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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as gore, blood, violence, mentions of bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a simple life with a simple job; find fresh meat. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: Steve Kemp

Note: Writing Steve was fun in this one and I like the reader. Hope you enjoy it just as much.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The only bar in the small town is predictably busy that Friday night. The furor of the crowd tamps out the music and the warmth of bodies swathes around the tables. You sit in your usual spot. You don’t often get out during the day, maybe once a week, but you’re there almost nightly.

Watching.

You’ve always been good at blending into the wall. In your solitary corner, you’re close to invisible. It’s astounding how easy it was to fade out of this place. To evade the whispers in the grocery store aisle or the gossip of scandalised old women on the pew. You used to think your unremarkability was a curse, until you made it your talent.

Funny to think you know them all. That you have a name to every face. That your ears prick at the echoes of secrets all around, of the underhanded comments, and the jealous rumours. It makes it all the more easier. You know how to use them all. You’ve made a weapon of what was once your bane.

You sip from your glass of ginger ale and whiskey. You nurse the single drink throughout the night. The moon is waxing but not yet full. You still have time.

You twirl the straw with your fingers and watch the table of men hollering in their jerseys. It’s amusing to see how serious they take their games. And there’s the next table, two older couples straining to hear past the jeers of their neighbours. You drag a finger through the condensation as you suspect a confrontation to boil over.

You sit back as you sense the approach of shadows, bodies weaving free of the web of bodies. You look up at the two women, one with spiraling locks of bleach blonde and the other with an ombre of browns down her strands. Your chest plucks in recognition. There are not just names to the faces, there is that twinge deep in your chest.

The blonde bumps her hip into your table, an obvious ploy. She looks over her shoulder and gives a dripping smile as she touches her cheek. Her green eyes meet yours, beautiful despite the lack of thought behind them.

“Oh, sorry, hun,” she squeals, “it’s so crowded in here. We can’t find a table,” she gives that pretty smile, the one that gets her a free coffee from the same man who expects a healthy tip from you, the one that contrasts the venom of her soul, “you waiting for friends?”

She eyes the empty seats around your table. You shrug and sit back, shaking your head. You measure your expression and keep your gaze dull.

“No, you’re free to sit if you don’t mind me,” you call above the crowd.

You don’t expect her to accept the offer, but you didn’t expect the run-in at all. You feel slightly unprepared for it. The woman sitting alone with her whiskey is not the same girl who used to cower at the sight of bleach blond hair.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she proclaims victoriously and tugs on her friend's arm; you know her too. “Here.”

The woman with the layers of caramel and coffee streaked into her hair turns and gives a similarly fawning smile. That instinctual pandering which overrides most constraints of society. That privilege that only lasts so long and leaves the vessel empty and bitter. A shallow bowl can’t sate the hungry forever.

“I’m Lexi,” the bleach blonde introduces herself as she drops onto the wooden seat. You raise your eyebrows, repressing your disappointment. She really doesn’t remember you. Usually, that wouldn’t be so bad, but how could she forget? “This is Carmen.”

You offer your name in return, thinking that might spark her memories. She doesn’t flinch. Nope, those sleepless nights were not the same for her. You were just the troll under the bridge in her high school fairy tale.

“Don’t know how we ended up here,” Carmen rolls her eyes.

“Fucking Mandy and that idiot she calls a boyfriend. Tonight was supposed to be lit,” Lexi whines.

You’re amused. A whole decade and so little change. Like the rest of the town, it all just stays the same.

“Oh, sorry, hun,” Lexi turns her jade eyes on you, the speckle of amber in them cruelly beautiful, “we don’t mean to just ignore you. We had a party but the host locked us out in the cold. This town is so boring, isn’t it?”

You nod placidly, agreeing without a word. You watch her, waiting for anything, for just a sliver of remorse. She’s too much of a coward to admit it if she does remember, but you want to see it. You want to see the epiphany in those vapid eyes.

“Are you new?” Carmen asks, “I don’t recognize you.”

You shake your head, “I work nights. Don’t get out in the day.”

“Ah,” Carmen nods, “makes sense. Honestly, we need new friends,” she points between her and Lexi, “what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey,” you answer.

“Oh, whiskey knocks me on my ass,” Lexi whines.

“Pfft, you mean it has you knocking others on their asses,” Carmen rolls her eyes, “she’s an angry drunk.”

“Hey,” Lexi elbows her companion, “shut up. At least it doesn’t have me doing splits on the nearest guy–”

Carmen laughs, unbothered by the accusation, “look at us. You must think we’re crazy.”

You tilt your head, “not really.”’

Carmen seems deflated by your non-reaction. The two of them preen with the same expectation. That they will be praised and admired, as if they are worthy of your attention.

“I like her,” Lexi slides her manicured finger along the brim of her glass, “she’s so quiet.”

You look at her half-finished cocktail, then Carmen’s. Your eyes flick back up to their faces. It can’t be their first drink of the night. One more might be enough.

“Let me get the next round,” you offer.

“Oh, and she’s nice,” Lexi squeals. “Hon, you don’t have to–”

“No problem, I know the bartender,” you stand, “what did you want?”

You wait for their orders then duck through the crowd. You smirk as you approach the bar and join the crush of people around it. You found the one and with a few nights to spare.

🌔

Two drinks. Barely worth money but you see little value in that. The girls walk on either side of you, stumbling down the pavement as their vodka-laced breath fogs in front of them. They aren’t dressed for the weather, their short skirts expose them to the nip of the creeping winter. Stupid girls.

You get to the bridge as Carmen sways and stops to lean against the edge of the rail. She grips her hip and bends at the waist slightly, spitting onto the pavement. She burps and pushes her chin up to the glare of silver moonlight.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna hurl,” she gurgles.

“God, Carm, you’re such a loser,” Lexi babbles as her heels clack dangerously under her and she hugs herself with a shiver, “it’s not even one o’clock.”

“Whatever,” Carmen holds her stomach, “I didn’t have dinner.”

“Or lunch, you fucking toothpick,” Lexi shoots back.

“Fuck off!” Carmen stands and stumbles, “you’re always such a fucking bitch.”

You stand back, forgotten in the background of their argument. You want to laugh. So simple that they turn to animals over the smallest things.

“Why don’t you go fucking home then? I don’t want you pissing on my couch again,” Lexi snaps.

“Wha– I told you, that was Gemma.”

“Bull fucking shit,” Lexi shoves the other girl, “you owe me a new fucking couch.”

“Don’t touch me,” Carmen pushes her bag, “go fuck yourself.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Lexi pouts.

“Whatever,” Carmen spins, nearly dropping her purse as she swings her arms out to catch her balance, “have a good fucking night, you whore.”

Lexi cackles as she watches the other girl’s shadow disappear down the street with treacherous steps, heels catching in each crack, as she mutters to herself. You look at the blonde, she’s not even worried about her so-called friend. No, she’s not even clever enough to worry about herself. She’s perfect, just not in the way she thinks.

“Hey,” you say softly. Her eyes round and she bats her fake lashes at you. She’s surprised by your lingering presence but giggles away the reminder, “I know a place.”

“A place?”

“Friday night, there’s a crew down at the industrial park… I really shouldn’t tell you,” you look at your boots, the scuff on the toes, the shorter lace on the left side. “It’s not too late.”

“Oh? A party?” She asks devilishly.

You give her a look and drag your eyes away, “if I take you, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh my god, I knew there was something about you,” she claps her hands, “totally down. My lips are sealed.”

“I mean it,” you warn her, “not even Carmen can know.”

“Fuck that bitch,” she scoffs and grabs your hand, “show me the way, hon.”

🌔

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Lexi asks as she clings to your arm. You have to keep yourself from elbowing her away. Not that much further.

Your footsteps echo across the empty lot, the shadows of the boxy industrial buildings rising to the east and the west. Most of them are abandoned, as lifeless as the rest of this decrepit town. You lead her on, set on the dingy steel doors of the one that used to be the meat processing plant.

It’s dark but for the scant sliver of light leaking through into the night. You shrug away from Lexi as she releases a brrrr through her chattering teeth. You approach the large door and grab the metal crank handle, wrenching it back and rolling it loudly in the quiet din of late autumn.

She steps forward hesitantly. You sense her look back and you turn, knowing she’s come too far to leave now. She rubs her arms as she follows you, poking her head forward as she peaks into the dim space.

There’s a single light shining, a bulb beneath a tin shade hung from a chain. It lends a sinister tint to the pieces of mismatched furniture.

You stand by the door, your elbow against it. She looks confused and disappointed. It must’ve been the same expression you wore that made her guffaw so loudly at your expense all those years ago.

“I thought you said…”

“Yeah, looks like they wrapped up early,” you sigh, “sorry, I can see if anyone’s still around…” you watch her hover at the threshold, “might as well come in. You’re freezing cold.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she breathes as touches her raw cheek, “you’re right.”

The frigid air is starting to sober her up. That’s no good. She enters and you slide the door on the tracks, twisting the lever until it catches. Her heels click over the concrete floor to the edge of the thin carpet.

“There’s some drinks around,” you offer, “sit.”

“Um, maybe I should call the taxi,” she says nervously.

“Why? More for us,” you go to the mini fridge in the corner. The bottles inside clink as you pull open the door, “vodka… oh, you like grape soda? Maybe cream soda?”

“Er,” you hear her sit heavily on the cushion, “sure…” she chatters again, “It is fucking cold.”

You fill a glass with pink soda and vodka. A double but you doubt she’ll taste it through the sugar. You bring it around the couch and place it on the round table by the armrest. You rub your hands together and blow into them.

“I’ll get the heater going,” you say.

You go to the metal radiator near the wall and turn the dial. You hover your hand over it, pretending to gauge the heat as you consider your next steps. You almost want to draw it out and enjoy it but you can’t risk that. No, you have to stick to the plan.

You do wonder what happened to everyone else. Usually there’s at least one straggler. You were counting on the distraction. Oh well.

“I’m just going to get a drink for myself,” you near her again and pull down the fleece blanket from the back of the couch, “here.”

She accepts it gratefully, pulling it around her shoulders before reaching for her drink. You go back to the fridge and open the door. You flip open the small compartment on the door and quickly pluck out a vial.

“What do you do for work?” You ask as you open a drawer in the wooden cabinet against the wall.

“Boring shit,” she nearly chokes on her vodka, “reception at the massage therapist downtown? You know, the only one…” she never had any issue talking about herself, “I make some money on the side doing OF.”

“OF?” You repeat as you pull the plunger of the syringe, “what’s that?”

“You serious?” She slurps between words as you face her, “Only Fans.”

“Oh, of course,” you keep your soles light and flat, trying not to let her hear, “makes sense.”

“Men are stupid. You don’t even have to show ass,” she laughs and takes another gulp.

She drinks down the vodka soda, leaning her head back as you come up right behind her. Her eyes are closed as she tilts her chin up. You easily slip your hand around to jab the syringe into her throat.

Her eyes pop open and she releases the glass. You retract your hand as she coughs and claps her palm to her neck. She sputters and chokes, spitting out a mouthful onto the blanket as she slides forward on the couch.

“What the fuck was that?” She snarls, “you fucking freak!”

“It’s what you deserve,” you toss the syringe and hear it shatter, “you bitch.”

She slumps over and falls onto the floor. She struggles to stay on her hands and knees as she shakes her head, trying to free herself of the rising haze. It’s your turn to laugh as she slaps her hands on the floor desperately.

“Why…” she gurgles.

“I remember,” you declare as you stride to the front of the couch, “I fucking remember.”

You kick her ass and send her face first to the floor. She collapses into a heap, her body going limp. You stare down at her and take a deep breath. Time to clean up this mess.

🌔

You dream of the night before. The long walk to the warehouse, the echoing steps of your guest beside yours, the road winding ahead of you as if it is endless. The building remains distant and unreachable, seeming further the closer you get.

You wake with a start, the digital numbers on the clock glaring back at you. You roll onto your back and rub your crusty eyes. Laying there in the dark, the window bellowing against the thin walls, you wonder if it was real. Not the nightmare, but what came before. It’s like a dream come true.

