#i had FOUR of these that went Exactly like this. it’s uncanny | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slytherizz · 5 months

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Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest.

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?"

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly.

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin.

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged.

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?”

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest.

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges.

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams.

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight.

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical.

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly.

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom.

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs.

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was.

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand.

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach.

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat?

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work.

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been.

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm.

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?"

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears.

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race.

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder.

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath.

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed.

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes.

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned.

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect.

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success.

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they.

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her.

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four.

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat.

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child.

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled.

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for.

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other reasons it appeals to me.”

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him.

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle.

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity.

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl.

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment.

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed.

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall.

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently.

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs.

“Sebastian - please,” she whined.

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke.

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers.

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree.

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach.

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian.

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress.

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation.

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh.

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress.

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips.

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock.

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft.

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach.

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust.

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out.

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined.

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.”

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear.

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her.

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke.

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard.

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock.

Willing it to take root.

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take.

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away.

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one.

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her.

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval.

“Care to test the theory?”

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majorproblems77 · 2 months

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Hello LU fans! I'm back with another LU update analysis! :D

Are you ready cause there's so much to unpack I'm gonna be here a while. Like last time I'm gonna put a timer on lmao, see how long this takes me.

As always grab your popcorn and drink of choice, cause we need hydration in this life.

all art belongs to @linkeduniverse and Jojo, and if I pull panels from any other pages I'll let you know where it's from! :D

Obviously spoilers for Dawn 8 :D

And a note, I've not played TP or WW, you'll see why thats important later.

Let us begin, shall we!

Man, Poor wild, he's probably beating himself up like there's no tomorrow right now. He looks HORIFIED.

Probably because in technicality, he failed.

I love how he's holding his sword here too. Kinda acting as a shield to the conversation.

Same expression as wild. He also looks horrified. Infact the resemblance between these two in uncanny.

Man time really is the dad isnt he. Unimpressed dad look at 12'oclock. Jokes aside he doesn't look angry about it. He looks like he now gathering information from those who finished the fight. As we know once he left with Twilight he was the only other one to not make it back to the fight.

Thats a fair sentence, thinking about it, I think the only other game where Iron Knuckles appear is in one of Hyrule's games? I'm surprised he's not mentioned anything about it.

Most of the others do have armoured enemies though. So while the others dont have direct experience I assume they have the basics.

All but, Sky and Wars None of them fight armoured enemies like that in their games.

I assume because he's defeated this thing like it was a guardian (Stasis and then wailing on it cause that's what i would do lmao) He assumed it was defeated when it exploded into pieces. Like guardians are prone to do. tbh he was probably gonna go back to look for loot at some point.

You tell them Wind. The small hero, underestimated by everyone BUT Time. Was correct thank you.

Justice for the windy boy.

God Wild really is beating himself up about this. I love the fact that we see four's reaction to this statement. As to be honest. Over the last few nights, Four and Wild have had plenty of bonding moments. These guys are gonna become best friends.

And now we get Time.

The way he's looking over these panels. That look. He know's he's the leader of this group but something that Time isn't used to is making Permanent mistakes.

He has the Ocarina of Time, and when he was back in Termina every time something went wrong he could just play the song of Time and restart the three-day cycle with no trouble at all.

Time, as a person. Isnt technically used to failing.

This panel is stunning. It's what I assume is going on inside his head. It's so pretty. It's so detailed it's just oh man easily one of my favourite panels.

now you know i had to talk about panels with my beloved blorbo in.

first off he's so pretty. Jojo has really outdone herself with just how amazing these updates have looked. The lighting the shading its all just so incredible.

The first half of this panel with Sky's face. He, He is beating himself up about the injury. He had nothing to do with it but he cares so much about the rest of the group he feels bad. He kinda looks like he's thinking about it. Like he can see it. Like time did but we dont see inside Sky's head.

Makes me think about what exactly he saw.

And Twilight's face, he looks so sad. His little pout. Poor wolf boy, which we can now call you properly as the rest of them know now.

And to be honest I'm glad he's standing his ground. Mr, My injury isn't that bad before falling over. the stubborn ranch hand strikes again.

The parallels from this frame and the one from later have been mentioned elsewhere but I'm just gonna post the frame here as it's turned up. Run you coward lizard. Run.

Captain link is back. Poor warriors, he's still showing signs of being stressed. He's one of the only one's who hasn't been able to rest over the downtime that they've had. He's been busy being in charge of the group while Time was out.

I can only assume it's only a matter of time before this comes back to get him. Maybe he is next on the chopping block? (Pun kinda intended) Something could happen and he messes up and gets hurt of causes someone to get hurt.

oh and also

THE SCARF

THE SCARF THE SCARF

IT HAS RETURNED ALL HAIL THE BLUE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT BLANKET WARRIORS NEEDED YOU.

None of us did, Hyrule.

The boys ever, I'm glad they are talking about this like this. And that it's legend who's starting to throw ideas out there like this. As the one who's got the most experience in the group, it makes sense that he would be the one to start offering ideas as to Why not just how.

Because you pissed it off Sky. Because half of you pissed it off. In fact I do believe he had a bunch of panels in Shifting Shadows pt2 where you indeed pissed it off.

The entire reason it started running from you and Twilight had to track it was because of FI's reaction to his sword.

Wait... that explains the guilt. It is actually potentially Sky's fault. Or if he's anything like I think he is. He remembers that fight with the shadow and knows.

He knows.

Also, with clenched fist Sky is ready for a fight. Next time the shadow turns up I assume he's gonna go after it when it's inevitablebly goes after Twilight/Wild. Maybe he'll jump in after being told not too because the Master sword appears to be the only thing as of right now that can fight the red stuff that comes off the shadows sword.

did you hear Warriors shiver? I did.

And you'd know all about that wouldn't you Four. :D

Also

Mandatory Sky appreciation picture

Him's my beloved blorbo. He's wonderful. Such a lil guy. Bestest bean. My beloved. /pl

Anyway moving on

Oh yeah, the amount of power that the items list contains We've seen the arsenal that they have between them (in the December art).

We saw what just Time could do.

Now add the rest of them and the enemies dont stand a chance. They've just gotta figure out how to either avoid the weapons of each other or work as a team with the arsenal in hand to fight better.

Like imagine if Twilight used his gale boomerang to send Wild into the air.

(Writer brain go brr, gonna write that down)

It's basically Revalis Gale.

This man is so damn dramatic I love him

And here's the parallel frame

the shadow running towards Warriors vs running away from Twilight.

You know thinking about it... Shadow didn't shapeshift until Twilight did. The push towards Warriors was when shadow thought they were on level footing.

But when Twilight went after Dink, he was the one who had to flee because he lost his advantage.

ANGRY SKY ANGRY SKY ANGRY SKY

The man is pissed that Shadow hurt Twilight. He is so damn mad and I think that he is saying what he would assume Fi would. (With more emotion because well, Fi)

Also that last frame.

TIME AND SKY ANGST ON THE HORIZON?

time is looking towards the master sword. And he looks angry. This will absolutely have gone unnoticed by the others because if they saw he was angry it was probably just because of the conversation topic.

god I love the dynamic here and I'm excited to see if it goes anywhere

Him's I love his simple way of agreeing its wonderful.

I approve to wind let's go blow some stuff up!

Hyrule shows the group why he is called the traveller. The man just wants to go on his adventures let him go!

Sky is so proud of himself

this face says 'Look guys I didn't give it to the weird toilet hand! :D'

I love this man a healthy amount.

One last thing before I go

I love this update as a whole, seeing the group gear up and getting to see the layers of the armour and straps and fastenings being put on while they are having this discussion is amazing.

I'd give you a collection of pictures but Tumblr is being rude and I can't post more than 30. So you can have these as all four panels show what I'm talking about.

Twilight adjusting his gauntlets warriors adjusting his scarf.

Hyrule attaching his shield to his back and putting his sword strap on.

God, I love this update so much. It was amazing and I very much enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! :D

Thank you as ever for reading my rambles i appreciate you :D

Have a wonderful day and dont forget to hydrate! See you next time!

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callsign-bunnie · 1 year

Text

I love you, Rudy.

Rodolfo stays up later than he should one night to do paperwork. On his way to the file room, he comes across Alejandro. He’s at first worried Alejandro will scold him for being up late, again. But, Alejandro instead just wants to talk. He just wants to talk. He just wants to talk. He just wants to talk. He just wants to talk. He just wants to tal-

Aledolfo, horror, uncanny valley

Rodolfo huffed in relief when he finally finished the last bit of paperwork. God. he was so tired. Alejandro was going to lose it if he found out. Fortunately, he did not plan on Alejandro finding out.

He planned to just file this paperwork and go to bed.

Alejandro didn’t have to find out. If he did, oh well. He’d be lectured in the morning when he wasn’t so exhausted. Not when he was dead on his feet.

Rodolfo stood and sighed, softly. He took his time to gather up all the paperwork. He should rush so he could go to bed, but he was too tired to do much else than systematically place the files into the manila envelope they were meant to go in.

When he was done, he took his time walking to the file room. Again, he really should rush, but he was so tired. He just wanted to take his time.

It’d been a hard day for Alejandro, so he’d likely be in bed. Another busted mission. They became more and more frequent. Four losses. Not significant but Alejandro did his best to deliver the news to each family personally, so that was four families he would have to contact and deliver the news to.

Rodolfo worried he was burning himself out. He wouldn’t turn to Rodolfo for help, he knew that, but god if he’d ask for any help at all.... But, why would he do that? That would require admitting he needed it. At all.

Whatever.

Rodolfo ran a hand down his face, getting out his key card to unlock the file room. He was so glad they’d switched to those. Were they slightly less safe than their logins? Yes. Did Rodolfo not have to spend extra time when he was already exhausted to punch in numbers he could barely remember? Also yes.

One significantly outweighed the other in his mind.

Plus, the archive wasn’t key card activated anyway, so it wasn’t like anything important was accessible. Most of their classified documents went straight down into the archive, they didn’t even stop at this file room.

Rodolfo relaxed when he got the door open and, out of habit, checked the logs.

2:47 - Rodolfo Parra logs in for filing

23:52 - Alejandro Vargas logs in for filing

Odd. Alejandro hadn’t left... But that would be nearly three hours that he’d been in the file room? Well, if he wasn’t asleep... then he couldn’t exactly lecture Rodolfo for being up late, either, right?

Rodolfo went inside. However... Alejandro wasn’t there. Odd. Maybe the log hadn’t caught him leaving. That had happened a few times and it had caused several arguments between them. Alejandro had accused Rodolfo of being shady a few times and Rodolfo had definitely not appreciated that.

Whatever, Rodolfo would ignore it and just ask Alejandro later. If Alejandro chose to answer, that is. Which, he likely wouldn’t. So... maybe Rodolfo wouldn’t ask at all. Whatever.

Rodolfo shook his head and just opened the file cabinet. He carefully filed everything where it needed go to, making sure every paper was in it’s perfect place.

“Rodolfo, you’re up late.”

Rodolfo nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping to look at Alejandro, who was leaned against another file cabinet, half smiling. “Asshole! Why would you do that??”

Alejandro winced. “I’m sorry, Rudy.”

Rodolfo hesitated before relaxing. “It’s alright.” He flushed and turned back to the file cabinet. “Yeah, I’m up late. Paperwork. I figured after today... you may want to not have to worry about paperwork in the morning. Sorry, I’ll make an effort to not do it again.”

“That’s alright.”

Rodolfo raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “No lecture? No... ‘you shouldn’t stay up late, Rodolfo, it’s bad form.’” He mocked the way Alejandro spoke and moved when he talked.

Alejandro only laughed. “No, not tonight, I don’t think.”

Rodolfo frowned a little. “Oh.” Oh well, he’d take it. He turned back to the filing cabinet once again, sighing. “I’m sorry about the busted mission, today. We’ll get them next time.”

“We will.” Alejandro moved closer and Rodolfo glanced at him again. Alejandro usually wasn’t so optimistic. He usually didn’t pass up the opportunity to rant and rave about how awful a mission had gone.

Rodolfo smiled. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I am? Hmm. I didn’t notice.” Alejandro chuckled.

Rodolfo rolled his eyes. “You’re in a better mood than you usually are. Especially after a busted mission.” He then frowned, tensing as he remembered a few times before that Alejandro had been in a way better mood than he should have been. “You didn’t drink, did you?”

Alejandro seemed to pause and Rodolfo’s heart sank. “I’m sorry, Rudy.” His shoulders sank.

“Ale... you promised to stop...” Rodolfo turned back to the file cabinet, unable to help how hurt he was. Alejandro had promised Rodolfo he wouldn’t drink anymore. “Why can’t you stop?”

“I’m sorry, Rudy.”

