote anything ever again. So thank you to @partycoffin, and all of the AU creators, you're all truly wonderful people.

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of torture and violence, anger issues.

@elegantkidfansoul, @sunkyss, @all-things-fandomstuck, @sailorsimp13, @cricketsjunk

💀♥️💀

Wally couldn't believe he didn't have one single vase in his apartment, not one! He had been so certain he'd had flowers before, surely he'd had…he was a lover of beauty and nature, so it was extremely frustrating when he couldn't find his—imaginary—vase.

He could've let it go there, just put the bouquet in a tall glass or leave them out to dry and get a vase tomorrow, but to be honest he was procrastinating when he suddenly decided he needed a vase before his nap; he knew of a flower shop fifteen minutes away on a strip he was well familiar with—he often got lunch or dinner from a nextdoor diner, well he did before he hit this depression.

That's what all this is about, after all. Depression.

He lost the desire, the drive, to style his hair, paint, draw, talk to his friends and employees, he doesn't even make eye-contact like he used to; and now to top it all off, he realizes, there's absolutely no life in his apartment. Even his old paintings feel soulless, hollow, because they don't fill him with the emotions he once held as he crafted them.

When the depression set in, he couldn't be sure, it had been a gradual change; but it was one he hadn't noticed until now, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

He feels his face flush in embarrassment as he thinks of his neglect of himself and his home as he drives to the shop, the sky turning orange and blue behind the many buildings surrounding him.

As he kept his eyes trained on the still bustling road ahead, he could only hope he would make it in time so this uncoordinated trip wouldn't be a complete waste.

—————————

With traffic being convinently merciful to him this early in the evening time, he is soon racing to the shops entrance door, bouquet delicately cradled by his left arm; completely missing the 'open' sign flipping to 'closed' as his unoccupied hand grasps the door handle and turns.

As he pushes into the building he is shocked to find an employee standing right at the entrance, hand quickly retracting from the door as they lock eyes with him, seemingly just as shocked by his sudden entrance.

The bell above the door chimes.

For Mr. Darling, renowned local kingpin, ruthless 'family' man, time seemed to slow for a moment, just a moment. It was almost as if the chiming of the bell had put him into a trance, or maybe it was just you.

There you stand, (h/c) hair fluttering from the sudden rush of wind that came from him opening the door, staring right at him; your work uniform fitting you quite nicely, especially with your own accessories that added a unique personal touch, not to mention the smell—which was most definitely the shop, but there is no doubt in his mind that you smell any different—sweet and floral.

You're the first to speak, voice a bit nervous at his stare, "O-Oh! Hello, we–ah, I, was just about to close up shop." You move the hand that had been reaching for the door handle to fiddle with a ring on your opposite pinky finger, a sign of anxiety.

Realizing how he must look, a bit wild from the wind whipping his already disheveled hair around with tired eyes, his ears and cheeks grew a little hot, but he clears his throat into his hand as he tries to recover from his sudden and silly attraction.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to just barge in here, but…" he shrugs the arm cradling the bouquet, "I'm looking for a vase, this shop was the only place I could think to find one and it wasn't a far drive…I thought I had a vase, but I was wrong." He explains ratherly lamely, his usual suave and calm demeanor shattered by his growing embarrassment at his current mental and physical state. This was a mistake, he should've just waited for the morning or let the flowers dry out, he should be sleeping right now.

Like an angel you smile at him, so bright and warm it almost feels like the sun is beaming at him, "That's alright! I don't mind a bit, sir, follow me I have some you can choose from in the back." You move to allow him full access and then make your way to what looks to be a storage closet at the back of the shop.

He follows without a word, eyes glued to your figure as you seem to glide to the back, your feet making little to no noise as you move.

The door to the storage closet is open with chalk board sign leaning against the wall next to the door frame, 'small vase $10, medium $15, large $25 ALL HAND MADE!!'.

"You make your own vases?" Wally asks, impressed even before seeing the quality of your work.

You flush as you glance at the sign and then gesture to the closet, signaling him to take a look at your stock, "Yeah, it's a new thing I started doing…I've always been into crafts and stuff like that and working with clay seemed really fun and challenging, so…." He notices your words grow softer, seemingly embarrassed.

Well he can certainly tell you're a beginner, many of the pieces seem a bit lop sided or misshapen, but some are charming due to their faults. Something art had taught him early on is to love imperfections just as much as perfections.

"They're charming." He says, and it's the truth, hearing the honesty in his tone makes you turn a bit more red as you smile gratefully at him.

"Which would you recommend for this bouquet?" He asks, he already has an idea of which vase he'd pick but he wants to hear your opinion.

You eyeball the bouquet, a knowing look sparkling in your (e/c) eyes, and look to the assortment of pottery, "hmm".

Your eyes land on a particularly unique piece on the bottom shelf, it's wide and a bit overly round at the bottom and it narrows a bit more dramatically than you intended at the top, it was also colorful, painted with vertical rainbow stripes that had come out very pastel when you had originally wanted a very bold rainbow color. Overall it had been a bit of a flop, but at the same time it has become one of your favorite pieces and it was a tragedy it had never been used. Whether it looked good with this particular bouquet didn't really matter, to be honest it didn't compliment the bouquet at all, but it deserves a home.

Following your gaze, Wally examines the piece you're staring at so intensely.

"Is that the one?" It certainly wasn't the one he was going to pick, but the way you stared at it with such sentiment made his heart leap. Oh how he missed the days when he would look at his own art with such a nostalgic and sentimental gaze.

"I don't know…it's a little ugly, to be honest…it doesn't really go with the flowers."

"I can always get more flowers." He responds smoothly, catching even himself off guard.

The two of you lock eyes again and he wishes he had examined himself before coming here, so he could know how you see him. He's certain he looks like a mess, and not a hot one.

You seem taken back by his response, but recover quickly to smile, "Yeah, I guess you can. This is a flower shop after all." You glance down at his bouquet again, "you wouldn't happen to know someone named Julie, would you?"

He knew you would recognize the tag and the flower combination, so your question didn't phase him, "Yes, actually. I'm sorry I couldn't come in for the flowers myself, at the time I was…busy."

"Ah, no need to apologize, worrying about a funeral is tough even when you weren't close to the person who died. I'm sorry for being a bit nosey."