You hit the button on the alarm clock to disable your alarm. You sit up and push yourself to the edge of the bed. You go through your morning routine; shit, show, primp, dress. Basic. No make-up, no scents, but you're clean and presentable. Insignificant and forgettable.

You pull on your denim jacket and the fingerless gloves you wear even when inside. The place is eternally cold and you don’t have the hide meant for it. Your fingers wander to the silver crescent hanging around your neck, a protectant.

You go out into the hall, quietly shutting your door behind you. You descend the metal stairs, one at a time, the curved structure wobbling slightly.

You see Lexi first. Her blonde hair is tangled and hangs around her drooping head. She’s still out. They usually wake up by now… if they’re alive. You hear the click of the kettle and your attention is drawn to the other figure in the room.

Steve’s dark blue shirt strains across his shoulders as he lifts the stainless steel kettle and pours steaming water into a burgundy mug. You near without a word, not voicing your surprise to see him awake before you. Instead, you pull down a cup of your own from the shelves and fumble through the basket of packets, taking a French Vanilla for yourself and dumping the instant grounds into the porcelain.

“If I couldn’t hear her heartbeat, I’d think she was dead already,” he comments as he stirs with a spoon. “You know I don’t like old meat.”

You roll your eyes and he hands you the spoon to mix your own. You blend until there’s a froth over the mixture. Not milk, you like the bitterness. He turns to lean on the cabinet and considers the blond tied to the steel chair.

“I may have gotten a bit… heavy handed,” you shrug as you blow steam away from your cup, “how did you know it wasn’t my heartbeat?”

“I know yours,” he says coolly, “it skips.”

You don’t comment on his last remark. Instead, you test the temperature of the coffee, the flavour awakening your heavy mind. You stare at Lexi as she hangs forward, arms bound behind the chair. You grin as you swallow your mouthful.

“You’re in a good mood,” he says.

“Not really,” you rebuff, “where are the others?”

He scoffs and crosses one foot in front of the other, “as if I know what those assholes get up to. You know how they are.”

“I haven’t seen Kraven since the last moon.”

“Thank god,” Steve chuckles, “you gotta admit, he’s the worst of us.”

You don’t know about that. Again, you know silence is valuable. Your thoughts, more so. Besides, they don’t keep you around for your opinions. It’s a skill to be okay going unheard.

“Adam… he’s being… Adam. The others, like I said, who knows.”

You nod and take another swig of coffee. Steve stands straight and paces around the room. There is not a sickle goosebump on his skin, he doesn’t shiver, even in only the button-up and his dark slacks. Your jaw aches as it wants to chatter.

You look down at the dark brew. There you are, just the same as you’ve always been, wanting to be a part of a crowd you’ll never fit in with. So you accept the grunt work, you accept being peripheral. You would rather be tolerated than excluded.

He nears Lexi and looks her up and down. “Maybe it’s better they stay sparse, she doesn’t have much on her.”

You roll your tongue and suck your teeth. You stare at the back of her head and your lip curls without thinking. Let him feast. Your disgust turns to content and you let yourself smile.

“What is it?” He asks, the angles of his face catching the early morning light in just the right way. The sun peers in through the square pains set high into the wall. The sight of him almost takes your breath away as his pupils seem to flash silver.

“Nothing,” you lie.

Your eyes wander to the round ornament hung centre on the back wall. Like a clock but without numbers. Instead, the phases of the moon tracked by the ticking gears and iron hands.

“I know when you’re not telling me the truth,” he says.

Does he know? If he did, he would know how you envy him, and at times, even want him. But you know better. You are not like him and it’s clear he won’t let you be like him. That isn’t part of your pact.

You touch the necklace beneath your collar. Your heart flutters as you think of telling him the truth. He squints at you, drinking deep, only to show his tongue in a gesture of revulsion.

“The fucking moon,” he growls, “everything tastes like shit this time of the month… except for fresh meat.”

“Tomorrow night,” you say.

“You know, same as me,” he eyes you narrowly, “come on, pet, stop fucking around and tell me what’s got you so… chipper.”

You put your coffee down and cross your arms. It’s damn cold here. You’ve done your work. You get to go to your room, turn on the heater, and wait out the moon. Just like always. They never cared as long as you brought them a good meal.

“I want to watch,” you whisper.

His brows flick up. That’s the most emotion you’ve seen in him. Genuine emotion. He’s surprised.

“I don’t know about that,” he says, “I don’t know if you can handle that.”

“I can,” you raise your voice, “I want to.”

His nose flairs and his eyes go up to the ceiling, “I’d have to check with the others–”

“But if it’s just you–”

“Pet,” he says tersely and your ears whistle, “you don’t know what you’re asking for. It’s not just about what you’ll see. It’s dangerous. That night, you’ve never felt the way the moonlight fills your veins.”

You look away. Of course you haven’t, they won’t let you feel that. You are just their little minion. A thrall sworn to serve them.

“It’s not a no,” he says to your lack of response, “alright?”

You turn and grab your mug, “alright.”

You take the coffee and head back to the stairs. He’s watching you. You can always feel when he does that. You long for that sensation but at the moment, it only irks you. You deserve to see it happen.

You’ve been waiting years to see Alexis Clover get what’s coming.

🌕

The confusion is expected. They often awake slowly, bleary-eyed, and dazed. Some of them never reach clarity between moonfall. Lexi is silent, eyes open, staring at the wall. She should scream soon. Maybe when she notices you.

You grow impatient. You look up at the windows. It’s a bit early but you’re overeager. You’re not just waiting on the moon, you’re waiting for word from Steve. You haven’t seen him since the morning.

You pull the pocket knife out of your pocket and emerge from the shadows. Her green eyes dart over to you as you unfold the blade. Her gaze falls to the knife, silver gleaming back at her dangerously. The fear in her face contorts to spite.

“I always knew you were a freak,” she sneers.

You stand a foot away as you shift your posture. Your lips twitch and your brow arches without meaning to. You put your chin down as you watch her. She does remember. You knew it.

“Rat girl,” she barks those words that haunted the high school hallways every time you walked down them; the ones she coined herself. “So what is it? You’re going to murder me? You fucking weirdo?”

You don’t answer her. She taught you that. They only ever want a reaction. It doesn’t matter what you say, they’re too narcissistic to hear you.

You grab the sleeve of her shirt as she winces. She tries to wiggle away but the robes keep her in place. Kraven taught you how to tie those knots. You slip the blade beneath the fabric and slowly slice along the seam.

“What are you doing?” She hisses, trying to jolt the chair but she can’t get any leverage. “Please, don’t hurt me,” her tone softens at once as the back of the silver blade grazes her skin, “please, you can untie me and let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

You ignore her pleas. Those are expected too. Usually they mention a spouse or children or a job. They beg and they beg. It doesn’t affect you. No one ever cared what you had. No one ever loved you so why should they get to have what you don’t.

“Carmen,” she gasps, “please, Carmen knows I went with you. She’ll tell someone.”

You laugh and shake your head. You continue your intent task, cutting away her clothing a piece at a time. Some things don’t change, you think sourly. You’re still a plain little mouse compared to her. You hate that even now you’re jealous of her.

“Don’t you care? Don’t you care that people will know you’re a monster? They’ll find out.”

You keep your composure though you want to laugh in her face with glee. You’re not as low as her. You have a sense of grace she could never know. You remember her smug smirk as she dumped her latte on your uniform and called you trash. You mimic it as you rip away the layers of fabric.

“You’ll find out,” you back up, the remnants of her clothing heaped in your arm, “soon.”

You turn and dump her clothes in the rolling bin of scraps meant for the weekly bonfire. It’ll be burned after the moon, along with what’s left of her. You leave her shivering through her fruitless threats and name calling. You climb the stairs, slowing as you come down the walkway to your door.

Steve waits for you, hands in his pockets as he leans on the frame. You meet his eye, only for a second before focusing on the wall behind him. Another symptom of your former teenage angst, your inability to interact like a normal fucking human. Good thing he’s not quite that.

“You know her,” he doesn’t ask, it’s a statement. You’re not surprised he was listening. Even if he wasn’t out there, he probably could’ve heard it all. “That’s… bold.”

“I don’t know her. I remember her,” you correct him.

He hums and brings a hand up to his chin. He taps along his cheek as he thinks. He peers up and down the hallway, then back at you.

“Can’t find the others. Not enough time to go out searching,” he says, “so it looks like it’s just you and me.”

You nod, “oh?”

“The other’s can handle themselves,” he scoffs, “I’m not worried.” He steps forward and you have to fight not to back away. That’s always your instinct, to keep distance, not just from him, from everyone. “So why don’t you keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes blazing as your forehead furrows. You don’t want to say it aloud. You still fear hearing the answer.

“Keep your silver on,” he hovers his hand before the crescent necklace by your collar, retracting his hand quickly, “tuck some wolfsbane in your sock and don’t make a noise…” he instead caress your cheek, “my hunger can get the best of me.”

He pulls away and passes you, brushing closely. You stay as you are, standing stiffly as you listen to his retreat, smiling to yourself. You don’t look back until you hear his door open and shut. He gets a bit more touchy feely during this time. Until the bloodlust is sated.

🌕

Steve goes over the plan. He can’t see you. That’s his one rule. You have the wolfsbane in both socks and your silver necklace on your neck. He tells you to hide and not tell him where. You’re nervous, but more excited than afraid.

You’ve been imprinted. They aren’t supposed to hurt you but there’s an unpredictability laced into the moonlight. You stay above, on the second floor, climbing across one of the thick steel beams to watch from there. It should be safest there, and you’ll have a full view of the scene.

You sit shrouded in shadows, a blanket around you, watching Lexi’s shaking form. It’s colder than even the day before. Her pale skin is turning blue. She shivers and lets out a sob. She quit her screaming much earlier, quickly losing her energy.

“Please…” she pleads before calling out your name, “please let me–”

A shrill howl rises up in the night air. From somewhere outside, distance but close enough to hear. It frightens even you. You brace yourself against the upright shaft that holds the beam as she quivers in a fit of tears.

There’s something else. A scratching and scuffing. A bang and clang, followed by the creak of hinges. Heavy and hot breaths, slickened with slobber as they build in tempo. Shallow and frantic, as if unable to get enough air.

You see Steve lurk along the walkway, just a contorted silhouette as he lumbers to the top of the staircase. He lets out a thick growl and hack, falling against the railing, gripping it as he makes his descent, and collapsing at the bottom.

Lexi sits up and turns her head. She can't see him as his hands hit the floor, as his fingers grow and his nails turn to long shanks. As the fur sprouts from him, thickening as his shoulders broaden and his spine curls. He sets his haunches and pushes himself to his feet, no paws, his snout rising with a soulwrenching howl.

You hug the beam and hold your breath. You pull a hand back to clutch your necklace. Steve sniffs at the air, hot puffs of steam clouding before his snout. Even in this form, you admire him. Dark, silky fur and shining silver eyes. He is forged in power.

Lexi whimpers as she can only hear him. She whines and cries out your name, begging still. Steve pants, huffing into rumbling growls as he circles her. She shrieks as she sees him and his snarls almost sound like laughter. He continues to walk around her, taunting her as he sniffs her bare skin.

He stops before her. You make yourself take a breath. Your mouth is dry and your ears are fuzzy. You feel dizzy at the moment turns surreal. It’s different seeing it.

He leans in, pressing his nose to her stomach until she squirms and sobs. He drags it up to her chest, nuzzling her in a way that sparks a surge of envy. No, he is going to get rid of her. You are thankful for that.

He brings his paws up to her thighs. She whimpers, pushing her head back as she gulps loudly. He sinks his claws into her soft flesh and she screams. He runs his nose along her collar bone and brushes along her throat.

You see the outline of his fangs as he opens up and you suck in your cheeks, squeezing the silver crescent as his jaw snaps shut. The sudden gush of blood has you hypnotised. You blink, salivating as if you can taste her yourself.

The noise of his gnawing, of his beastly hunger, of the shredding of his claws in her flesh, mulches together in your mind. You cannot look away as the ropes fall away beneath the sharpness of teeth and claw alike. As he drags her from the chair and devours her throat until she can gasp and gurgle no more.