“You’re sorry?! That’s it??” Rodolfo turned away from him. “I don’t want to watch you spiral down this road again... Please don’t do this to me...”

“I’m sorry, Rudy.” Alejandro touched his arm and Rodolfo just jerked away from him, sniffling.

“I don’t think you actually are sorry.” Rodolfo mumbled. He wiped his face and turned back to the filing cabinet. He didn’t like being so emotional. Especially not in front of Alejandro, who made it pretty clear he didn’t give a shit when he was.

“I am.”

Rodolfo looked at Alejandro, who was looking at him with concern. He rolled his eyes. “If you were sorry, you’d keep your promise and stop...” He mumbled, his face softening. “Am I not worth stopping for?”

Alejandro’s face softened as well. “You are.”

“Then stop!” Rodolfo exclaimed, frustrated. Alejandro would proclaim to the high heavens that Rodolfo was worth stopping for, that he cared about Rodolfo, but he never fucking stopped! He would never stop.

“I will.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Rodolfo turned back, again, to the file cabinet. “Anyway, I need to finish filing these papers. Goodnight, Alejandro.”

Alejandro didn’t move, though. Instead, he just continued to stand there. When Rodolfo glanced at him, he was staring at him with obvious concern.

Rodolfo rolled his eyes. “I said goodnight, Alejandro.”

“I’m sorry, Rudy.” Alejandro touched his face and made him look at him. His eyes were so soft and Rodolfo couldn’t help just melting in his touch.

Alejandro rarely touched him like that. Rodolfo wished he would do it, more, but that required acknowledging whatever was between them and Alejandro would never do that. Alejandro usually only did it when Rodolfo was upset. Which he was.

Rodolfo looked up into Alejandro’s face, melting at the softness that was there.

“I’m sorry.” Alejandro reiterated, his eyes looking over Rodolfo’s face.

Rodolfo flushed and closed his eyes, nuzzling into Alejandro’s hand, relaxing when Alejandro’s other hand touched his face, gently cradling his face between his hands. “I forgive you... just please don’t do it again...”

“I won’t.” Alejandro smiled as Rodolfo opened his eyes.

Rodolfo relaxed. He didn’t believe Alejandro. He knew he was lying. He would do this again, later. But... for now... since Alejandro was holding him so carefully, he would believe it. Just for this moment. “Alright...”

Rodolfo went to pull away, since he still needed to finish filing the papers. But, Alejandro stopped him, his grip firm. “Ale- I need to finish filing these papers.”

“Don’t.” Alejandro was still smiling. It hadn’t changed.

Rodolfo frowned and again pulled away. “I can’t hold off until tomorrow or I’ll have even more paperwork to file, Ale.” He didn’t understand why Alejandro was being so pushy.

“Don’t.” Alejandro shook his head.

Rodolfo frowned more. “I have to.”

“Don’t.”

“Alejandro, you’re scaring me.” Rodolfo tried to pull away but Alejandro’s grip tightened more. “Ale, please-” It was starting to hurt his neck.

“Don’t.” Alejandro dug his nails into Rodolfo’s skin and Rodolfo whimpered, reaching up and trying to break Alejandro’s grip on his face. “Don’t!”

“Stop! You’re hurting me!” Rodolfo tried to yank Alejandro’s hands from his face, but his grip wouldn’t budge at all.

“Don’t.”

Rodolfo shook his head, whimpering. “Please let me go, Alejandro.” What was wrong with Alejandro? Why was he doing this?? This wasn’t like Alejandro at all.

“No.”

“Please, Alejandro.” Rodolfo tried harder to break his grip, starting to panic. “Ale-”

“I love you, Rodolfo.” Alejandro smiled at him.

Rodolfo stopped, immediately. “What?” Alejandro would never say that. Alejandro didn’t love him.

Alejandro’s smile didn’t break. “I love you, Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo blinked up at him. “I-” He stared into Alejandro’s blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

Alejandro didn’t have blue eyes. Alejandro’s eyes were brown. A rich whiskey brown. “I’m sorry, Rudy.”

Fear started to grip Rodolfo’s heart. “I-” This wasn’t Alejandro. “What... who are you?”

It smiled. The corners of it’s mouth lifted high up into it’s face, easily reaching his eyes. Rodolfo let out a shuddering breath. “Who are you?” He repeated.

“Alejandro.” It was Rodolfo’s voice back to him, like he was being mocked.

“N-No. Alejandro- you are not Alejandro.” Rodolfo shook his head. It moved it’s hands down to Rodolfo’s throat, instead, not gripping but Rodolfo knew that would change. “Who are you?”

It’s eyes widened with it’s smile and with the smile caused it’s teeth to part. Sharp razor teeth filled it’s mouth and Rodolfo couldn’t breathe with fear. “I love you, Rodolfo.” It’s voice became more high pitched and Rodolfo realized it wasn’t actually speaking.

It was mimicking.

“What are you?” Rodolfo changed his question, trying to keep his voice steady, though he could hardly speak at all.

“What are you?” Rodolfo heard his voice repeated back, almost perfectly. “I forgive you...”

Rodolfo took a deep breath. Now, he could barely believe he’d ever thought this was Alejandro at all. The smile was too wide, it was too pale, it’s eyes way too big.

“Ale, please.”

Rodolfo squeezed his eyes shut. There was a special sort of terror from hearing your own voice spoken to you. “Stop!”

“Stop!”

Rodolfo was trembling. He would have been embarrassed but whatever this was likely would not judge him. “Please...”

“I love you, Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo teared up. “Alejandro wouldn’t say that. Alejandro doesn’t love me. You got it wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Rudy.”

The tears fell down Rodolfo’s face and he wasn’t sure if he was crying from heartbreak or the pure terror squeezing the pieces together. “You’re not Alejandro.”

“You’re not Alejandro.”

This wasn’t Alejandro at all.

I do have a part 2 if it’s wanted

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Call Of Duty #horror #it's not horror night but i thought this was an interesting concept #mimesis au

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hexpea · 7 months

Text

Ch. 2 - A History Revealed

Suguru left the bathroom and quickly walked back to the faculty room where all past records of the jujutsu high classes were kept. If you existed, truly, there would be record of you in there.

"Hey, whoa," Satoru greeted and sat up in his chair as soon as he sensed Suguru's urgency. "Did you check that thing out in the bathroom?" He wondered, watching as Suguru went straight for the large bookshelves and filing cabinets at the back of the room.

"I did," he answered as he found a the cabinet with the files labeled "1930s." He fingered through the files until he reached your graduating class' first year, 1934. "And Kugisaki was right."

"So there is a cursed spirit in there?" Satoru cocked his head as Suguru pulled out the file as well as the years for 1935 and 1936 and closed the cabinet behind him.

"Not exactly," he replied, now sitting at his desk and pushing the keyboard to his computer out of the way so the aging files could lay properly on a flat surface. "There's something, but I don't think it's a cursed spirit. Or, if it is, it has a human energy attached to it."

"Hanako-san," Satoru repeated with a giggle.

"Close," Suguru nodded seriously. His seriousness caused Satoru's smile to fade slightly as his own interest grew. "A girl appeared in there after I performed the Hanako ritual. Before that, the room was empty. She said her name was Y/N L/N and her graduating class was 1936."

"1936!" Satoru exclaimed wildly, nearly causing his chair to fall backward as he leaned. "That's quite some time ago. She'd be dead, right?!"

"Unless she's a really young-looking 99 years old," Suguru took time for a slight chuckle. "But it seems like it. She mentioned having a technique that gave her ghost-like physiology which is why she would be trapped in the bathroom."

"Right, I suppose it's possible she's got some kind of immortality or longevity associated with that kind of technique. Just like Master Tengen," Satoru suddenly remembered.

Suguru nodded and opened the first folder to find the 1934 first year student roster. It was a small class, as always, and your name appeared right in the middle of a set of four names. "She's right, her name's right here," he put a finger on it as Satoru leaned forward to take a peek.

Suguru then continued to look through the files until he found a faded class photo. The first year teacher at the left-side with the four students, you in the middle, standing in a line. All had smiles on their faces as if nothing had yet traumatized them.

"There she is," he pointed to your picture.

"Wow, neato," Satoru smiled, "so she's trapped in the bathroom? How do we get her out?"

"No idea," Suguru responded and then pulled forward the next folder, the year 1935. Satoru took the folder for 1934 and continued looking at it. "If she's just a regular sorcerer she needs to learn the nuances of her technique. It's likely she's only stuck because of something she did with it."

"Oh, look here!" Satoru suddenly sat up a bit straighter and pointed toward the person next to you in the first-year photo. "Isn't that your grandfather? He looks just like you, it's uncanny!"

Suguru leaned forward and squinted his eyes to get a better look. He then looked at the roster and sure enough "Geto" was listed as one of the names. "Y-yeah, it is," Geto confirmed. He didn't say anything, but briefly looking at that photo made him feel a certain type of way, a certain sense of familiarity. It made him uncomfortable, so he quickly looked away and continued perusing the second folder.

Satoru sat silently to allow his friend to look through the files of 1936. He skipped through the 1936 first year and second year files to get to your third year class photo. This time, you were missing. And the smiles your classmates once had began to fade. If anything, only one had a slightly crooked smile as if the photographer had asked them to smile - not because they wanted to. The uncomfortable feeling Suguru had while staring at his grandfather came back as he made eye contact through the photo. He shook his head and moved on to rid himself of the feeling.

"What happened?" Suguru whispered to himself as he flipped back a few more pages to a photo-copy of a certificate of death. He swallowed hard when he saw your name typewritten onto the page with a fancy seal certifying its authenticity.

"So she is dead," Satoru pointed toward your death date.

Suguru's eyes continued scanning the document until he reached the cause of death. Unknown -- the standard cause of death for sorcerers who died in the field, so as to prevent any unrest among non-shamans.

"You know, come to think of it," Satoru searched his mind for the history of the school, something they teach during a student's first year at TJH. "That was the year the school had that issue with Kenjaku. But, as expected, my ancestor handled it. Didn't have the six eyes, but hey...still the strongest," Satoru didn't hesitate to blow his own horn.

"Kenjaku, huh?" Suguru sighed as he closed the folder. "Well, I suppose if she's dead that means she's a spirit. I wonder how she's cursed..."

"But doesn't that mean you can help her escape the bathroom? You can just claim her," Satoru suggested.

"Please don't refer to it that way," Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose.

"But that's what you usually call it when you get other cursed spirits," Satoru shrugged. "I figure she'd be no different. She's, like, a tamer version of Rika. Obviously nowhere near as powerful, but it's clear she was cursed in some form or fashion to be stuck like that."

"She's different," Suguru mumbled. "She's more human than anything else."

"Ooo, does Suguru have a crush on a ghost-girl?" Satoru teased. Suguru flashed his friend an angry look as he stood up with the folders.

"I just want to help her," he explained as he put the folders back into their cabinet. "Can you imagine being stuck somewhere for over eighty years?"

"Hmm..." Satoru thought about it for a moment. "Nope! But good on you; can't wait to meet her."

Suguru rolled his eyes and proceeded to head back to the bathroom for a second time. This time, his goal was to bring you out.

Suguru proceeded with the same ritual to get you to appear again. If Hanako-san wasn't real, the ritual certainly was. He wondered briefly if there were other circumstances similar to your own in regard to cursed spirits.

"Why hello..." you trailed off. Your visitor had yet to tell you his name and you hadn't realized until his second visit.

"Geto Suguru," he introduced himself. "You can just call me Suguru, no need for formalities."

"Hello, Suguru," your cheeks turned a light, happy yet ghostly pink as he continued looking at you with a serious face. "Did you find anything out?"

"I found out quite a bit," he sighed, "and I have an idea to help get you out of this bathroom."

"Finally!" You cheered, sighing with extreme exhaustion. "I haven't seen outside in so long!"

"I'll say," Suguru mumbled to himself, "what I'm going to do...I have no idea how it affects the spirits, so I can't say if it hurts or not...but my technique is cursed spirit manipulation. I should be able to use that to help you escape this bathroom."

"Wait...are you saying that I'm a cursed spirit?" You felt a bit heartbroken. With no memories prior to entering that bathroom, it told you that you were at least dead - but being a cursed spirit? You didn't want to believe it. You saw how nasty those things were and to be considered one was gut-wrenching.

"I don't exactly understand, but the signs are pointing to yes," he sighed unhappily, "but I figure if I can move you from your trapped location you can at least move freely once I release you."

"But what if it doesn't work? Or what if it works but once I'm out of the bathroom, I disappear... If I'm dead, I don't think I'm ready to figure out...what happens after."

Suguru nodded with empathy. "You were young, those kinds of thoughts weren't running through your mind, I'm sure. You weren't prepared for this kind of result. But would you really rather be trapped here?"

