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veryinnovative · 2 months

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fifty shades of black

~2k words. nsfw. bratty experienced sub james and inexperienced dom regulus. jegulus microfic/snippet based on this post which i do recommend reading for some context so u kinda know what's happening since i have apparently decided to just go unchronological and do whatever the fuck. though, regulus has gotten some more experience at this stage of the fic.

The chime of a bell rings out as James enters the shop, bringing with him a gentle end-of-winter draft and his customary breeze of self-confidence that makes Regulus' skin break out in goosebumps all over. It’s late February, still ways from spring, but the potted flowers lining the shelves swoon at him just the same.

James Potter had that sort of effect.

“Hello, love,” he greets him, donning that dazzling smile like he’s swooped the sun out of the murky evening skies and swallowed it whole. Regulus could endlessly wax poetry about him and his mouth—the color, the plumpness, the self-assured slanted uptilt of his lips.

But he doesn’t, no. He watches how James approaches the counter like a spoiled cat who’s so sure he’s about to get what he wants. Because James doesn’t learn, or refuses to, at least. Especially if last night was anything to go by.

“Have you been good, Potter?”

James shakes his head and frowns at the name, the huff he lets out almost indignant as he staggers for breath. His cock is slumped against his stomach, terribly weepy with sad, thin dribbles of cum that are the aftermath of a ruined orgasm.

“And do bad boys deserve to cum?”

He shakes his head again, furiously blinking through the tears. Over a month ago, Regulus would have caved underneath the crushing weight of guilt. He would have bitten his lip and worked James’ cock up again, a victim to crocodile tears and the angelic drawl of a voice he couldn’t resist. Fortunately, since then, Regulus had developed a significant tolerance and remained impervious to his relentless pleading. All the while maintaining that convincing pretense of stark indifference that had resulted in a whole reversal of roles. Because he had James whining the past couple of scenes, sputtering and cursing threats, fighting against binds, and biting on Regulus at every given opportunity.

Tonight, James doesn’t fight back, because his cock is spent but still wholly unsatisfied. There’s a glint of fear in his eyes, together with arousal and a glowing spark of pride.

Regulus yanks him by his curls. “But I let you, and what do we say to that?”

James’ mouth parts around a soundless gasp. “Thank you.”

Regulus quickly dispels the thoughts with a barely noticeable shake of his head. The last thing he needs are the flashing images of James’ sweat-sheened skin and quivering legs, the needy pitch of his voice when Regulus’ hand dragged down his chiseled chest towards—

“It’s rude not to greet customers.”

Blinking his vision back into focus, Regulus glares up at James who is sporting one of his knowing smiles like he can pry into Regulus’ brain and tell that with one look at him, he had been sucked into a vacuum of explicit and very vivid images.

Of course, other than being a multi-billionaire and head of Potter Enterprises, James Potter is also a telepath. Add it to his extensive list of redeeming qualities.

Regulus sighs, pinches his nose bridge, counts to five, and looks down at the register because he doesn’t trust what may come out of his mouth if he stares at James for a moment longer. “What do you want?” On cue, James’ lips part, and before he can answer with something unequivocally witty, Regulus interrupts him, “Other than me. An actual order.”

As expected, James’ mouth falls shut, though the amused smile never really disappears. “A latte, please. Double shot. Pump of caramel.”

The vocal emphasis on pump would have drawn a reaction out of Regulus a month ago, but he has spent enough time to no longer feel bothered by certain commentary. Instead, he casts a quick glance at the clock before jotting down instructions on the paper coffee cup.

“It’s getting late, you’re having a decaf.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline before he looks at Pandora who is manning the bar. She grins at him, waiting for confirmation, undoubtedly bemused by their interaction and Regulus’ slow growth into a role, and chuckles when James offers a meek nod. “What he said. Decaf.” Pandora quirks an eyebrow and he hastily adds, “Please.”

That was also Regulus’ doing, teaching the spoiled brat to say please. It did him good to see the newly acquired habit extend into other areas of life.

“You still want a pump of caramel syrup with that?” Pandora asks innocently, not bothering to mask a laugh when James looks at Regulus for permission, again. It’s become somewhat mundane: those brief, fleeting moments where they seamlessly fall into their dynamic.

Regulus nods and Pandora is off with a hum, letting the ground beans fill her portafilter as she makes a start on his order. James reaches for his wallet but Regulus shakes his head, preventing him from taking it out with a single gesture. “No need. It’s on the house.”

Maybe freebies from a non-coffee chain act as personal affronts, seeing the frown etch itself deeply between James’ brows and the way he petulantly retrieves his hand from his pocket. This, they still need to work on: James’ spending habits and Regulus’ aversion to receiving gifts or anything material, really. Nine days ago he had opened his door to a wreath of expensive, rare flowers imported from various parts of the world and Regulus had given him an earful about it. Still, the harsh reprimands weren’t enough to discourage James’ attempts to shower him with expensive gifts because just two days ago he suggested getting Regulus an unfathomably overpriced watch. Quote on quote suggested as if the stupid box wasn’t peeking at Regulus from where it had been poorly concealed.

So, James had resorted to acts of service, the expensive kind.

While James is ridiculously rich, Regulus barely scrapes enough together to pay his rent. He is working two jobs at the moment, a fact that irks James greatly for more than just one reason, and luckily none of which involves tarnishing his reputation by having a dom who is terribly broke. That had been one of Regulus’ insecurities, and James had been very quick to dissipate them.

“So, dinner?” James asks after taking a sip of his coffee, though not without casting Pandora a quick, grateful smile.

Regulus nods as he undoes the ties of his apron. Officially, he’s still got twenty minutes on the clock, but it’s quiet and Pandora assured him that she could close up alone and that for once, Regulus deserves a night off to himself.

His encounters with James have been hasty the past couple of days, especially considering his hectic work schedule and demand to cover shifts. And as respectful as James was when it came to Regulus’ decisions, it was very apparent he struggled not sticking to Regulus like adhesive every waking moment.

“Wait,” comes James’ voice when they finally make it out of the store and towards the car. He rushes past him and reaches for the door. “You need to let me do this, remember?”

“I can open my own door, James,” Regulus sighs.

“And I can order my own coffee,” James retorts. He waits for Regulus to slip into the seat before closing the door and rounding the car to get to the driver’s seat.

Weeks, and for some reason, Regulus struggled more with the non-sexual side of their dynamic.

“It’s not only the sex aspect, Regulus,” James had told him the second day after they signed their contract. “It’s about serving and seeing to your needs. Pleasing you in more ways than just one.”

“Isn’t a dom supposed to do that?”

James chuckled but swallowed all humor down when he saw the tight line of Regulus’ pursed lips. “I mean, this isn’t the movies, you know? There are so many more provider subs than there are doms. You’d be surprised, honestly. Most of us have all that we need and are looking to relinquish that control for once. Also the money, I suppose. It feels good getting you gifts.”

“I am not about to be your accountant and track how much you spend on me, James. There’s a limit.”

This time, James fails at stifling his laugh. “No need, I already have someone tracking my funds. But feel free to give me a good spanking if I splurge too much on unnecessary things.”

“Like towing my old car and getting me a new one?”

James shrugs at the memory. The very one Regulus had been livid at him for and Horace had to spend a whole day trying to get back a battered old Toyota. “Spending money on you doesn’t count.”

“And what if I say it does?”

“Then I’ll have to be a good boy and listen.”

And James listened particularly well. Well, at least when he could get something out of it. Because strung-up James who had not been able to get his hands on Regulus properly for any extended period of time, listened very, very poorly considering Regulus had specifically instructed him to drive them to this cozy, small falafel spot that undoubtedly put crack in their garlic sauce seeing how everyone’s pitas always overflowed with it.

Instead, the car veered off the main road and right on the one that led it to James’ apartment. One of his apartments, at least. The one closest to them.

No complaint from Regulus, truly. In hindsight, he might have confused his appetite for something else entirely. Definitely has, now that his mouth is being eaten by James as he’s clumsily led away from the front door and further down the dimly lit hallway. James’ tie is undoubtedly still in the elevator where Regulus had yanked it off for better access to his chest.

“You,” James breathes against his lips as he yanks Regulus’ shirt off his head, “have been returning my gifts.”

He’s hoisted up against the wall, practically shoved against it with how a picture frame rattles off and falls onto the floor. Regulus allows his head to loll back with a gentle thud as James’ mouth works down his throat, hot and greedy.

“I told you—” his words are interrupted by a sharp hiss when James decidedly makes use of his teeth rather than tongue, working marks around his clavicles. “I don’t want expensive gifts.”

There’s a muffled sound of dissent against his neck before James brushes his clothed erection against Regulus’, drawing out moans from the both of them.

“I told you,” James gasps out through his labored breaths, tongue laving across the sharp line that is Regulus’ jaw before coming to tug onto his earlobe, “I want to spoil you. Be good for you.”

Regulus had chided James for that too, told him he had to learn other ways that could earn him Regulus’ praise. James hadn’t liked that in the least. He didn’t like being told no. Not then, not now. Not ever.

James drives his hips forward again, chasing after the friction and pressure. The hold he has on Regulus’ thighs is bruising in a way that's guaranteed to leave marks.

“Am I being good?” James’ hot breath fans against Regulus’ ear, the skin around it wet from where his mouth had been, slick with spit as James keeps sucking the soft, tender spot below.

“Tell me.” James’ hips jerk where they’re slotted between Regulus’ thighs, uncoordinated now, bordering on frantic, his voice desperate, “Say that I’m being good for you.”

“Be quiet,” Regulus hisses as he bucks his hips, painfully hard against the seams of his jeans and aching for some relief. He's panting as well, trying not to lose himself in the vortex of delirium and instead regain some semblance of control. There's the wall behind his back and James' sturdy chest pressed against his own, the frenzied rattled beating inside his ribcage that Regulus feels against his.

James whines against his neck, still pathetically rutting into him and Regulus shushes him, carding his fingers through the sweaty, tangled curls that stick to the dewy skin of his neck before grabbing a fistful.

“You want to be a good boy?” he whispers into James’ ear.

James frantically nods against his neck and starts grinding against him harder, moaning unabashedly when Regulus meets his movements and tugs onto his hair.

“Then put your mouth to good use.”

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #ino microfic tag!#i cant believe i wrote this right after cursing out my deadline #i fr just write when im stressed and surrounded with exam woe

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prof-ramses · 2 months

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Hollow Sorrows Trailer Breakdown LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

Obviously, if you don't want spoilers, scroll away. If you've already seen the trailer, LET'S GO!!!

So when we first see possessed Patty, she looks mostly normal, you can't even see her demon teeth through the mask yet. John and Jack probably only came in since they heard a scream and/or struggle coming from the morgue.

So we get a shot of the boys being too chaotic, something Gregor points out and what will likely cause the "bad character development" Pelo ahs mentioned.

Also, since it's 100% what Pelo would do, Costume Bob is the guy in the HF suit. Mark my words.

The scene with the hatz is really interesting to me, since Skid and Pump just annoys Roy for a moment and leave. I think this might be all we get of the hatzgang this time, similar to how Frank only had a brief Appearance in Tender Treats. If my theory that episode 7 will focus on Roy is true, this little scene will be very interesting to dissect when the full episode drops.

We actually get out first proper glimpse at a new character and I think this old man is the very last character in the line up teaser

And there's also a pretty good chance he Roy's grandfather and given the way he reacts to the boys antics here, I can definitely see him being a another reasons Roy's the way he is.

If he actually is Roy's grandpa, then @crossover-enthusiast and I's Roy discussions are going to get really fun pretty soon.

Here, Skid is clearly holding a framed photo, meaning this will almost certainly be the first time his father is brought up directly.

Also, yeah, with Pump's line about "hangover spooky month", it seems my theory about Lila in this episode was at least half right.