"I don't think you're being nosey at all," he ignores the bit about the funeral, not wanting to really lie, but still omitting the truth, "these flowers you picked are really very lovely, I almost want to keep them for myself." He absolutely intends on keeping them for himself.

Your smile turns a bit bashful, "Oh, well thank you. It's nice to know I got it right." Turning back to the shelves of pottery, you crouch to the one you had been staring at, "So is this the one you'd like? Or did you have your eye on another?"

"I'll take that one and these two as well." He gestures his free hand to two other pieces, one being a bit plain and lumpy, the other a bit more colorful; the base color being yellow with red and blue swirls.

"Three?" You ask, a bit surprised.

He grins at you, and unknown to him your heart flutters, "This way I have an excuse to come back, I'm going to need flowers for them, right?" It's been a while since he's tried flirting, but by the way your entire face seems to light up and flush he's certain it's been effective.

"R-Right," you grab two of the vases as he grabs one, "that's three medium sized pots so it'll be $45 dollars." The two of you make your way to the check out counter and place the three pots delicately, "I'll go ahead and wrap these for you." As he grabs the money out of his wallet, you rummage through the work table and pull out a bundle of plain wrapping paper. Carefully, you wrap each individual piece in a thick protective layer of paper, then delicately place the three into an oversized grocery bag, adding more wads of paper between each piece.

Wally lays the money down onto the counter, slipping an extra $5 bill as a tip, as you place the finishing touches on the bag of fragiles. When you're pleased with your work, you hand him the bag with a wide grin, collecting the cash; before you can finish counting Wally tips his head to you.

"You have a good night, doll, stay safe." Without another word he exits the shop, you call after him about his change but he doesn't respond. Upon examining the extra $5 bill closer you notice a series of numbers written on it, when had he done that?

It doesn't take a genius to know that he's written a cell phone number on the bill, despite his somewhat messy appearance your stomach feels as though it's infested with butterflies at the idea that he might have been interested in you. He certainly had flirted with you a little bit, but that didn't have to mean anything, but leaving his number? That means something.

He did say he would need to come back for more flowers, you smile at the thought, carefully folding the bill and tucking it into your pants pocket. You begin to close shop again, this time with no interruptions.

—————————

Julie should've told him he looked this awful, he thought to himself as he examined his reflection in the rear view mirror. No, no, no this won't do! Horror pierced it's way into his heart as he also realized that this is how he had looked during your entire interaction. He had flirted like this…left his number looking like this.

A part of him wanted to storm back into the shop and explain that this isn't him, just something he's been dealing with, tell you that he's not some pathetic, greasy nobody like he knew you must've thought he was.

He's Wally fucking Darling, he kills whoever he wants, whenever he wants, sells what he deems profitable no matter how morally gray and takes whatever he pleases. The people that surround him know to not only fear him but to adore him.

In his sudden shock and growing fury he almost, nearly, throws the bag of pottery to the floor of his passenger side; but he doesn't, of course, he's much too collected to just fly off the handle and break things—he most certainly is not, just two weeks before he broke that not-so imaginary vase he knew he had, it had been in a fit of frustration towards Howdy for failing a trade agreement; Wally didn't remember it now, but that day he had taken his only vase and chucked it at Howdy's much higher head. He had missed entirely, and now he's forgotten the whole ordeal.

Thankfully there's even less traffic, somehow, on the way back, which keeps his temper low but bubbling gently to the surface. A rolling boil was sure to start.

When he arrived back to his apartment, he placed the pots onto his sofa along with the bouquet, so delicate compared to the war of emotions he held inside.

Remember: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6—

He enters his massive, stunning bathroom and makes a b-line for the mirrors, he needs a better look at the damage his neglect has done.

If looks could kill one look would make the mirrors shatter, this isn't who he is. He feels like an imposter in his own body when he looks at himself, hair greasy and wild—no longer slicked back due to the wind, he doesn't even like slicking back his hair, it isn't his style! Then there's the grotesque bags under his eyes, when had they become so dark and puffy? How hadn't he noticed sooner? The rage was building now.

7, 8, 9—

Why was his skin so dull an–and sallow?!

Suddenly the sound of his marble counter top cracking triggers a roar of emotion to overwhelm him, he doesn't even register he's injured himself by slamming a fist down onto the marble. The emotions are so raw, so heavy, he doesn't even realize he's out of the bathroom now; doesn't hear the carnage he's creating or his own howls and shouts of incoherent anger and frustration.

When and how did he become so pathetic? How long had the others just sat idly by watching him grow weaker and uglier. His anger blinds him to the memories of when they had tried, all of them had; even Howdy, who wasn't the biggest fan of Wally to begin with, had tried.

The shrill ringing of his telephone snaps him back to reality, in his now bloodied and bruising hands he grips a broken frame that holds–held one of his own designs. His breathing is heavy and his head is swimming, wasn't he just in the bathroom a moment ago?

He drops the frame and stumbles to the phone, wincing at the loudness of it, he doesn't even take a moment to collect himself before answering.

"What do you wa–"

"Hello!" Your soft, sweet voice timidly interrupts his rude greeting.

Suddenly his stomach dips and his heart flips, he really hopes you hadn't heard him.

"Uh-uhm, it seems like I've caught you at a bad time, ha ha. I'm sorry about that, sir." You had heard his sour attitude, fuck.

"No, no," he corrects hastily, not wanting you to hang up, "I'm sorry, I just…I just injured myself getting to the phone." The lie feels bitter, like bile rising in his throat, fuck why did he lie?

"Oh," is your meek response, then a pause, "Well…I'm sorry for calling you so soon…and it's a bit late too, ah, this is so silly I'm really sorry."

He's about to reassure you he doesn't mind in the slightest, and it's the truth, but you continue quickly.

"It's just that I didn't ever give you my name, a-and I never got yours. Also I wanted to give you my number as well, that way I don't have to do all the calling myself, you see." Your stuttering is cute, but your sickeningly sweet reason for calling him has him swooning most of all.

"I see, well," he straightens himself, confidence filling him once more, "My name is Wally, Wally Darling, and you are..?"

"Y/N, Y/N L/N."

"That's a lovely name for such an enchanting flower like yourself, Y/N." He purrs, his turmoil and self-esteem issues quickly forgotten by this new cocktail of emotions, suddenly he's like a giddy teenage boy; twirling the phone cord between his fingers, a toothy smirk growing on his face and he imagines you blushing like you did in the shop.