You paused in thought for a moment. There was safety in your little bathroom. Sure, there wasn't anything to do, but it meant that you existed.

"The fear you're feeling is natural. It's expected, but it's what you do with it that matters," Suguru tried to encourage you. "Dying is also natural," he shrugged and looked away to avoid eye contact with such an awkward statement. "Your spirit has ingrained knowledge of what to do when that happens. No matter what, you won't be lost." He looked back at you in hopes that his words were encouraging.

"Let's do it," you gave a single, determined nod.

#geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x y/n #getou suguru x y/n #suguru getou x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru getou x you #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru #suguru getou #geto suguru #suguru geto

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insomniacwriter17 · 7 months

Text

Saved from the Flames - Chapter Seventeen

“When you’re born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it’s not.” –Richard Kadrey

Billy Hargrove is 9 years old. He tries his best to be the son his father wants him to be - quiet, respectful, and obedient. But Neil just pushes harder and harder, all in the name of raising a “strong man”. When Billy is removed from his father’s custody and placed in foster care, it takes some time for him to realize his world is no longer burning around him. New experiences, new people, new opportunities all make Billy realize there’s a whole lot more to life than respect and responsibility.

AKA: The story of how Bob Newby became a real life superhero for one little boy who needed saving.

Inspired by this post I saw from @connordax

read on ao3

Turns out, Billy had nothing to worry about. He was a natural at minigolf, Bob said. It took a few holes for Joyce, Bob, and Jonathan to explain all the rules to Billy and for the blonde to warm up to the feeling of the golf club and what was happening, but once he did? He had an uncanny ability to get his shots exactly where he wanted them.

Bob and Joyce were mainly just playing to show Billy the ropes and appease Jonathan and Will, while Will had foregone a club and would simply roll the golf ball or kick it to where he wanted.

Billy was having such a good time! They were allowed to play each hole as many times as they wanted; they’d step off to the side and wait if another group came through and wanted to play and then pass them. By Billy’s estimation, they had played at the steam volcano hole at least a thousand times.

It was the most fun Billy had ever had, he thought. His cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling, because Bob keeps telling funny jokes and Jonathan cheers every time anyone successfully lands the ball in the cup. Joyce offers praise and high fives to the boys often, and Billy glows under the words of affirmation.

When they had reached the final hole, Bob warned that this one they wouldn’t get to play again, because the hole led to a tunnel that would return the balls back to the office. “Aw, it’s over?” Billy pouted.

“Can we do it again?” Will begged. But Joyce and Bob shared a look before shaking their heads. It was warm and sunny, all three boys red-faced and sweaty. Feet were dragging and even as happy as everyone was in the moment, both adults knew they were counting down the minutes until exhaustion-induced meltdowns would ensue.

“Not today, sweetie,” Joyce replied in that sweet way that left no room for argument. “We’ll have to come back some time, won’t we?” There were scattered agreements from the boys as Bob lined up his shot, a hole in one to end his illustrious minigolf career.

“But, we can stop for snacks on the way out, how about that?” Bob offered while Jonathan went to take his turn. “And we thought maybe you boys might enjoy a movie night.”

“At your house?!” Will asked excitedly, pulling on Bob’s shirt hem. “You have the best movie nights!”

“What do you say, Billy? You feel up to a movie night?” Bob asked, and the boy nodded quickly. He liked hanging out with Will and Jonathan, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to them yet! As they talked, Jonathan hit the ball one, two, three, four times to get it to the end of the course.

Next up was Billy. Not unlike the last few holes, it only took him two putts to get the ball in the hole, grinning up at the others as he watched the red ball circle down into the tunnel and disappear. “Alright, Billy!” Bob cheered. “Look at you!”

“I did it!” Billy raised his arms above his head in celebration, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.

“You did it!” Joyce echoed, clapping as Billy scurried back up to the top of the course so Will could take his turn. As Will and Joyce took their turns, Billy high-fived both Bob and Jonathan. It wasn’t long before everyone had finished their round, and they headed inside to turn in their golf clubs.

“How about those car snacks?” Bob suggested as they began to wrap up, pointing to the snack bar. “Get everyone something to drink so we can cool off, maybe something fun to munch on during the drive home?”

Well, Billy certainly wasn’t going to argue with that logic, and soon he had a cinnamon pretzel in one hand and a lidded cup of Sprite in the other. Jonathan had gotten an identical snack, while Will had been given half a pretzel, torn up by Joyce and dropped into a second cup so he could eat it easier. It had taken a while to get everyone in the car with arms full of food, but they managed. Billy was once more wedged between Jonathan and Will, happily munching on his pretzel.

“Everyone ready to go?” Bob called over his shoulder as he got into the driver’s seat. There was a scattering of replies, so he pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward Hawkins. The car was filled with the chattering of the three boys excitedly discussing what movie they should watch that night; up front, Bob and Joyce shared a knowing smile.

“We were right to get them together,” Joyce commented softly. “We’ll have to do this more often.”

“Absolutely,” Bob agreed. “You know you and the boys are welcome anytime.”

“I know,” she smiled. She looked in the backseat, where Will had once more fallen asleep, his snack forgotten in his lap. Billy and Jonathan had their heads tucked together, talking eagerly about something.

The boys were discussing what movies they could watch that night. Jonathan had just suggested Oliver Twist, and as Billy was getting ready to reply to him, the car hit a pothole and they bounced in their seats.

Billy’s cup of soda began to slip out of his hands, and he panicked, squeezing the cup tightly. He yelped in surprise as the lid popped off the cup and soda splattered across the backseat, soaking his and Jonathan’s shorts and shirts. “Oh no!” Billy gasped, the slickness of the cup making him lose his grip on it entirely, the plastic bouncing off his knee and falling to the floor of the car.

Bob looked in the rearview mirror at the same time Joyce turned in her seat. “Oh, Billy,” she gasped sympathetically. Her gaze moved to Will, who was waking up and looking just a moment from crying. “It’s okay, buddy, don’t worry!”

“I’m sorry!” Billy whimpered, his eyes already filled with tears. He’d ruined their day! Now he and Jonathan were covered in soda, and beside him Will was crying, clearly confused from having been woken up.

“It’s okay!” Joyce promised, reaching back and placing a hand on Billy’s soaked knee. “Don’t worry about it, honey. We can fix this, just breathe.”

Bob felt helpless as he watched Billy panic, already inconsolable from the spill. He kept his eyes on the road, pulling into a gas station parking lot just a few minutes later. “I have clothes in the back, we can get everyone cleaned up,” Joyce told Bob softly, still trying to calm down both Billy and Will. Billy’s panic had been reduced to a quivering lip and shaky breaths, so Bob counted that as a good thing.

“Everybody relax,” Joyce addressed the back seat. “We’re going to get everyone cleaned up and it’ll be like nothing ever happened,” she promised. “Just hang on.” She moved to get out of the car and Bob followed suit when she waved for him to follow.

“The shirt may be a little big on Billy, but we can get them changed. He and Jonny look about the same size,” she offered.

Bob couldn’t help but try and lighten the mood. "You brought spare clothes for minigolf?" Bob chuckled. "My god, Joyce, what kind of minigolf did you think we were playing?"

But Joyce didn’t laugh, she just shrugged. "I didn't pack clothes for today," she explained. "I just...have them. Do you want some for Billy or not?" Her voice had taken on an unusual level of frustration, and Bob couldn’t figure out why.

But when Joyce opened the trunk and Bob saw not one bag, but three in the trunk, it hit him like a ton of bricks. "Joyce..."

"Don't," she whispered, pulling the brown leather bag forward and rummaging through it. "We can talk about it later." But she knew that later, she'd deflect the subject even further. Bob knew it, too. It's what she always did when it came to Lonnie.

Joyce pulled out two new pairs of shorts and two t-shirts. One was a faded Scooby Doo t shirt, and the other Charlie Brown. "Will you take the older two and help them? I'll get the back seat cleaned up and Will calmed down." Bob sighed but nodded, taking the offered clothes.

"Thank you." His hand fell atop Joyce's, squeezing gently. She looked up at him, eyes suspiciously bright. "You know you always have a place with me, right?"

“I know," she replied before turning to close the trunk. Knowing Bob couldn’t solve that problem right now, he instead turned to open the back door to get Jonathan and Billy out of the backseat.

Billy was still crying, but now Jonathan was talking to him. “It’s gonna be okay!” Jonathan was promising. “It’s just an accident! You don’t have to be sad about it.” The brunette boy turned to look at Bob, confusion etched on his small features. “Right, Bob? It’s just soda!”

“It sure is, bud. Easy to fix,” Bob nodded, gesturing for Jonathan to step out of the car. On the far side of Billy, Joyce was pulling Will out of his car seat and shushing the still whimpering boy. Once Jonathan was standing beside Bob, the man reached out to unbuckle Billy’s seatbelt. “Come here, kiddo.”

Billy’s eyes were wide as he turned to look at Bob. “I’m sorry!” he whimpered again as he scooted across the seat. He’d gotten the most of the spilled beverage it seemed, his shorts and shirt both soaked.

Bob shook his head, holding a hand out to steady Billy as the boy slid out of the car and onto the pavement. “No need to apologize, Billy. It was an accident, okay? Look,” he held up the clothes he had in his other hand. “Joyce has some clothes for you and Jonathan to change into and by the time we’re done cleaning up everything will be good as new and we can enjoy our evening.”

Billy paused, sniffling as he twisted the soaked shirt hem in his hands. “I’m not in trouble?” he questioned softly, just above a whisper. “You aren’t mad at me?” The second question was directed at Jonathan, who looked totally shocked.

“I’m not mad!” Jonathan promised. “It was an accident!” As the boys talked, Bob led them into the gas station and to the bathroom to clean up. As they passed the checkout, Bob asked for a plastic bag for the wet clothes, Billy’s face burning in embarrassment even at the simple question.

In the men’s bathroom, Billy was handed a new shirt and shorts and ushered into a stall to change. He did so, the remnants of tears still on his cheeks and his nose stuffy. He could hear Jonathan moving around in the stall next to him, and he could see Bob’s tennis shoes by the sink where he stood waiting for them.

After he was dressed, Billy pushed open the stall door and stepped out, his chin tucked to his chest as he looked at his shoes. “Hey,” Bob’s voice was gentle as Billy approached. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m sorry,” Billy murmured again, blinking up at the man through teary eyelashes. Bob smiled sympathetically and knelt down in front of him, holding the bag open for the wet clothes. Billy dropped them in and then wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hug himself.

Bob studied the boy for a moment, then opened his arms. Billy’s lip trembled and he stepped forward to let the man hug him. More tears pushed their way into his eyes as Billy cried softly into Bob’s shoulder.

Bob frowned and tightened his grip on the boy. “There’s no need to cry, Billy. It was just an accident,” he soothed, one hand beginning to run up and down Billy’s back. The only other hug he’d given Billy had been the night after the infamous visit with Neil – Billy wasn’t much for physical affection; or, if he was, he hid it well. “I got you, pal.”

The thing was, Billy believed him. Billy knew Bob was sincere, and for some reason, that made him cry even harder. His tiny arms wrapped around Bob’s neck and clung tightly to him as he sobbed into Bob’s t-shirt.

He felt Bob shift his position and then stand, bringing Billy with him. “I have you,” Bob promised when Billy’s grip tightened. “Don’t worry.” So Billy didn’t. He let Bob take control while he focused on calming down. It worked well enough, and by the time Jonathan had cleaned up and Bob had led them back to the car, Billy’s cries had subsided. He was still holding onto Bob like he was afraid the man would disappear, but Bob had made no move to let him go.

Joyce had just finished buckling Will back into his car seat, the boy content to finish the snack he’d fallen asleep eating earlier. “Everything’s good as new!” she called, voice chipper as she watched the other three approach.

Billy still didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away from Bob, so the man gestured for Jonathan to go ahead and climb into the car. “How we doing, Billy?” Bob finally asked after a few more minutes.

Truthfully, Billy had calmed down significantly and was now simply basking in the affection he was getting. “Okay,” he admitted softly. “Should I get down?” Bob could hear the disappointment in Billy’s voice, and he fought back a frown.

“You don’t have to if you aren’t ready,” Bob promised. “I can hold you for a bit longer if it makes you feel better.”

But Billy shook his head and began to wiggle his way out of Bob’s arms. “I’m not sad anymore,” he told Bob bravely as he stood back up. “It’s okay.”

Bob cocked his head to the side. “Okay,” he relented. “But hey,” he added before opening the back door. “Just so you know, you don’t have to be sad to get hugs. You can ask for them anytime.”

“Anytime?” Billy repeated a bit unsurely. Bob nodded. “Whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want,” Bob parroted back, smiling at him. “All you have to do is ask.”