You raise your clutched fist to your mouth and press it to your lips, swallowing a scream of your own. Not quite fear, more adrenaline, you suppress the threatening eruption back into your stomach. You grin, you don’t know who deserves this more; you or her.

Steve licks his chops and throws his head up, letting out another blood-curdling cry. For a moment, you think he sees you as his eyes linger. You freeze and wiggle your foot, feeling the scratch of the wolfsbane in your sock.

He moves away from her, tugging what’s left of her carcass to splay across the floor. He watches the shadows in the rafters as if presenting you the kill. He knows you, even when he doesn’t know himself. Or so you would like to believe. So you tell yourself so you don’t panic and fall to your doom.

🌕

Dawn approaches before you dare to come down from your perch. Steve is still down there, somewhere, but the moon is gone. You put your foot on the railing along the walkway and lower yourself onto even ground. You go down to the staircase and descend the spiral.

The smell of blood wafts in the air still. As you step onto the first floor, it permeates your nose. You nearly choke on the pungent flavour.

You hear a groan as you look around. Steve sits behind the couch, naked with only a shorn cushion in his lap. He’s a man again though a wolfish glint remains in his irises. You go to the sink and run the water, wetting a cloth before you go to him.

“Happy?” He asks, giving a scarlet smirk as you hold out the wet cloth.

“Sure,” you answer.

He’s watching you again. You don’t meet his eyes. He reaches up but does not take the cloth. He brings both hands to cradle your cheeks.

“You didn’t like it?” He asks.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t say much,” he insists, “look at me.” Your eyes meet his in a heartbeat. By your pact, you cannot disobey him, “tell me… how you feel.”

You swallow and raise the cloth. You wipe away the blood crusting around his hairline. You clear your throat.

“Like you said, happy,” you answer. He drops his hands and lets you continue. You mop away the streaks along his upper face, into the endless red stain from nose down.

“Just happy?” He prompts.

You look him in the eye again. He can hear how your heart pounds. He must know.

“You’re real fucking sick,” he snickers, “you know that?”

“Yep,” you force out dryly. You know you’re not a good person but what other choice did life give you?

He’s quiet as you clean him. He puts his head back as you wipe down his neck, the tendons tensing and his throat bobbing. You feel a tickle along your knee.

“So fucking sick it’s hot,” he slithers, “stop.” He grabs your hand and moves it away from his neck. There are still patches of red all over his face, almost stained brown. “I want you to smell her one me when I fuck you.”

You squeeze the cloth and pause. You lean back on your heels and look him in the face. He smirks as he moves the pillow away from his lap.

“And I know you want it just like that,” he purrs as your heart flips. He’s definitely heard that.

He keeps a hold of your hand and tugs you closer. He pulls on you until you're right in front of him. He reaches and touches the front of your corduroys.

“Take these off,” he commands and lets you go.

You wince as the demand zips up your spine. Your desire mingles with that eerie compulsion to serve. You drop the cloth and get to your feet. As you stand, you see Lexi’s barren ribcage. You feel a flood of heat inside of you.

You push down your pants, your panties twisting in the thick fabric. You step out of them and kick them across the floor. As you step closer to Steve, he groans.

“Socks, silver,” he mutters.

You retreat and undo the chain around your neck. You toss it to land on your pants and you strip off your boots and socks, hurling them away from you. You go to him again as he reaches up to guide you. He eases you down into his lap, rigid and twitching for you. The sight enlivens you.

He grabs himself, angling himself along your cunt. As his tip touches your folds, you let out an unwitting squeak. You grip his shoulders as he rubs himself against you, your desire slickening him. He prods at your entrance, framing your cunt with two fingers as he spreads your lips wide.

You hold your breath, temples pulsing, ears pounding. You let yourself down onto him, biting your lip as you ignore the scalding strain of his intrusion. You sink your nails into his muscles as he pushes on your hip. He grunts as he feels the brief moment of resistance and you cry out as you sink down completely.

You pant as you hang your head back. You see silver stars as your head thrums and your body shakes. You’re lost in the storm of pain and pleasure. It’s like an electric shock, both agonizing but awakening.

He drags his other hand up your stomach, thumb hooking under your sweater as he urges it up your torso. He reveals your chest and leans in, taking a nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around cloyingly.

His fingers glide back to your clit and rolls it firmly. You gasp and tilt your hips, letting out a yelp as zing rises from his touch. You rock again, encouraged by his groans as the rumble into your chest. You squeak as you take him, over and over, riding him slowly as you try to adjust to the feeling of him. Just to the idea of being filled with something.

His nips at your chest, your nipple hard as he suckles and teethes. He switches, taking the other in with a hungry hum. He keeps his fingers working against your bud as his other hand hooks around your back. He reaches to your neck and urges you closer. He lifts his head and nuzzles your neck.

You smell the blood on him. It enthralls you. His heat, his scent, his voice. It all roils around you as you feel ready to bubble over. That building pressure guides your motion. You’re desperate for the promise in his touch.

“You lied,” he snarls into the crook of your neck as you clasp the back of his head and buck against him.

“About what?” You breathe as your fingers weave through his thick locks.

You yelp as the world shifts and you’re suddenly floating over the floor. He puts you on your back as he gets to his knees, lowering himself over you, staying buried in you. He slides back to his tip and presses his nose to yours. His blue eyes bore down into you. Your gaze flits away instinctively.

“No, look at me,” he orders and your eyes snap back to his. He ruts, jolting you against the rug, “you didn’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

You gasp and suck in your lip. You curl your fingers into his shoulder as your other hand crawls up his stomach. You let your eyes wander down to watch his muscles constrict as he fucks you. You moan and tear your gaze back to his face.

“Not anymore,” you murmur.

He chuckles and leans down, puffing a hot breath along your cheek, “I know, pet, you were never innocent.”

#steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #illuminate #au #werewolf au #fresh #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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tarydarrington · 2 months

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There is one upside to the spiderwebs: Dorian can usually tell that he’s dreaming.

“Tell me,” he says, examining his lute, refusing to make eye contact with the presence looming behind him, “is this actually you? Or am I imagining you all by myself, these days?”

There comes a wet clicking as though of pincers or long, sharp legs. He forces his shudder into a sigh.

That’s the thing: the Spider Queen, her royal creepy highness, never whispers to him anymore when he’s awake. Two beds over, she’s doubtless playing in Opal’s head instead, trying and failing to spin her into a trap.

A sticky tangle of webs weaves itself between his lute strings. His skin crawls with dozens of tiny, invisible legs.

“Is there really a difference?” whispers that familiar voice. “What makes you think I couldn’t hear you if you called for me in that pretty little head?”

Her rumble of laughter comes from every direction at once. Dorian fights the urge to dig into his ear, where the tickle probes deeper and deeper. The itch feels too real for comfort.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility that this nightmare is her making. Opal herself says that things have been quieter lately, and that the voice in her head is more often than not afraid.

And after all, what does a frightened spider do but seek out a new place to hide?

“This is your fault, you know.”

Dorian whirls, finding nothing but empty black laced with spiderwebs. His brother’s voice is unmistakable, but Cyrus is nowhere in sight. Something thick and wet drips down walls he can’t see.

“If you had just stayed where you were supposed to, we would both be safe at home right now.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Dorian says lightly. “I hardly think I’m responsible for your decisions.”

There comes a sound of derision that is somehow at once his brother, his mother, and his father. Dorian rolls his neck and hopes it doesn’t look like the squirming it is. The clicking of spider legs grows louder, closer, more insistent. He blinks, leaving his eyes squeezed shut just a heartbeat too long.

“Dorian?”

His eyes fly open. Was there a stone in his hand before? It rests there now glowing faintly blue, warm to the touch.

“Why’d you go?”

Orym’s voice, layered strangely over itself, rings in his ears. Dorian’s fingertips feel numb. He forces a breath of laughter.

“Oh, things to do,” he says. “You know how it is. Something always comes up, doesn’t it?”

With a tight, mirthless smile, Dorian tucks the stone into his web-lined pocket. It will take more than that to fool him. Even neck-deep in nightmares, the memory of headache after headache reminds him that Sending hasn’t worked in weeks.

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if you were doing this to yourself?” Fearne’s voice whispers directly into his ear. He manages to only jump a little, composing himself again as her voice dissolves into breathy laughter all around him.

“Maybe it’s funnier if the Spider Bitch got to you after all that fighting,” says Opal’s voice, just over his shoulder. “You really thought you won, huh? And you didn’t even get anything good out of it.”

Her voice multiplies until it sounds as though a thousand copies stand in a circle all around him.

“You didn’t protect your friends.”

Opal’s voice, Fearne’s voice, Cyrus’s, Orym’s, and a dozen others repeat it one after the other, running together into one continuous whisper. From a thin line of web, a tiny spider drops down onto his shoulder.

He takes a slow breath, deliberate and steady. A dream. It’s only a dream. A few more moments and he’ll be startled awake, and all of this will fade from memory.

Unless the Spider Queen is really here and burrows into his mind too deeply to pull back, of course, but that isn’t a very useful thought.

“Dorian.”

The whispering stops. As though a curtain has fallen around him, muffling an unseen audience, all is suddenly silent. Dorian turns in all directions, finding everything still and black.

The stone is back in his hand.

“We’re alive,” Orym says. “Been to the moon. Going back.”

Behind his voice, the whispers begin to build again. Dorian strains to hear Orym over them. Something about this feels different.

“Find the Tempest.”

Tempest, Tempest, Tempest echoes in the dark, melding with the murmuring.

“If I don’t get the chance again…”

“Enough.”

This is too far. This is knocking on a door Dorian has kept carefully shut—a door through which the Spider Queen is most certainly not invited. He takes a step forward into nothingness, a liquid that might be water splashing underfoot.

“I’ve really missed you.”

The ground gives way, and Dorian falls headlong into waking.

Catha hangs brightly in a sky that stretches as far as the eye can see. Around him lie his friends, and around them a sprawling field rolls with the wind. Dorian’s heart pounds as he braces both hands on the ground, sitting up to feel the wind on his face.

His fingertips dig into the dirt. The dew-soft ground is clear of spiderwebs. Just an ordinary, everyday nightmare. The gods are far too preoccupied to whisper in his ears.

He shouldn’t have needed the spiderwebs to know it was a dream. His brother would never blame him for any of this, and neither would Orym.

There are a lot of things that Orym—grieving, heartsick, married-at-heart Orym—wouldn’t do.

Dorian takes a breath, running a thumb over the Sending Stone in his pocket. It feels warm to the touch despite the weather, the way it might if a message had truly come through. Dorian stuffs it into his bag with a knot in his chest.

Morning comes after very little sleep, and Dorian crawls out of his bedroll to find the others already gathered around the remains of their campfire, breakfast in hand. He waves off Dariax’s offer of a stale pastry with what he hopes resembles a carefree smile. The Stone weighs heavy in his bag.

He finds an excuse: they’re running low on water, and there’s a stream nearby. It’s easy enough to slip away from the group and find a quiet clearing out of earshot. He sits cross-legged beside the rushing water, spends a moment debating exactly how foolish he’s being, then fishes the stone from his bag.

He clears his throat. Takes a breath. Lets it out, clears his throat again, and takes another.

“Orym.”

The stone buzzes with magic. Dorian’s heart hammers in his ears.

“I hope you’re out there somewhere. Silly to think this time would be any different. I miss hearing your voice.” He grimaces. “Opal and Dariax say hello!”

The message cuts out before the last word is out of his mouth, his head crowding with static. Dorian winces and rides it out, wiping a thin trail of blood from his nose.

Well. That settles that.

Probably for the best—what was he thinking with a line like that? ‘I miss your voice?’

He tucks the stone away, dipping his waterskin into the stream. Only a dream. He will call the awful feeling in his chest resignation and examine it no further.

It had been a silly thought, he reminds himself as he returns to the group with a smile and a wave. He ought to have known by the spiderwebs.