"Your name is really cute too," you reply, you sound embarrassed but you're definitely smiling.

"Thank you," he grabs the note pad and pen he keeps by his landline, "Now then, what's your number?"

"O-Oh, right!" You quickly tell him your number and he repeats it back to you, once he's gotten it correct he smiles, gently placing his pen back down onto the table.

Sighing, "I must say, I'm glad you called." He admits.

"Oh?"

He hums, "Yes, when I got to my car I realized how I must have appeared to you. I typically take better care of myself, but, well, recently I've 'let myself go'." His tone remains light, almost dreamy as he speaks to you, even though on the inside he can feel the suffocating emotions from before bubbling up again.

"I just thought you were having an off day, you're actually very handsome." The way you say it, like its a fact he should already know, makes his face warm. Those emotions dying quickly before they can rise again, for a complete stranger you seem to have a powerful hold over him, you're able to make him feel nervous and excited.

It's pleasant.

"Well," you start, "It's getting late, I'm sure we both have things to do before nighttime."

He glances at the mess he made during his episode, as much as he wanted to disagree he knew he needed to clean up. He wouldn't live in this embarrassment any longer.

"Yes, thank you again for calling me, Y/N. I hope you have a good night."

"You too."

"Stay safe." He hears the receiver cut off on your end, he sighs into the now quiet and lonely air. He's grateful for your ability to distract him, he would've caused more damage to not only his home but to himself had you not called.

Wally looks around at the carnage he caused, grateful he didn't damage his newly aquired pottery and flowers. It's time to fix this.

—————————

When Barnaby returns to the building he's immediately greeted by Frank, with a disgruntled Eddie in tow. He had taken a bit longer than he would've liked with the rat, but the boss told him to really work on the guy, and he wanted to be sure the body couldn't be found and linked back to them. He's very thorough.

So he's a bit tired when he's approached by Frank, their face intense.

"Something's wrong with Wally."

Immediately dread fills Barnaby, worried something happened while he was gone, "What happened?"

"We heard him screaming and loud noises, like things being broken, upstairs."

"And neither of you thought to check on him?!" He barks, immediately heading for the elevator.

"It wasn't like the sound of struggling, I know what a struggle sounds like. He's probably just having a fit, like usual now-a-days, and I don't want myself or Frank to be caught in the cross fire." Eddie replies, his tone indifferent.

Frank sighs, following close behind Barnaby, "I wanted to go up and see him, but after what happened with Howdy–"

"I know." Barnaby cuts him off. A vase hadn't been the only thing Wally had thrown at Howdy the last time he became like this, and the vase hadn't landed anyway; but a paper weight had, and so did his punches. Despite not liking him, Howdy had stood there and taken it, claiming the boss "needed that more than anyone knew".

Barnaby wishes it had been him, not Howdy. He didn't want Wally to hurt him, but he's his best friend and he wants to be the one that's there for him at his absolute lowest, as well as his highest. It feels like recently he's missing all of the moments that are crucial for helping his first friend.

"Thank you for letting me know, I'll go see him alone now. You two get back to…whatever you were doing, have a good night." Frank looks like they're about to respond but the elevator doors close, effectively cutting them off.

Barnaby sighs into the silence of the elevator, readying himself for what's to come when he reaches Wally's penthouse.

He's surprised when he arrives and the room is filled with gentle music coming from the Gramophone—the record player—across the spacious living area; someone's singing in the bathroom, he soon realizes it's Wally singing and he's even more stunned. Wally hasn't sung a song in all the time he's known him, claiming he couldn't carry a tune.

To Barnaby, he sounds like a professional, smooth and suave. It almost feels like he's intruding, but the mess of the room makes him stay. Wally seems to have started cleaning up his mess, which is a nice change of pace. Typically Julie would come in and clean for him after hearing he'd had an episode, saying he deserves a clean safe space, even if he's the one trashing the place.

Barnaby moves to relax on the sofa, careful to avoid the bag Wally had left. He sits and waits a while, enjoying the soft melody and the surprisingly relaxing aura that the chaotic room held. He finds himself humming along with Wally, not knowing the words of his song.

When he hears his friend's singing end and the water shut off his posture straightens and becomes a little tense; worried how his little buddy might react at his sudden intrusion.

To his surprise, Wally exits the bathroom in a plush bathrobe, hair expertly wrapped in a towel atop his head as he continues humming a tune; and when he catches sight of Barnaby he's shocked but smiles.

"Ah, you're back. I did wonder if you would come and see me again today, I'm glad you're back safe." He moves closer to the sofa, bare feet padding against the hard wood floors, "Sorry for the mess, I got a bit carried away again today. I'm also sorry if I've been short with you today."

"There's no need to apologize, Boss. I'm just glad you're looking better."

"I do look better don't I? It's amazing what a shower and a quick skin care routine can do to a man." He says as he rummages through the grocery bag on the couch, pulling out three bulky items wrapped in paper.

He sits next to Barnaby and unwraps them, the record now fading into a new melody. Wally places three…interesting vases on the low table in front of them. His smile seems brighter as he looks at them.

"You starting a collection?" Barnaby jokes.

Wally hums, "I'm considering it."

"I told Julie to buy flowers for the…rat's lady friend, I intended on sending her a message with them, only to find out she herself is a rat. So I decided I'd keep the flowers for myself, they're quite pretty." He explained, his voice soft.

"But what's with the pottery?"

Wally laughs, "Well pretty flowers need equally pretty vases, my friend." Barnaby wasn't sure he would call them pretty, but he wasn't an artist so what would he know?

"Why'd ya get three though?"

"You're awfully inquisitive today, aren't you?" For a moment Barnaby worries he's stepped too far, but Wally's tone sounds mostly teasing and light hearted, "I bought three because I couldn't just pick one that I liked; besides, my home could use more art."

"Yeah, sure. It's just nice to see you smiling and, uh, getting out there." He admits awkwardly, his smaller friend looking up at him with a wide grin, it seems genuine compared to his usual facade.

"It has been nice, today hasn't been perfect, but it's been nice." Wally rises from the sofa, grabbing the plain, lumpy vase and the bouquet as he moves to the kitchen.

Carefully, he fills the vase with the recommended amount of water and retrieves a bit of lemon juice he's had sitting in his fridge for a month now—it's been longer than a month, he just doesn't know that—he adds a few drops to the tap water before arranging the flowers inside the vase.