Billy’s face broke out into a sheepish grin before he turned to climb into the backseat beside Jonathan. Bob closed the door and then made his way to the driver’s seat so he could drive them the rest of the way home. “We can throw their clothes in the wash,” Bob suggested to Joyce. “That way you can take Jon’s outfit back home tonight clean.”

“Thanks,” Joyce replied softly. The rest of the ride was thankfully uneventful, and whatever upset Billy had been feeling at the gas station had dissipated by the time they pulled into the driveway.

They had a quick dinner of hot dogs and fruit outside at the patio table before settling in to watch a movie. After much debate, Jonathan’s suggestion of Oliver Twist had won out, and everyone settled into the living room with bowls of popcorn to share.

When they had all sat down, Billy had stopped short in front of Bob, looking like he was debating what to ask. So Bob took a chance, patted the seat next to him and said, “Want to sit with me?” Billy nodded, wasting no time before he climbed up and sat as close to Bob as he could. The man draped his arm over Billy’s shoulder and he felt Billy relax under the touch. Bob didn’t think it was a coincidence that their position mirrored that of Joyce and Will from where they sat on the other end of the couch.

And when Billy yawned and leaned heavier against Bob, the man took the weight easily. By the time the movie was over, Billy was curled up in Bob’s lap, his head against the man’s chest as he slept. It was not unlike the night of Billy’s visit, but it felt so very different. There was a sense of calm, of normalcy, of happiness.

Maybe it was just because of how long the day had been, but Billy didn’t so much as stir when Bob tried to wake him up after the movie. So instead, he carried the sleep-heavy boy down the hall and laid him in bed, tucking the blankets around his shoulders. “Sleep tight, bud,” Bob whispered before he went to help Joyce get her own two sleeping boys to the car.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #ao3 #insomniacwriter17 #fandom #bob newby #bob newby deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #foster care au #sftf #cw: child abuse

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jojolymes · 2 years

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𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎; twenty-four

࿔*:･ﾟ xxiv.

next: ࿔*:･ﾟ xxv. | table of contents

"HE'S COMING after the ball!" screamed Johnny as Diego let out a sharp cry, watching the steel ball that approached you and Gyro. Iron Maiden was nowhere to be found around you as the steel ball didn't stop on its course. Your stand wasn't appearing and there was nothing you could do about it. As you stared unmovingly at the ball, Gyro tugged you tightly against him. "Slowly move your legs up," he whispered as the ball spun faster than it had before. Although it spun faster, it didn't move forward as much. You didn't question what Gyro had said and slowly brought up your legs, making sure you weren't moving faster than the steel ball.

But the ball still headed straight for Gyro.

"Hey...hey, hey, hey, Gyro-" you muttered, inwardly panicking as the ball was right beside Gyro's legs. He stopped you by pulling you against his chest, blocking your view of Diego. Your heart raced uncontrollably as Diego made that eery clicking sound again, letting out an ear-piercing screech. You couldn't move a muscle until you realized Diego had run right past you and into the wall behind you all, shown by the loud thud you had heard instead of Gyro getting hurt. You pushed away from Gyro's chest to see what exactly had happened and found yourself watching Diego shake his head back and forth, almost like a dog. Except he was a giant scaly monster dinosaur thing rather than a cute, furry companion.

"Calm down, you two," Gyro began with grit teeth as you all watched Diego scramble off down the side of the mountain, "the steel ball that returned to me flattened my legs with the spin. It looks like he thinks I went over the wall now." You couldn't help but let out a long sigh of relief, finally pushing yourself away from Gyro to bring a hand up to the back of your head. There was still an uncanny amount of blood yet Iron Maiden was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she wouldn't come out because of the blood loss and the sickness. You wouldn't know until the next time she appeared.

"Johnny... about those letters on your arm—" you felt something move beneath you just slightly, almost unnoticeably— "just now... there's something I realized about their placement." It was some sort of rise and fall, like something breathing. But you were on a corpse. It must have been an earthquake. A low rumble under you once more made you pale, hands brushing over the fur. Under the coat, however, was something white and flaky, like some lizard shedding. "Johnny, Gyro," you began as Johnny shot a glance behind him, looking back at you with a furrowed brow.

"Look at this," you faltered, bringing a piece of the white scales between your fingers, watching as it fell apart. There was another low grumble, but it sounded more like some sort of animal grunt. "Did you guys hear that?" Johnny asked as you both nodded reluctantly, Gyro looking around as he readied his steel ball. "Yeah, but what is it...?" Before you knew it, the thing below you stood up, leaving you three to tumble off of its back. "What the fuck?!" yelled Johnny as you fell on your back, hitting the ground harshly. You let out a yell, barely registering when Gyro dragged you backward beside him and Johnny.

"The...the bear!" Gyro began as you gazed upon the giant dinosaur. "And look! He was alive! Just what is Diego's stand ability?!" But there was no time to question that when the dino-bear turned around, running straight for Johnny. "Iron Maiden!" you screamed as the thing rammed against his body, leaving you at a loss. "J-Johnny!" You screeched as the thing backed away, feeling lightheaded when you yelled your lungs out. But when it had retreated, Johnny looked at you in awe from between the bars of a drain pipe. You stared back in surprise, turning back to look at Gyro who held his spinning steel ball.

"Go through you two! I can make your bodies flat with spin as well!" Gyro ordered as he stood in front of you, glaring at the dinosaur, "go under the wall and through the drainage!" The thing let out a massive roar and suddenly you were right beside Johnny, squished against him in the cold cement tube. "And one more thing, though we are in a bit of a situation," Gyro began, leaning over the drainage to look at you both, "as I was saying, about that arm of your's Johnny...those aren't letters! They're the shape of the Big Dipper! The shape and the placement are the same and the "crus" is at the North Star!" Johnny looked taken aback from your spot beside him, looking at Gyro with a glimmering fire in his eyes.

"The letters themselves are a map that shows the constellation. The location where the Big Dipper dips into the ground! That's where it's pointing at! Combine the constellation with the mountain and the ground!" Behind Gyro, just as he said, you could make out the stars in the sky which looked identical to the marks on Johnny's arm. You turned to Johnny with a grin he couldn't see, watching as a small smile of his own appeared on his face. "We'll go get it now if you're up to it," Gyro said simply, leaning back onto the balls of his feet while the dinosaur roared for the millionth time, "the corpse is on that hill!" The signature clicking from Diego made your smiles instantly disappear and suddenly Gyro had been cornered by both him and the dino-bear.

"Go! Go! Diego is back! Go deeper, you two!" You obliged quickly, pushing past Johnny so that Gyro could get into the drainage pipe. Diego screamed shrilly, nipping and scratching at Gyro through the bars once he slipped through. "What is this? Diego's ability! That bear he killed turned into a dinosaur!" Johnny fretted as Gyro shuffled up beside him. "Who knows? Hurry and go deeper!" Gyro yelled, ushering you and Johnny further towards the open end of the pipe. "That rocky hill at the Big Dipper is on the cliff across the canyon!" pointed out Gyro as you all crawled onwards, "I'm guessing the corpse is somewhere in the dent of the peak! It's probably only a two-hundred or three-hundred-meter climb! After we get down from here, we'll climb down the cliff and up the canyon in the dark!"

You peered out the end of the pipe, grimacing at just how enormous the hill was— and Gyro and Johnny were talking about it like it was just a casual climb. Your head still pounded as you crawled and while you tried to keep steady, you tried summoning Iron Maiden. "Right, we'll get the corpse from the mountain and then get out of here! But Gyro, what about our horses? The horses! They'll be eaten by Diego!" Iron Maiden flickered beside you but faded instantly, not doing anything but pushing over a pebble while she was out briefly. "No! He wouldn't do that! Diego's goal is to get your left hand and our lives. Besides a guy like him who's made his living as a jockey wouldn't kill a horse! Valkyrie will come find us in the morning!"

"I sure hope so..." Johnny muttered, looking over at you while you crawled ahead of him and Gyro. You, on the other hand, tuned Gyro and Johnny out and tried to summon Iron Maiden once more, not hearing the faint rustling on the opposite end of the pipe. "Dammit, why aren't you working...?" you muttered to yourself, frowning when wisps of silver faded into thin air. "Hey, what the hell?! Some small ones came in!" screeched Gyro, shuffling backward until he bumped into you."Wha- Gyro? What's happening?!" There were high-pitched shrieks that slowly got louder until you could faintly make out small little dinosaurs scuttling towards you all from out of the darkness. Before you knew it, they were jumping straight for you.

"Speedwagon, duck!" You didn't think as you ducked, looking back over your shoulder to watch as the dinosaur that had soared over your head, scrambled to get its feet back under it, only to fail and stumble off the side of the pipe. "Dinosaurs! Even though they're small, they're still dinosaurs! Diego must have sent them in!" Johnny screamed, leaning on one of his elbows before shooting out all of his nails toward the dinosaurs, to no avail. "They have the same dynamic vision!" the dinosaurs jumped again, heading for Johnny instead of you, "my Tusk won't hit them all!" As they jumped, however, a foul-smelling liquid followed it.

"Whoa! It...It pissed on me!" You grimaced and moved back towards the end of the pipe in disgust. "Aww, sick!" you cried out, avoiding the things as Gyro and Johnny were jumped on by the peeing dinosaurs. Gyro didn't hesitate to chuck his steel ball once they started biting him, hitting the ones on top of him and the ones that had followed close behind. Once hit, they fell to the ground, but looked more like mice rather than dinosaurs. "Diego must have turned some mice into dinosaurs," you pointed out as Gyro shook the dead ones off of him. You had no time to rest as more sino-mice headed down the sewer pipe.

"Guys, hurry! Get out of the gutter! The next bunch is coming! Diego will send more mice!" Gyro barked as you peered over the edge, followed by Johnny. You froze— there was nothing but a steep drop, the bottom of the valley between the mountain they were on in the hill unseen. "We...can't," you mumbled looking over at Johnny who looked back at you with a furrowed brow. "Cling onto a rock in the shadow of the cliff and stay still! We need to finish this before climbing down the canyon!" Gyro said, clearly not having heard you. You and Johnny could not utter a word as the dino-mice grew closer.

"What are you doing?! Go down the rocks!" Gyro exasperated and backed up so he was at you and Johnny's feet. Johnny frowned but didn't budge, looking down while swallowing hard. There was no way either of you would be able to get out of the pipe safely. "No, Gyro. W-We can't go down the cliff. There's no way we're going to cross the canyon and get to the hill," Johnny reasoned with a held-back sigh, prompting Gyro to look over his shoulder and grimace. To make matters worse, more dinosaurs climbed up the side of the canyon, heading straight for you all. They were much larger than the ones in the pipe and you could only watch with paralyzing fear as they cawed and screeched at you three.

"We...We're surrounded," Gyro relented as you looked back into the pipe, barely making out the small dino-mice in the darkness. You looked back and watched one smaller dinosaur climbing up the side of the canyon, clad in a torn-up purple dress. Your heart sank— the little girl you had spoken to had been wearing that exact one. "...my god," you muttered, slapping a hand to your bandana-covered mouth, "Diego turned the villagers...into dinosaurs." You didn't move a muscle, even as Gyro and Johnny scaled down onto a small ledge a few feet below the opening of the pipe. "Speedwagon, c'mon!" Gyro called while you stared at the dinosaur who had just hours ago been smiling at you, asking for your signature.

"I wanna be just like you!"

You couldn't help the tears that fell from your eyes, completely distraught as the little dinosaur hissed at you from afar. How could Diego do such a thing? Just how cold and heartless was he?! Gyro looked up at you with a knot in his brow, extending a hand for you to take. "Speedwagon... we need to go!" Johnny sat on the cliff a few feet lower, looking up at you with a similar expression. You looked over at Gyro with despair, hand twitching as if your body wanted to take Gyro's own. Gyro grit his teeth, clearly straining himself to reach up at you while simultaneously holding onto the rocky cliffside. Just as you willed yourself to take Gyro's hand, the skin cracked, running down his arm.

"G-Gyro! Your arm!" you yelled, making him go wide-eyed. "What?! The infection! It's happening to me too!" The three of you watched as Gyro's skin cracked, leaving scale-like wounds across his arm, and slowly grew up towards his face. You gasped and leaned forward, only to hear the familiar roar of Diego. You couldn't react in time when he jumped down onto the top of the pipe and bit down on the fabric around your face. Gyro fell back onto the ledge below him, watching as your face finally became visible to him. After weeks of spending time with you, he could finally see your face. Johnny had rushed to his side but Gyro couldn't hear a word he said and soon enough there was nothing for Gyro to hear as Johnny too had looked up.