#hello friends. i have wrat #dorian storm #dorym #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #c3 #mine #mine:fic #i am rusty but i am not immune to dorym crumbs #there is some exu-typical spider-based creepiness in this one if that is not your jam #dorian

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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Priest getou and nun reader or villager reader....(anything other than the word both isnt acceptable...😡😡😡 /j) -🪄

🪄 ANON I SEE YOU AND YOU RAISE A VALID POINT but please consider…… priest!geto and non-believer!reader.

like… imagine. you just happen to waltz into a church one day. you don’t believe in god, you aren’t interested in praying, but you’re exploring a new town and the church is pretty and you figure it could be a nice way to burn time.

you enter the building to find that a sermon is taking place. a priest is speaking to the few rows of people listening; it’s a fairly small church, but paintings and sculptures and beautiful cathedral glass give it a sense of mystique that you’re drawn to. so you take a seat and halfheartedly listen, not praying like the rest, not singing along to the hymns… you stick out like a sore thumb, but hey, it’s not as if anyone is paying attention.

except someone is, and it happens to be the priest that was holding the sermon just a second ago. the same one you spent most of your time oogling once the paintings started to bore you, because he’s so pretty for a priest. beautiful long black hair, amber eyes, sharp facial features, pretty hands — and the smoothest, silkiest voice you’ve heard in your life. like a sun-soaked bundle of lillies.

… also, his cassock is just a little too tight of a fit to tear your eyes away from.

you stick around a little longer once most people have left, just scrolling on your phone and basking in the quiet, and that’s when he approaches you. he jokingly tells you that it’s always obvious when a non-believer enters a place of worship, but he’s not mad; only amused. you end up chatting a bit about your beliefs, he’s a lot more chill than you expected, and…. well. he’s just really, really charming.

so maybe you end up coming back the week after. maybe his smile is a bit like a spider’s web. maybe it becomes a kind of routine to speak to him after his sermons; you still don’t sing along to the hymns or spend any time on prayers, and he still finds it funny. maybe once in a while you end up liking a paragraph from the scripture he’s reciting, and he’s always more than happy to discuss it with you. but mostly you’re there for him. for your chats, for standing outside and badgering him about how contradictory the old testament is while he smokes and listens with an amused grin.

rain hits the ground with a steady rhythm, earthy tobacco floods your veins, spiders by the ceiling weave a web of dew, and his presence is a little more intoxicating than you think is appropriate.

suguru just… isn’t a very orthodox priest. he only believes about a tenth of what the bible says, he has his own view of god, his own thoughts on worship. he smokes. he may or may not occasionally manipulate church-goers into donating money so he can invest in another overpriced painting. you once ask him if there are any bodies in the basement you should know about, and he answers that any self-respecting priest wouldn’t conduct their blood rituals in the basement of their own church. he knows how to pick locks. he tells you once, very quietly, that he doesn’t believe man was created in god’s image. there’s a look in his eyes that you don’t comment on.

he’s funny. charming. pleasantly suspicious. your conversations are enjoyable for the both of you, and eventually the edges of his cedar eyes begin to crinkle the slightest bit whenever you walk into his field of vision. sometimes he eyes your lips for a little too long, and a honeyed irony seeps into his grin when you call him out on it. he asks you if you’re tempting him on purpose, and you shrug. whatever exists between you remains unspoken.

one day, he tells you that he believes it was god who sent you to him. you furrow your brows and protest with a mutter reminding him of your beliefs, how you believe in free will, how you waltzed into his church out of your own volition. no one else’s.

he only smiles, and flicks the butt of his cigarette. you think he remains unconvinced.

#don’t know if i made it clear enough but he is in fact . a bit slimey #a little ill. a little too good at hiding it. plagued by thoughts that only calm down when he’s praying or speaking to you <3 #(he’s really insane abt you btw i don’t think he knows how to love normally this goes for any sugu but ESPECIALLY priest!sugu)#but yeahhhhh priest!geto is very fleabag coded to me :3 he’s a chill priest <3 a cool priest <33 #i’m imagining reader pointing out a homophobic passage from the bible and him just chuckling #(he isn’t homophobic just very gay and very used to hearing that particular passage)#literally all of this is taken straight out of the outlines for my priest!geto fic btw 🙏 one day i’ll write it all out… one day……#ty for giving me an excuse to talk abt him 🪄 anon…. pls pls feel free to elaborate on nun!reader 👀👀 bc i am Looking.#ask tag ✩#🪄 anon !! ✩

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tenaciousduckpoetry · 10 months

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Sure, Next Time.

This is the fic that won the poll by a landslide. I will be writing the other one next just for fun! Actually, I might make a list of them and publish it so you guys know what's coming lmao

Warnings: mentions of blood, a limp, fights, dislocated finger 💀, hurt/comfort, swearing, Hobie and reader are tired af cause it's 2am, I also don't know how to write Hobie's accent so bear with my while I learn <33

It didn't necessarily surprise you when Hobie accidentally let it slip that he was Spider-Punk. You could recognize the sticker abused guitar and stressed leather jacket anywhere. What did surprise you was the amount of injuries he sustained and how easily he could hide them from you. If he had a limp his excuse was, "Tripped in my boots, luv." Any other injuries he used the excuse of having started a fight with some capitalist douchebag. And you believed it. It was only until he came back for you to patch him up after every battle that you began to truly let your anxiety feed into it.

Hobie had climbed through your window at 2am. The sun was no where to be seen and the moon was shrouded in clouds. You had become a light sleeper as of late, the rise in crime getting on your nerves and preventing that precious rest you craved.

You woke up at the sound of those familiar heavy boots against your tiled floor. Squinting, you recognized the familiar shadow of a certain spider-man, or at least the shadow of the spikes on his head. "Hobie?" You reached to turn on your bedside lamp. Tired eyes squinted as the warm light enveloped the room. Your voice was scratchy from having been woken up at an ungodly hour. Your hair was all over the place, strands in front of your eyes and sticking out in ways that you didn't know it could. You thought this was a dream with how Hobie had frozen like a deer in headlights at the end of your bed.

Hobie thought he could just slip in and out, weaving his way to your bathroom and taking a couple of bandages for his trip home. He was wrong, and now look at him. He had barely made it to your house in one place and there was no doubt that he was not making it back to his own. All his weight was on his left leg, he was using a web connected to your roof as leverage to keep him upright. You could see a dark stain seeping through his mask just above where you assumed his left eyebrow to be. You suspected there to be more than what you could see through his mask, but would have to wait until you finally got him to the bathroom sink to find out.

The corners of his lips turned up as he watched you struggle to untangle your legs from the bedsheets. "Need some help, luv?" A shit eating grin adorned his face but you couldn't see it. Even when he was injured he still managed to make your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just fine." You huffed, finally finding the floor against your feet and taking steady steps towards the injured man. You didn't see him using your roof as leverage and silently cursed yourself for taking so long. "You better not pull out my roof with that web. Otherwise you'll be the one dealing with my landlord." You huffed only half-joking. Humour seemed to be your coping mechanism. "Don't get all funny on me now, luv." He chuckled, sounding worn out and in pain. You helped him through your mediocre apartment, having draped his arm over your shoulders and letting him rest his weight against you as you walked (stumbled) to the bathroom.

With a slight huff through your nose and grunt that you wished was silent, Hobie was now sitting on your toilet, the lid shut. He was too tall when he sat on the sink (you found that out the first time he came over) and well, you didn't have much room up there to begin with. You crouched to the cupboard below your sink. In a Spider-Punk themed box (made by you to tease Hobie) was a consistent supply of bandages, disinfectant wipes, alcohol wipes, splints, etc. There was everything you could think of that someone would need when injured. You made this box not long after the first time Hobie came back with blood dripping from his forehead and you didn't have anything to help. That night was filled with gentle sorry's and small panics.

"Can you take the mask off, Hobes?" You mumbled, having pulled the box onto the sink. You turned to watch him, tired eyes noticing just how he flinched when he moved his arms to push the mask over his head and tossing it to the floor. His hands were trembling, one of his fingers looking to be the slightest bit out of place. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely and it looked as if part of his piercing had been pulled on.

"'s not as bad as it looks." His hands gently moved to rest on your hips, eyes glancing towards the worried look on your face before moving to the roof. "Not as bad as it looks? Baby, you've probably got a concussion.. No, you've definitely got a concussion." You mumbled, hands already digging into that spider-punk themed medicine box. You managed to pull out some baby wipes and a few alcohol wipes. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, heart thumping in your ears. Your hands came up to caress his face, taking a baby wipe to gently wipe the blood dripping down his face. There was a visible wince and a hiss of pain that came from the touch. Hobie's long fingers gripped the fabric of your pajamas.

"I'm sorry, Hobie.." you muttered, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible. Once the cut was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it, it was time to move to his finger. "I'm even more sorry about this. We're gonna need to put it back in place, okay?" You were kind of glad you took that health course in highschool now.

Hobie let out a groan, to tired to respond with words, but it was clear he was not looking forward to it. His hands released their grip on your hips and instead were placed in your palms. "Okay, we're gonna count to three and I'll put it back in. That good, baby?" You asked.

The suspense was killing Hobie, he was already in pain as it was. He's had dislocated digits before so he understood the importance of getting the limb back in it's socket as soon as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He nodded. "Yeah, okay." He hummed in response. Except you didn't even count. You waited until he spoke up and quickly pushed the digit back into it's socket, earning a muffled (still loud) groan of undescribable pain. "I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. It's over now." You apologized, wrapping his swollen wrist in a compression bandage. The tears brimming in his eyes and the sick pop of his finger had you feeling queazy. You felt your stomach flip and not in the usual happy way it did when Hobie was around. However, you pushed the feeling aside, hands resting on his cheeks as you leaned in to press a small kiss just to the left of his bandage.

"Let's get you to bed.."

After finally fixing up his injuries the two of you had found yourselves laying in bed. Hobie was next to you, one arm drapes over your stomach, the other resting under his head. His lips brushed against your cheek.

"I worry about you.. About what you're doing." You spoke quietly, glancing back into his eyes for a moment. "I know it's for the greater good, but seeing you come home in the middle of the night half dead every day is- It's not nice." You rambled quietly before finally going silent.

He huffed through his nose, although it wasn't angry. "I know, luv. Gonna give you a heart attack one day.." he joked, pressing his lips to your temple. "I love you." The words came out quiet, barely leaving his lips before you turned to face him.

"I love you too, Hobes. But next time you get a dislocated finger just go to a doctor. I literally felt sick from that." You mentioned, earning a small nod and a deep chuckle.

"Sure.. next time." He mumbled in response, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you securely. There was no need to worry about the outside world as long as you were in his arms.

#hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #hobie brown x reader #astv hobie #astv x reader #astv angst #hurt/comfort #light angst #dewdropwrites #astv headcannons #astv spidersona

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enter-drfrog · 4 months

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So we all knew Athena sucks, right? But like Athena suuuuuuuuucks.

I love how much this episode highlighted just how prideful Athena is. I’ve always known that Athena was one of the more prideful gods but this episode really solidified that fact in my brain.

I have four examples so let’s start with the ones the show hasn’t already touched on and jump back to actual mythology.

1. The Trojan War. The whole impetus for the Trojan War was because the goddess were prideful. Eris presented the golden apple for the fairest goddess and Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena got into the whole argument and Paris awarded the apple to Aphrodite. Boom, Athena’s pride was wounded so she chose the side of the Greeks. So you know, the side fighting against Paris (who wounded her pride) and the side who won again the Trojans. Moral of the story, wound Athena’s pride, she’ll ensure you lose.

2. Arachne. Arachne was a great weaver. From what I remember of the myth she was humble about her skill (but that might’ve just been one author’s interpretation because in my brief fact check I couldn’t find anything to prove that). From everything I did find, she was boastful about her skill and challenged Athena to a weaving competition. (From what I remember Athena was jealous of Arachne’s skill, spied on her, then Athena prompted the challenge). But anyways, Arachne wove a better tapestry and in a fit of rage Athena tore apart the tapestry because, you know, wounded pride. From what I remember of the myth, Athena transformed her into a spider, forced to spend her days spinning and weaving webs because she thought was so good at it. (Other interpretations say Arachne hanged herself and as a “mercy” Athena transformed into a spider, allowing Arachne to live and continue to weave). Moral of the story (from the version I remember at least), wound Athena’s pride, she’ll punish through a sick twist of “giving you what you want.”