He carries the vase filled with flowers back to Barnaby and places them at the center of the low table, adjusting it's position on the table until he deems it perfect.

Wally sighs as he relaxes back onto the couch next to his much larger friend, "Now all I need is more flowers to fill the other two, perhaps I'll make paintings of them as well, they're inspiring me already." He didn't say what else might be inspiring him, but in his mind an image of you formed. Maybe he would sketch you as well.

Barnaby raised a brow at him, even though he wouldn't see it, and smiled, "Hey, I'm glad you're wanting to paint again little buddy, after what happened earlier I thought you might be giving up for good."

Mentioning their time together earlier that day seemed to sour Wally's mood a bit, "Yeah, well, torture and death aren't always the best motivation I've realized."

At his sudden tone change, Barnaby scrambles to get him back to his pleasant mood, "So where'd ya get the pottery? Any place I might know?"

This seems to work as a twinkle appears in his eyes once again and he turns to fully face Barnaby, a soft and genuine smile gracing his features.

"You might, Eddie talks about it all the time it would seem, everyone knew about it but me, ha ha." He continued, "Well, actually, I knew of the flower shop but I had never gone in before, until today. You might know it, it's (S/N), over on 9th Street."

Barnaby contemplates the location a moment, he can't say that he does recall a flower shop there, "It's not ringing any bells, but whats so special about it, you seem very…happy and I'm not so sure it's about a flower shop."

Wally's eyes widen and pink dusts across his cheeks, something Barnaby isn't sure he's ever seen happen to his friend before, "Well, I suppose it's about more than a shop, yes," then he stubbornly adds, "Although the flowers do make me happy."

Barnaby motions for him to continue, Wally sighs and while it sounds like frustration he still has a grin on his face.

That's when Barnaby learns about you, although he's certain he might have heard of you before through Eddie Dear, but he knows Eddie never talked about you so dreamily.

This is also when Barnaby learns that his best friend might have experienced love at first sight.

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x reader #eddie x frank #Mafia! AU #mafia!Wally Darling #wally has some personal issues #this is gonna be cheesy #its love at first sight #deal with it #barnaby beagle

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thesixenthusiast · 1 year

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ruby – eddie roundtree

part one (part two, part three, part four)

pairing: eddie rountree x fem!oc (may change to x reader) warnings: drinking/drugs (billy/daisy's addictions) word count: 1.6k author's note: please bear with me in this, if there's a few time mix ups just with the order of things, please do let me know but i'm trying to find an equal balance between the book and show and it's a little difficult lol

On October 4, 1977, Daisy Jones & The Six performed to a sold out crowd at Soldier Field in Chicago, Illinois. They were one of the biggest bands in the world at the time, fresh off their award-winning, multi-platinum selling album “Aurora.” It would be their final performance.

In the 20 years since, members of the band and their inner circle have refused to speak on the record about what happened… Until now.

–

THE RISE OF THE SIX (1966-1972)

The Six started out as a blues-rock band called the Dunne Brothers in the mid-sixties out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Billy and Graham Dunne were raised by single mother, Marlene Dunne, after their father, William Dunne Sr., left in 1954.

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): I always dreamed of something different than the typical laid out career paths. When Graham first got the idea to start a band, I assumed it was just to win back his girlfriend. He was, what fourteen? The kid thought his life was over. [Laughs] I guess in retrospect, maybe it was a good idea.

WARREN ROJAS (drummer, The Six): He was definitely trying to get his girlfriend back.

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): We were solid, fine for a while. When Chuck quit, we were out a bassist, which isn’t really something you can do without in a band. Billy originally wanted Eddie to switch to bass, but he wasn’t too keen on that.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE (rhythmic guitar, The Six): I was so sick of Billy trying to run the band, it wasn’t his band, or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be.

WARREN ROJAS: There was this girl in my math class, her uncle owned a music store downtown, and she used to give lessons to kids on weekends, it was mostly just some scheme by her uncle to get people to buy guitars.

BILLY DUNNE: She was a sophomore, a young sophomore at that, she wasn’t even 16 by the time she joined, I was a year out of high school and the rest of the boys are creeping on 17 and 18, she just didn’t fit. Warren gets all the boys on board before bringing the idea up to me so I look like the asshole if I say no, I wanted to say no too, but she was good and I didn’t have another option.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: She didn’t even show an interest in being in the band, she wasn’t begging us to give her a chance, we were near-stalking her at the music store, waiting for the perfect opportunity to hear her play and casually bring up that we happened to need a bassist.

JULIET OPAL (bassist/singer, The Six): They weren’t nearly as sly as they thought they were. I originally thought it was some attempt at stealing records or 8-tracks, y’know waiting until I wasn’t looking, but they kept coming back, seemingly just waiting for me to do something, what it was I didn’t know, but something.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: [Sighs] They decided I would be the one to talk to her.

The shop’s bell rang, signaling the door had been opened, which swung Juliet’s attention away from the magazine she was skimming and up to the front of the store, peering through the aisles to see who entered. A boy, one she recognized from the creeping on her from the previous weeks, made himself visible and she was immediately on high alert. He approached the counter, swallowing nerves as he did, and cleared his throat.

“Hi,” his voice was hoarse, she took the awkward silence as a moment to study him, he wore a striped shirt, loose jeans, and brown shoes, his hair could use a comb through. He extended his hand, “I’m Eddie, I think we go to school together.”

“Juliet,” she met his hand, “is that why you’re here, to tell me that we might go to school together? Or is there an ulterior motive, one that may explain why you and your friends have been spying on me the past week,” any speck of confidence Eddie had going into this was entirely gone.

“I’m in a band with some friends and our bassist bailed on us pretty recently. My friend, Warren, he’s a junior like me, I think he’s in your math class, said he saw you play bass and that you were good. We just wanted to see you play before we formally asked.”

“Formally asked what?” She leaned up from her elbows that she had been propped on.

“Oh, to, uh, like,” he stopped himself, licking his lips and sighing, “would you want to maybe play bass for us?” His eyes instantly went to his shoes and he stuffed his hands inside his pockets.

“Can I have a little more info maybe? It’s not personal, I just don’t know you, like at all and you could be the worst players for all I know.”

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: That one hurt, something about a younger kid who you have a solid five inches on insinuating that she’s better than you are, especially when you’re practically on your knees begging for her to help you out can feel like salt being rubbed into a fresh wound.