There, before their very eyes, you were, the woman they had saved at the beginning of the race. Your eyes were blown-wide and your mouth hung open slightly, lips parting beautifully in shock. Gyro and Johnny could do nothing but get lost in the little imperfections of your face, all the while Diego pulled you out of the pipe from the back of your shirt, leaving you to hang from his jaws. There were no words they could use to describe the flurry of emotions they were flooded with as Diego set you down at his claws, growling while you sat there. A single tear fell from your eyes before your head lolled backward and you went limp. Johnny and Gyro couldn't even utter your name as Diego called forth more dinosaurs to attack.

THEY COULD ONLY THINK OF YOUR TEAR-STAINED FACE.

#palominosbr #steel ball run #sbr #jojo #jjba x reader #johnny joestar x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #hot pants x reader #diego brando x reader

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thehomelybadger · 1 year

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So I finally saw Goncharov (1973) dir. Martin Scorsese

I finally saw Goncharov, and I really can’t recommend it enough.

For those who only know me for my fanfiction stuff, I went to school for film and mostly watched a lot of westerns, as well as being hired to make a documentary about a few tribes in northern Ontario - mostly for government money. Working in media wasn’t really for me, but I like to use the stuff I learned to analyse the hell out of modern media as well as look pretentious in front of my wife.

But enough about me, let’s talk about this modern piece of art.

Goncharov isn’t going to be anyone’s best Scorsese film - far from it, despite its loaded cast and reliance on cinematography tricks that are far older than the medium they used to shoot it - more on that in a second - but I think its weak script and honestly lackluster artistic direction are going to be what tanks it. Everything Scorsese has produced after The Departed (2006) has been this insane quality of moving far too quickly to take a breath, and going back to an old classic like Goncharov really knocks your legs out from under you. This isn’t modern day Scorsese, this is oldschool Scorsese who hadn’t found his sea legs yet, still trying to captain the ship. There are some hints of what’s to come - the long stairway shot that rotates 360 degrees horizontally before doing it again vertically as Morgan walks up the stone stairway has the skeleton of the Copa Cabana shot, or instance - but we never get peak Scorsese here, and I think casual moviegoers will be disappointed by that if they’re familiar with his library.

While Robert De Niro clearly shines as the browbeaten, thick eyebrowed Morgan Laslettria, I think the entire cast really brings their A game. Pacino plays Shar Knight with a serious gravitas (he also has the quote of the film - “Charov my Gon, Goncharov!”) but has a few scenes where he feels like he’s trying to destroy the set and everyone behind it. Harvey Keitel, despite top billing, is in very little of the film - I counted four scenes, not including the two where he’s voicing the animated bicycle that comes to deliver Morgan’s daily orange juice. The standout performance for me, however, was The Wiggles making a surprise appearance on what appeared to be a green screen, and them having to watch Anthony slowly succumb to bullet wounds was a truly moving sequence.

Finally, let’s talk about the film theory behind Goncharov, and it really depends on which version you watch - the Animator’s Cut or the Director’s Cut. Famously, Goncharov never made it past the initial theatrical release - explaining its scarcity - but when you watch the Animator’s Cut I really feel like you can see where they reshot De Niro and Pacino’s scenes exactly within Scorsese’s original vision. What I think is fantastic about the Animator’s Cut version is that it's mostly a flex on the old reel style cinema but pulled off in the modern digital age. Part of the problem of digital productions is that you lose some of the 'noise' that permeates old reel movies and gives them their vibrancy and places them, in the viewers' mind, solidly in a specific mindset - a mindset in which you are able to let your brain be engaged in the film because its closer to your imagination of real life. Digital looks too real - the reason uncanny valley is a real thing that exists in our wold is because the brain sees something that looks real enough despite knowing its fake, and thus pulls you out of it or forces you to reckon with the fact that it isn't real. So digital needs noise added back in - or 'scuffed' - in order to recapture that effect that reel had naturally. Goncharov being shot on both platforms really makes it scuffy and noisy. I really think that was brilliant about this version.

As for the plot - I won’t give any of it away. Try to get a copy at your local blockbuster, or find a rip of it - Goncharov needs to be seen to be believed, and the last thirty minutes and five minute Wiggles musical credits sequence is truly a work of art.

#badger reviews #goncharov #goncharov spoilers

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mattholicguilt · 2 years

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Timeline of Scott and Jean’s Marriage Falling Apart (part 1)

(New X-Men #131)

I’ve been rereading New X-Men and I really want to dig into all the stuff that went down between Scott and Jean (and why they SHOULD have gotten a divorce). I feel like everyone has a tendency to just blame the affair with Emma but there was so much shit going on before that. Let’s take a look.

The Search for Cyclops #4. Jean saves Scott from possession by Apocalypse, and Ozymandias seems to foreshadow that Scott will not fully recover from the trauma of possession. Ozymandias is correct.

Uncanny X-Men #393. Logan asks Scott how he’s doing since the possession stuff and Scott lashes out at him for invading his privacy. On the Scott-and-Jean front, it’s mentioned that they no longer have their psychic rapport but that Scott knows his wife well enough to know her plans.

Uncanny X-Men #394. There’s trouble in paradise and Logan can tell. He brings it up to Jean.

“Everything’s fine,” she lied. (Logan also kisses Jean in this issue because he thinks they’re about to die. Stop doing that, Logan. Jesus.)

New X-Men #114. Once again Logan decides that Scott and Jean’s increasingly strained relationship is his business. (This is OUR failing marriage.)

(Hank also notices that all is not well in the Summers-Grey marriage.)

New X-Men #116. Scott takes marriage advice from some bugs.

We finally get some more context on what exactly is going on with Scott and Jean. They haven’t had sex in five months (probably not since before Scott’s possession by Apocalypse.) Scott is cold and distant, according to Jean. Scott is traumatized and all Jean wants to do is help him, but she can’t. (Sidenote: Jeannie baby you ALSO don’t know what it’s like to be POSSESSED by an evil spirit. Grant Morrison I am sending you a copy of Fantastic Four #286.)

New X-Men #117. Jean is lonely so she seeks out Logan, who explains that Scott and Jean are perfect for each other. Then Jean kisses him and he’s like, “You and me are never gonna happen.” (For some reason I remembered this kiss happening AFTER Scott and Emma first hook up, but look at that! Jean’s infidelity came first.)

New X-Men Annual. Emma taunts Scott about the fact that he and his wife aren’t having sex.

New X-Men #139. (Flashback)

Emma propositions Scott and he turns her down.

New X-Men #118. Jean asks Scott if he messed around with Emma during the annual. This is building up to be a really terrible cocktail of trust issues and intimacy issues. Like I think Jean’s paranoid (and projecting, considering she had just tracked Logan into the woods to kiss him) but also she’s not entirely WRONG because Scott IS having/going to have an affair with Emma.

New X-Men #120. Somehow, the Phoenix returned. Possibly to salvage Jean and Scott’s marriage because, as we know, the Phoenix Force looooooves Scott.

New X-Men #121. Same energy as the “Love you, wife” panel from Uncanny 394.

New X-Men #122. The girls are fightingggg. Scott’s concerned about the Phoenix returning (as am I, but my concerns are rooted in the fact that Grant Morrison forgot about the Phoenix retcon.) I wonder if Jean’s desire for psychic and physical intimacy/closeness is somewhat being fulfilled by the Phoenix at this point? Her husband won’t touch her, but the Phoenix wants to be fully entwined with her.

New X-Men #125. Cassandra Nova digs around in Scott’s head and says that Jean expects him to be so much better than he is. Scott powers through.

New X-Men #126. They love each other so much.

Cassandra Nova messes with Scott’s brain again. Did the bugs tell Scott he’s going to sleep with Emma? Also: interesting here that Scott might be afraid he’ll let Jean down as an X-Man, or as a husband, or both.

“Well! Now that Cassandra Nova’s dealt with! Back to the matter at hand: we still can’t be intimate with each other and we need so much goddamn therapy.”

Cyclops #3. Scott tells some Savage Land cavepeople about his marriage difficulties. (Choosing to interpret “leader” as in Scott being leader of the X-Men, a team Jean is on, and not that Scott is somehow the leader of their relationship.)

New X-Men #128. For some reason, Scott thinks that bringing his marital problems to Emma is a productive idea. He also makes two really annoying references to wanting Phoenix and being unsatisfied with “just Jean.” (They’re not. the same. person.)

But I do think what Scott says some very illuminating stuff here about “faking teenage unconditional love in the face of unstoppable chaos and change” and “I’m not who I was and I can’t tell her who I am... in case she hates what I’ve become.”

It’s easy for Scott and Jean to be Scott&Jean when everything’s going to hell and the X-Men are getting thrown into high-stakes mission after high-stakes mission. But it’s hard to find a balance when things are relatively quiet. (🎶 But at least the war is over...)

New X-Men #131. First of all, I love how much Emma looks like Generation X-era Emma here. The little glasses, the big fur robe. Second of all, it’s been interesting to see how much Hank, Logan and Emma all become involved in Scott and Jean’s marital problems.

For example, here’s Logan pointing out that Scott and Jean need to communicate better.

Scotty you’re a master strategist. WHAT was the plan here? Emma is not a therapist. Of any sort.

She’s definitely not a qualified sex therapist. Also I agree that yeah, Scott’s possession trauma seems to be affecting him in much the way a sexual trauma would. So he should see an actual, licensed therapist. Who isn’t trying to mindfuck him and actual-fuck him for a laugh.

This is actually so disappointing because I want them to be having these messy, invasive conversations about JEAN. But they’re just talking about the Phoenix.

Once again Scott expresses that he doesn’t want to hurt Jean, and he feels that telling her the truth about his feelings will hurt her.

[Narrator voice] They were in fact having some kind of weird affair.

New X-Men #134. Hank is very concerned about Scott being unfaithful. It’s almost as if he cares more about preserving Scott and Jean’s marriage than Scott and Jean do.

New X-Men #138. Scott says that Apocalypse’s possession made him feel like his life and his marriage were small and boring.

(I’m gonna post this now before Tumblr can eat it again. More to come.)

#new x-men #jeanscott #broke ass marriage!#less phoenix force more scottjean divorce

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kalcifers-blog · 1 year

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MAG 114209: The IRIS of The Eye

A JSE Ego x TMA Crossover fanfic

Content Warning!! Discussions of violence, self inflicted injury and insinuation of suicidal behaviour. Nothing is in graphic detail, but please stay safe while reading!!

[Tape Recorder clicks]

The Archivist: (sighs) Alright, let's try this again shall we-

Chase Brody: oh for fu- is that really necessary? Why do you people all insist on recording people??

The Archivist: oh- sorry this is just- procedure. It's kind of my job to make sure statements are recorded properly- unless you don't- want- to make a statement?

Chase: (interrupted the last sentence) No- no. I'm sorry- I just- I need to do this I think. I'm not exactly sure what this place is but... I think- somethin' tells me that this is the place to get this out there somehow

The Archivist: I see.. well. Whenever you're ready, we can begin

Chase: (deep breath) okay. Yeah I'm ready.

The Archivist: Alright. Statement of Chase Brody regarding the entity referred to as ALTR 114209. Statement taken directly from sub- from Mr. Brody himself. Statement overseen and recorded by Jonathan Sims. The Archivist. Statement begins:

Chase: [statement]

I feel like I can't really talk about this without some context first? I grew up in Ireland- you- you probably already guessed that because of the accent- but yeah. I'm from Ireland. My life there was miserable. I grew up in a small town. One of those classic "everyone knows everyone" schticks. Mostly because my Ma insisted on going to the local church to do all her socialising- I went there too consistently 'til she passed. I was 15 at the time.

Before she did I was convinced I wanted her out of my life, we never got along- I'm not saying that I completely change my mind now it's just- when someone like that leaves your life forever you start thinking about "what could have been" far more often. When she did pass I knew I wanted out- I needed to get away so I saved up my scraps of money to go to college in Britain. Maybe I wanted to get away or run from my feelings- I just. The way everyone would look at me, knowing what I was going through, giving me these- disgusting looks of pity- I needed out. I needed a get away.

So I moved. My Father didn't care too much, the man was out half the time for work and when he wasn't his hand was glued to his ale. I told myself I wouldn't end up like that- miserable sack of shit but- (chuckles sadly) I- I guess things don't always go to plan, huh?

Anyway- My life did start turnin' around when I got to the UK. The college I went too was pretty mediocre but the people I met were some of the most incredible- the person who changed my life forever in ways I couldn't have ever imagined was Jack.

Jack was my first friend- after realising we where both Irish and kinda had a really uncanny similarity to us, everyone always joked that we had to be twins because of how similar we looked. Despite the fact I'm nearly four years older than him- anyway uh- he got me into gaming.

I'd played games before of course but, this was the first time I played proper video games, especially the horror games, my Ma tried convincin me anything to do with horror was born out of evil and well- actually playing them for the first time was really eye opening as to how stupid that idea was.