Yet more proof that the boys' absent parents will be more of a focus. The trailer as a whole gives me some ideas regarding the Wonder parents, but I feel they're best saved for another time.

The boys get into trouble with the cops and I have 2 theories regarding when, either Gregor tries to get them sent home before going to the hospital, but they talk their way out of it, or they actually do get sent home at the end of the episode.

John's expression here immediately makes we think that something Skid or Pump said reminded him of his daughter. Another plot thread that has yet to be directly acknowledged.

Ignacio watches Gregor lead the boys away, maybe he lives down the street from Skid and Lila to keep an eye on them for the cult?

Either way, I'm surprised his appearance won't take place in the hospital as I previously predicted.

"I will be your guide. And I know your parents would be proud of you."

There's something undeniably sinister about this line, but how sinister hinges on whether Gregor is a cultist or ex-cultist. Whatever the case may be, he definitely knows more about or sees more in the boys than he lets on.

A great title card, and thought the blood everywhere is definitely concerning, I don't think there's anything to really say here, just wanted to get a screenshot of it.

And it would appear the character I've referred to as the cat lady will have the unenviable role of a hapless victim to the episode's villain. But honestly, I'm more surprised by her being at the hospital in the first place and why that never occurred to me before.

The actual progression of Patty's possession confirms to she's possessed by something other than Moloch. And what seals it for me is, fittingly, the eyes. The white of her eyes becomes a more vivid yellow, yet her pupil snot only don't form Moloch's typical spirals, but they're a more vivid shade of baby blue, a color that has never had any significance in the series before. Moloch will mostly be trapped in Dexter before eventually possessing Gregor, I will die on this hill.

AND THE FUGGIN' RELEASE DATE!!!

Alright, that's all, only a month now. We're so back!

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viviennevermillion · 1 year

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Spending Valentine's Day with him

notes: i just noticed i haven't written anything for cater yet except for my dystopian au. also if you guys like my writing, comments in the tags or anon asks are appreciated! feedback motivates me to write more!

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship in some but not all

characters included: cater diamond, leona kingscholar, jade leech, malleus draconia

warnings: mention of gruesome death in jade's part (this is about a mushroom he grew and talks about), accidental marriage proposal

dark content creators and consumers dni

Cater, of course, is more than familiar with Valentine's Day. He's always up to date with the latest trends and on this day, Valentine's Day is trending on Magicam. Every year, Cater participates in this holiday even though he didn't have a crush on anyone for the past few years. He at least always posts some themed photos and sends chocolates to his friends. Sometimes he also does little events on his Magicam page where he prompts people to ask him Valentine's Day related questions or post their own stories they've had with this day and he'll comment on it.

But this year was different.

Having fallen for you quite a few months ago, Valentine's Day was the perfect opportunity to finally ask you out on a date. Cater knew so too but Trey was the one who had to convince him. "You're always so flirty with them, why don't you ask them out already?", Trey smiled and shook his head in confusion. "Well, that's different...", Cater replied awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "How exactly is that different?", Trey chuckled and proceeded making a Valentine's Day cake for the Heartslabyul dorm.

Indeed, Cater had flirted with you quite a few times but given his usual demeanor, there was no reason for you to suspect this wasn't just what he was like in general.

Cater eventually asks you out with a box of chocolate from Sam's store. He's happy when you say yes and the two of you agree to go to the cinema together.

Cater buys the two of you colorful drinks and a box of nachos. He takes a picture of the food and asks you if you'd like to take a photo with him as well, which he'd post on Magicam with the caption "Spending today with my valentine ❤️ #cinemadate #valentinesday #nightravencollege ❤️" if you let him. He'd tag you in the picture as well. Cater loves to take pictures but there's a couple of them that's just you two laughing together and having fun and he decides that even though they'd probably get a lot of likes, they're special to him and he just keeps them on his phone to remember this day with you fondly.

He originally intends to take you to a romance movie and bought tickets for it....but life had other plans for you.

"This uh....this doesn't look like the movie we asked to watch", Cater sunk back into the seat and had to be careful not to drop his 3D glasses when the horrifying forest creature from the screen seemed to charge directly at him. You fished the movie tickets out of your pockets. "Uh yeah I think the employee mixed something up...we have tickets for something called 'The Unspeakable Horrors'", you explained before looking back at the screen. "Oh god I don't like or subscribe to this", Cater lets out a slightly distressed sigh. He wondered whether it was too late to watch the other movie and get the actual tickets he wanted but you taking his hand in yours when he seemed scared changed his mind. Maybe watching the unspeakable horrors was indeed a way to get closer to you.

"I'm going to have vivid nightmares of this for days to come", Cater chuckled awkwardly as the two of you left the cinema, still holding hands. "Maybe I can help with that", you chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Cater asks you to be his significant other after your date. He explains how he had a crush on you for a while now and how all the attempts he had made at flirting with you were actually genuine. "Oh yeah I knew", you smirked and pulled him into a hug, "and yes... I'd love to be your valentine every day from now on."

"How about we finish this date with a kiss?", he suggests, nervousness now having left his voice. You nod and he cups your cheek and presses several soft kisses to your lips; the horrors from the movie already forgotten.

If Leona didn't have have a deep-rooted distaste for a lot of celebrations his older brother hosted in his homeland, Valentine's Day would be right up there on the list of Leona's least favorite holidays. He really doesn't like anything cheesy and seeing people being all lovey-dovey gets on his nerves. For Leona, it's pointless to dedicate an entire holiday to appreciating your lover when you could just be doing that whenever.

You enter Leona's room on Valentine's Day, finding your boyfriend sleeping in bed. You smile and sit down beside him, gently rubbing his ears and watching him instinctively snuggle close to your lap and his tail swishing back and forth. "Pspspspsps Leona", you whisper and poke his cheek.

His eyes open slowly and he looks at your face with a confused expression before stretching his limbs like a cat and sitting up. "Why'd you wake me up, herbivore?", he asks calmly and rests against your shoulder. To anyone else he would have said this with an annoyed tone and a frustrated facial expression but with you his tone was gentle and like he was actually interested in the answer.

"I got you something", you say and pull out a small yellow box from your bag, tied neatly with a black ribbon. "Did you get me one of those Valentine's chocolates Sam sells around this time of year?", he asks as he takes the box from you. "Well, not really. I know you don't really like Valentine's Day so I got you this instead", you explain and Leona lifted the cover of the box, instantly snorting and letting out a laugh. Instead of chocolate hearts there were pumpkin-shaped chicken nuggets in the box and the inside of the cover was decorated with a sparkling, cursive "Happy Halloween!" surrounded by stickers of ghosts and bats. The little greeting card that came with it had a distorted "Congratulation!" written on it that started in the middle of the card and the letters became more and more squeezed the closer the writing got to the edge, to make sure that the whole word still fit on it.

Leona was wheezing and patted your head. "Okay that's funny, you got me", he chuckled and plopped one of the nuggets into his mouth, pleased that you had given him meat instead and attempted to make him laugh rather than trying to feed into convention and giving him a red box of Valentine's chocolates.

He ate all of the nuggets in the box and then put it aside, pulling you into his arms and laying down in bed with you. He mumbled a "thank you" and buried his face in your shoulder. You started gently caressing his ears and kissed his forehead.

Leona would just hold you in his arms for a while and maybe spend the day in bed cuddling with you or playing chess with you.

If Valentine's Day is important to you, Leona would adapt and actually try to celebrate it with you. But in general, as your relationship grows, Leona learns of all the things you like and dislike and he takes you out on dates once in a while when he feels like you'd appreciate it. Whether that's Valentine's Day or just any other day. After all, who would he be if he didn't put in any effort after you were the one to put him first?

He definitely keeps your affectionate gestures in mind and who knows? He might take you out a couple days later to have a nice walk on the beach and have a picnic there as the sun sets.

Jade is relatively new to Valentine's Day as it's not a holiday that exists under the sea. They have a similar holiday that's dedicated to celebrating the union of the mermaid princess and her human lover but it's not quite the same as Valentine's Day on land.

"What a curious custom", Jade thought at first when he heard about it during his first year. Ever since the twins and Azul knew about it, they've been using the opportunity to sell overpriced Valentine's gifts and specials at Mostro Lounge.

Ever since he started dating you, Jade has wondered whether he'd be celebrating Valentine's Day with you this year. He gets you some rare flowers he grew himself (actually making sure none of them are poisonous) and if he feels like you'd like it, he'll make you a terrarium like the ones he has. He puts a bunch of plants and small sea animals in there that he collected himself while scavenging the ocean around Sage's Isle. He makes sure to include everything he thinks you might like. He promised you to take you to the Coral Sea and show you his home one day but for now the opportunity hasn't arisen yet so he wants to show that you're part of his world by giving you a part of his.

He puts psathyrella aquatica in your terrarium which is the first and only known underwater mushroom.

Jade shows you how to take care of the terrarium and sometimes the both of you take care of it together.

For Valentine's Day, Jade takes a free day from work and reserves a table at Mostro Lounge for you and himself. He gets the special Valentine's Day mocktails and dishes for half the price so you're in luck. "It took you this long to prepare it?", Jade teases his twin brother as Floyd brings you your meals. Floyd glares at his brother angrily and then turns to you. "Jade used to be scared shitless of the sun when he was a kid. He thought it was gonna fall out of the sky and kill him", Floyd snickered, now being the one to earn a glare from his brother. You laugh at the mental image of a small Jade being scared to swim to the surface of the ocean because the sun was there. "We'll sort this out later, Floyd", Jade replies with a bright smile on his face. The shady, threatening kind.

"For the record, Floyd was the one who told me that the sun was going to fall out of the sky and kill me", Jade explained and sighed, "he kept that prank up for 2 whole years." You chuckle. "Somehow that makes it even funnier", you took his hand on the table and held it in your own, "did you think you were safe underwater?" Jade nodded. "I thought it was just going to go out when it falls into the water", he chuckled, "looking back on it, it was quite curious what we'd come up with to explain what was above the surface and on land before we started going to school and learnt the real facts."

He makes sure to inquire whether you enjoyed your meal or not and gives Azul his feedback. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as he walks out of the restaurant with you.

He later takes you to the greenhouse after all classes have ended for the day and no one was in there anymore. "I have to show you something", he explains and leads you to the window where several plants were standing, "this is an entirely new mushroom species I've created. It's very fascinating. I named it after you." You look at the mushrooms that were moving slightly in a way that looked almost threatening. "Let me guess, they're poisonous?", you ask and lean against Jade. "Probably the most poisonous ones we have on this entire island. Actually they'd make your organs explode within a couple of hours of eating them." He said that with such a joyful smile on his face that it was almost unsettling. But don't worry, Jade naming the creepy mushrooms after you is a sign of his love for you.

You're like "is this even allowed?" and Jade is like "that depends on how you interpret the rules :) "

Valentine's Day with Jade ends with some comforting cuddles in his room and few sharing chocolates after stopping by at Sam's shop and buying some.

Malleus is completely unaware of Valentine's Day. Straight up didn't know what it is.

You've liked him for a while but you were quite unsure whether the two of you could even work out because he's the crown prince of a whole country and meant to be king one day and you're a commoner. Nevertheless, you hoped he would become aware of your feelings for him and give you the answers you needed. You considered just telling him and talking to him about this but you didn't know how appropriate it was to just confess your love to Briar Valley's heir apparent and you were also worried it might make your friendship awkward.

So you decide to take your chances on Valentine's Day. If he rejected the idea of being involved with you romantically, you could always say you gave him flowers and chocolate because he's a great friend.

You get him a personalized bouquet with flowers you associate with him and a box of Valentine's chocolates. He doesn't get why you're giving him gifts and he's just like "thank you, my dear friend :) "

He's really happy about it but he only learns about the intention behind the gifts when Lilia educates him later. "Valentine's Day is a celebration in human society that is dedicated to appreciating the one you love", he explains. "Oh...like a best friend?", Malleus smiles. Lilia sighs. "Uh...sometimes...but I think y/n wanted to express that they're in love with you", he puts Malleus out of his misery. Cue the surprised Malleus face™.