3. Medusa. Now the show did go further into this one so I’ll keep my explanation shorter. Medusa worshipped Athena (like a super devout worshipper) and Poseidon ended up going at her in Athena’s temple. Athena was offended that they would have sex in her temple and turned Medusa into the snake-haired woman we all know today. Moral of the story, wound Athena’s pride, get fucked (now there are obviously different interpretations about what Athena’s intentions were by doing this to Medusa, but the take that it was a mercy to save Medusa from other sexual predators is a more modern take, and doesn’t push the narrative I’m crafting here).

4. Now for the show. Percy sent Medusa’s head to Olympus despite the very clear protests of Grover and Annabeth. Athena took this as an offense and blamed Annabeth. Blamed Annabeth enough to allow Echidna and the Chimera to enter her temple and attempt to kill her daughter, who so far, had been described as the pride of Athena’s offspring. Pride. What a funny word. One hit to Athena’s pride and she loses any pride she had in her child. Moral of the story once again, wound Athena’s pride, she’ll fuck you over.

Big moral of the story, Athena sucks and only cares about her pride.

No wonder Annabeth’s fatal flaw is pride. Like mother like daughter.

#i love the changes the show is making #they’re adding so much great characterization to these characters #and they’re building to such important development that will come later in the series #i will shout about this show from the rooftops forever #honestly i think this is my favorite episode so far #percy jackson show #percy jackson #percy jackson series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the lightning thief #the lightning thief #annabeth chase #athena

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a-name-or-three · 2 years

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i’m think about speech patterns! take these for all your fic writing needs! not all of them are done bc i was taking requests for who to do next on the discord lol

Jon: He tends to speak like he'd type, a veneer of professionalism and Oxford education, but one which slips the second he's shocked out of his facade by worms, or Martin. He's one for run on sentences; he has a lot of thoughts and he wants to get them all out the second they come into his head, no matter if they actually make sense to the listener or not. If he's shocked! or upset! He gets snippier! His phrases are cut off, or bitchy.

Martin: He, well, he hedges a lot. He lets people come to their conclusions before he, uh, before he finished speaking. It's easier that way, y'know? They hear what they want to hear. But when he's angry, or annoyed, or tired, he lets slip what he's really feeling. He stops biting back his words and he gives up on being sweet. You know what he thinks? Maybe people better listen to him now and then!

Tim: Tim is a consummate professional, but also? A Lad. A lot of people forget, but he started in publishing! He's good with his words, and a nerd. These are two Very Important Things about Tim Stoker that he will ensure that you know by the end of a conversation with him. Tim does his best to make you comfortable, talking casually but without restricting what he knows. He's not about to back down from a point if he disagrees with you, though. He's always up for a bit of a Scene, be that imitating his movie of the month, or creating some imagined moment about the people around him. He cares, so deeply, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. His emotions ride high; he can be the class clown if he wants to, but he can just as easily be hurt very badly. Oh, yeah, another thing to mention! He's a little forgetful in conversation! He needs to wheel back to things when he remembers them! He also has a habit of asking questions without asking them? He's more curious than he wants to let on...

Elias: Well, Elias is very similar to Jon. He's a little more restrained in terms of run-on sentences, though. He's spent a long time crafting his language to provide authority in equal measure with a non-threatening presence. He speaks slowly, as if he's thinking over every word, rolling them in his mouth like a sweet. When he realises he needs to intimidate, though, a thrill laces everything he says. He *enjoys* the ability to put those below him into their places. He likes using his words to mould and crush people, and he isn't above doing so. Do I make myself clear, Jon?

Annabelle: Well, Annabelle is similar to Elias, actually. She chooses her words very carefully. She knows how much affect a single choice can have, even down the stress she chooses to put on a phrase. There's a smile in her voice, like she knows everything that this conversation is going to include. Though, I suppose, it's important to remember how young she is. When she died, she was just a poor university student... She's not sure she's grown up since then, and it's much easier to weave a web when people think you're innocent...

Nikola: Nikola talks Exactly how you'd expect a ringmaster puppet to talk! Grand gestures, bright smiles, all with a plastic coating! Isn't everything she says just wonderful?! She knows people hate her, and she also knows how funny it is to pretend like they adore her! She's less self-aware, than some of the others, but she's there to have fun, not manipulate people! She understands her atrocities, and *delights* in them. She doesn’t have a face, so she has to put all her emotions into her voice!

Peter: Peter is just... Tired. Growing up as he did has him split between an innate human desire to share, and the exhaustion of other people. He settles by picking a confidant, and markedly rejecting everyone else through a professional, bland exterior. He knows, he knows better than you, but he's not going to stress himself proving it. He's got better things to do.

Michael: Michael... What an interesting boy... He... I...? Was... Is...? Michael is something else. He knows he doesn't talk in a way that others understand instinctively... And yet it's always very clear what he means. He is deceit, but he will never lie to you. It's easy to understand a lie. Much harder to unravel a half-truth. I suppose that's what Michael is... A half-truth. There's amusement in his nonsensical nature, even as he bites back resent. Some remnant of that anxious little boy long to make a joke, to titter anxiously at the things his friends say... Michael is confusion, confusing, confused. And he knows exactly what's happening.

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus pod #statement ends #i wanted to do sasha but she DOENST HAVE MUCH WORDS IS THE THING.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

Holy crap I’m loving your writing! Im especially obsessed with Ken and the ranch owner

I’m wondering if you’d be willing to do an fem human reader x Ken where the reader gets a bit sick, nothing too serious but Ken absolutely freaks out and thinks the reader is dying or sum (he learned about death from Stero Barbie. Also spiders. He’s terrified of both) and the reader thinks it’s a bit funny so she’s like “yeah I’m dying” but then he gives her the most terrified and sad kicked puppy look and she has to explain that it’s just a cold lol

Awh thank you!! Im glad that ppl still love my barbie movie stuff even though barbie summer has come and gone 💔

........

There were only two things that Ken feared after beginning his new life in the Real World:

One is the mortality of humans, as Barbie told him all about how fragile their lives were and the two paths they were given: either growing old and dying peacefully in their beds, or some terrible occurrence cutting it short long before their time on this earth was up.

The second was spiders.

He especially hated the spiders.

You only recently discovered he had that fear after finding one of those 8-legged critters in your house--or more specifically in his room, where he came barreling out from as though he accidentally set something on fire.

At first, you thought he really did start a fire until he dragged you back into there, begging you to get rid of the "strange beast".

You had no clue what he could possibly be referring to....and then he pointed to the corner, where a little cellar spider sat completely unbothered, weaving its web.

In that moment, you realized you may have turned him arachnophobic, considering you did show him one insect-themed horror movie this past Halloween. He kept freaking out over it potentially growing horse-sized or injecting venom into his bloodstream when he was asleep.

But despite you assuring him neither of those things could happen (and insisting that the spider was more afraid of him), Ken refused to go into the room until it was gone.

You find it hard to fathom that this same doll who led an entire revolt, came to terms with his own identity crisis, and bravely made the transition to humanity....was totally inconsolable in the presence of a tiny bug.

Then again, maybe showing him that movie--and allowing Barbie to explain why arachnophobia was among the top fears humans had--was a huge mistake.

Regardless, you made it your mission to get rid of the critter.

Oddly enough Ken insisted that you didn't actually kill it, but you found you it sweet that he valued its life despite it scaring the shit out of him. So you contained it in a cup, putting a napkin underneath it before releasing it outside.

After that, you mentioned how most people usually killed spiders and other pests that invaded their home.

He looked wildly uncomfortable at that fact, before he began talking about some rather... concerning things: like if the spider knew how short its lifespan was, how easily it could have been crushed, if it feared death or if it was even aware of it at all-

Before he could derail and start rambling about death itself too much, you stopped him, asking if he was feeling alright.

And he went quiet for a moment, before smiling and giving you a kiss, reassuring you he felt better.

Yet even as he left the room, he still appeared awful tense.

It was that day where you worried that it's more than just spiders he feared..

.......

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you sick??"

"...unfortunately, but it's nothing serious. Just a stupid cold I caught at work." Sighing tiredly, you sat up in bed, seeing Ken walk into the room.

He looked nothing short of horrified at how drained and exhausted you sounded this morning. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to catch anything, so I'm sorry...but no kisses today."

"Then..what about tomorrow?"

You just rolled your eyes, drinking some tea you made for yourself. "Maybe, but we'll see if I wake up."

Although it was meant to be a little joke, your foggy brain forgot how seriously the blond often took jokes, and he rushed to your bedside, kneeling down.

His eyes were wide as he took your hand. "If you wake up??? Are you dying??"

Putting down your mug, you sighed once more, trying to figure out a way to remedy this situation before you upset him too much. "No....I mean I just feel like I'm dying, but.." You paused, noticing the tears coming to his eyes. "Ken?"

Now that he was a lot closer, you could see the utterly terrified look on his face--as though you kicked a puppy right in front of him.

Yep, it was already much too late. He was upset.

"I-I know tomorrow is not guaranteed for anyone, but you have to get through this, [y/n]! Please..I can't lose you, too...not when you've done so much to help me." He was extremely close to crying, his lips trembling.

Your heart sunk as you placed a hand ober his own. "Oh honey, I was only kidding around when I say-"

"Why do humans joke about death so much? Don't they know y-you...you can't come back? That they have such short lives?? O-Or sure, some believe you can be reincarnated but that doesn't make it any-"

At this point, he was just blubbering nonsense, so you took him into your arms. And for a moment he fell silent, before burying his face into your chest, trying to calm himself down. "I-I'm sorry.."

"No, no..I'm sorry. You're right..I shouldn't be joking about death around you." Frowning slightly, you stroked his hair. "I promise I'm not dying. Not today, or tomorrow..not for a long, long time. This cold will pass and I'll feel better soon enough."

".....a-are these the irrepressible thoughts of death Barbie had?"

'Oh.'

It finally hit you.

He was going through the same thing she once did.

"Ken.." You had him sit up so you could see his face. Aside from it being a little red and his eyes puffy and watery, there were tear marks trailing down to the stubble that had formed along his jaw and chin. "Why didn't you tell me you were having those thoughts?"

Sniffling, he just shrugged. "I don't know. And... I don't know why I'm thinking them. Barbie could blame it on somebody who was playing with her, but...I can't. Because I'm not a doll anymore, I'm human....a-and...those were my thoughts alone." He shuddered, terrified at that realization. "I guess I just..didn't wanna scare you, b-but obviously it's too late for that..."

A small chuckle came from him, although it dissolved into a small sob as he wiped his eyes. "S-Sorry, I....I want these thoughts to just pass already."

"And they will." You nodded, squeezing his free hand reassuringly. "It looks like you're just experiencing them for the first time, and that's okay. They won't be all you think about. And you don't have to apologize for how you're feeling, as long as you're honest with me."

"Th-Thank you.." He sniffled. "I should be taking care of you, not the other way around. Do you need you anything? More tea? Meds? Anything at all?"

You smiled fondly, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. "You're all I need right now, sweetheart."

That response seemed to bring Ken's giddy old self back, as he smiled bashfully in return. He melted back into your arms when you wrapped them around him, and he listened to your heartbeat: the only assurance he needed that you were still living.

Eventually...those thoughts of death did pass him by, and he felt okay again.

#clanask #anonymous #barbie x reader #barbie movie x reader #barbie ken x reader #ken x reader #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling ken x reader #sick reader #hurt/comfort #tw arachnophobia #tw death #female reader

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fixing-bad-posts · 9 months

Note

i have just scrolled through this garden of earthly delights for maybe over an hour enjoying your posts. time lost its meaning as i drank the mead of poetry. do you have any favorite posts?

hello :) that you for such a sweet ask! i've been somewhat less active lately (distracted by work, books, and the massive bbc merlin fanfic i'm currently posting lol), so it's nice to know you've been enjoying my blog!

in answer to your question, this is not a complete list, but some of my favourites are these:

empower ye olde pinup girl this is one of my older posts, and i've always really liked how the collage aspect came together + how coherent the overall text ended up being!