JULIET OPAL: What else was I supposed to do? [Laughs] Just blindly follow the older boy who had been spying on me for a week to the alleged garage that he practices in with his alleged band and hope for the best? I paid attention in the stranger-danger assemblies, I knew better.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I invited her back to Billy and Graham’s but she said she had to close up for her uncle. Once we were out in L.A. she told me she actually just didn’t wanna leave with me and in hindsight, I can’t say I blame her.

The following morning Juliet and the Dunne Brothers skipped their first period and met in the Dunne’s garage. Juliet studied the wads of scribbled sheet music Billy had handed to her without looking her in the eye and she didn’t miss the way Eddie rolled his eyes at his hostility, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her upper lip curled into a smile as she saw his reaction.

After rifling through the stack of papers, she picked out one at random, and set it down on the table in front of her, leaning over to scan in a few times before pulling the strap of her guitar over her head. She looked over to the group of boys, standing huddled together with Billy noticeably further away and Warren nodded fervently at her with a grin overtaking her face.

After she played through the song, Billy made her play another, and another, and two more after that ‘for safety.’ Once he had run out of excuses for her to keep playing, he asked her to step out of the garage so they could confer with each other. After seven minutes and two overheard “c’mon man”s from Warren, Juliet was invited back into the garage and to serve as a temporary bass for the band, just until Billy could come to his final decision.

JULIET OPAL: He was stubborn even then, I’m honestly surprised he let me in.

BILLY DUNNE: I didn’t want to let her in the band.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I wanted her in the band, I made sure Billy knew that.

JULIET OPAL: A week after I joined, we were playing a gig with the Winters.

The group stood backstage, listening to the music that was permeating into every corner of the room. Juliet stood sandwiched between Warren and Camila, listening to the band. They had a keyboardist, she caught Juliet’s eye once they had got backstage, when they finished playing and she got offstage, Juliet made a beeline for her, introducing herself.

“I’m Karen,” she introduced herself, “you play with these guys?��

“Mhm, I’m on bass right now, but in an ideal world I’d steal Eddie over there’s job,” she pointed to him and he smiled back, nodding his head up at her, unknowingly, “I won’t though, kinda like him, at least more than I do Billy,” Karen nodded, opening her mouth to excuse herself from the conversation, “y’know I’ve been saying we need a keyboardist.”

“Have you now?” That piqued her interest she stopped in her tracks and smirked over her shoulder.

“No,” she admitted, “but I’ve been thinking it.” Billy hollered her name, gesturing her over to the group, who were making their way onstage. She pulled a receipt with a phone number scribbled across it in black ink and handed it to Karen, “If you ever get sick of them, give me a call, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Do you always carry around drug store receipts with your phone number on them?”

“You never know who you might meet,” she shrugged and started sprinting towards the stage before calling out over her shoulder, “worked out this time. Wish me luck!”

KAREN SIRKO (keyboardist, The Six): She was so.. vivacious, so full of life. She apoke about a million miles a minute, if I wasn’t fully interested in what she was saying, I don’t think I would’ve caught a word of it. You have this young girl talking your ear off, she seems entirely sure of herself, but also still feels a need to prove to you that she deserves to be there.

JULIET OPAL: I liked Karen, how could I not? And based on the way events would play out, clearly I wasn’t the only one.

WARREN ROJAS: It was a great gig, Julie did great, not that we weren’t expecting her to, we were just worried about her, she had never done anything in front of a crowd before, but she did everything that actually counted right.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: On the drive home she sat next to me and she told me I played well, then she leaned in and kinda whispered and she thanked me. She thanked me for being the one to ask her to join because she would’ve said no to anyone else. [Smiles]

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree fanfiction #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones x reader #warren rhodes #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes x reader #graham dunne #billy dunne #camila dunne #eddie roundtree x oc #daisy jones #eddie roundtree smut

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fr-likes-chocolate · 5 months

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THERE IS PHILZA ANGST AND I FOUND A SONG, LET THERE BE A ONESHOT lol not a oneshot I’m making more

(inspired by this song) (mainly the end)

Everyone was worried for Phil, he had dark bags under his eyes and scars that were too fresh to be from purgatory. Of course, the islanders had their rumors about why Phil was a wreck, he had a run-in with the federation, or the stress of single-handedly caring for two eggs was getting to him.

Phil only let the people he was closest to know why he was a mess, that meant Fit, Etoiles, and Missa. he did not want to worry others, they had bigger problems to worry about.

As the days dragged on, Phil’s hallucinations steadily increased in size, getting to the point where Phil would fall asleep on Quesadilla Island, and wake up in Endlantis. When this happened he shakily opened his communicator and call for Fit or Etoiles.

His hallucinations weren't all bad, sometimes he was in a large forest, feeling Rose’s influence all around him, or walking among quartz pillars in the nether, or by a beach, content to watch to ocean.

However, that didn't stop Phil from isolating himself from the others, making everyone worried.

After a full month of madness, Phil finally decided that he wouldn't hide anymore. He made his way to an abandoned field, waiting until the hallucinations started. It did not take long for the world to change, the ground condensing into endstone and the sky turning dark and cold.

“Ender king!” Phil screamed, “I've come to stop this torment!” He glanced around, waiting, no, praying for some sign of a response. The very air seemed to mock him, how naive he was to try and confront the Ender king!

Foolish crow... You dare challenge me on my own turf? You didn’t even bring anyone to help you, how do you expect to get away, let alone stop me?

Void tendrils seeped from the ground, pulling at Phil’s clothing, he pulled away from the tendrils and ran, this was a horrible idea! He pulled up the chat as he ran, clumsily typing for someone to help him.

Ph1lza: I need help

FitMC: where are you?

Etoiles: what happened??

Ph1lza: I cant type coords, find me on the map. Please come quick, its gotten out of hand.

Fit immediately jumped up, he knew what ‘it’ was, he quickly located Phil on the mini-map, he was over 500 blocks away from the closest warp, Fit cursed under his breath before warping. As soon as he got there, he checked what direction he was going before running. Minutes ticked by as Fit ran, he could see flashes of what looked like Etoiles, Bad, or Foolish. It hardly mattered as they all had the same goal, getting to Phil.