Malleus is so unfamiliar with romantic relationships that he doesn't notice he has a crush on someone until someone else makes him aware of it, in this case Lilia.

So Malleus, with his newfound clarity about his feelings for you, decides to make the best out of the rest of Valentine's Day and get you some gifts in return to attempt to court you. Lilia recommends that he stops by the Mystery Shop, since Sam is selling a lot of typical Valentine's gifts today. So Malleus heeds the older fae's advice and buys 3 bouquets of red roses, which Lilia told him are the ones most associated with romantic love, along with a box of chocolates for you too.

There's also a stand in Sam's shop with a bunch of silver rings in ring boxes. The picture above it shows a man going down on one knee and presenting the ring to his significant other. The caption on it says "Give your loved one the ultimate proof of your love". And Malleus finds one with a subtle dragon-themed design and he's like :)

So he goes to you after classes and presents you with the bouquets and the chocolate first. "Y/n....perhaps it took me some time to realize, but I love you. Would you allow me to court you?", Malleus asks. The three bouquets are a bit much but he's got the spirit. You accept and put the bouquets aside for a moment, pulling him into a hug.

Then he pulls out the ring and gets down on one knee in front of you, presenting it to you. You're shocked for a moment, not knowing how to even process what is happening. Three students walk by and stare at the two of you in bewilderment as you frantically try to gesture to them "this is not what it looks like".

You guide Malleus to stand up again and take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "I love you, Malleus. But we've only started dating a couple of minutes ago...I can't possibly agree to marry you yet...", you explain softly. Malleus is like "wait what?"

He explains to you how the rings were advertised in the shop and you laugh, putting one on your finger and the other one on his. "Well, an accidental proposal was not on my list of things I expected to happen today, but I will never forget about this", you snicker and Malleus laughs along with you, glad you're taking his awkward mistake with humor, "let's take these rings as a promise of our love for now. We'll worry about the future when we get there."

You gently cup his cheek. "May I kiss you?", you ask and Malleus nods, leaning close until his lips meet yours in a soft and loving kiss. He holds you gently in his arms and looks into your eyes with a happy smile. "I love you, my dearest. Next year you should show me all about celebrating Valentine's Day."

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nerdpoe · 10 months

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Three Vigilantes and a Pile of Parenting Books Part 2

Part 1, Part 3, Ao3

Sam didn’t know why she was small.

She knew that her memories were fading, and that normally she would never cry in front of this stranger. Her behavior was that of a child, she needed to pull herself together.

But she was a child, was she not?

She was.

She wasn’t.

Wasn’t she?

It was confusing to think about, and it made her head hurt, so she just settled for glaring at the red-helmet man.

He wasn’t the one who had shot her best friend, but since she couldn’t clearly remember who had, she was going to lay the blame at his feet. Besides; what if he realized he hadn’t been the one who hurt Danny?

What if he stopped his weird friends from providing medical treatment?

He would kick them off of his weird plane thing, and they were in the sky!

She couldn’t risk that!

So, she glared at him.

Tucker was at her side, clutching her shirt in one hand and chewing his thumbnail on the other.

The red-helmeted man turned to look at her.

She glared at him harder, shoving herself so she was more in front of Tucker.

She couldn’t shield Danny; he was on the weird bed in front of the adults, and they were closing up the hole in his side. Jazz couldn’t shield Sam, ‘cuz Jazz was standing next to Danny and making sure that the adults didn’t…

Didn’t…

What did adults do to Danny?

It was nothing good, she knew that much at least.

It was a word, and she knew the word. It was a little long, but she’d been to high school! Maybe. Those memories were fading and getting jumbled together, so maybe that had just been a dream.

But the word. It had started with a ‘V’, she was pretty sure. Viv…vivi? No. Vivid section? Yeah, that sounded right! Vivid meant bright colors, so an adult must have been trying to paint Danny’s face or something!

The giant grey man floated over to her and kneeled down, probably to say something stupid and pretty to make her feel better, but she beat him to it.

“You better not make Danny have a Vivid Section!”

“Yeah, you better not!” Tucker cried out from behind her, looking over her shoulder to glare at the adults.

“Vivid section?” Red-helmet guy sounded confused, and tilted his head. Then he wasn’t confused anymore, and his voice got a lot meaner. “Wait. Wait do you meant a fucking vivisection?”

“You can’t swear at me!”

“Yeah, you can’t swear at her; she’s a lady!”

“No, you can’t swear at me or I’ll beat you up!”

“Yeah, she’s a lady and she’ll beat you up!”

The red-helmet man’s shoulders were heaving, like he’d been running for a long time.

Sam glanced at Tucker, but he looked as confused as she was.

“Um. Do you need to throw up?” Tucker asked, leaning out from behind Sam.

“Actually. Yes, I do.”

Sam watched as the man stomped away and into a different room.

Adults were weird.

What was so wrong about vivid stuff?

~~~~~~

Jason’s day just kept getting worse.

First, Alfred.

That had been a terrifying reminder that the man had been in the SAS, and Jason was genuinely dreading going back to Gotham.

Then, the kid.

The kid was not Dick, the girl was not Babs. They were either test-tube babies or clones, and given what he’d seen he was willing to bet they were clones.

Which led to a stern talking to from Bizzaro, regarding clone etiquette and treating them like people.

Finally, vivid section versus vivisection.

Vivid was not a word that was supposed to go in the same sentence as vivisection, but that little girl had put it in his head. Someone had tried to or threatened to slice open the toddler version of Dick while he was alive.

So Jason had needed to walk away and take a breather. The kid was like, four. What the fuck could a four year old do to warrant that?

Unfortunately, whenever he closed his eyes all he saw was red. A vivid, bright red that dripped from and stained a literal toddler, leaking from a hole he had shot into the kid.

Looked like he wasn’t done bowing to his porcelain god.

Once he’d yet again paid tribute, he sat on the floor next to the toilet.

What the hell were they supposed to do with a bunch of kids? Bruce was getting up there in age, they couldn’t shove more kids on him. His cover wouldn’t be able to handle it; a man old enough to be a grandparent, adopting even more kids? Tiny ones, too.

Dickie would probably take his in, if Barbara didn’t take in the girl then Dick would probably try to overextend himself and take her too.

The other two though.

They weren’t clones, as far as he could tell. They would have to run the DNA, but it was looking like those kids had just been picked up for experimentation and bonded with the clones.

Kids that lively? The Gotham Foster system would beat it out of them in forty-eight hours flat.

Shit.

He’d have to make sure they went to a good Foster parent, and those were nearly impossible to find.

~~~~~~

Dick was not hyperventilating.

He was not.

He just. It was a little hard to breathe, suddenly. The stupid Bat Cave was just a little too much of a confined space at the moment.

“Dick, the manor has more than enough room,” Bruce tried to reassure him, the Batcomputer behind him filled with research Jason had committed almost an entire year to.

Cloning. An offshoot branch of CADMUS had stolen their tech, gotten ahold of DNA from both Dick and Barbara, and attempted to create their own versions of the original Batgirl and Robin.

Their files stopped after they’d turned two and seven respectively, but.

There they were, in their full glory; two tiny faces that he’d only seen in pictures of younger versions of himself and Barbara staring at him from the screen.

There hadn’t been enough DNA, not really; not to make full clones.

The info from the specific facility Jason had just dismantled cited needing to use DNA from other sources to complete the…the kids.

He had a kid.

A kid that was half him and half…someone else. The jury was still out on that one, but the computer was running every single processor it had parsing through the data Jason had presented it.

But that didn’t matter, because Dick had a kid.

“It’ll be okay, Dick. We can keep him here while you come to terms-”

Fuck that.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, he can have the bed while I look for a new place,” Dick finally gasped out, allowing himself to sit down on the floor, “I need. I need to find another job. I need to child proof the apartment. I need to get food in the fridge. I…I need a bookstore.”

He saw Bruce stiffen out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. The man could be offended all he wanted, Dick wasn’t leaving his kid all alone in an unfamiliar city while he ‘came to terms’.

But Bruce surprised him.

“Alright,” the older man said after taking a few deep breaths, “I can help with all of that. A kid is a big responsibility, and a big change. I...have multiple parenting books. Some are old. Some recent. You can take your pick.”

Dick felt his hackles rise.

The instinctive need to defend his abilities, to say he didn’t need the help, tasted sour in the back of his throat.

He swallowed it down.

This wasn’t about him.

If there was help being offered, he’d take it.

“Okay,” he agreed quietly, feeling a slight burn of shame as Bruce’s shoulders relaxed marginally.

He was going to give his kid a good life.

And he was going to do better than Bruce ever had.

~~~~~~

Barbara was running her own search on the information Jason had presented.

He’d found a kid, her kid, in a lab designed to create child soldiers.

She…wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that.

Did she want to take in the girl? Did she want to raise her? Was she even parent material?

There were too many unknowns.

She ran the girl’s data first, to find out as much as she could.

While that was running, she dug her virtual fingers into every single nook and cranny of the branch-off organization’s servers.

They called themselves the United Front Against Superheroes, or UFAS. It was fairly straightforward; they believed that all superheroes would one day turn against the world, and that the best bet mankind had for survival rested in creating better fighters.

Ironically, this meant that the organization went around scraping DNA samples off of buildings after fights between powered heroes, and hoping that they got a hit.

The majority of the children Jason and his Outlaws had saved did not have families. They had been created via the DNA scavenged, and turned out to be DNA from regular civilians. UFAS was…bad. At their jobs. Well, they were good at them.

Well.

It was more luck?

They were good at being scientists, but had terrible luck.

Statistically speaking, there was at least a 45% chance of gathering hero DNA, especially after some of the large knock down drag out fights she knew they could have. But out of the multitudes of children they’d created, only two had that DNA.

Her kid and Dicks.

What made their luck even more insanely bad was that they’d grabbed the DNA of two heroes who didn’t have powers.

The sample they had from her appeared to be rather degraded, so it was probably from some creepy online fan trading site she had missed where someone had a blood-covered memento from her Batgirl days.

And Barbara was willing to bet it had been the same situation for Dick’s kid as well.

She would need to pay more attention to those sites, then.

Barbara suppressed a shudder.

She hated those sites.

So they’d resorted to buying DNA and used the excess they’d gathered to fill in the gaps. She would search who the other donors were, if only to have their medical information on file.

But those other donors weren’t the problem.

How many civilians would want anything to do with a child created by a villainous organization?

More than likely, none.

Which meant that her kid would either go to her, go to her dad, or go to Foster care.

…

In Gotham.

Shit.

Well, at least the Clocktower had extra rooms.

She could just watch after the kid while she worked out how to proceed.

~~~~~~

Danny felt himself being picked up and placed back down, the movement pulling uncomfortably on his side.

Memories of the past were becoming a blurred mix of shapes and colors. He knew that he had powers, he knew that he’d gone to high school, he knew he’d been shot by his parents, but also none of that was right?

A fog was filtering through his head, giving those memories a fever-dream filter that made it impossible to tell if he was making it up or if he was remembering something that happened years and years ago.

Where had he been?

Right. Right, he’d been in the lab.

What lab?

The. The lab? The lab with all the things that could hurt him. That one.

But wasn’t that all labs?

Hadn’t he been with someone?

He had. He knew he had!

It had been, uh.

It…had been…

His friends.

It had been his friends!

Sam and Tucker! Jazz had been there too!

And his parents!

…

He had parents?

Well. Well, if Sam and Tucker had parents, then that meant that he did too!

Danny was pulled from his thoughts by someone pulling at his arm and poking him with something sharp.