Queer is the inclusive term once again, i really like how this one ended up looking with the purple flowers in the background, and championing the world 'queer' is important to me.

this kink positive saint sebastian post (nsfw) first of all, this is just one of my favourite paintings of saint sebsastian. second of all, the story behind posting this is that i had just gotten a rather rude hate anon with some inappropriate sexual content which i can only assume was meant to disgust me. little did they know i had a post like this lined up. it still amuses me to imagine they checked my blog every day to see if i'd taken the bait, only to find this post instead.

bite ass i just think this one is funny lmao!

i ate a pinecone once (ask) sometimes if i'm in the mood, i use some of my asks as poetry prompts, and this one was fun to make. web weavings are not my usual genre of poetry (in fact, neither is blackout poetry), but this was very fun, and more challenging than i anticipated!

What are your kids REALLY learning in school? my favourite part of this post is people in the notes confirming all of the things i listed here and also talking about 'the outsiders' lmao! the original post was actually a screenshot from this terrible website full of misinformation and slander about queer people and the canadian education system. i thought i'd make it just a little more factual.

#ask fbp #solarmusick

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froggy-with-a-knife · 1 year

Text

the set up

pairing: sage x reader

prompt: phoenix, cypher, kj, raze and jett like to meddle in your love life and attempt to set you up with sage

word count: ~3.000

warning: probably inaccurate descriptions of a game of chess

A/N: I tried to keep it gender neutral this time, but if there are any descriptions etc that seems to lean towards one gender or another just let me know and I’ll fix it

"You're doing it again."

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the chess pieces and raising an eyebrow at the masked man in front of you. You moved your knight forward without a second glance, knowing that you'd already been taking your sweet time.

"What do you mean?" you inquired, puzzled by his statement.

Cypher hummed, playing with the black bishop he had captured from you already.

"You are distracted", he told you after a moment of consideration, "Otherwise, you would not have made this move."

Swiftly, your teammate put his queen forward to take the space your knight had previously occupied. You let out a frustrated breath of air, realizing your blunder. Cypher snatched your piece up triumphantly, adding to his already large pile.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm not sure they're worth that much", you shook your head, eyes back on the board as you weighed your options. Your king was castled in, and beside your three pawns and rook, you only had your queen on the backline. Let's just say the odds were not in your favour.

Cypher chuckled at your response, leaning across the board conspiratorially, which distracted you from your deliberations.

"Quite on the contrary, I think they're invaluable. Especially since they've been so preoccupied with someone else recently..."

You froze, eyes meeting his gleeful ones hidden behind the mask. Was it that obvious? You had tried to hide your interest as well as you could. But keeping secrets from the Moroccan was pretty much impossible. His net of information was weaved too thickly, and it appears as though you had just been caught, stuck to his web like an unlucky fly at the mercy of a spider.

You sighed, moving your rook to put his queen in check.

"Why ask if you already know?"

"Well, I know some of it. However, details are important in my profession", swiftly he moved one of his pawns forward, blocking your rook, "And obviously, I'm also worried about you, my dear friend."

You captured his pawn, knowing he would retaliate with his queen, but not caring all too much.

"Worried?", you asked instead, raising an eyebrow. Cypher chuckled, moving his queen as you had predicted.

"Yes. After all, who will I play with after your brain has completely turned into lovesick mush?"

"Funny."

Your conversation seemed to have piqued the interest of your other teammates in the room, much to your dismay. Phoenix was the first across the room, slinging an arm around your shoulder with a big grin as he joined you on the bench you were sitting on.

"Aw, does someone have a crush?"

You pushed his arm off with a roll of your eyes, but Phoenix's smile didn't diminish as he continued to pester you.

"Now, who is the special someone that's caught your interest, huh? I thought you were immune to those kinds of feelings."

"Maybe it's just when you are involved", Jett quipped slyly, "You get that reaction a lot, don't you, pretty boy?"

"Hahaha", Phoenix said sarcastically, throwing Jett a glare. She shrugged it off nonchalantly, turning her attention to Cypher. Luckily, the Moroccan had the good sense not to say anything yet, much to the chagrin of your nosy friends. Unluckily, your friends are stubborn and insist on figuring it out themselves.

"It's got to be someone from the Protocol, no? Why else would they be so secretive?", Killjoy threw in, still working on her bot but nevertheless invested. Raze nodded her head eagerly in agreement.

"Good point. It's not like they have much of a social life outside of work."

"Hey!", you protested at the underhand dig, but neither Razenor anyone else took notice, intent on figuring this out themselves.

"It's probably no one in this room, right?"

"Maybe it's Brimstone-zinho? Would explain why they're so embarrassed."

"The boss man?! No way!"

"I agree. I like Brim, but I don't think he's the...uh...right age."

"He's not that old."

"And who knows, maybe that's something they're into."

You buried your face in your hands, shaking your head at their guesses. Cypher laughed in amusement, earning himself a glare from you.

You decided it was probably in your best interest to make a swift escape. Looking at the chess pieces, you purposefully moved your queen to a compromising position, allowing thatwould not only make her easy to capture but simultaneously put your king in checkmate. Cypher tsked, recognizing what you were trying to do.

"Trying to lose now, are we?", he asked, tilting his head to the side. The others quieted down, probably hearing the dangerously sly tone of his voice. You swallowed. Maybe you had miscalculated.

"Cypher...", you warned to no effect.

The Moroccan turned one of the black pieces over in his hand. You could swear that underneath that mask of his he was grinning from ear ot ear.

"Well, my dear friend, since our game seems to be concluding, allow me to give you some sage advice before you leave: the worst thing that can happen is she says 'no'. It might make it awkward at first and even hurt, but you know what they say: time heals all wounds. Even those of the heart."

There was a moment of silence as the others gaped at you with wide eyes, waiting for your reaction to Cypher's pretty on-the-nose hints. You paid them no mind, eyes narrowing at the Morrocan, and mouth pulling into a frown.

"Wow, very clever, Amir", you muttered sarcastically.

All hell broke loose around you as your teammates started to talk over each other excitedly.

"You like Sage?!"

"Oh wow, did not expect that one."

"Is that why you're helping out in the infirmary so often?"

"Are we talking simple crush, or are you in love with her?"

"Guys", you interrupted them with a pointed look, making them shut up, "I don't want to talk about it."

"What?", Raze exclaimed, excitedly twirling a screwdriver between her fingers, "You can't drop a bombshell like this and not give us anything more!"

You rolled your eyes, tempted to point out that you didn't drop anything, but knowing that would only start a whole new argument.

"At least tell us what your plan is. How are you going to win her over?", Phoenix jumped in, refusing to drop the matter.

"I'm not. I'm pretty sure she doesn´t likes me back."

"Of course she likes you! You guys spend so much time together. Plus, she talks about you all the time."

You glanced at Jett, curiosity piqued.

"She does?"

"All the time", Jett repeated, and the others nodded in agreement.

Against your better judgement, you felt a spark of hope rise in your chest, wishing to light up your heart. You were quick to put it out.

"That doesn't mean anything", you tell them as much as yourself, "I'm simply better off keeping it quiet. Something you will do too if you value your life."

Kj, Raze and Jett respectively let out defeated sighs, shrugged or silently consented. Phoenix, on the other hand, looked less than willing to comply, staring at you incredulously.

"Nah, man, you can't just give up! Where's your fighting spirit?"

"I prefer to save it for the battlefield", you replied dryly, "Why fight a battle that's already lost?"

Cypher stared at the chess board with a frown.

"If your love life is anything like this match, then you are definitely sabotaging yourself", he stated, finally claiming your queen and putting your king in checkmate with a disappointed sigh. With the game finally over, you eagerly got up from your chair, more than happy to remove yourself from this situation.

You paused at the door, turning back to your teammates.

"Not a word of this to Sage. Understood?"

They nodded, and you left satisfied with their answer.

A beat of silence. Cypher stood up from his seat, looking at his colleagues with a mischievous smile.

"What would you guys say to a little matchmaking?"

Four heads eagerly nodded at his suggestion, matching grins on their faces.

*******************************************************************************************

"Busy day?"

You perked up from your spot on the office chair, a soft smile automatically gracing your lips as soon as you set eyes on your favourite colleague. Sage looked as though she had come straight from the aircraft to the infirmary: still clad in her mission outfit, face slightly covered in dust and dirt.

"You could say that", you said, sitting up from your slumped position, knowing how much Sage liked to scold you for your bad posture, "There was a bit of an incident in the kitchen, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Sage stopped next to you to lean against the desk, hands bracing against the top of the table. From your position in the chair, she looked even taller than she usually did, towering over you like this. She nodded her head, eyes trailing to the door momentarily.

"I heard. I'll have to have a word with Phoenix about using his abilities around flammable materials. Again."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Yeah, well, at least no one was too seriously hurt. Second-degree burns are an easy fix, more or less."

With a nonchalant shrug, you held up your arm to show off the irritations and slight scars adorning your skin: The results of your work day in the infirmary. You are usually left with some kinds of aches, wounds or bruises. Unlike Sage or Skye, your healing powers were more indirect in nature: You were only really able to heal yourself (which, although quicker than normal human healing, still took a bit of time). So, whenever you treated one of your patients, you had to use your powers to transfer their injuries to yourself and then wait for the healing process to kick in. It was tedious work, exhausting for you and much less efficient, but better than not having any healer around.

Sage's brow furrowed in concern, and before you could reassure her, she wordlessly took hold of one of your arms, examining your injuries more closely. Her fingers ghosted over the marks, which faded in the wake of her cold caress. Your heart picked up speed, surprised at the chief healer's touch. Delicately she switched to your other arm and healed the remaining scars as well.

"I'm sorry that you've had to help out so much recently", she murmured, eyes focused on her task. You mustered up an easy smile.

"It's okay. I don't mind. I was the one who volunteered after all."

"I know. But you were supposed to act as an assistant only", Sage reminded you with a sigh, "Lately it almost seems like you are running the infirmary all by yourself. It's not fair to you, knowing the price that you pay for your help."

Her fingers trailed over your arms once more, over the scars that were now invisible. You were sure the tingling sensation you felt had nothing to do with her powers.

"It doesn't hurt that much. It stings, and it's uncomfortable, I won't lie. But it's a small price to pay for the well-being of our teammates."

She sighed, silently acknowledging the truth in your words. Slowly she let go of your arm, her fingers instead moving to toy with her ring. A habitat she couldn't seem to break.

"I suppose", she started, meeting your eyes once more, almost sheepishly, "I guess I simply don't like seeing you hurt, even if it is inconsequential."

Her admission made your breath hitch, and you had to silently remind yourself not to read too much into her words. Sage was just a caring person, she'd say the same thing to any of your teammates. You offered her a grateful smile but before you could articulate a response, the two of you were interrupted by the sound of the announcement system crackling to life. Sage and you both jumped at the unexpected noise, the chief healer moving a couple of inches away from you. You hadn't even realised how close you had been to one another, but now that knowledge made your face grow warm.

"All agents please assemble in conference room B for an emergency briefing. I repeat, all agents to conference room B, please."

The robotic female voice announced over the speakers, the sound echoing through the big room. You turned to Sage quizzically, but the second in command looked just as surprised as you did.

"An unscheduled briefing. Must be serious", you mused and Sage nodded in agreement. Pushing herself away from the table, she offered a hand to you.

"We better not waste any time then."

You took her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. Together you walked the distance to the conference room in companionable silence. The lights in the room were already on, and the screen usually used for presentations was powered up. However, there was no one else besides the two of you there yet. Moreover, it smelled like someone had eaten lunch in there recently, the aroma of spices still fresh in the air.

"Looks like we're the first to arrive", Sage observed, walking forward to sit down in the nearest chair, "Strange that we beat both Jett and Neon."

You turned to look towards the door, expecting someone, anyone to enter any moment. The hallway remained completely quiet. Strange indeed.

"Shouldn't Brim be here already?", you asked suspiciously, turning to Sage, "Assuming he's the one that called the meeting, that is."

You had a feeling something about this briefing was off. However, your realization came too late. In a fraction of a second the door to the conference room slid shut behind you. A click signalling that the locks had been activated. You briefly exchanged an alarmed look with Sage, before hurrying towards the door. You punched in the usual codes on the access panel. Error.

"Locked", you stated the obvious. Sage joined you at the pad typing in a different sequence of numbers. Her brows pulled together in a frown.