They wouldn't think anything of it, but when they ran, plants and trees moved to make a clear path, almost as if nature itself wanted to help Phil.

~~~~

Phil’s legs burned as he pushed himself to his limit, he couldn't keep this up for long. He was so tired...

As Phil jumped to avoid another void spike as he dashed into an open field, he looked around for the best place to run to when suddenly he heard someone call out his name. There on the left was Fit! He dashed towards him, seeing others break the treeline. “FIT!” Phil screamed, feeling the void tendrils trying to trip or pull him.

“Phil! Grab my hand!” Fit shouted, holding his hand out. Phil lunged for Fits hand, he was so close! Just grab on and-

A void tendril grabbed Phil’s foot, the teleportation magic working immediately, Phio disappeared into a shimmer of ender particles, leaving only his hat behind.

Fit gasped, searching the area for where Phil could have gone. “Phil?!” Etoiles looked around frantically. “What on earth?! He just disappeared...” Bad muttered. Fit sighed, “I think I know what happened... Tell me, have you heard of the Ender king?”

(part 2 here)

#Spotify #qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #hardcore philza #ender king #Hardcore Rose #< implied #qsmp fitmc #phil’s lore has a choakhold on me cant you tell?#Btw for the song it's like the hardcore deities talking to phil :)

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amuhav · 4 months

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Hope y'all had a FANTASTIC Christmas 💖

and wishing you all a Happy New Year (+ personal update lol)

It may seem like something so small to get emotional over, but Christmas Eve, I burst into tears at having something ~resembling~ a living room for Christmas, AND seeing my desk space finally all set up and running. It has been a heck of a rough time these last 17 months since we moved into our new place, not to mention the 2 rough af years leading up to it. I included some images below from throughout for anyone curious (or just wants to see my cat in a t-shirt 😻), but big ol' venting rant under the read more, sorry if you open it but you've been warned LMAO.

We moved here in August 2022, and these pics really are only a small fraction of everything we've had to deal with. From plumbing leaks and years' worth of water damage, to mould-filled walls and a condemned boiler. TWO GAS LEAKS. One dangerously malfunctioning stove. The fear of potentially dry rot-infested joists. From ripping up and re-laying multiple floors (with more to still do...), to ripping out a fireplace and rebuilding entire walls. Having no bathroom to call our own and having to share my mother-in-law's tiny annexe en suite for 5 months. Having to ask permission to have a shower. Having no bedroom for 4 months and having to squish three of us into my daughter's room—the confinement of which stressed out my cat, Mina, so much that she overgroomed herself to baldness and required a shirt and then a babygro (even if she looked beautiful in them LMAO). THE FLEAS. My god the fucking fleas the previous owners left here.....

From a family of starlings deciding to nest in our eaves and wake us up ~every morning~ with the dawn chorus, to finding (no pics, I promise!) FIVE mummified rats in the attic and needing the whole thing ripped out, sterilised, re-insulated and re-boarded, two pigeon skeletons behind the fireplace (complete with a moth invasion that had been feasting on them 💀 nature, man... so fucky). Needing to get a whole-ass loft hatch installed in our bedroom ceiling because mice were getting in and we had no access to deal with them. R A T S. RATSSSSSSS. *shudder*

So many IKEA furniture building sessions lmao. 10 new doors installed throughout the entire house (with 2 more still to go). New boiler, new water tank, new radiators. New carpets fitted throughout upstairs. Every single room repainted. Cutting and fitting skirting boards and coving ourselves, the latter during a bad bout of medicine-induced low blood pressure, 0/10 do not recommend lest you want to almost pass out standing on a ladder over a flight of stairs... 💀 Honestly the number of things that could have literally killed me this year. Like the incorrectly wired socket that the live wire fell out a centimetre away from my finger........ EVERY SINGLE job we've done to fix or improve this place has been hindered and tainted by the incompetence and cost-and-corner-cutting of the previous owner, taking way longer and costing way more than it should, and/or literally endangering us all. Pretty much everything above was caused by them. Eg. The leak in the bathroom coming VISIBLY through the living room ceiling that they left unfixed for 4+ YEARS MINIMUM that they PROMISED us they'd fixed 🙃🙃🙃

And through this all, we've had no living room or really any downtime space, apart from my husband who has had his office. I've had to move my "desk" (an IKEA table that just about fit my PC+Monitor that bruised my knees to sit at) around like playing musical rooms, until our bedroom was ready, then me and my daughter "relaxed" in there for the last 9 months. The only TV we've had was "shared" with my mother-in-law in the kitchen (aka it's all hers lol).

A lot of this is complaining about first-world problems, I know, I know. We have a roof over our head and are surviving a cost of living crisis that is destroying the lives of many others. But tbh, the last 2+ years of my life have ~rewired my brain~ entirely because I have been in a permanent state of stress combined with an unrelenting limbo. Just... existing. Seeing the light at the end was impossible at times just from the sheer overwhelming amount needed to be done. We are still not finished. But having a living room, unfinished as it currently is, finally feels like that turning point. Having a SOFA HOLY SHIT. Having a space for me and my daughter and my cat to properly ~unwind~ each day. Just being able to have a Christmas tree and presents under it, even if it's not the full-size one we were meant to have, it's still not the tiny 2-foot one stuffed into the kitchen corner we had last year. Mina finally getting free roam of the place the last few days has lifted my soul so much, she's so happy just getting to sit with us and chill.

Bonus; in the new year, I'm finally getting my heart condition fixed permanently, AND then should be starting medication for ADHD.

So yeah. Here's to a turning point, a New Year's start that feels, for the first time in a long time, like a hopeful one. And I really, really hope that translates to more time here going forward, because what little I have been able to do has kept me sane. It'll likely still be spotty for a while, there's still so much to do, but I'm on track now lol.

Now, for anyone that got this far, a bonus happy kitty pic :3

#nonsims #saviourhide #blog PSA #anyway lmao TLDR #it has been... ~a time~ lmao #I am finally getting places with renovating this stupid fucking house #and I can FINALLY sense the light at the end of the tunnel #it literally feels surreal to be typing this at a REAL DESK #in a room I DON'T ALSO SLEEP IN #I can BREATHE.#starting to feel like a home #and not just a money sinkhole #a place to live and not just ~exist~#also. I laid that living room floor and I am so fucking proud lol #why can't renovating be as easy as it is in the sims #those fuckers don't even lift a finger

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

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hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers.

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her.

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her.

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying.

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly.

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?"

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car."

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -"

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?"

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!"

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four.

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?"

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy."

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?"

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!"

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly.

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge.

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles.

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday."

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word.

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?"

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?"