Danny whined and cracked open his eyes, meeting the startled blue eyes of a tanned man with black hair.

“Hey buddy,” the man said after a moment, reaching forward with jerky motions before running his fingers through Danny’s hair, “Almost done, just need you to hold still for a second. I know it’s not fun.”

The fingers in his hair felt good but Danny refused to close his eyes.

If the man knew it wasn’t fun, why was he doing it?

“Lemme ‘lone,” Danny tried to hiss, but it came out as a weak groan. The man winced and pulled his hand away.

No, wait, Danny hadn’t meant to stop doing that!

The weird man had to keep doing that, or Danny…Danny would…

“Kick your butt…” Danny sighed, feeling his eyes close against his will.

The last thing he heard was a startled laugh, and then he was lost in his dreams again.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #three vigilantes and a pile of parenting books #phanfic

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ladytauria · 5 months

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44 with timdami? if the muse strikes~

the muse struck and struck hard. this ended up about 2k words XD

my brain went "terminal illness? oh! hanahaki 😌" so i hope that's okay <3

there is also not really a... resolution to this. i debated between happy and sad, but, as the words kept coming... i ultimately ended up going open instead <3

thank you for the prompt!

Tim coughs up the first petals on a Sunday afternoon.

He’s sitting outside—Dr Thompkins says he needs more vitamin D, and despite what the others might think, Tim does try to stay on top of his health. Damian is sitting outside too; though not on the porch where Tim is. Instead, he’s sitting under a tree, sketchbook balanced on his knees and Titus lying by his side.

Dappled sunlight dances on his skin, and Tim’s fingers itch for his camera.

Then his throat itches too; diaphragm spasming as he coughs into his arm. Something flutters in his throat; on his tongue. He worries for a moment he’s coughing up phlegm—and then he tastes something… sweet. Floral.

He thinks. He might have preferred the phlegm.

After a quick glance to make sure no one sees, he spits the petals into a napkin. They were likely a bright, vibrant white before they sat in his mouth. A few speckles of blood dot them; vivid even with the darkening of their color.

Tim crumples the napkin, crushing them within.

Then he tucks it into his pocket, takes the rest of his tea, and heads inside.

The petals don’t stop coming.

Of course they don’t. Once they start— It’s hard to get rid of them. Tim knows that.

It’s inconvenient anyway.

Even more inconvenient is the way that suddenly, Damian is everywhere, just when Tim wants to avoid him most. Or doesn’t, he supposes, because… he never seems to excuse himself. Not until the coughing starts, anyway, and then he finds a way to leave without calling too much attention to himself.

It’s only a matter of time before one of the others notices something is wrong. They’re all too damn nosy and observant by far—something Tim appreciates when it comes to solving a case, not so much when it comes to butting in his personal life.

It’s also harder to lie to them. Not impossible. Tim’s done it enough that he knows just how to do it best; what each of them needs to hear to make them believe it. He’s practically an expert.

This, though.

It’s harder to conceal.

Especially as the tickle in his throat grows more frequent, his chest growing tighter. The petals get larger, too. It won’t be long before flowers form. As soon as that happens—

Tim will have to disappear.

Oh—sure. He could confess. The flowers in him will wither and die without that built-up longing to cling to. But—

He would have to leave anyway, wouldn’t he? He doesn’t think he could stand it, working day in and day out with him after a rejection. Doesn’t want that cloud hanging over any of them—or to put Damian in that position in the first place. Sure; rejection won’t kill him, that’s a myth, but. For Damian to know that Tim’s feelings ran deep enough that they had taken root and bloomed within him—?

Tim can think of many ways to describe Damian, not all of them flattering, but— Cruel isn’t one of them. Not anymore.

He might accept Tim’s confession in some misplaced kindness—out of pity, and that— Would be worse than any rejection could be, actually.

So no. Either way, Tim has to disappear. At least this way his dignity will be intact.

He always figured he’d have a short life. Granted, the method of death he pictured was different, but— well. Actually. With Ivy around, asphyxiation by flower isn’t really that different from something he could have faced as Red Robin.

There is also the surgical option, too—but Tim would rather die than become unfeeling. While some claimed that the surgery caused only dulled feelings, especially with modern technology, there isn’t enough information for him to be willing to take the risk.

Leaving is best, then. For everyone.

Tim does not have as many contingency plans as Bruce—but he comes a close second. Among them, there are many plans for disappearing and starting over somewhere new.

Picking one is the hardest part.

From there? Smooth sailing.

He quietly divides his cases between the others. Some, he offers outright. Others, those less pertinent, he quietly slips onto their systems, as if they had always been there. He does the same with his patrol route.

Tim works with Babs fairly often these days—especially with the blooms growing larger; the coughs more frequent. He blames it on the changing weather, and Oracle is happy enough to have an additional pair of hands. Tim exploits access to her system to make subtle tweaks to everyone’s patrols until his is virtually non-existent.

He also packs. Lightly, of course; just a few things to look at, to reminisce about the past in his dying days.

He has a will, and some pre-recorded messages. He shortens the period of inactivity which will automatically send them; tweaks the messages a bit; and moves on.

Tim allows himself a few indulgences, too—spending more time with the others, not skipping group meals, taking more time off of work. He knows it raises a few eyebrows, but— Tim is practiced at explaining his oddities away.

All in all, it’s quite easy.

And when the time comes—

He disappears, quietly; into the dawning light, when everyone else is tucked into bed. When the city—never truly sleeping—is beginning to bustle again.

Tim burst into their lives with a bang.

He steps out of them without even a whimper.

Damian is the first to realize that Drake is missing.

He wishes he could say it was because he noticed—but he cannot. He discovers it when he pays a visit to Drake’s theater penthouse, and finds it empty and cold. Devoid of life.

His home has always been somewhat austere… but this is different.

Damian knows that something is wrong. He is—afraid. He texts the others immediately, asking them when the last time they heard from Drake was. It does not take them long to realize that Drake’s disappearance is unrelated to their vigilante lives; that, for all intents and purposes, it seems to be willing. Which meant— there must have been signs. Damian turns through his memories with a growing sense of desperation.

Drake is—

Complicated.

Their initial relationship was fraught. Damian will take the larger share of blame for that. When he did, eventually, somewhat reluctantly, get to know Drake—it. Changed. He gravitated towards the older man, and his perspective; often unique from either his Father or Richard. He found him a good listener, too, and while he could be dismissive—Damian’s words usually held weight to him.

It—

Was nice.

Up until Drake’s presence started to make his insides squirm. Until he found himself with ears pricked for compliments from Drake. Until he found himself gravitating to Drake’s presence—choosing to take patrols with him even when Richard was in town.

Until he spoke to Jon and realized he had all the symptoms of a schoolboy crush.

He placed distance between them, then. It wasn’t hard, though it hurt when Drake did not appear to notice beyond a few things. But it was better than facing heartbreak.

And then—

Drake drew closer.

Damian kept his distance.

Now… Regret coats his tongue in ash. If he had not pulled away… might he have noticed sooner? Might he have been able to stop whatever caused Drake to disappear?

There is no sense in ruminating on it.

The important thing is to find Drake.

With Oracle in his ear, Damian makes his way to Tim’s Perch. Logging into his computer, even with Oracle’s aid, is generally a tedious affair.

This time it is not.

He can tell by the way Gordon quiets that she likes this no more than he does.

Drake’s face appears on the screen. He looks paler. The circles around his eyes are darker. He sits in the same chair Damian sits in now, wearing civilian clothes. Something comfortable—a t-shirt that should have been thrown out years ago, a pair of leggings that conform beautifully to the curves of his legs.

“If you’re watching this,” he says, “you’ve noticed I’m gone.”

Damian’s fingers itch to pause the recording.

He does not.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s…” Drake’s face scrunches. “...shitty of me to disappear without notice like this. I promise you it was for the best.” He pauses. He looks—almost hesitant.

Damian does not want to hear what he has to say next.

He keeps listening anyway.

“I’m dying.”

Damian’s heart falls to his feet. He thinks he hears it shatter there—a silly, poetic notion brought on by reading too many of Todd’s recommendations, he’s sure, but nonetheless. Blood roars in his ears. He hears little of what Drake says next. Something about pre-recorded messages, spaced out by time, and easily accessed by Gordon.

When Gordon directs him, Damian lets her instructions carry him through.

He sends the messages; all sent to personal devices, save for a few directly to the Batcomputer. And then he makes his way back to the manor. The trip is a blur. He realizes, only when he is seated on the couch, strange looks sent his way, that he has taken a blanket from Drake’s apartment. It is a fluffy purple abomination—a gift from Brown, he’s sure. Rather than explain himself, or tuck it away, Damian unfolds it over his lap; stroking it the same way he does Alfred, when he deigns Damian’s lap a better place to sit than a patch of sun or soft cushion.

Richard’s arm settles around his shoulders, tucking him into his side as if Damian is still small. Normally he would bristle; especially since he is half a head taller than Richard himself. Today he settles without argument, letting the solid presence of his older brother be a comfort.

Brown leans against the back of the couch. Her fingers comb through his hair. He does not fight this either.

Instead he listens.

Gordon has accessed his medical records; a liberty she normally does not take. He has been diagnosed with no terminal illnesses across most of his aliases.

“Most?” Richard asks.

Gordon’s mouth pinches. “There is one. I don’t think Tim knows I know about it—though I wouldn’t rule it out. He went to a clinic in Boston, and was diagnosed with Hanahaki. He picked up medicine, then bought a bus ticket. After that, I believe he shed that identity. I haven’t been able to pick his trail back up… yet.” Gordon says ‘yet’ with such certainty, Damian believes her.

“Hanahaki…” Jason repeats. He swipes a hand down his face. “Fucking figures. One of us would be too emotionally constipated to just get over it and confess, wouldn’t we?”

Damian frowns. He pulls away from Richard’s side, Brown’s fingers slipping from his hair. “Drake left— because he was a coward?”

The words are vile and bitter on his tongue. It is an unpleasant feeling that does not even come close to touching the fire in his chest. There are two cures for the disease of love—

The first, to confess. Face rejection, or reciprocation. Allow yourself, your feelings, to be known.

The second, to have the blooms removed, and risk dulling or losing the ability to feel forever.

To choose death—

“Damian, that’s not—”

“Quiet,” he snaps. He stands, thrusting the blanket at Richard, who takes it with startled eyes. “I am going to find him, and then I am going to wring his neck.” He spins on his heel and stalks out of the room.

How dare he. How dare he.

Damian does not think he has ever been angrier. Drake, who has more audacity and daring and stubbornness than anyone Damian has ever met—who’s passion and conviction and love has held this pseudo-family together even when they were separated by the eons of time—would rather disappear, leave them all to mourn instead of swallow his foolish pride and let someone—someone with whom he has fallen in love—to see the truth of him.

Damian will find him, and his object of affection, and he will tear the words from Drake’s throat if need be.

He does not get to die.

Not like this.

#asks and answers #felinemotif #damitim #timdami #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #thank u for the prompt!! this was fun :)

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twistedtummies2 · 3 months

Text

The sound of rollin’ dice to me Is music in the air! ‘Cause I’m a Gamblin’ Boogieman, Although I don’t play fair!