"The override codes aren't working either."

"Cypher and Killjoy", you muttered, your suspicions clear. Sage gave you a puzzled look.

"Why would they lock us in here?"

Before you could think of an answer, the lights suddenly dimmed, and the speakers crackled to life once more.

"This one's for you, my dear friend. Enjoy", Cypher's voice stated in a mischievous tone. Your stomach tightened in dread.

The blank screen switched to show footage of a crackling fireplace and soft jazz music started to play over the speakers. To your right, one of the built-in cabinets opened up, revealing a pull-out table set with fine silverware, chandeliers and hot food, the source of the smell you had noticed while entering.

You were mortified, relaizing that this whole thing was a set up. Even worse, it was a bad set-up. There was no way Sage didn't understand the implications of your situation. Your friends' pathetic attempt at matchmaking must have made your romantic feelings for her clear as day. Your face grew hot in embarassment, and you avoided looking at Sage. The healer laid a gentle hand on your arm to catch your attention.

"What is all this?"

You swallowed, deciding to play it as cool as you could.

"Dinner, apparently. Hungry?"

Quickly you moved to the table, pulling out a chair for the Chinese and swiftly moving to lift the cover from the food to reveal some fancy pasta dish. It smelled amazing, you had to admit, but you honestly felt too jittery for food. Still, you plated some for you and Sage, who was taking this impromptu meal in stride.

"Wine?", she asked, taking the bottle sitting in a small chiller and offering it to you. Mutely you nodded, and she poured some for both of you. Red. You had no idea if it clashed with your meal or not. You didn't really care as long as it helped against the embarrassment you felt.

You took a long sip, sneaking a look at the healer as she tried the pasta. You could tell she was somewhat confused but too considerate to push you for more information. Or maybe she was just starving. She had just returned from a mission, after all.

You set down your glass, absentmindedly picking at your food.

"It's pretty good", Sage offered, trying to encourage you to eat, having misinterpreted your lack of hunger for hesitation. Her smile was so kind you couldn't help but return it.

"Jett must have cooked it", you guessed, "The others are useless in the kitchen."

Sage chuckled at that, probably also recalling Raze and Killjoy's failed attempt at making scrambled eggs for breakfast.

"Although, I suppose Phoenix tried to help, resulting in the fiery accident that you had to deal with earlier today", Sage guessed, and your eyes widened. You hadn't even considered that these two incidents could be connected. You shook your head amused. Curse your meddling, well-meaning friends.

"I'm sorry for all of this", you apologized sincerely, finally meeting her eyes, "I'm afraid it's all my fault."

Sage shook her head, reaching across to take your hand in a reassuring gesture that made your breath hitch.

"I can imagine worse fates", Sage admitted softly, "In fact, a candle-lit dinner with you sounds like the ideal way to spend an evening."

She squeezed your hand, with a smile.

"Next time, just ask me out yourself, alright? I fear to imagine what other matchmaking schemes our friends would come up with."

You couldn't stop the feeling of hope spreading through your chest this time.

"Does that mean you'd like to go out with me again? Romantically? On a date?"

Sage laughed, the most beautiful laugh you had ever heard.

"Of course I do! I thought I made it pretty obvious that I like you. I gave you all the signs."

You blinked, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

"You did?"

Sage shook her head affectionately, letting go of your hand to continue eating.

"I'll tell you all about it if you take me out to dinner this weekend", she said slyly.

You grinned, picking up a forkful of food.

"It's a date."

#valorant x reader #sage x reader #valorant sage #valorant sage x reader #ling ying wei #froggystory

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total-drama-brainrot · 3 months

Note

Hello hello again ophe 👋😇

I like to send in asks to see other people’s opinions so don’t worry I like disagreements😇

And I remember that Trent wanted to open a bike shop/he likes to work on them

And do you have any last name headcanons for any of the contestants? Cause I have some to share

Trent Myers -is sounds better than cooper

Emma Schrödinger - like Schrödinger’s cat and she likes cats

Sierra May - it’s short and sweet to say

-All Stars anon

I’m over here breaking bad again😈

Hello hello, A.S. Anon! 👋😄

I knew there was a reason why I headcanoned Trent as a motorcycle boy! Turns out it isn't a hc at all, it's just canon!

As far as last names go, I have a love-hate relationship with the established 'fanon' last names from Total Drama Comeback. Some of them are really cool- like Bridgette Summers (fits her vibes) or Ezekiel Miller (has a lot of bumpkin farm boy energy). Even Lindsay Top has a simple sort of charm to it. On the other hand, Batofel? Sterecra? Those aren't even surnames! They're not even words!

For my own headcanons? I haven't really put a lot of thought into it, to he honest.

Though, I do think giving Trent the last name "Smith" as a nod to his role as 'the normal/average guy' in Camp TV, since Smith is the most common surname in Canada, is kind of funny.

"Weber" is a cute surname for Sierra, I think. It's German in origin, since her grandparents are canonically German, and it literally means "weaver"- which is a fun little call back to her grass weaving skills. It's also got 'web' in the name, which could reference her huge online presence and internet addition.

I also headcanon that Chase's surname is "Chen". It's a super common East Asian surname meaning "dawn" or "morning"; Chase Chen literally means "chase the dawn", which I think is a really fitting name for someone who's always On The Grind for views (and also just a really pretty and inspiring name meaning for someone so objectively awful /pos).

Speaking of objectively awful people, Julia's surname is "Baker". Her family followed their namesake, and Julia likely would have ended up working at Sweet Little Julia's too had her dreams of being an influencer not worked out.

#i don't have enough knowledge about surnames to designate one for every (unnamed) character 🤷‍♀️#total drama #td trent #td sierra #td chase #td julia #silly headcanons #others' headcanons #ass stars anon #replies

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seamayweed · 1 year

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I have just gotten in mctna clearly very late to the party. Thank you for all the beautiful gifs. ❤️❤️❤️🍑

I just wanted to know if you knew any meta posts or discussions about the characters out there I can delve into?

Yaaay, welcome, welcome, we are always happy (starved) for fresh blood in the fandom! \o/ 💙💙💙 Ahhh sdjfklsdflsfd thank you for paying attention to my gifs and calling them beautiful!! 🥰 *dances in a circle like an overexcited puppy*

Please beware: these are most likely not spoiler-free!

For the older meta/discussions, @convenientalias and her ‘my country the new age’ tag (starts at page 20) is a good place to start. I remember this Seon-ho meta and also love reading everyone's responses to this mctna list of questions she created. There’s @dangermousie and their ‘my country’ tag (starts at page 11), @hedvig-ulrika has a lot of good meta posts as well, right now I can only think of this one (marketplace scene) and this one (Seonhwi scene towards the end), and this one for Seon-ho & Sung-rok. For Seonrok stuff in general, platonic or otherwise, the ‘seonrok’ tag by @pashminabitch is a treasure trove, @sadviper has great thoughts about them too (and I enjoyed reading their top 5 mctna scenes), @valarinde has meta about this very heart-wrenching scene, and @eohachu has written compelling meta about them too; their ‘seonrok’ and ‘nn meta’ tags are def worth checking out. @strandedchesspiece has an amazing series of mctna meta posts. I really love @the2headedcalf ’s Seonhwi meta (1, 2). @ciriwrites has written this excellent meta that led to an interesting discussion and other meta, @staidwaters has this headcanon about how Seonhwi became best friends, and @rain-hat has a lot of intelligent and eloquent meta in her ‘my country the new age’ tag and got a lot of mctna asks a while ago. You can also read @crayonflop 's very entertaining commentary in their ‘my country’ tag (starts at page 28), then there’s @husberttee with an interesting discussion about Sung-rok and his scar. This funny text post about Sung-rok + Seonhwi by @petekaos always makes me smile. This one is good too - all the Seon-ho feels! @bienmoreau has meta posts like this one about Seon-ho and his brother and @tlanwen has good meta and web weavings too. And @elderflowergin 's description of Bang-won's voice is perfect. There are others like @crithir, @eremin0109, @asena-queenslayer, @monstersqueen, @mctna, @doorhine with a scene comparison here and dozens of others who I remember writing mctna meta, in the tags or otherwise! This anon ask sent to fatallist (who has sadly deactivated) about the water/river symbolism is interesting too.

For more recent stuff, we have @howlingmusketeers ’s Bang-won meta, @nubreed73 ’s thought-provoking commentary here (you can find more in their ‘meta’ or ‘my country the new age’ tag), @wangkuans here (there's more in their ‘my country the new age’ tag too), @navramanan has this edit/tags-meta and meta, and @itsza recently watched mctna and has made some posts too.

Of course, you can also feel free to check out my ‘mctna meta’ tag or ‘color meta’ tag! :D

I’m sure I missed a lot of the early discussions since I only discovered the fandom a year after mctna was airing... Please forgive me, friends, if I missed anyone /o\

A small caveat: I’m very clearly biased towards Seon-ho who's my fave, and there are some Hwi-resenting meta posts/tags you may encounter on my or other people’s blogs. I started out being quite critical of him, but after many good discussions with some of my friends I’ve come to understand his side of things more. As such, I'm trying to avoid being too harsh on him and am determined to love the boys more equally now!

There are a few critical takes on Seon-ho or Bang-won or Hui-jae too, but I think it’s a sign of what amazing, complex characters they are that they elicit such strong emotions in us and we feel compelled to take sides!

Thank you for the ask and have fun in the mctna fandom!! <333

#godotismissingx #asks #ty bb!#my country the new age #my country: the new age #mctna #mctna meta #@the mctna fandom:#please help out lil old me and add your favorite mctna metas #or your own metas you'd like to promote and that i failed to mention #🙏#i'm but one person and have the memory of a goldfish #also petition for all of us to tag our mctna meta better!!!

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attorneys-against-court-violence · 1 year

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Damon Gant scares the hell out of me.

This man. This. Sodding. Demon. It's been a few weeks since I beat Rise From the Ashes, but the events of that case and the actions of this character have made the name "Gant" borderline blasphemous. For how far I have gotten into Ace Attorney, he's probably the most terrifying of the villains so far. Yes, that includes Manfred.

Now, coming fresh off the fourth case like me, you may have wondered given his reputation; how can they make this goofy orange funny man more paralysing than THE Manfred von Karma himself? Old Karma set the bar pretty high after all - never was there a worse feeling than catching him in the Evidence Room with a taser after all the work you put in to incriminate him and his witness.

Karma was built from Edgeworth's reputation, the way he was talked up prior to the trial, and his control over the courtroom. He was introduced on a pedestal and kept there till the very end. You are *expected* to fear this man and plays him pretty straight. No ambiguity, he's just that terrifying.

Gant? He practically comes out of nowhere. Even Edgeworth is surprised (even fearful?) when he appears. And he introduces himself by... just standing there. Not even in ellipses as Karma did - he just stares at you until bursting into friendly dialogue. He indirectly helps you connect the SL-9 incident to the current case. He scolds Edgeworth with a smug grin.

You have no idea what to expect from this man. He hits you with so many conflicting signals that you can't tell what you're supposed to think of him. He seems friendly enough, I guess? Maybe he's just like good ol' Gumshoe right? But that stare and the way he taunts Edgeworth... it makes you wonder what's going on with the guy.

Your fears may be alleviated slightly when he lets you into the evidence room. Maybe that same, cold stare he gives you only raises your eyebrows. At best he's a very eccentric fellow, at worst you have no idea why he's keeping up such a façade... if there even is one.

Then the pieces start coming together. There's a good reason why he was so protective of his office; everything you find in there ties him into both cases in a very disturbing way. The way Lana is acting, why Jake Marshall is so interested in SL-9, everything that connects him to Ema especially paints him in a very ominous light. He was involved with all their lives and how they turned out and it isn't shaping up to be a very positive influence. Even smaller details - like how he blasts organ music at officers under his watch to punish them - paint him in an ominous light.

By the time he's standing as a witness for the second time, it becomes crystal clear. Damon Gant is a ruthless, selfish and thoroughly manipulative person. Everything, from SL-9 to now, was planned and thought-out by this horrid man to ensure he gets off scott-free. No matter how many lives he ruins in the process. He frames Ema for murder. He convinces Lana to help him cover up a fake crime. He kills Marshall's brother in the process. He gave Edgeworth false evidence when he took over as prosecutor for SL-9. He did his damndest to remove everyone who investigated SL-9 from power.