I know this all sounds like useless information but I promise it's important- what you need to know is that Jack was my best friend. He introduced me to things that would be some of my favourite things ever, he was there when I got with and broke up with my first boyfriend and through everything, all of those disgusting sides of how bad my mental health got, Jack was one of the only ones who stuck by my side. So when he asked me to be his editor when his YouTube career took off I didn't think twice about saying yes.

I don't think I need to tell you about the successful YouTuber Jacksepticeye- and how he's the largest ever YouTuber from Ireland- how he managed to accumulate millions of subscribers before his disappearance on Halloween of 2016.

Of course, now I know that video that was put up on his channel that wasn't uploaded by me or him and definitely wasn't edited by myself wasn't actually a fake.

No one knew what to make of "Say Goodbye" when it first released. For me I was confused- Jack obviously can edit videos on his own, in fact its pretty common for him to do so- but he always lets me know if he does. There's never been an occasion in which he didn't in the entire time I was working for him. So when that video dropped with no warning I immediately felt off about it.

I won't tell you what happened in that video. You don't need to hear the details of Jack seemingly hurting himself to the point that he was placed in a medically induced coma- I was watching the video itself when I got the call- his doctor- German if I had to guess from his accent, calling me to let me know and to ask me some questions, due to the nature of his injury.

I don't care who comes in to tell you. Jack did not try to kill himself. I refuse to believe he ever would. Jack like I mentioned, was more than my boss, he was my closest friend and we told each other everything. There was just. Nothing. Not a single thing to indicate in his life that he would ever want to hurt himself like that.

I ended up staying in contact with the German doctor, his name's Henrik Schneeplestien- really nice actually. And it was talking to him that I got an email from Jack's account. Not his business "Jacksepticeye" account- his personal one, the one I knew he used exclusively for things that where for his personal life.

When I got that email my blood froze over. It was a video. It was that video. But it was longer. There was more to it. Instead of Jack's body lying there- lifeless and bleeding out. It jerked. It jerked upwards- like his muscles and joints where all connected to strings and being hoisted up against his will, like a fucking puppet.

The thing wearing Jacks dying body laughed. It laughed tormenting us- Henrik started believeing me after watching it with me the first time.

I'll spare you the details of how my life derailed after that. The months of waiting for Jack to wake up. Of Henrik losing his mind trying to understand what's going on. The disappearance of both Jack's body and Henrik himself. Me finding the most beautiful woman on the planet and finally feeling like a person again with her. Only for her and our child to be ripped away from me by that fucking thing that insisted on destroying everything in my life that gave living meaning.

Every time something bad happened it was there, still wearing Jack's face. Puppeting him around with this wicked smirk it had some crude inside joke I wasn't apart of.

I lost everything. My friend was gone, my wife and child where dead, the only person who ever cared to hear me out was missing and to top it all off I had some demon wannabe kicking my skull into rock bottom. Just so I knew that my misery wasn't over.

I had enough. I drove myself to a forest, it was our favourite place to go to as a family in the short 3 years we got to be a family. I wasn't planning on leaving that day. I decided then and there that I wasn't having it anymore. I was done. That thing won. I gave in and I just wanted it to be over.

I still can't tell you what happened to me. But I was in the forest one second and the next I was on top of a parking garage miles away. Whatever happened to me, I knew it was the only weird thing that wasn't brought to me because of that fucking monster. I still don't know what- but I just. I just KNOW alright. I just. Know.

Anyway, not long after that I'm detained by IRIS. Your institute already have all the information you need on that fucking place. I was there for questioning about what happened to me that day. And my experiences with the thing thats been destroying my life. There wasn't anything more to say other than what I've already told you.

They where about to put me under "special containment" dragging me against my will further in the building. The whole building felt like it was screaming at me to leave- that something bad was going to happen- I wished I was wrong.

That thing came back. It was still wearing my friends face and it killed any and all workers that came close to it. All it said to me was "hello, Chase" before I blacked out. I don't remember how I somehow managed to wake up in London- or how this nagging voice in my brain told me to come here. I don't know what "ALTR 114209" is, why it decided I was going to be it's plaything or what it even is. I just....

I just need someone to know that this thing is out there and more people will die if IRIS continues the way it has done for years now.

[Statement Ends]

Chase: (deep sigh) Jesus- I- How'd you- how did you get me to do that-

The Archivist: trust me, that's a long story- I just. I'm sorry are you insinuating that IRIS is somehow- responsible? For the actions of this entity?

Chase: yeah I thought I made that pretty fucking obvious man. IRIS has done nothing but hide the truth from me, borderline torture me and do absolute jack shit when something bad happens to anyone- including their own workers mind you.

The Archivist: Okay well... Fair enough. But please be cautious, if IRIS is behind all of this. You don't want to talk about it here, not in a place like this

Chase: oh just because your boss is watching doesn't mean I have to worry about him snitching to the SCP ripoff

The Archivist: wait- what did you jus- how did you- do you. (Whispering) Do you know that Elias Bouchard is listening and can see everyone in the building- there's no way for you to of....

The Archivist: Oh..... I see.. Chase I- I think I know why you might be a target-

Chase: (quietly) wh.. what- what do you mean by that..?

The Archivist: let me get you a drink. This will take a long time to explain.

[Tape Recorder clicks off]

That's all!! Thank you SM if you read through this, I'm very new to writing fanfic so I hope that this is alright!! A lot of people really liked the idea of a crossover between JSE lore and TMA so of course I had to write up how I imagine Chase Brody's Statement.

Again thank you SM for all the support and I hope to get some more drawing/writing done soon!! <333

#jacksepticeye #jse egos #chase brody #jse #jse fanfiction #jse ego fanfic #the eye tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #fanfic #writing #crossover fic #honey quartz blog

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evilwickedme · 1 year

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Have you ever felt motivated to write something out of spite? I’ve been getting irritated with some fandom stuff and boy is it motivating for me lol

Lmao yeah a whole bunch of my PUBLISHED fic was written out of spite let alone the half finished projects sitting in my drafts

Okay so firstly my first even long fic Of Three Times Lily Evans Changed Her Mind About James Potter (yeah it's a long name usually I just refer to it as OTT). That fic was written out of frustration with my favorite fic at time (The Life and Times) remaining incomplete - it updated once before I started tenth grade and then literally never finished (she posted what she had written but essentially went from being in the middle of an arc to the end of the whole fic and we didn't even get to see jily getting together I will never not be upset about this @thelordofthecats can confirm this). I also included some personal frustrations in there, notably at the omnipresence of wolfstar in the marauders fandom which I did not and do not ship.

Then there's my first ever spideypool fic, Changes. This was all the way back in 2015, when I had just started reading marvel comics. I really enjoyed the spideypool ship but this was before they even had a team up comic - and while Deadpool clearly had a crush on Spidey, peter couldn't STAND wade and actually quit the uncanny avengers over him. So I was like... Okay here's these two extremely different people. Most of the spideypool fic I've read has peter "fix" wade. What if it was the other way around? What if being in a relationship made Peter worse? So that's what that fic is about. (I think was also partially inspired by @ask-spiderpool 's earlier arcs, I believe, but I don't remember exactly when I stumbled across that comic and I do know I was directly inspired by Uncanny Avengers #1)

A bunch of my Witcher fic was written in response to common geraskier tropes, but I'd have to list like four fics here so just trust me on this one, I did a lot of exploration of their power dynamics here. Also, putting it on the record, I think Geralt's more interesting if he's written as a sub.

Then there's the huge fic I haven't shut up about since September, you know, before and after fic? hang on 'til the chaos is through? So yeah that was written because I kept reading fics where just the act of Tim joining the family early made it so Jason didn't die, and to me that seemed just... Wrong. Jason didn't die because he didn't have a Tim to care about, he loved both Bruce and Alfred. He died because he felt angry and betrayed and more specifically because once he found out that there was somebody else he could love, he wanted so desperately to find her and eventually to save her. It's not that I don't like the fics where that did happen - it's just that I wanted to write one where it specifically didn't. I also don't like when fics about Jason rejoining the batfamily have him learn a lesson about how killing is wrong, nor do I like fics where the Pit makes him insane or whatever. UTRH!Jason is reasonable and calculated and has a very comprehensive and logical life philosophy which I enjoy reading and writing about, even if it's not my personal philosophy. So yeah, that's one of the reasons I wrote that fic (also because I am unhinged about Jason Todd but we knew that).

And FINALLY, we have Under the Pink Hood. I am fully aware that this is maybe my most self indulgent fic ever, but by God am I upset this fic flopped. I am so frustrated with both the source material and honestly the fandom's treatment of Gwen Stacy (the original one). It was when @stackthedeck said that if they bring her back again she should at least pull a Jason Todd that I ended up writing Under the Pink Hood, combining both my blorbos into a fic I'm genuinely so proud of.

Honestly I think some of my best writing has come out of spite and frustration. Fanfic as a whole often is just a production of frustration with the source material, and then if you also have frustration with the fandom or even just one creator then that's double the frustration and a great motivator to write. If you haven't tried your hand at it yet - definitely do it, it's a great outlet and I bet you'll produce some great works!

#gail speaks #this my fic #ask #anonymous #I won't tag the fandoms but go read under the pink hood I promise I'm not just hyping it up I rly do think it's great

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entamewitchlulu · 2 years

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thinking today about that period of my career where all of my coworkers had boyfriends/fiances/husbands who all looked exactly the same

this isn’t me doing that “oh beautiful women always have boring husbands/boyfriends lol” thing no i’m telling you it was fucking uncanny. They were like four coworkers (maybe more I don’t even remember how many same-face men there were) who had S/Os who were all tall white men with square faces, slightly reddish facial hair, nearly the exact same haircut, and dressed in the same style of t-shirts and cargo shorts. the only way i could tell one of them apart was that he wore glasses.

It was like that one post about the guy who thinks his friend only has one cat and then the friend brings out a bunch of identical cats? that was me when I went to a work event and saw multiple identical white men and realized that that wasn’t my then-boss’s boyfriend coming in all the time, those were all separate men

anyway now like 30% of my coworkers are queer so there’s more variety in S/Os at work functions so this isn’t an issue anymore lol

#lulu talks #i feel like you could make an extremely stupid horror comic out of this #'all my coworkers have the same husband'

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scoobied · 1 year

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i had an oc named elliot in high school. at some point i decided he had did. and i did a shit ton of research and was like i find this really interesting! for no reason at all!

i went back to read the original draft of my novel with elliot in it. when the main character describes elliot, they describe down to soecifi details my oldest alter, Gray. everything about elliot is just gray.

i knew elliot was based off of gray; i figured that out a couple years ago. but reading his actual visual description and mannerisms was fucking uncanny. it's literally just gray.

moreover, Elliot's alters? at least two, very possibly more, of them are literally alters i have. like this is fucking insane to me. i did not know about my alters, i did not know i had did. but i wrote about my alters.

i found some more super crazy evidence of did stuff from senior year of hs too like.

i was really fixated on these four characters and drew them repeatedly

and i had forgotten i had done that but this subsystem of four alters. are them. they're all in my switch tracker with images of them and i found the drawings two days ago and they're almost exactly like the picrews.

like. this is not even the first signs I've found from before i knew but they're kind of the craziest ones to me.

i wrote gray into a story! i gave him my own alters! hello!!!!!

#im so!#.txt

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guardianspirits13 · 4 years

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Okay so with everything going on right now and all the exciting new information, there is one thing I see being overlooked a lot, and that is something I want to talk about: Natsuo Todoroki.

In almost every scene he appears in during the manga, he mentions Touya, and I really want to try to imagine the sort of effect this new information will have on him.

Natsuo and Touya have a clearly established relationship as kids, and while Fuyumi says they played together a lot, in one translation of a the scene in 253 Natsuo says that Touya used to tell him everything, implying that they also talked openly about what Endeavor was doing to their family and how they felt about it.

Natsuo was entirely ignored by Endeavor as a kid to the point where his existence was hardly acknowledged, and with information from the new light novel we know that Rei hardly took care of him either after Shouto was born. Natsuo would have been about four, not nearly old enough to do things on his own and was likely raised mostly by his older siblings.

Now imagine what it was like for Natsuo when Touya died. He would have been 10 at the most, and however Touya died (and I say died because it was considered a hard fact to the Todoroki family for almost a decade) and wether or not he witnessed it does not change the fact that it has been one of the most traumatic, defining events of his life so far. Not only was he still very much a child, Touya was likely his best friend and the single person he could rely on. Touya and Natsuo helped each other through the trauma they were both experiencing, so I can’t even imagine how devastating it would have been for Natsuo to lose his sole support system so suddenly without any grief counseling in sight.

If you think about it even now, at the core Dabi and Natsuo share strikingly similar viewpoints on hero society as a whole, and they both despise Endeavor for the same reasons. They also both seem to be very emotionally driven and have internalized their feelings that show only under stressful circumstances.