It’s much more fun, I must confess, When lives are on the line! Not mine, of course, But yours, old boy! ow that’d be just fine…

"Oogie Boogie's Song," Ken Page

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The long, LONG delayed final image in my “OCs & Inspirations” series, at least for now. This was originally intended to be part of a bunch of pics commemorating Disney’s 100th Anniversary, but the artist was facing some difficulties, so it took much longer than expected. I don’t mind in the least, however, because this was more than worth the wait…and hey, Valentine’s Day may not be the most obvious holiday of choice to release this, but a holiday is still a holiday. And with these two, it felt right to post their pic on such an occasion. Oh, on that note, before I go on: the image was made by @hooter-n-company, who also did my image for Nakoda and Kaa for the series a while back. I can’t honestly decide which of them I like more, between this image and that one; they’re both absolutely breathtaking. Her work always is. Thank you, Hoots. <3 ANYWAY…Reno was the first character I specifically created as a sort of “correction” to an old pred crush of mine. Nako and Billy being more “appealing” versions of their source inspirations (for me) was just sort of a welcome bonus. But with Reno, I deliberately created him with the idea of taking a character I used to have an interest in “that way,” but no longer do, and then creating someone I could “kinkify” more easily via the power of Twisted Wonderland’s universe. When I was a kid, I used to have a bit of a crush on Oogie Boogie from “The Nightmare Before Christmas.” I even had some rather…VIVID dreams, involving this big bag of bugs, which I shall always remember. However, over time, my interests and ideals with such things changed, and as they did, my love for Oogie dwindled. Reno was my way of trying to do something more “me” with the character.

The name “Reno” comes from Reno, Nevada. It was suggested by my friend, @belliesandburps. Since Reno is just a big a gambler as Oogie, it seemed fitting to use the name of a city known for gambling - and in the same state as arguably the gambler paradise of the world, Las Vegas - for his name. “Rovar” comes from a Hungarian word meaning “insect,” which of course fit perfectly. Combined, the two have a similar sort of “bounce” and syllabic structur to “Oogie Boogie,” and the alliteration was amusing to me. In terms of personality, Reno, in a way, is Oogie…but with a sort of soft side. Like, his source material, he is crass, crude, loud, rowdy, mischievous, a bit sadistic, and constantly thinks with his stomach. HOWEVER, for all his jagged edges, Reno isn’t someone who does bad things just for the sheer sake of it, unlike Oogie. Reno still has the capacity to care about people, and even some of the more “evil” things he’s done were usually out of a sort of bitter desire to get back at people he felt were more fortunate, while also helping himself and those he cared about in the process. He’s not the easiest person to get along with, but he’s not a literal monster.

I decided to sort of reverse things in terms of the way Oogie’s true self is revealed in the film, for Reno. In the movie, Oogie glows green in blacklight, but his actual appearance is a much duller beige hue. And of course, when you strip away the bag, he’s a collection of creepy crawlies underneath. So, with Reno, his human form has dull colors, with a sweater that resembles Oogie’s burlap, but his true form - a sort of “demi bug” - is colored in shades of vibrant green. His Overblot form, meanwhile - which Hoots helped IMMENSELY with working out - has a sort of neon appearance, inspired by the look of Oogie’s lair, and is a collection of different elements from different arthropods.

In this case, I think the different colors help the pair stand in good contrast to each other. ;)

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sarahmadisonxoxo · 1 year

Text

An idea that @spectrum-spectre had inspired a scene in the dark pits of my mind. Soulmate AU’s in which people see color at the sight of their soulmate. The rules aren’t specific on whether that is only true if the meeting is in person, or if looking at photographs or videos brings on the same effect. Soulmates AU Part 2 ---------------------------- Steve returns from the kitchen holding a large bowl of popcorn and two cans of coke from the fridge. Dustin’s been staying with him for a while, and as usual their afternoon consisted of watching television until their bodies screamed for sleep. This particular afternoon Steve let Dustin choose what they’d watch. Dustin was usually left to make the choice simply because Steve wanted him to be comfortable, but it wasn’t something they mentioned. He’d so far been enjoying Dustin’s pick, the MTV music awards. There had been several artist that Steve adored. Tears for Fears. Madonna. Dustin however was watching for Corroded Coffin, his newest favorite band that he listened to seemingly nonstop these days. The kid was obsessed, but again Steve didn’t complain because his home was Dustin’s home if he accepted it. It was nice to have someone around to liven up the overwhelming emptiness of the Harrington estate. Steve set the popcorn down on the coffee table, dropping down next to Dustin on the couch, when his eyes came up to see the television screen color burst from the center of his gaze flooding out to adjust his vision until everything settled and grey was changed with vivid colors he’d only heard about in books. His soulmate... the only issue was the angle of the camera was showing dozen’s of faces. He’d never be able to tell which one of them sparked the change. It was the whole point of it, making finding soulmates easier. Of course Steve would find a way to fuck his up.... he’d never find them. That show was several states away, the likelyhood of ending up in a room with one of them was nearly impossible. Even if he did, now he wouldn’t have a way to tell him who it was. “ I think I am going to go to bed..” Steve hums. “ Bed? Steve it’s eight thirty? “ “ Yeah... Work was just a lot today and I guess it’s just hitting me how tired I am” Steve explained. Dustin didn’t seem to buy it, but he didn’t argue. “ Okay.. Goodnight man. “ “ Night” Steve cried his eyes out that night... over someone he didn’t even know. ----------- “ thanks for driving me Steve.. I can’t believe they are coming Chicago on a day I can actually attend the convention. “ Dustin stood next to him in the line to get in to meet one of the guy’s from Corroded Coffin.. Steve planned on leaving the line before Dustin went behind the curtain, but he didn’t feel like being alone in here. Everyone seemed chill.. He was just feeling overwhelmed. “ No problem Dustin.” Slowly the line progressed foward, Steve eventually dropping out to go stand at the edge of the booth to wait. Letting himself get distracted by the excitement of those leaving the booth. Smiling at them as they ran out with their autographed pictures. He caught sight of Eddie.. or at least that’s who he assumed it was with the sign. The guy was pretty. His smile was bright and filled his face, dimples standing out to soften the rest of the edge his clothing might lead you to think he had. When he heard Dustin’s voice Steve could only smile at the pure joy and excitement of the kid meeting one of his favorite people. He couldn’t remember hearing him so happy about anything other than when he’d finished building his Cerebro last summer. The curtain opened, Steve’s eyes met Eddie’s for the first time that day as the man was telling Dustin goodbye. They didn’t make it far from the booth before he heard someone calling Dustin’s name.. them both turning around to find Eddie running toward them. “ Sorry I didn’t know your name...” Eddie apologized, taking Steve’s hands in his own. A small crowd forming around them with people muttering how Steve was living everyone's dream right now. “ Steve? Is everything okay man? “ Steve questioned, Eddie’s face falling as he noticed the utter confusion written over Steve’s features. “ you didn’t see it” Eddie questioned. “ See what? “ The color? You didn’t. Oh shit. “ “ The color?..” Steve started, his eyes looking off in thought “ Oh... it was you. On the tv.. I must have seen you. “ “ TV? “ “ The MTV Awards...” “ Steve that was nearly a year ago... you’ve had color for? “ “ Nearly a year yeah...” “ Oh shit..” Eddie thought allowed, processing that the confusion was because Steve had been seeing color the whole time. “ Can I take you out sometime? You know if you want. I don’t know if you do this whole thing, but I think it would be pretty cool” “ Eddie” “ Yeah” “ I’d love to go out with you sometime” “ Great” Eddie cheered, a small smile pulling at his lips, offering his sharpie over to Steve. “ just write your number on my arm” Eddie tugged his sleeve up to give Steve space in a place that could be hidden on his arm. Both of them smiling like fools the entire time. “ You should get back to your fans.. “ “ Yeah.. I will call you tonight. “ “ I can’t wait”

#steddie #bisexual steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #headcannon #soulmates #stranger things

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1dont-really-know · 7 months

Text

I haven't wrote anything on like a year, so any constructive criticism is welcomed. Anyway, here's a little fic about the "what if" I posted a few days ago. Also this isn't proofread.

Word count: 2132

"Again, Lilia?"

The Princess- healer, at this time, sighs, shaking her head in exasperation, "Truly, I feel like I shouldn't even be surprised anymore. Just disappointed."

The fae in question refuses to look her in the eyes, pretending to be focusing on slowing down the bleeding of the wound in his arm. Vivid green eyes, the same color as Maleanor's, yet a pair that exudes a quieter type of authority, stares right into his soul.

"It's not as if I get hurt on purpose," he hissed, feeling a prickle of embarrassment on his skin, "I'm a knight. A royal guard. We get hurt all the time."

"And yet only you seem to have the ability to get hurt every few hours or so," the Princess shoots back, matter-of-fact, "hah, well at least this wound actually seems serious." And she wasn't wrong. The gash on his arm is deep, even he, who has very little medical knowledge, can tell. He was about to retort that, no, he didn't get hurt every few hours or so, and that last time he got hurt was a few days ago, but before he could speak again, she's already walking off, searching her storage to find the necessary items needed to patch him up.

Lilia huffs, sitting down on the ground while he waits for her to get back. His gaze falls on the crowd of knights outside the medical tent, talking, laughing, and just generally enjoying the little free time they have in the midst of war. He envies them, in a way. While they could still have fun, he instead needs to lead them, plan out their next move, everything.

And though he himself isn't too keen on being close to anyone, he can't deny that he does feel lonely from time to time.

A hand pats his hair, pulling him away from his thoughts. The Princess looks down on him, some bandages and gauze in her hands. She sat down beside him, taking his wounded arm and started to clean the wound with the gauze. As always, her touch is careful and gentle, laced with just a hint of the strength and firmness he knew she was hiding.

The Princess pauses for a second, the gauze hovering mere inches from his skin. She suddenly looks at him, her eyes staring right into his, "something on your mind?" He didn't expect the question, to be honest, so he just stares at her questioningly, which in turn makes her sigh again.

She seems to do that a lot in his presence. Does he exasperate her that much?

"You had a faraway look on your face, Lilia. You only do that when you're thinking really hard about something," she continues to clean his wound, but he can see something akin to concern in her eyes, "so, tell me, what's on your mind?"

Lilia huffs, "it's nothing of your concern, Your Highness."

That, in turn, causes her to raise an eyebrow at him. She looked over to where his gaze pointed to prior to her distracting him, only finding the knights enjoying their free time, "do you want to join them?" She asks, curiosity in her voice, "didn't the scouts say that the Silver Owls are still very far away? I'm sure it's fine for you to loosen up a bit, at least for tonight."

… even her, huh…

"You don't get it," Lilia meant for that to sound far more stern, but his voice comes out soft, a hint of his unease visible on his face, "you've never been in the front lines, Your Highness, you-"

"Stop that."

Lilia blinks in surprise. The Princess's stern voice cuts through his words, and when he raises his gaze to look into her eyes, he finds annoyance, impatience, and just the slightest hint of her previous concern. He can see the grip she has on the bandages tighten slightly.

"Stop what, Your High-"

"Stop that. Calling me Your Highness and all that rubbish. You always do that when you're upset," she had paused in bandaging his arm, apparently deciding that scolding him took priority to his still heavily bleeding wound. There's a tension in the air, and the Princess sighs, letting her shoulders droop slightly, the concern returning to her tone, "You even do that to 'Leanor and Levan as well. It's not healthy to distance yourself from your friends when you need support."

Lilia feels a hint of shame creeping up on him, and he averts his gaze, pondering, "it feels odd calling you by your real name after you've been gone for so long," he admits, remembering the years she spent away to train to become a healer, "and besides, it was rare for me, or anyone close to us to call you by that name even before you went off for your education." Lilia can only hope against hope that she would accept that. Though she was a Draconia, after all, so he didn't expect much.

She seems to contemplate his words for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek like she always did when she's thinking deeply about something, "well, then you can call me by that nickname instead."

She's… she's insisting on this, isn't she?

Now it's Lilia's turn to sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration, "don't you think that's a bit inappropriate? I'm a knight, and you're a Princess.'' Seriously, why do Draconias always seem to be so stubborn?

"Go on, say it," she almost sounds amused now, continuing where she left off on bandaging his arm, "call me by the nickname, Lilia. I know you want to."

"No."

"If you don't, then I'll just give you a taste of your own medicine and call you General Vanrouge from now on."

Lilia can feel his ear twitch in annoyance. The Princess- Moonlight as she so insists he calls her, is grinning maliciously from ear to ear, and he can see her tail swishing excitedly behind her.