Bruce Goodman died because he was getting too close seeing Gants web of lies he had spent 2 years weaving and keeping at this rate. He pulls every string he has - Lana, Edgeworth, even Ema as a scapegoat - to make sure Bruce dies with his secrets. One wrong move from Phoenix and he would have walked out a free man.

Why?

Because he was desperate. They had their serial killer - Joe Darke - but no evidence to prove it. Right or wrong, Gant wanted someone to pay for these violent murders, so he sought justice through the most vile means possible. Manfred only did what he did because he's a perfectionist. Gant did what he did because he wanted justice - or at least the next best thing.

And yet he's still incredibly goofy, mentioning swimming at the slightest chance, giving people nicknames, the whole $50 thing... Manfred doesn't have many humanising moments in Ace Attorney, especially in the first game. Gant is presented as just another eccentric dude with a kind streak and is given plenty of opportunity to look human.

Which might be the scariest part about him.

He's an old and silly police chief who did some truly terrible things for the right reasons. His ruthlessness combined with his eccentric behaviour puts him in an uncanny valley of sorts. He's so close, but yet so far from being likeable as a person (compared to Manfred, who's the textbook definition of "love to hate").

I don't blame Edgeworth for being shaken by his final words.

#ace attorney #damon gant #rise from the ashes #another ace attorney essay #whooo

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sneverussape · 8 months

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Snape: 9, 13, and 17 for the character asks!

oooh interesting set of questions. :)

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character (in canon)

one thing that i have to be clear about is i've read all the books only once, and that was as a child/teen/young adult as they were coming out. but even then, i had immediately liked snape because he was so intriguing, funny, and reminded me of my own tough-as-rocks teachers, whom i loved and hated with equal measure. he got my attention in PS when he had that dramatic spiel (and his own chapter to boot), but what really cemented my love for him was his line in CoS when he sneaked up on ron and harry as they were sneaking in. i thought it was a brilliant scene and was thrilled to bits reading it. the man had excellent comedic timing.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done (in canon)

i don't know why this is the scene i'm thinking about but it's the one where he attempted to outrun the hippogriff in HBP. what was my man thinking doing that. did he think he was jesus? was it the ptsd boosting his fight or flight mode? he could have very well been killed at that moment and the entire plot derailed. (and wouldn't that have been something, given that dumbledore had literally asked to be euthanized just to get it moving).

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

a lot of the web weavings and poems/quotes/etc i reblog are actually severus-associated! ahaha i just don't tag them, but here's a little something (pls forgive me for not sourcing them :') ):

I drink to the house, already destroyed, And my whole life, too awful to tell, To the loneliness we together enjoyed, I drink to you as well, To the eyes with deadly cold imbued, To the lips that betrayed me with a lie, To the world for being cruel and rude, To God who didn't save us, or try.

the last toast (1934, anna akhmatova. tr. lyn coffin)

#ask game #snape #web weaving #hah! my first one and not even properly done #sorry for that hehe #hp

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kid-az · 7 months

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Omori Xenoblade 2 Crossover au

Am very bored so I just wanted to share a silly crossover idea I thought up. I hope you folks enjoy reading.

(Main ships are Heromari, Cactiflower, and Sunburn)

Hero (Driver): A driver from Uraya. His family is part of the Urayan nobility, and like in canon, they pressure him to become a doctor, (One that treats injured soldiers) even though he wants to be a chef, specifically one that serves the common people and downtrodden. He defended himself with a frying pan before becoming a driver, but now fights using Mari’s tessen’s, or war fans. He wasn’t able to become a driver at first since he wasn’t attuned to it, but after Mari became his blade, he got better at it.

He wears the typical Urayan outfit, not as grand as some of the nobles, but he doesn’t mind at all. He wears Urayan armor while in battle, though the chest plate has a symbol that resembles an Aegis’s core chip or the Conduit. He has dark blue hair (As blue as his canon RW shirt) and has scale-like protrusions on his cheeks and neck.

Like in canon, he’s an extremely nice, friendly guy, though unlike in canon, he didn’t have depression or survivors guilt due to never meeting Mari until his adulthood. He is of course completely terrified of Arachno’s, though highly appreciates nature otherwise. His and Kel’s parent’s have blades of their own, his dad has an earth-based, doglike blade named Hector and his mom has a light-based, human blade named Polly.

Mari (Blade): A wind-based attack class blade who has an appearance partially resembling that of a spider, such as having 2 pairs of beady eyes, bristles on her human arms and legs, and 4 spider-like webs on her back. She wears a short-skirt kimono that is colored in many shades of purple, two scarves that she weaved with her ability of making web-like strings, and wields war fans that she can use to hit in a distance by tying webs around them.

Just as kind as Mari, but can be very sagely in her advice and a little mellow… almost depressed. This happiness comes back when she sees Sunny, her so-called little brother…… and becomes depressed again when she remembers that Sunny doesn’t remember her… or does he? She kicks herself out of the depression by talking about bugs, weaving and knitting clothing/plushies, and playing the family piano or accordion.

Mari is actually a flesh eater, one that has existed almost as long as Jin had, before Torna got destroyed. She and her little brother were awakened by a driver who they considered their dad, and before he died. (Old age, he survived Torna.) He offered his heart to his daughter as he favored her more than Sunny. While Sunny went back into his core crystal and became mysteriously lost, Mari remained active and conscious…… so she decided to travel the world and help people.

Heromari Dynamic: Hero would meet Mari while she was in Fonsa Myma, donating clothing and playing a button accordion. Although afraid of her at first, Hero would be endeared by her kindness, beauty underneath her spider-like features, as well as her mischievous, smug nature. Mari would be endeared by how much of a kindhearted, selfless dork Hero was, (And also wanting to act as an older sister-in-law for Kel, since he sorta reminds her of her little brother) and decide to pick him as her driver.

They’re dynamic is the same as in canon, though Mari like to jumpscare him in the dark as she finds his scared reactions to be funny and adorable. She acts as a responsible teacher and older sister-in-law to Kel, teaching him how to knit and weave, encouraging him to be as confident in himself as he can, and offering sagely advice… albeit she gives advice to both brothers. She dotes heavily on their baby sister Sally.

Kel (Driver): Also a Driver from Uraya, and one who actually became a driver earlier than Hero did, in spite of their parents favoring the latter. More confident in himself than in canon due to Mari’s encouragement and the fact he’s a driver. Is the royal guard to Uraya’s queen, basically their version of special inquisitor Morag.

Wears gilded, modified Urayan armor, though this one is much lighter as he utilizes agility than brute force and tankiness. It is also shaded a faded orange as that is his favorite color. Same hair color as Hero yet also thicker, and has scales above his eyes. Kel doesn’t play basketball as it wasn’t invented in Uraya :(

If Hero likes nature, Kel LOVES it! He would never attempt to harm an animal, and would always find some way to drive them off/nonlethally incapacitate them. Loves Hector and takes him on walks, and is of course very energetic. He wields a scythe, first a regular war scythe then Basil’s Blade scythe. Usually joins meetings with Uraya and Mor Ardain, with him and Morag being friends (And gushing about their blade partners, which they get embarrassed by.)

Basil (Blade): An earth-based, tank type blade, Basil is regarded as “The flower of Uraya” and it fits very well for his appearance and personality. He always has a vibrant flower crown on his green-colored hair, and his outfit consists of a long robe overgrown with vines, mushrooms, moss, and of course, flowers. He wields a gardening scythe as his weapon.

Although his various incarnations (Such as Stranger, Rowan, and Flower) were of various characters, (Former was mysterious and very blunt, the middle was outright violent and rebellious, and the latter was far too closed-off and meek) This incarnation of Basil is one that is extremely kindhearted, albeit a little too insistent on how “everything is okay.” His overall appearance and demeanor is slightly based on who his driver is, and due to Kel’s optimism, bravery, and sense of responsibility, Basil shares these same traits.

He can be a little bit meek, shy, and socially anxious, but all in all he is a very reliable friend to his pals and a significant other to Kel, who they can all rely on and to never give up. He has been adopted by Polly, who acts as Basil’s mother-like figure. During the rare times they meet, Brighid acts as an older sister figure to Basil.

Cactiflower dynamic: After Hero’s failure in awakening Basil, (Thankfully only getting a nosebleed and headache instead of death.) their parents reluctantly had Kel try to awaken him so as to not become an embarrassment to the nobility. Thankfully, Kel managed to awaken him on the first try, and the both of them immediately got along very well without any issues, outside of some shyness over their mutual crushes.

Thankfully, after the acknowledgment and encouragement from Morag and her blade partner Brighid, Kel and Basil felt comfortable enough to start dating eachother, and now they are a powerful, inseparable pair! Unlike most of Basil’s previous driver, who were often sent to put down rebellions or slaughter political targets and beasts, Kel and Basil have instead decided to help out the population with their issues, helping fend off beasts on in way that harms not people nor nature, exemplifying Uraya’s culture of natural coexistence.

Also they love cuddling together because teehee it’s cute!

Aubrey (Driver): She is Tantalese, having a singular cross-shaped marking under each of her eyes. She’d be dressed similarly to the average citizen on the Titan, though her jacket would be white to reference her varsity jacket, and she'd have a pink ribbon that she got from the black market, made in the Uraya titan! Her family life would be similar to how she is in Omori, a shitty single drunk mom, having to rely on herself to feed her and her mom. She does this by hunting some of the wildlife and monsters, selling their parts in the black market to get stuff she needs.

Unlike in canon however, she wouldn’t have met the rest of the group yet. She’d be a lot more verbally harsh and closed off to strangers, and would be as brutally honest as possible. She’d however heavily idolize and maybe be friends with prince Zeke and Pandoria, thinking of them as pretty cool people she can trust greatly. (And she is objectively right) She’d wield a a sword with a gun stuck on it as a weapon before becoming a driver, and after that she’d ditch her old sword with the dual ones Sunny has. Speaking of…

Sunny (Blade): As stated, he’d be a dark type blade of the healer class, his weapon class being two butterfly swords. His initial design would be inspired by the Komusō monks (Specifically the basket mask, kimono and flute) and the Nekomata, (Specifically with two tails and cat ears. No human ones though) though with enough trust with Aubrey and maybe some of the gang they’ll eventually meet with, he’ll take off the basket mask and show he only has one eye….. and that his core chip is cracked! (His right eye is replaced with black foggy mist.)

His cracked core chip would give him some pretty bad amnesia and dissociate, often referring to himself as either Sunny or Omori. He’s also be a bit more verbally sassy due to influence from Aubrey. He would have the special ability to absorb any attacks via a black hole, and then shoot these attacks back whenever he feels like. Also he’d have several red hands extending from his back.

Strangely… Sunny would be drawn to artwork, music, or people that resembled the ancient Torna Titan, one that had been destroyed 500 years ago….. and he’d have brief recollections of a person named Mari….. weird, normally blades wouldn’t remember their past lives…

Sunburn Dynamic: So like… Aubrey is a little distrusting of Sunny even though he is a blade, and it doesn’t help that he wears that strange basket mask. Snuuy… while not at all distrusting of Aubrey still doesn’t show much emotion and is shy. But then later she decides…… hey, she should take inspiration from how the prince and how he interacts with his Blade and just…… over exaggerate herself as much as possible. Give Sunny cute nicknames like Sunbun or Sunshine… even go as far as to pose dramatically like prince Zeke would…… and Sunny starts chuckling happily, and it was probably the cutest laughter Aubrey has ever heard.

Then their relationship gets better, Aubrey offering Sunny piggybacks as she is very STRONK, and Sunny plays tunes with a flute he has one him so as to soothe her. Eventually, the both of them decide they would escape Tantal and the overall Genbu Titan and go out into the cloud sea….. where a wider world and possible friends await them.

#omori #omori game #omori crossover #omori au #xenoblade chronicles #xenoblade chronicles 2 #xenoblade 2 #omori hero #omori mari #omori kel #omori basil #omori aubrey #omori sunny #character headcanons #headcanons #alternate universe #crossover

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