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls.

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking.

Sam huffs, "Who's that?"

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N.

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead.

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..."

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again.

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it.

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam.

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!"

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that."

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips.

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge.

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him.

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks.

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know."

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on.

"What the-," Dean says.

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks.

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them.

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing.

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge.

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?"

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water.

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her.

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him.

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!"

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit.

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing."

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him.

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest.

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead.

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static.

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths.

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away.

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest.

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue.

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him.

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop."

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N.

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest.

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again.

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor.

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be."

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits.

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks."

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start."

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks.

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods.

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters.

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-"

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N.

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers.

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head.

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation."

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge."

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me."

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

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armory-rasa · 5 months

Text

Project time: gambeson!

Been a while since I've liveblogged a new project, so I figured I'd take you with me on a voyage of discovery as I attempt to make a gambeson, aka arming jacket (among many other names), the quilted coat that goes underneath maille or plate armor to provide padding for comfort and protection. At its simplest, this:

I've always liked the look (when they're fitted better), but never had a use for one until the other day when I finally decided to bite the bullet and start doing SCA combat, as the local guys have been trying to get me to do for literally years. First fighter practice is next weekend, let's see what I can get done before then.

(Lolol, make no mistake though, I am not as good at sewing as I am at leather, because I only ever do it under duress. It's entirely possible that what I produce today by winging it will be underwhelming and/or unusable.)

So I looked at a BUNCH of pictures online to see all the various design choices available, and decided that I wanted:

Stylishly long, hitting right below the knee

Stylishly angled, with the hem coming to points rather than being cut square across

Detachable sleeves -- one, because sleeves are hard to make fit nicely, and two, because I'm undecided whether I want wide half-length sleeves (like the picture above) or fitted full-length sleeves. If they're detachable, I can have both.

Lacing on the sides -- because that's an easier way to get the fitted look than, y'know, actually tailoring it to fit. Also means it'll still fit even if I lose or gain inches.

Hat tip to this instructable for alerting me to the existence of pre-quilted fabric at Joanns, and also for doing it with two layers of that fabric, which was reassuring because I've never worked with it before and I was worried that just sewing single layers together would make it too bulky at the seams. I didn't need darts in the chest like hers did (lol thank god, because that looks Hard to do), and I wanted a less dramatic angle on the hem.

To that end, I used the pattern from my Anders brigandine as the jumping-off point:

Though I added some inches because I am no longer the skinny twink I used to be:

TIME TO CUT, BECAUSE I DON'T BELIEVE IN MUSLIN MOCKUPS AND I LIKE TO LIVE DANGEROUSLY.

(This, for the record, is why my sewing projects never turn out as well as they could, but I know myself and I know that if I do a mockup, I will be Fucking Done With Sewing by the time it's over, and then never get around to making the real thing. I expect this gambeson to be a learning experiment, and then wearing it for combat will further show me what I need to adjust for the next one.)

#gambeson #liveblogging projects #gremble attempts to sew

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doki-doki-imagines · 6 months

Text

tw: smut, choking, afab!reader

author note: Since I'll never have canon butler!vere I decided to write my own butler!vere, the power of brattiness is on my side LOL. I don't know how it is but I hope you'll enjoy reading this!

How you could trust that scam of a mage that is Leander is beyond you.

“I just need a little help, nothing will go wrong I swear!” He says with a whiny voice that makes him sound so pathetic

‘My ass’ you thought.

That’s how thanks to your kind heart you find yourself with a new curse, that is not worse than the previous one, you must admit, but still a pain in the ass.

Talking about ass, seeing Leander jump around in full cheerleader uniform to keep the humor high between the Bloodhounds was a real sight, his mint green miniskirt flying around and rising a bit too high than it should, giving a glimpse of the curve of his ass.

Maybe if Leander put some more work in his brain rather than in his muscles you wouldn’t be in this situation. You glance at him from a corner of the bar, and your eyes soften at the scene in front of you; everyone so happy, not a single worry, just cheers and the clacks of pints of beer.

Just happiness, and you feel a pang in your heart thinking about how much you have missed all of this in your life.

A pang that rapidly left when warmth engulfed your body.

“What are you doing here, all alone?” It’s Vere's raspy voice. You turn around and you see the spark in those foxy eyes, but it takes a second, an uncoordinated movement, and your hands fall on his chest, your very naked hands on his equally bare chest.

You can see his eyes getting wide before white smoke spreads all around him, you look around but thankfully nobody notices what is going on. When you look back it’s almost hard to believe what is standing in front of you.

Vere is in a butler uniform, a purple tie matching his previous clothing, but the color of the uniform is lucid black in contrast with the white shirt. He looks at himself, maroon hair swirls with every move of his head.

“If you wanted my services you should have just asked” He chuckles, that fake chuckle he always uses to hide his real, more beautiful but way higher laughter.

You stay still, Vere is beautiful, and also very dangerous, your mouth is dry and you don’t understand if it is because of his new uniform or because his proposal sounded cunning to your trained ears.

“Come with me, master.” You notice how low his voice gets before calling you that way, his gloved hand touches your waist, slightly forcing you towards one of the many alleyways in the back of the bar. You keep walking, but your eyes find their pace looking at his face, his marks still present, the corner of his lips upwards, his ears twitching in what you suspect is delight.