"Fine. If that's what you wish, Moonlight."

Moonlight's tail thumps on the ground in glee, a laugh, free and genuine, escapes her, and she's laughing at him. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?" She coos, her eyes shining with amusement, "oh, I remember when we were kids and you used to call me that all the time. Remember when you proposed to 'Leanor and then you said that 'Moonlight will be the Maid of Honor!' too bad only half of that ended up being true, hmm?"

Lilia rolls his eyes, "that was about two hundred years ago. If you're looking to embarrass me by bringing up my infatuation with your sister, you've missed your window of chance." A thought flashes in his mind, and he sees an opening to turn this around on her. He smirks his fangs glinting, "besides, you said that you were going to marry that diurnal fae prince, and yet- Ow!"

Lilia winces as Moonlight tightens the bandage to the point he was afraid that she was cutting off blood flow from his limb completely. He sees the forced smile on her face, and he feels a sudden uneasiness creep up on him.

"What are you doing?" He manages to force out the words, the tips of his fingers slowly going numb from the lack of blood flow, "are you seriously going to chop off my arm just for that?"

Moonlight tilts her head ever so slightly to the side, her eyes trained on him like a predator would stalk its prey, "funny," she croons, tightening the bandages further and making him wince, "by the way most of your recent injuries were on this arm only, I thought that was what you wanted."

"But you didn't have to- ow! Fine! I yield!"

Finally, Moonlight loosened the bandages until the pressure was enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to cut off his circulation. "Did you really need to do that?" Lilia grumbles, glaring unheatedly at her. She's not even looking him in the eyes, yet her annoyance with him is palpable, "are you really not over him yet?"

He had never understood why she liked that prince so much. She had always said to him that she didn't want to be too involved with politics, and if she had married that prince, that's a life she would live for the rest of her life. A life of nonstop politics. He knew she didn't want that life, she has had that mindset since they were children, but for her to change that mindset because of a random prince…

"He was the first person I ever really fell for," Moonlight bemoans, her face scrunched up in anguish just a little too exaggerated to be genuine, "you don't know how much worse it feels for a Draconia to lose that than the average fae."

Lilia rolls his eyes, turning his body away from her a little while still letting her bandage his gash, "Oh yes, the diurnal prince that is three hundred years older than you, what horror it is that he, gasp, already has a betrothed."

A beat of silence passes between them, and for a moment, then, "I guess you do have a point about it not being too different from your situation."

Surprise was the only thing Lilia could make out from his emotions when she said that, and he turned to her again, finding her tie the final knot on his bandages.

Moonlight has an unreadable look on her face. That doesn't happen very often.

A part of him wants to apologize, just to see an emotion, any emotion as long as he can make it out, on her face again. Moonlight has always been very expressive, so for her to be this hard to read, he feels as if he said something truly wrong.

She pats the secured bandages on his arm, her touch still gentle, "there. Try not to lose a limb before the war ends, alright?" Finally, she smiles at him, and to his relief (though he will never admit to that) he can see a hint of exasperated fondness in her eyes.

Lilia nods slowly, flexing his arm and feeling the previous pain to have faded significantly, "thanks," he says, "I appreciate it."

"You done? Alright, now go join the rest of the knights. I have work to do," Moonlight stands up and stretches, even stretching her tail a little.

"Are you kicking me out?" Lilia feels a slight pang of disappointment. He had been enjoying their banter. With the dangers of the Silver Owls, barely anyone has any spare time to simply talk with each other.

She just shrugs at his question, picking up the leftover bandages, presumably to use later since she didn't use too many on him, "interpret it as you will, but you need to socialize. Y'know, build trust between your troops and all that."

He sighs, but gets up as well, turning to walk out of the medical tent and into the camp, but not before calling out behind him, "talk to you later?"

"Once I've finished sorting my stocks, sure."

Lilia smiles, nods at her, then walks over to the bonfire to at least attempt to have a conversation that isn't about their job to his subordinates.

Though he can't help but wonder if Moonlight secretly knows that most of his minor injuries were only for him to spend more time with her.

~•~•~

"Is it the General again?"

The healer's apprentice, Coriander, walks up from behind her, her gaze following her mentor's to the back of the said fae, "did he 'accidentally' hurt himself again?"

The healer shakes her head, "no. This one is genuine. He might be emotionally constipated, but he's not stupid enough to rip his arm open just to get my attention."

Coriander raises an eyebrow, standing next to the healer, her eyes trained on the bandages poking out of the General's sleeve, "is that why you used the bandages? You know we're running low on that, right? You could have just healed him with your magic."

"He needed to loosen up somehow," the healer says, her gaze flicking to Coriander's face, "besides, we're near a village. I'll disguise myself and buy some more, and if that doesn't work, we'll just have to make do with cobwebs."

A sigh, and Coriander looks at her mentor annoyedly, "you could just say that you wanted to spend time with him as well. There's no shame in that."

That causes the healer to laugh, "I'm not ashamed of saying it. It's just that he won't see it that way, so I won't frame it that way as well until he does."

"Both of you are the worst."

"Perhaps. But at least I'm more honest with myself."

#twst #twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #Whisper's writings #sort of x oc?#the healer ends up becoming my oc in later chapters sorry lol #i got too attached

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cosmica-galaxy · 2 years

Text

In the Player’s World - Player x Yan!Madcom

So...I read most, if not ALL, of @saltymongoose‘s Yandere Madcom material and I just wanted to throw an idea out there.

How would Hank, Deimos, and Standford like the player’s world in comparison to their own and what I think the guys would like most about it. So I have a few short headcanons for it.

(For the sake of the setting, Player lives in a nice rural area and lives alone.)

-Headcanons under the cut-

-- HANK --

When Hank arrived he was...pretty agitated and shocked by the sheer level of colors that assaulted his eyes when he gathered his bearings, but when he finally gets to meet his player, his mood instantly improves. The Player is obviously willing to accommodate their vessels, so while Hank is primarily indifferent, he couldn’t be happier. He gets to see you for real and hold you in his arms, what more could he want?

There wasn’t much that Hank found personal interest in, but there was one thing he did seem to like...very much, actually. One thing that was so rare in Nevada, but common here in his Players world.

Rain.

The first time Hank saw the rain falling from the sky, he stood out on the driveway. Allowing the water to drench his body and drip off of his form. It was...tranquil. Pleasing. Beautiful even. How it changed the world around him, darkened the colors of the world, and it always left a wonderful scent afterward. Hank really adored rainy days. You, not so much. Mostly because he would always come inside all muddy and soaked to the bone. Hank just uses it as an excuse for you to help dry him off.

The second best thing Hank seemed to like was the sheer variety of meat that your world had to offer. Being an avid hotdog enthusiast, Hank was more than thankful when you brought home a large selection of hotdogs and meats from your trip to the store in town. He didn’t know primarily how many meats you brought in, but Hank wouldn’t dare turn down an offering that you went out of your way to get.

He got to try so many things! Such as chicken, turkey, pork, fish, venison, duck, and much more. His favorites were ‘beef’ and ‘pork’. Since those meats just had a taste that was similar to the meat back in Nevada. He would still eat whatever you fixed or brought home for your vessels that night. For you, he wouldn’t dare be picky.

The last thing he enjoyed from your world was the abundant amount of entertainment. Your world had so many things to keep him occupied, since he couldn’t really go on missions or kill anyone (As per your request), so he indulged in your TV, gaming consoles, and various other electronics to pass the time.

He seemed to get entranced by some shows, namely violent ones. Such as the ‘Saw’ series or other gorefest flicks. He even got into the horror game aspects of entertainment, despite him not being very good at video games. Regardless, he enjoys watching horror movies with his player. Especially when you jump into his arms to hide your face from a scary monster that shows up on the screen with a loud noise.

That was his favorite part.

–

-- DEIMOS –

Deimos had a similar reaction to Hank when he first crossed over into his precious Player’s world. The colors of their world were so vivid that Deimos had to visibly squint to limit the amount of colors that were overstimulating his eyes. However, it eventually ebbs away and Deimos happily embraces his Player and gives them a firm hug. Deimos is happy to explore their abode while the Player gets their vessels settled in. Enjoying the finer things in life, like a couch that wasn’t lumpy or broken down. Man, he felt so comfortable here, that he probably would never want to leave.

–

Deimos was much more invested in technology than Hank or Sanford. He even acquired a hobby of hacking into various online websites to test their security and databases. He even found a few accounts on one of your personal computers of people that you had blocked over the years.

Deimos…was mischievous, to say the least. He was also a total snoop.

He manages to hack into your accounts and opens a few of those private conversations that never seem to get deleted and his blood slowly crawls up to a boil as he reads some of the messages that some of these worthless FILTH sent you. Many were spambots, but some weren’t. Namely some that were obviously still very active users.

He doesn't feel any regret when he pinches their IP addresses and the information of their credit and debit cards and buys you very nice electronic equipment. When questioned about the packages that show up on your doorstep, the only thing he does is shrug and play dumb.

Don’t worry. He’s made sure that those creeps online felt a LOT of financial pain.

Anyone that says those things to his dearest Player deserves to be in the poor house.

–

Deimos is also a rather active individual. He’s rather athletic and staying in one place for too long seems to bother him. So he takes up doing laps around his Player’s home. Scouting out the location and even taking in the surrounding nature that is nestled close to the home. One day, he even managed to get his Player to come out and walk with him on a brisk nature walk in the early morning. Those days are the best, merely because he usually gets the Player all to himself. It was selfish and immature in a way, but Deimos has always been that way.

If he can both scout out, exercise, and explore with his precious Player by his side out in the woods…completely alone, he probably wouldn’t want anything else in this life.

What could top being out all alone with the love of his life?

–

– SANFORD –

Sanford, just like Hank and Deimos, had the same reaction to entering the Player’s realm. His eyes could be seen squinting from behind his black shades. Even with their protection, the colors of your world were piercing and absolute. Still, he found it stunning and beautiful.

Even better than that, he finally got to meet his Player. He could only embrace you and let out an elated baritone chuckle as he relished in your eternal warmth that radiated from your very being. Finally, after so long he finally got to meet the one that had been helping his group out on missions.

And he had to say…you were much more stunning in person than in those photos.

–

Sanford was not much of an openly emotional guy, but he did admire some things. Guns, certain types of kills, Deimos, and various explosives. But one thing he never knew he could admire, nor did he ever think about, was the first thing he saw when he stepped outside onto the house’s porch with a warm cup of coffee that was brewed by his Player in his hand.

The sunrise.

Sanford watched in awe as the sky above turned into a bright and colorful painting as the sun rays of the early morning sunrise lit up the sky. He nearly dropped his mug in surprise when he saw the sight, but he managed to keep his composure. Watching the colorful world become even more beautiful with the passing hours made Sanford realize something. When was the last time he ever saw the sun in his realm? The sky turned blood red and it’s been like that for years…he has forgotten what the sun even felt like.

So he could only watch as the trees and nature around your house began to glow and take on vivid shades as your sun slowly cloaks the world around him in warmth.

Funny. It reminded him of his Player in a way. But of course, there was no way that the sun would outcompete you in his eyes. But, maybe that’s why most of the grunts tend to covet your warmth.

Maybe you simply make them all nostalgic for what they used to have.

And well…he wasn’t intending on losing it again.

–

Sanford also decided to pick up a new hobby while in your world to pass the time. Which was helping you to cook some of the exotic meats that your world happily provided for you.

Despite cooking for his team most of the time, supplies were hard to come by in his dimension, so sometimes they would have repeated meals over and over again. This time was different, however. You would go out on some days after going to work and come home with a plethora of goodies for him to experiment with.

Fish, poultry, pork, beef, and other varieties were on the menu and Sanford was rather entertained with the prospect of eating so many different foods. With your ever-comforting guiding hand, you taught him how to prepare most of the meat and certain ways to cook veggies.