I am going to attribute the different outcomes in who they are now to Natsuo still having a stable home and Fuyumi to help him cope, and whatever happened to Touya he was almost definitely homeless and alone so it was easy for him to fall in with a group of loveable societal rejects (although I very much want to know exactly what he did for the years between ‘dying’ and joining the league).

So now finally, I will try my best to predict how Natsuo might react to the information that his brother is alive, especially assuming he finds out through the same video that Rei does. Horikoshi went out of his way to establish a relationship between the two, so either way it will definitely be heartbreaking.

First off is knowing that Touya is alive. Even with that information alone and nothing about Dabi himself, it would not explicitly be joyful. A huge part of who Natsuo has become is because of how his past-e.g. losing Touya- has shaped him. A significant example being that in the new light novel we learn that he wanted to be in the medical field to help people in situations like his mother ‘whose hearts have been hurt’. I think before any sort of positive emotion this information will definitely rattle him to the core, as it has Shouto and Endeavor. This is not just about Touya being alive, but it’s about how much of Natsuo’s life has been shaped by his death. I’d imagine under normal circumstances some form of joy or excitement would set in after the initial shock, but judging by the content of the video I can’t imagine that.

And finally we get to Touya’s status as a criminal, terrorist, and his admission to murdering over 30 people. I’m going to re-iterate what I said before, that Natsuo obviously looked up to his brother, and the image of teenaged Touya that he has been imagining and hearing in his head for the past decade is so drastically different from who he is now. **Now we have no reference point for how Touya was as a kid, wether or not he exhibited early antisocial tendencies or wether he was as kind and protective as the fandom seems to think of him. My point still stands that Natsuo looked up to him as a kid and immortalized him in his memory, so the cognitive dissonance between the Touya he knew and the Touya that we see now will also be destructive.

**Another side note, I wrote this before I saw the translation that Touya considered kiling Shouto while they were kids, which is certainly chilling and adds a whole nother level to this mess, so take that as you will

I honestly have no idea how he will react based on this last point.

One one hand, Natsuo is known for his brutal honesty in expressing how he feels, and this could be no different. There is definitely the possibility that he could blame Touya for abandoning them and betraying them, along with the horror of knowing how many people he murdered.

There is also a much different response to anticipate, mainly because Natsuo is also a very sympathetic person with a particular soft spot for his older brother, and may choose to view him as more as a victim.

Horikoshi is an incredible writer and is very capable of portraying subtle and complex emotions in his characters, and he is also well known for uncanny parallels and coming full circle in his writing, so I have theorized for a while now that the sibling’s responses to Touya’s return might be opposite to their willingness to forgive Endeavor, based mostly on their relationships with both of them. I think it would be poetic if Natsuo (who again is very emotionally driven) would have an initial response of just wanting to reunite with his brother and willing to overlook his transgressions in the moment, Shouto would still walk a middle line of being very conflicted and unsure, and if Fuyumi would blame him the most, for abandoning her and inadvertently leaving her to sacrifice most of her childhood and getting a higher education to look after the house and her younger brothers, as that had been a shared responsibility previously.

If you made it this far in the post, thank you so much for reading! Most of this is just speculation, but it’s been on my mind for a while so with the final reveal out of the way I have long been prepared to rant about the significance of Touya in Natsuo’s life and how his return would affect him. I’d love if you’s be willing to share your thoughts on all this before the next chapter.

Peace!

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boytouya · 3 years

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦

words:2.3k

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence, blood, angst, open ended/ambiguous ending, descriptions of death.

request: “Can i request sukuna x male reader. Where reader keeps reincarnating with each lifetime for a curse and every time he remembers sukuna, he dies after gaining memories back. You can choose if theres a good ending or angst. Thank you king! I fell in love with him especially after reading that one shot i had to watch jjk and hes hot! Thank you for turning me into a sukuna simp! Much love”

a/n: i went,,,overboard with this request 🗿 BUT IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITESSIJEHSHE i’m honored to have introduced you to such a foine man

When you were five, only then had you understood the curse deemed ‘Ryoumen Sukuna.’ A rather tall man with two heads, one of which had splattered blood onto your sneakers. You understood the concept of death, of course, but could never truly comprehend the feeling of nothingness after watching your life flash before your eyes until nineteen. But there you stood, clutching the loop of your shorts when you witnessed the murder of your entire village. You didn’t know evil could have a moral compass, but the tall curse seemed to exclude half of the women and children. After the widening of youthful eyes and curdling screams you learned the monster took likings to things too. Women, with shaking forms and broken spirits. He’d stop before them, stare at them with eyes that could- in fact- kill, if they truly wanted to. But then he stopped in front of you.

“Close your eyes, Brat.” Death's hands were just as large as your family painted them out to be, if not larger. Calloused and riddled with blood as they are placed over your ears. You do as he- it says, squeezing your eyes shut and enclosing your eyes behind the meat of your palms just to be extra careful. You can see stars behind your eyelids, just as you can feel the sickening twang of death lingering in the air. You were aware it would happen at some point, Death would find its place for you over and over and over again, you’d been told since the day you were born.

There’s another sound, only muted under large palms. You don’t need your sense of sight or hearing to know what it was, the warm chunks splattering onto your skin was enough. Immediately, you flinched. When you opened your eyes, there were piercing eyes staring straight into your own. It looked so human, but something was off. Uncanny, as if it took years to manipulate its flesh and bone to emulate humans to a T. But there was nothing human behind those eyes, instead a void of nothingness. Death itself. If Death could express interest, you’d have thought that was the expression it was imitating. It offers a hand, one of four. Larger than your face, with sharp claws that could almost be described as talons. Darkened by dirt and remains of your loved ones, if it truly wanted to kill you, it could. It could tear you limb from limb with the wave of a finger. And it knew that.

So you took the hand, and he became your second home.

When you were ten, you learned about the red string of fate. It could never be broken, and those connected by it would always reunite, no matter the circumstances. You often had nightmares, those of which filled with blurred faces and sharp pain that reached you in your lucid state. Dreams of talons, piercing eyes, and double headed monsters. You dreamt under the stars, tasted metal on your tongue, and choked on smoke that wasn’t actually there. You dreamt of facial markings, details that you couldn’t exactly place, a name that you couldn’t quite remember. It left your tongue feeling thick in your mouth, racked tremors through your body, and caused premature dark circles to accumulate under your eyes.

When you were nineteen, you experienced your last breath. The air was stolen from your lungs, crushed under years of heartbreak and terror, and snatched from you in the dead of night. Your eyes glazed over, and nothingness overtook you. It left you for someone else to find, cold and lifeless. A void, similar to the eyes you had finally placed. But that didn’t matter much then, you had already drifted away from your body.

And that was that.

Thus, the cycle repeated. Under different names, different ages, different genders. There was always something gnawing away at your conscience, you felt as though you were forgetting something. But when you finally remembered, it was too late. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was almost like deja vu, stepping outside your home to find blood splattered on the concrete floor. It made your blood run cold, sent a tremor through your body and made you feel like you were five again. Small and defenseless. You take it as your best interest to go back inside before you pass out, but the second you whip your body around you meet something- someone?- large and sturdy.

“Sukuna.” That was it, the sour taste at the tip of your tongue, the lingering sensation at the back of your brain. Him. He didn’t look the same, no, much smaller with tufts of pink hair. There’s something behind his eyes this time, something almost irrevocably human. For some reason that’s much scarier than what you remember. What you think you remember. He’s much more human, but the way he looks at you is everything but humane. He looks frustrated, angry at something, as if he’ll implode any second and go on a rampage. Dread bubbles up in your stomach, nearly erupting through your mouth as bile. It felt as though something should be happening, like something usually happened when the itch went away. He chuckles, low in his throat as he cranes his neck to put his face uncomfortably close to your own. His hands, still large, find their way to your wrist, gripping your right hand uncomfortably tight. For a moment, you consider how long a trip to the hospital would be if he shattered the bone beneath his fingers. But instead there’s a jolt of electricity that would’ve had you yanking your hand back if he weren’t holding it.

“What? You look different.” He all but purrs, inspecting your palm with long nails. Not long enough to be talons, but longer than those of a claw. It was true, you did look different. He wondered if you spent your lifetimes looking exactly the same. That couldn’t have been possible, he would’ve found you much easier, then. Still quite boyish, as if the body you were in didn’t originally belong to you. Clearly grown out of cargo shorts and polos, much taller than you were before. There was no way he could have forgotten you, the way you jumped when the remains of your loved one splattered across your legs. The way you stared back at him with a look of acceptance, the way you grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead you out of the village. It explained the body memories perfectly, the feeling of large palms on your head and remnants of a brain splattering onto your knees.

“Last time I saw you,” He let’s go of your wrist with a bored expression, then replaces its spot with the top of your head. He shoves you down, and you make an effort to ignore the crack your knees make when they smack against the concrete. Then, he crouches down to stare you directly in the eye, just like he had the first time you met. His eyes were no longer dark, instead a deep shade of red that caught light from the moon. They reminded you of vials of blood. “You were this tall. Much cuter in this century.”

“And you were bigger.” Sukuna laughs as if hearing that was the funniest thing in the world. He leans his weight into you and uses you as a support beam, laughing until his ribs burn and beg for a break. But how could he laugh at a time like this? He didn’t think it was weird? He’s existed for centuries, murdered for millennias and only now has he seen you. That wasn’t how it worked, when you died, you died. But Sukuna was a walking oxymoron to that statement. When he died, if he died, he would return. He’d return through you, the last fragments of his soul would stay bound to yours until the end of time. Perhaps that’s how he knew, how he remembered. Perhaps that’s why he still took the time to find you, even after countless years of failure. It was peculiar, but not as much as being bound to Death himself. It was a sick game of turning the phrase ‘Til’ death do you part,’ because in your case it was literal.

“You’re still a brat.” His voice is closest to something fond, as if he’s reminiscing sweet memories. It was much different on your account, and part of you wondered if Sukuna understood that. He makes no effort to help you up (he explains that you’re “a big boy now”) as he invites himself into your apartment. Nothing special, he doesn’t care much for family photos or if you have them, but the stacks of letters and books on your table peak his interest. He tears apart envelopes as if he owns them, reads through the contents and discards them to the floor if he deems them useless. The way he sits nearly breaks your chair, and, honestly, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

So you sit beside him.

“You were so scared,” He says, almost as if he were bragging. But he was known to be arrogant and cocky, that was just his nature. He didn’t truly mean it like that, in fact, he looked quite reverent after letting the thought drift into the air. It was kind of funny, such a powerful thing fawning over past memories. But that wasn’t how this should go, you had your memory back, so why hasn’t anything happened? “When you grabbed my hand you stopped shaking.”

“...”

“It’s a shame I couldn’t keep you long,” He visibly frowns, the skin around his lips worry, but you can't tell if it’s genuine or not. He looks at you with something knowing the second the thought enters your head. “I looked for you, at first. You died young, for a human.”

Ninteen. ‘I should have been there,” he wants to add.

“Why aren’t I dying now?” You interrupt and let the panic sink in, the thought of impending doom sits on your shoulders because, really, it could happen at any moment. But this time, you don’t want it to. You remember accepting death when it came to your door at the young age of five, nineteen, countless times over and over. You had only ever gotten this far, you weren’t ready yet. You couldn’t start over, not now. “Sukuna?”

The question sours his mood in the blink of an eye, and instead of looking through your things, he raises himself from his seat to rest his palms on the table. It seemed he had a thing for staring down at people, making them cower under his stone cold gaze. You note the way his jaw clenches. You open your mouth to speak again, but he seems to have other plans. He squeezes your cheeks, making your lips purse together under the pressure of his large fingers. The movement feels familiar, like he’s done it before. The five years you spent with him were still a bit of a blur, but you remembered holding his hand quite often. He’d tell you to close your eyes if there was something he didn’t want you to see, he’d ruffle your hair a bit too hard, let you sleep on his back if he was out in the town. But that was all you remembered. He remembered it all.

“Respect your elders,” He lets go and sits back down as if he hadn’t just thrown a tantrum over you interrupting him. Sukuna was centuries old, but even then, he’d exhibit immature behavior sometimes. Living for so long had to get boring (and lonely) at some point, perhaps that was why he looked for you. He did consider you something close to family, after all. In truth, there were some lifetimes where you met. Some when you were friends, something more than that, and something inseparable. And that’s why you hadn’t died yet, you didn’t remember it all. “It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

“You’re much more handsome in this life.” His smile is much more intimidating than sweet, the sinister curl to his lips would only ever be associated with bloodshed in your eyes. But it was much more than that. Nights of sleeping together, days of laughter and flirtatious comments, soft moments that only you had seen. And it was bittersweet, because he knew the second he’d jog your memory you’d be gone. It wasn’t just a curse for you, but for him. Maybe it was his punishment for hurting so many people, dragging an innocent soul down with him and hanging them by the red string of fate. The comment makes your skin prickle with heat. Sukuna was quite the charmer when he wanted to be, easily picking at your weak spots with whatever you wanted to hear. But the comment was much more for the sake of his own, instead of yours.