Vere opens one door at the end of the alley, the wood is moldy and the red color is now barely visible, you don’t move an inch, so Vere bows a little, his hand toward the room, a silent ‘after you’.

The room is surprisingly clean, lace doily adorning the tables, fresh flowers in each vase, they are your faves and you start to question how much the little incident of before was actually planned.

“Sit down master, I’ll prepare you tea.” Vere taps on a chair in front of the kitchen island, he doesn’t wait for you to move, already walking towards the kettle, showing you his back.

“I’d rather have coffee” You reply, finally sitting where Vere showed you “Oolong tea it is then” Vere chirps, maybe hoping he got nicer was asking too much.

Silence resonates in the room, while you both wait for the water to boil, Vere never turns to you, so you have the time to admire his new fit: apart from his shoulder the upper part of the uniform is backless, you can see his spine and you remember when Ais told you that some yokai hate to have their back covered since it is one of the most sensible part of their bodies. Your heart starts to thrum faster, thinking how much you’d like to trace his spine down with your fingertips, your gaze lower till you meet the fur of his tail, so big and soft and you know how much Vere likes to take care of it.

“You should snap a picture” Vere takes you down on earth again “I’d like to look at myself when all of this will wear off.” You don’t have time to reply, but maybe it is better that way, he turns a little, so he can side-eye your reaction and you feel so little under his teasing gaze.

“Your tea.” You hesitate before taking the cup, tea has never been your favorite beverage but right now it tastes like abrosia on your tongue. Vere doesn’t even touch his cup, eye feline while he slowly walks behind you, his hands now on your shoulders.

“You look so tense.” His gloved hands try to untangle the knots in your muscles, the point of his tail tickles up your right leg, while you can sense his lips getting more and more near your left ear.

“What do you want me to do master? I’m here for you.” Vere whispers, hands sliding down your shoulders to your collarbones, lips now dangerously close to your neck. Warmth envelops your body, clothes now a bother you’d gladly get rid of.

“Touch me, Vere.” His eyes soften, you don’t see them, but you feel his sharp canines into your neck, and his gloved hands running to your chest, groping and playing with it, the sensation dulled by the layers of clothes.

“Eat me-“ Your phrase interrupted by Vere’s mouth on yours, his teeth sinking in your bottom lip, but not hard enough to break it, his tongue soon meeting yours in a passionate dance of mingling breaths and broken moans.

And it was so hard not to grip his face to pull him closer, to sink your hands in his marron hair, maybe massage his furry ears-

For now, you’ll have to settle for sucking his tongue, savoring his gasps.

Sadly he pulls away, you follow his lips not ready to relinquish the warmth his making you feel. Vere smirks, it’s nice to see such delicious prey so needy for him. He opens your pants, pushing your hands away when you try to do it, his lips finding yours each time you try to get in control of the situation.

“Turn on your back.” You follow Vere's order, not before throwing your pants somewhere on the floor. You soon feel his hand on your hair, the next moment it pushed your head onto the kitchen counter, your ass up in the air, brushing against his clothed erection.

“You want to be eaten here too?” His gloved head touches your core, still covered by your undergarment, he plays with it, snapping it against your warmth, making you whine.

“Ah-ah master-“ His chest presses against your back “I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want” Vere chirps, but the low tone of his voice tells you he isn’t as unaffected as he’d like to look.

“Please, touch me there!” You moan out, knowing full well you’ll be flooded by shame when your mind will start to work again.

Now it’s not a problem, not when you feel Vere’s blowing on your now exposed sex, sticky strands already drenching your thighs

You gasp and Vere chuckles before delving into your core, Vere’s tongue swept between your dripping folds in a steady motion, sweeping upwards repeatedly before kissing and sucking your clit.

Your hips jerk, pushing his face even more against your buttcheeks, your sex clenches on his warm tongue, sticky with saliva and your essence.

“Fuck, Vere-“ You grip hard the kitchen island “you are so g-good, please-” mind getting numb by the fog of pleasure, body burning in bliss.

“You have been so good, so good” He whispers, between deep licks and gentle sucking.

Vere doesn’t stop even when you reach the apex of pleasure, lapping you up like a dog. When he finally pulls off you turn around, eyes teary so he is a bit blurred, but you can see it, your essence staining his chin, some strands of his marron hair stuck on his face, your gaze trails downwards when you notice his boner constrained in his tailored pants.

“Yeah master turn around, you want this too right” His voice is raspy and you nod while he pushes down his pants, he doesn’t wear any underwear and you bask in the satisfaction you could get Vere so hard.

He unties the bow “Gimme your hands” He orders, the soft cotton of his purple tie bonding your wrist together behind your back “This way you won’t have to worry” Vere winks, before pulling out a tissue from the front pocket of his jacket, you tilt your head silently questioning what he wanted to do, a smirks grace his face.

You understand when he pushes it into your mouth “You’ll need it, we don’t want to wake all our neighboors right?” Vere winks, and you would have gladly sent him to fuck himself if it wasn’t for your full mouth and his cock penetrating your core. You’d love to wait a moment, for the ache to dull a little, but Vere doesn’t share your idea, fucking into your hole without any care hands leaving indents on your thighs for how hard he is trying to keep you in place.

“V-Vere! S-Slow down-“ You gasps out, spine arching

“Master, you still don’t know your body?” Vere slows a little, his thrust still hitting deep into you, making you feel all his length “Your core is clenching so hard, it doesn’t want me to pull away” You close your eyes, head tilting back, letting out a shameful sigh; fuck he is right.

Damn Vere and his skills.

His right hand moves from thigh and trail up to reach your neck, so exposed and inviting. Vere grips, hard, and you gag opening your eyes wide.

“Master, please tell me to choke you.” Red eyes swirling in liquid pleasure, mouth shaped in an ‘o’, shirt wrinkled, jacket in a similar fashion, he takes off the tissue in your mouth, drenched in spit.

“Choke me, Vere.” You gasp out the best you can, his hand so tight on your throat. He nods and moans out, the more he increases the pressure the harder you clench on his length.

You feel your mind numbing, his thrusts get faster and arhythmic, but they always hit your sweet spot which makes you see stars every time. He pressed his forehead against yours, his sweat mixing with yours, Vere pounds into you, slower, but harder and you can see his maroon tail high every time he sheath his entire length into you.

A higher moan from the man on top of you is a telltale sign of his impending orgasm, your lips touch his initiating a kiss that is all tongue and whines till you both reach your apex.

Vere pulls out and you soon feel his cum staining your thighs, you wince thinking you’ll need to ask the scam mage for some kind of pill. Vere massages your thighs “Is your throat fine?”, he kisses your knee while he waits for your answer “It has been better, but I’m fine.”

Vere nods “This curse of yours is pretty interesting, do you agree?” He pushes back some strands of his maroon hair, reddish eyes looking directly into yours.

“Talking about curses, can you untie me?” You ask arching your back, showing your still bonded wrists.

Vere smirks and a shiver runs down your spine; nothing good comes from that.

“I think the master needs to relax some more-“ Vere gets on his knees again, you lift yourself a little from the counter, looking at him in the eyes, pupils wide and with that sparkle.

You sigh “Yeah the master really needs it, the night is still long after all, help me out” You notice his tail wag left and right.

“My pleasure.”

The night is still long.

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved smut #touchstarved vere #touchstarved imagines #touchstarved x reader

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