Sanford’s cooking skill greatly improved, as stated by both Deimos and an approving nod from Hank, but your approval stood out the most of all. You would encourage Sanford to keep sharpening his skills in the culinary field.

Sanford never felt so much pride swell up in his chest before.

For you, he would do anything. He was certain of that.

–

Sanford also found an outdoor activity he enjoyed and it wasn’t just so he could keep his more impulsive partner under his careful watch. Sanford had taken up the activity of fishing in the lake nearby your abode.

The first time he explored the lake, he was rather surprised to find other creatures inhabiting the water. Living beings that weren’t humanoid in shape. This was his first encounter with what you called a “fish”. Which was also edible and could be hunted and eaten. So, Sanford decided to watch a couple of “fishing” videos and decided to take a stab at it.

With his large hook, he would go out to the pier and watch the waters for movement. His gaze was sharp and wary, similar to how he would watch for danger back in Nevada. Then at the first sign of large movement, and a quick thrust of his hook and chain, the water surface was broken and a large fish was skewered on the end of his hook.

Sanford took a minute to process before he allowed a large smile to show on his face as he carried his prize back to the house.

Once he showed his catch to his Player, he was given a flurry of encouragement and congratulations. To which Sanford soaked up like a dry sponge. You even took the fish from him and told him that you would be cooking it up for dinner that night. To which a lightbulb went off over Sanford's head.

Then, he started performing rather unique types of chores around the house. Cutting wood, helping with outdoor upkeep, fixing any problems with equipment, and fishing on some nights when money was tight.

If there was one thing Sanford was going to prove above his rivals, was that he could provide for his Player.

To prove that he wasn’t just a vessel, but that he could also be a worthy husband of yours someday.

#Saltymongoose #yandere madness combat #madcom x reader #madcom tag #madness combat x reader #hank x reader #sanford x reader #deimos x reader #madcom headcanons #madcom yandere au #madness combat self aware au #my writings #cosmica-galaxy #haxorus imp #madcom x player

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 8 months

Text

Only the Night Knows

This little baby blurb popped into my head, and I just had to get it out to kick off this spooky season! Enjoy!

Word Count: 735

Not long after the gates were finally closed, you began having dreams where he visited.

These dreams were so vivid, you still felt the effects long after waking.

You couldn’t tell the others, they already worried too much over you as it was. This would just be another reason to fret over your fragility. Just another nail in the coffin, confirming you actually were certifiable.

“Hey sweetheart. Missed you.” He smiled up at you as you walked over, taking the seat beside him on the bench overlooking the lake. It was dusk. You’re favorite time of the day. The sun setting over the water’s edge with the most brilliant colors of golden hues dancing on the glassy surface.

“Hey Eddie.” It went like this most nights, small hellos. Not many words shared between you. The presence of each other had always been more than enough. But tonight was different.

“They all think I’m crazy.” You were looking out onto Lover’s Lake, afraid to meet his gaze. He took your small hand in his. His fingers seemed longer; nails almost claw like. His skin was colder, but his touch still comforted you. Grounding you there as you continued to speak.

“When you…” tears beginning to well, biting back a sob threatening its way through, as the acidic bile tried to rise in your throat. You still couldn’t say it out loud.

“When it happened, they had to tear me away from you. I thought I was going to go right along with you.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “But now, they’re all worried about me because this is the only place I can find you and all I want to do is sleep.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He took his free hand, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

He was Eddie, but somehow changed. His eyes, those warm, inviting orbs had lost their light. They were almost black and you could have sworn you saw flecks of red glinting back. His teeth were longer, sharper. Almost threatening. Although he had always been pale, his skin was so white you could see the blue of his veins as if he were almost translucent. But he was still your Eddie, at least what was left of him.

“I love you more than I loved anyone else in this world. Even now, you’re the only reason I’m still here. If it weren’t for you, I would have fully turned by now.”

You looked up at him, confusion written all over your face.

“I know you don’t understand, but you will soon. I’m sorry. Just know that I will never hurt you.” He leaned into your space, moving his hand to caress your cheek, kissing your forehead with parched, cool lips.

“Eddie, what does that even mean?”

He stood then, letting go of you entirely. As he walked away, you shouted after him.

“Eddie, please! Don’t go! Please. I love you! Please just take me with you.”

He looked back over his shoulder, his teeth had somehow lengthened, and his grin looked even more deadly. The red in his eyes now more prominent.

“Soon,” passed from his lips as you startled awake.

You were trying to catch your breath, body sweat soaked and heart beating too fast as you sat up in bed. Alone once more. You looked around the room, trying to take in the now familiar surroundings.

No, you couldn’t tell the others. They wouldn’t even believe you at this point. After all, they’re the ones that committed you to this place. Padded walls, barred windows. No, they wouldn’t believe you. Maybe they would once the carnage began. They would realize all too late.

You stood and looked out onto the lawn of Pennhurst. The moon shining bright enough, you could see his silhouette by the gate. Those same eyes from your dream already on you, glowing blood red. You watched in awe as he unfurled and stretched out his massive wings taking flight into the night sky. You thought he was beautiful in life, but he was magnificent in death.

For the Eddie you knew was long gone, but this Eddie would bring Death in his wake with you by his side. You would gladly follow him into Hell.

You could hear a faint echo in the back of your mind as his wings carried him further into the darkness.

“Soon.”

#vampire!eddie munson #eddie munson #kas!eddie #eddie munson blurb #vampire!eddie x reader #kas!eddie x reader

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symbioticsimplicity · 22 days

Text

Tumblr, I have like...the weirdest question to ask you all. And I don't exactly know how to phrase it.

What...no, I think where exists the sexual being threshold for clowns?

See yeah no I don't know how to ask this, let's--

Here, visuals can only help us:

Here we've got these guys. They have all the classical halmarks of being a clown. Colorful face paint, big red nose, off-putting clashing outfit, the works. On most people's Sexy Meter or whatever, they're rating pretty low. Might even hit creepy for some folk.

But then we've got like, I dunno, this fuckin dude:

Definitely still a clown, and creepy as all hell arguably. But. BUT. There are plenty of people who want to fuck him, I know it, I've seen the fan art.

Could be the monsterfuckers I hear you say. You're probably right, but that's not the only flavor of clown I see folks wanting to get freaky with.

I think I've figured out my actual question now, the pictures helped.

How many clown traits can something have and still be sexy? And which ones are they??? And just maybe, what the fuck is it about a handful of clown traits that makes people lose their shit???

So. We have a baseline. Normal ass Bozo lookin headass clowns.

Now, lets shuffle to the far side of this horrible, horrible scale I need to make.

I would be remiss not to mention her for a question like this:

Arguably Harley has the least amount of clown traits while still being associated HEAVILY with clowns. Previous iterations of her have leaned harder into the clown theme, although she's more of a jester but fuck it same circus.

Regardless of her clown genus, Harley is arguably the best example of the Clown Sexiness cross over bullshit I'm talking about. She was also built with the intention of making her sexually appealing and she happens to have the least actual clown traits.

Now is that...related??

Recently I've been watching a lot of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss (which is probably what triggered this whole clown sexualization crisis nonsense). There are a LOT of characters in that series who resemble clowns heavily and are also still considered to be sexy.

On the lower end of the clown scale we have:

The Morningstars. Both Charlie and Lucifer’s faces resemble clown makeup strongly enough to immediately make one think of clowns. Lucifer is dressed like a fucking ringmaster and both of them are very silly MOST of the time. They're both considered attractive.

But then you've got these bitches:

They are VERY clown. Pretty sure they're based on clownfish even. They SING about being clowns.

Still hot!

But Symbi, I hear you groan, they're traditionally attractive women, of course people think they're hot. That's why. It overides the clown. That's it.

EXPLAIN. HIM.

This fucking dude is AGGRESSIVELY clown. He probably has the highest quotient of clown traits of the regular Helluva Boss cast. He's a weird little gremlin and I KNOW people want to fuck him real bad.

Is it because they've minimized the obtrusiveness of the clown? Moved away from the traditional and into stylization and thus transcended the barriers of clown? Is it cause they're all skinny and white?

I'd probably pack it up there with that as an explanation if I hadn't had to sit through THIS FUCKING DUDE taking over my dash for weeks:

I don't know a goddamn thing about One Piece but I know everyone was so fucking horny about this clown for...just a long ass while.

Now HE has even more prominent clown traits than anyone since Pennywise tbh. He's serving classic clown cunt like he's the last circus in Clown Town. Surely he should have been in the same camp as the baseline guys.

And yet. AND YET my very vivid memory of the fever dream that was watching a chunk of the internet simp for him tells me that's not the case.

So. Where the FUCK is the line?? Where do we stop wanting to fuck clowns? Why do we START wanting to fuck clowns?? Where in the god bedamned hell do ICP fall on this... clown fuckery scale. Please don't answer that one.

I don't know the answers to any of it. I just noticed that people find it sexy when people do the big lipstick with the points at the corners and that shit looks like stylized clown makeup. Now I'm drowning in clowns and questions.

Help.

#clowns #i dont know what the fuck to tag this??#harley quinn #pennywise #habin hotel #helluva boss #one piece #i guess???#this probably made no sense I don't know what I'm on but SOMETHING is going on here

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thatrandomlemononyourcounter1 · 3 months

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Keepers of the Lost Cities Chapter 1

Here it is folks. The beginning. I really really hope this goes well ;-;.

UPDATE: I'm dropping the link to the fic on google docs so I don't abuse Tumblr :)

UPDATE UPDATE: We're up to chapter 6! Once we get to chapter 10, I might attempt to draw something. Sidenote, I might actually cry if someone made fan art of my oc or any of the 'bonus scenes' I add into the book.

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: Y'all, we're at chapter 8 now. I might randomly post two chapters in a day, depending on the length of the chapters.

KOTLC BOOK REWRITE!!

Chapter 1

Sophie

“Miss Foster!” Mr. Sweeney’s nasal voice cut through Sophie’s blaring music as he yanked her earbuds out by the cords. “Have you decided that you’re too smart to pay attention to this information?”

Sophie forced her eyes open. She tried not to wince as the bright fluorescents reflected off the unnecessarily vivid blue walls of the museum, amplifying the throbbing headache she was hiding.

“No, Mr. Sweeney,” she mumbled, shrinking under the glares of her now staring classmates. She pulled her shoulder-length blond hair around her face, wishing she could hide behind it.

This was exactly the kind of attention she went out of her way to avoid. Why she wore dull colors and lurked in the back, blocked by the other kids who were at least a foot taller than her.

It was the only way to survive as a twelve-year-old high school senior.

“Then perhaps you can explain why you were listening to your iPod instead of following along?” Mr. Sweeney held up her earbuds like they were evidence in a crime.

Although to him, they probably were.

He’d dragged Sophie’s class to the Natural History Museum in Balboa Park, assuming his students would be excited about the all-day field trip. He didn’t seem to realize that unless the giant dinosaur replicas came to life and started eating people, no one cared.

Sophie tugged out a loose eyelash—a nervous habit—and stared at her feet.

There was no way to make Mr. Sweeney understand why she needed the music to cancel the noise.

He couldn’t even hear the noise.

Chatter from dozens of tourists echoed off the fossil-lined walls and splashed around the cavernous room. But their mental voices were the real problem.

Scattered, disconnected pieces of thoughts broadcast straight into Sophie’s brain—like being in a room with hundreds of TVs blaring different shows at the same time. They sliced into her consciousness, leaving sharp pains in their wake.

She was a freak.

It’d been her secret—her burden—since she fell and hit her head when she was five years old. She’d tried blocking the noise. Tried ignoring it. Nothing helped. And she could never tell anyone. They wouldn’t understand.