Sukuna stands, hot on his heels as he holds out his hand one last time. If something were to happen to you tonight he’d make the most out of it, just as he did countless times over and over. So many years of starting over, getting to know you in various different bodies, realizing that being trapped away was the only way you’d get to live a full life, it was always on his mind. You were always on his mind.

So you take his hand. And for the millionth time, he’d become your second home.

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Text

A Change of Heart (post-”Miraculous New York”)

"Kaalki, divide!"

Ladybug felt Kaalki's light wash over her, the kwami emerging and flying a small distance away. They were up on one of the rooftops in New York, overlooking an interview that was happening on the street.

Kaalki hummed in interest, taking the time to see the tall buildings. "What a grand city." Then, her gaze dropped down and she squinted, adding with distaste, "Quite crowded though."

"There's an interview going on right now. That's why. One of their supervillains was just taken down," Ladybug explained, placing her foot up on the edge of the building and peering down to look at the crowd.

"And, what precisely are we here for?" Kaalki asked, hovering near Ladybug's face to follow her gaze.

"Not what, but who. We’re here to see Eagle," Ladybug answered, pointing at the eagle-themed superheroine being interviewed. The crowd was enthusiastically cheering at just about every answer Eagle was giving, and Ladybug couldn't help smiling at the fact that the person she gave the miraculous to was still doing well.

As the interview came to an end, Eagle's eyes shifted from the interviewer to Ladybug, who had made sure to be where the red-and-black of her suit would stand out; she wasn't exactly the definition of "stealthy," and it worked to her advantage in this case.

Eagle jumped up to the nearest rooftop, then waited for the crowd to disperse before leaping over to where Ladybug was. "Hey, Ladybug! What are you doing here?" Her brows creased in seriousness, and she held her fists up like she was raring for a fight. "Did Hawk Moth come back to New York?"

Ladybug waved dismissively. "No, no, it's nothing like—"

"Pardon me," Kaalki said, making sure she was loud enough to be heard. She puffed her chest out haughtily and gestured to herself with a hoof. "I'm Kaalki, the kwami of migration. Pleased to meet you," she said, her tone forced as to imply that she didn't appreciate being ignored.

"Uh... hi," Eagle greeted flatly, then looked to Ladybug for an explanation.

"Sorry about her. She was my ride." Grabbing Eagle's wrist and leading her to the center of the rooftop, where they were less likely to be seen from the streets, she explained, "Anyway, I came here because I was hoping that I could get your help."

Eagle leaned to the side, curious. "My help? What for?"

"Well..." Ladybug hesitated. "This is going to sound like a weird request, but..."

—————

Eagle crossed her arms in thought, still seemingly absorbing the explanation. "You want me to use Liberation on you? To get rid of your—"

"—romantic attachments," Ladybug cut in stiffly, the word 'crush' and 'love' sounding extremely un-Ladybug-like. She blushed in embarrassment and looked away, bringing a hand up to partly hide her face. "Listen, I know you probably don't get this sort of thing. It's already awkward to talk about it while I'm Ladybug, but—"

"No, I get it," Eagle assured, though her expression was neutral.

Ladybug looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

With a slight roll of her eyes, Eagle replied, "Okay, so I don't get all the love stuff exactly, but Uncanny Valley has her own thing for me to deal with. She always wants to help people; she can't help it. Besides, Liiri says that there's always something stopping people from reaching their full potential. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's good, and it's my job to figure out what it is." She glanced Ladybug up and down, as if to gauge something. "You really think it's that bad?"

Ladybug responded with a wince, bad memories already starting to surface.

"Alright, wow," Eagle said, hands raised as she took a step back, the reaction having already convinced her while she herself clearly wanted no details about it. "Are you ready then? You know this is only going to last five minutes, right?"

"Wait—" Ladybug blinked in surprise. "You're really going to help me?"

"Yeah?" Eagle replied. Half-offended, she asked, "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"No! Sorry!" Ladybug rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "You'd be... surprised, by how bad this stuff usually goes for me."

For a moment, Eagle looked tempted to ask, but shook off the thought just as quickly. Placing her fists to her chest, her gaze went firm, showing that she was ready.

Ladybug stood in place, almost nervous at the prospect of doing this. She was essentially taking out a piece of herself, but it was the only way to test it; the only way to know for sure.

"Liberation!" Eagle called out, spreading her arms as a single light burst out of her.

Ladybug flinched, her fighting instinct kicking in, but she held firm and let the light touch her. For a moment, she was frozen, able to sense Eagle's presence in her mind and even hear her voice. Eagle's voice was calm, but tempting, offering the freedom so desperately desired.

"Ladybug, your love has taken over your life. I release you from it!"

—————

Marinette quickly stashed the glasses in her purse as she checked her phone's timer. She had four minutes and forty-five seconds to do this, and she took a steady breath before stepping out of the alley she'd been hiding in.

As she raced across the street, the fencing students were just filing out out of Françoise Dupont. The moment she saw Kagami and Adrien leaving, she raised a hand, raising her voice so she'd be heard. "Hey, Adrien!"

Adrien and Kagami stopped and glanced her way. Adrien turned to Kagami, saying something and briefly tilting his head in Marinette's direction. Kagami nodded at him in response, and they separated, Kagami heading in one direction and Adrien heading in Marinette's.

At first, Marinette was nervous, her worst case scenario being that Liberation had truly failed or worn off when she de-transformed, or that her feelings were somehow so strong or messed up that even Liberation somehow couldn't help her.

Yet, as Adrien approached, she found that she wasn't shaky at all. Her heart wasn't pounding either. She didn't even feel the slightest bit of awe from his presence.

She was normal. She was okay.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien greeted with a smile. "Did you need something?"

It took her a moment to answer, still stunned that it'd worked and she'd truly been freed of her crush, even if it was for five minutes. "Oh. No, actually, just..." She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking the time, then kept it at her side as she asked genuinely, "How was fencing?"

Adrien looked briefly caught off guard, though whether he was surprised at her acting differently or just the question was anyone's guess. He then brightened, replying excitedly, "It was great! I got paired up with Kagami again, and you know how Mr. D'Argencourt is with fencing, so he..."

The conversation continued as nothing but casual from there, and Marinette almost felt silly at how amazed she was by such a simple thing. It was actually like she was Adrien's friend; like they were on the same page and she could actually hold a conversation with him. He looked and talked the same way he always did, yet she was perfectly fine. Students passed by and maybe tossed them a brief glance, but completely ignored them otherwise because she wasn't acting "weird."

At worst, she was grinning just a little wider out of the pleasant surprise of the whole thing.

When she'd first thought to "liberate" herself of her feelings for Adrien, she was certain she'd be disappointed by it. She honestly thought that she would see Adrien and miss the heart fluttering, the weak knees, and the sheer dreaminess he used to radiate.

But she was wrong. With her crush gone, she could see herself from an outside perspective and reflect without fretting over the things she would've otherwise. Where she thought there'd be disappointment, there was relief that she could actually breathe and not turn into a mess around him. Her mind wasn't clouded with thoughts, and her eyes could drift wherever she wanted without some brainless thought intruding and warning her that she might miss Adrien blinking if she looked away.

She'd needed this. It was nice; more than nice even. Is this how it could be all the time if she truly moved on from him? No more mocking, no more jealousy, no more "crazy Marinette"? It'd be like a celebrity crush that she grew out of; an embarrassing memory of the past and nothing more.

More importantly, she would remember this. She would remember this feeling; the sanity of not being in love with Adrien, or not feeling whatever that emotion was actually called. To say the word "love" seemed so... wrong.

Still mid-discussion with Adrien, Marinette's phone suddenly beeped with a warning message. She turned it in her hand, seeing that she'd properly set the timer earlier to warn her when there was a minute and half left of Liberation.

Adrien leaned over to look at the screen, but jumped when a loud honking noise abruptly sounded off from behind him. Marinette tried not to snicker, but it was difficult; seeing someone else be the jumpy one was quite the experience, and she'd have to remember that too.

Adrien looked over his shoulder at his limo waiting for him, then glanced back at her apologetically. "Sorry, I gotta go. Can we talk later?"

"Oh, sure! Definitely!" Marinette stashed her phone back in her purse, then waved to him. "See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed, waving as he rushed off. "It was fun talking to you!"

"You too!"

Marinette pursed her lips, trying to contain herself as she watched Adrien get into the limo and ride off down the street. She waited until it was out of earshot, then let herself start squealing, even hopping around and doing a twirl for effect.

"M-marinette?!" Tikki called, concerned. "Did it wear off? There's still time—"

"I'm gonna delete all my Adrien pictures!" Marinette exclaimed. "And take down that disaster of a wallpaper!"

"W-wHA—!!" Tikki gaped. "Marinette, when your feelings come back—"

"That's future Marinette's problem! This feels great!" Marinette cheered, having to suppress her excitement just so she could talk. Raising one hand dramatically, she placed the other to her chest, saying to no one in particular, "Oh, what's that? Me, crushing on Adrien? Ew, no way! We're just friends!"

She laughed triumphantly, a bounce in her step that made it seem almost like she were jogging. She crossed the street, reaching for the bakery door's handle and practically singing to herself, "Just friends~ We're just friends~ Me and Ad~ri~en are just good—"

She paused as she opened the door, seeing a familiar mix of blue and black standing at the counter and talking to her parents. At the chime of the bell, all three looked over at her, Luka's smile welcoming and his lips partially coated in white from what seemed to be a powdered donut.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart," Sabine cooed. "He came all the way here just to see you."

Luka blushed a light shade of pink at the obvious teasing, Tom jumping in to exclaim, "And he really thought he had to pay us for sweets! I told him, you're friends with our daughter, you better not put a single coin on that counter, young man!"

The three had a laugh together; clearly, they'd been getting along before she came in.

Yet, Marinette's smile fell from her face, a mental 'oh' echoing in her mind.

She hadn't even considered Luka when she'd thought of taking away her crush on Adrien, but it made sense; Eagle had said love, and Marinette wasn't foolish enough to think that she hadn't felt anything romantic for Luka. It only made sense that her crush on him would go too.

But it wasn't the same. The relief didn't follow the lack of feeling. With Luka, there'd always be a little leap in her heart, then a wave of calm washing over her, but neither were there and she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

Luka's smile disappeared as he noticed her expression. He approached, concern written all over his features. "Marinette?"

They were friends at that very moment; that was all the feeling she had on the matter, but she wanted what she'd had before. She remembered his confession at the TV station and yearned for the warmth in her cheeks when he stared at her and told her how much he loved her with words that were entirely his own; words that told her that he loved her as herself and filled her with a confidence she seldom had outside of being Ladybug.

Everything clicked. Her crush on Adrien represented stress, anxiety, and losing herself, but her crush on Luka represented peace, happiness, and being herself.

She missed how she felt about Luka. She didn't miss how she felt about Adrien.

That was all the answer she needed.

Almost on cue, her phone beeped again, this time to signal that Liberation was over. Marinette took in a shaky breath as she felt pleasantly familiar emotions rush through her again, and she welcomed them back like she would an old friend.

Luka's blue eyes gained vibrance and allure, his lips being coated in powdered sugar suddenly became incredibly cute, and she could think of him as no less than the most handsome boy in the world.

"...Sorry," she said breathlessly, waving a hand to assure him that she was alright. "Let's just say I went through a lot of emotions today. I'm happy to see you, really!"

Luka's smile came back, filling her with its warmth. "I'm glad," he said in relief. Then, taking a glance at her purse, which was still letting out a muffled, melodic beeping noise, he asked, "Sorry, do you have to be somewhere?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not really." She took out her phone to shut off the timer, then flashed him the screen before closing the app and storing the phone back in her purse. That done, she paused to consider things, then dared a glance back at him. "Hey... can we walk for a while?"

He blinked, mildly surprised, but nodded. "Sure. Did—" He froze, apparently only now realizing that he had powdered sugar on his lips. He swished his tongue around to lick it off, then started over with, "Did you want to talk about something?"

Smiling almost smugly in response, she felt confident enough to offer him her arm, as if he were a damsel she was leading around. She'd never seen his eyes widen quite so much before, but he also didn't protest, happily taking hold of her arm.

Knowing that her parents would just be giving their looks of approval if she glanced back, she stepped out of the bakery and led Luka towards the park.

"So, it took a little longer than I hoped, but... do you remember when you were talking about me getting clarity?"

#MC's Writing #writing: story #special: Miraculous New York #Lukanette Endgame #((the New York special: *creates power that would give Marinette the clarity she was looking for*))#((also the New York special: *does nothing with it*))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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