“Since you’ve decided you’re above this lecture, why don’t you give it?” Mr. Sweeney asked. He pointed to the enormous orange dinosaur with a duckbill in the center of the room. “Explain to the class how the Lambeosaurus differs from the other dinosaurs we’ve studied.”

Sophie repressed a sigh as her mind flashed to an image of the information card in front of the display. She’d glanced at it when they entered the museum, and her photographic memory recorded every detail.

As she recited the facts in a droning tone, Mr. Sweeney’s face twisted into a scowl, and she could hear her classmates’ thoughts grow increasingly sour. They weren’t exactly fans of their resident child prodigy.

They called her Curvebuster.

She finished her answer, and Mr. Sweeney grumbled something that sounded like “know-it-all” as he stalked off to the exhibit in the next room over. Sophie didn’t follow.

The thin walls separating the two rooms didn’t block the noise, but they muffled it. She grabbed what little relief she could.

“Nice job, superfreak,” Garwin Chang—a boy wearing a T-shirt that said BACK OFF! I’M GONNA FART—sneered as he shoved past her to join their classmates. “Maybe they’ll write another article about you. ‘Child Prodigy Teaches Class About the Lame-o-saurus.’”

“Hah. You only wish they’d write articles about you Chang.” A short blonde walked up to Sophie’s side, tilting her head towards her. “Don’t worry about him, Soph.”

Quinn Parker was a presence not easily ignored. She was also Sophie’s only friend.

They were both only twelve, and seniors in high school, navigating the world with strange abilities together.

Quinn could feel what other people were feeling if she got within close proximity of them, and knowing what others were feeling was, to quote Quinn, ‘Not fun.’

Sophie figured that must be almost as bad as having to hear other people’s thoughts.

She tugged out another eyelash.

Quinn shook her head and grabbed Sophie’s wrist to stop her from pulling any more. “He’s stupid anyway.”

“I guess.” Sophie whispered.

“I’m serious. You’re way smarter than anyone else I know.” Quinn reassured her, not letting go until Sophie begrudgingly nodded. “Okay, well, I know you probably want some relief from your headache, so I’ll leave you be. Don’t do anything dumb.”

Sophie sighed as she saw Quinn approaching Garwin, and had a feeling that she was going to start a problem that really didn’t need to be started. Even if Garwin really was being a jerk.

Garwin was still bitter Yale had offered her a full scholarship while his rejection letter had arrived a few weeks before.

Not that she was allowed to go.

Her parents said it was too much attention, too much pressure, and she was too young.

End of discussion.

So she’d be attending the much closer, much smaller San Diego City College next year—a fact some annoying reporter found newsworthy enough to post in the local paper the day before—CHILD PRODIGY CHOOSES CITY COLLEGE OVER IVY LEAGUE—complete with her senior photo.

Her parents freaked when they found it. “Freaked” wasn’t even a strong enough word. More than half their rules were to help Sophie “avoid unnecessary attention.” Front-page articles were pretty much their worst nightmare. They’d even called the newspaper to complain.

The editor had seemed almost as unhappy as they were.

The story was run in place of an article on the arsonist terrorizing the city—and they were still trying to figure out how the mistake had happened. Bizarre fires with white-hot flames and smoke that smelled like burnt sugar took priority over everything. Especially a story about an unimportant little girl most people went out of their way to ignore.

Or, they used to at least.

Across the museum, Sophie caught sight of a tall, dark-haired, sepia-skinned, boy reading yesterday’s newspaper with the embarrassing black-and-white photo of her on the front. Then he looked up and stared straight at her. She’d never seen eyes that particular shade of blue before—teal, like the smooth pieces of sea glass she’d found on the beach—and they were so bright they glittered.

Something flickered across his expression when he caught her gaze. Disappointment? Before she could decide what to make of it, he shrugged off the display he’d been leaning against and closed the distance between them. The smile he flashed belonged on a movie screen, and Sophie’s heart did a weird fluttery thing.

“Is this you?” he asked, pointing to the picture. Sophie nodded, feeling tongue-tied. He was probably fifteen, and by far the cutest boy she’d ever seen, so why was he talking to her?

“I thought so.” He squinted at the picture, then back at her. “I didn’t realize your eyes were brown.”

“Uh . . . yeah,” she said, not sure what to say. “Why?”

He shrugged. “No reason.”

Something felt off about the conversation, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. And she couldn’t place his accent. Kind of British, but different somehow. Crisper? Which bothered her—but she didn’t know why.

“Are you in this class?” she asked, wishing she could suck the words back as soon as they left her mouth. Of course he wasn’t in her class. She’d never seen him before. She wasn’t used to talking to boys—especially cute boys—and it made her brain a little mushy.

His perfect smile returned as he told her, “No.” Then he pointed to the hulking greenish figure they were standing in front of. An Albertosaurus, in all its giant, lizardesque glory. “Tell me something. Do you really think that’s what they looked like? It’s a little absurd, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sophie said, trying to see what he saw. It looked like a small T. rex: big mouth, sharp teeth, ridiculously short arms. Seemed fine to her. “Why? What do you think they looked like?”

He laughed. “Never mind. I’ll let you get back to your class. It was nice to meet you, Sophie.” He turned to leave just as two classes of kindergartners barreled into the fossil exhibit.

The crushing wave of screaming voices was enough to knock Sophie back a step. But their mental voices were a whole other realm of pain. Kids’ thoughts were stinging, high-pitched needles—and so many at once was like an angry porcupine attacking her brain.

So much for relief…

Sophie closed her eyes as her hands darted to her head, rubbing her temples to ease the stabbings in her skull. Then she remembered she wasn’t alone.

She glanced around to see if anyone noticed her reaction and locked eyes with the boy. His hands were at his forehead, and his face wore the same pained expression she imagined she’d had only a few seconds before.

“Did you just . . . hear that?” he asked, his voice hushed.

She physically felt the blood drain from her face.

He couldn’t mean . . . It had to be the screaming kids. They created plenty of racket on their own. Shrieks and squeals and giggles, plus sixty or so individual voices chattering away.

Voices.

She gasped and took another step back as her brain solved her earlier problem.

She could hear the thoughts of everyone in the room. But she couldn’t hear the boy’s distinct, accented voice unless he was speaking. His mind was totally and completely silent.

That had only happened with one other person.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

His eyes widened. “You did—didn’t you?” He moved closer, leaning in to whisper. “Are you a Telepath?”

She flinched.

The word made her skin itch. And her reaction gave her away.

“You are! I can’t believe it,” he whispered.

Sophie backed toward the exit. She wasn’t about to reveal her secret to a total stranger. It had taken her months- no- years to trust Quinn enough to tell her.

“It’s okay,” he said, holding out his hands as he moved closer, like she was some sort of wild animal he was trying to calm. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m one too.”

Sophie froze.

“My name’s Fitz,” he added, stepping closer still.

Fitz? What kind of a name was Fitz?

She studied his face, searching for some sign that this was all part of a joke.

“I’m not joking,” he said, like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Maybe he did.

She wobbled on her feet. She’d spent the past seven years wishing she could find someone else like her —someone who could do what she could. Now that she’d found him, she felt like the world had tilted sideways.

He grabbed her arms to steady her. “It’s okay, Sophie. I’m here to help you. We’ve been looking for you for twelve years.”

Twelve years? And what did he mean by “we”? Better question: What did he want with her?

The walls closed in and the room started to spin. Air. She needed air. She jerked away and bolted through the museum, running straight into Quinn.

“Soph? You okay? What’s wrong?”

Great.

Sophie couldn’t respond. She just ran, ignoring Quinn’s shouting for her to come back.

Sophie shot out of the museum’s ginormous doors, nearly tripping in the process. She sucked in giant breaths as she ran down the stairs in front of the museum. The smoke from the fires burned her lungs and white bits of ash flew in her face, but she ignored them. She wanted as much space between her and the strange boy as possible.

“Sophie, come back!” Fitz shouted behind her.

She picked up her pace as she raced through the courtyard at the base of the steps, past the wide fountain and over the grassy knolls to the sidewalk. No one got in her way—everyone was inside because of the poor air quality. But she could still hear his footsteps gaining on her.

“Wait,” Fitz called. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

She ignored him, pouring all her energy into her sprint and fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder to see how far back he was.

She made it halfway through a crosswalk before she heard Quinn’s terrified voice calling her name.

The sound of screeching tires reminded her she hadn’t looked both ways. Her head turned and she locked eyes with a terrified driver struggling to stop his car before it plowed right over her.

She was going to die.

And there ya go folks. Consider yourselves fed. No but fr I accept all criticism (unless you're being a douche) and I love knowing other people's opinions. (Please tell me if it sucks :)) One thing I forgot to mention is that I moved up the timing a bit, mostly so we could have newer music and a Nintendo switch in the fic. (I wanted the gang to play Mario kart don't come for me.) So right now the current timing is September of 2017.

#kotlc #keepers of the lost cities #sophie foster #fitz vacker #oc #fix it fic #fan fiction

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taizi · 6 months

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run, boy, run

chapter four

natsume yuujinchou pairing: one-sided kitanishi word count: 3k summary: Nishimura has a cursed mark on his arm, a crush on Natsume’s famous idol friend, and a whole lot of brand new problems that start and end with the taboo circle on his arm. full circle au

read on ao3

Satoru’s first clue that something is off is the black town car with dark-tinted windows parked a few blocks down from his house.

Most of his neighbors don’t have cars, and the ones who do have little boxy, fuel-efficient numbers that live under tarps in driveways until it’s time for the bi-monthly grocery haul.

The unfamiliar vehicle makes his lizard brain stir uneasily, but Satoru has been having a hard time lately distinguishing between things he should actually be worried about and things the curse is twisting all out of proportion.

Since no one else on the street is outwardly panicking, he takes that as his cue to keep walking.

Satoru’s second clue is what gives him real pause. Fish, perched on his shoulder, is making a noise he’s never heard from her before. It’s a subvocal thing, low and rumbling, and her beady eyes are fixed without wavering on the car.

Or something near the car.

Automatically, his hand drifts toward his pocket, and the cellphone there that’s practically bursting with the names of people who made him swear to reach out to them if he was in trouble.

Kiyoshi was still home when I left, Satoru thinks. I could just turn around.

But mom was still home, too, and if he walked back through the front door at the same time he should have been walking into homeroom, she would blow a fuse.

The thought of her tirade causes his arm to twinge sharply, and he drops his hand away from his pocket. Be normal, he scolds himself. You promised Kitamoto you’d be normal. Normal people don’t worry about random cars.

Since he first discovered Taki’s circle, Satoru has seen dozens of yokai around town, big and small, mostly minding their own business. And their own business had very little to do with Satoru unless he stuck his nose in it. If there’s a spirit over there on the other end of the street, one that’s causing Fish to bait her wings and grumble, then there’s a good chance it doesn’t have anything to do with Satoru anyway.

At the very least, he’s certain that it isn’t the monster that cursed him. He and Fish have an agreed-upon signal for that, which is essentially just Fish screeching like a klaxon until help shows up.

Still, Satoru pivots on his heel and cuts down a side-street. He’ll take the long way to school today. He doesn’t want to go near that car.

“We keep meeting in alleys,” an unfortunately familiar voice says cheerfully, just before a hand lands on his shoulder.

Fish takes off in a flurry of feathers, a distant speck in the sky before anyone could even think about catching her. The first thing Satoru feels is relief that she’s gone. Right on the heels of relief comes a cool wash of dread, and a dull, steady ache in his arm. He turns, already knowing who he’ll find behind him.

As easily as if they’re old friends, Matoba Seiji smiles.

At school, Nishimura’s friends are lingering by the entrance, getting more and more restless with every second. When the bell rings, and they should all be in class, detention is the last thing on their minds.

Over the last week, one or more of them has always been there to walk with Nishimura before and after school, but he insisted and they agreed to let the constant guard taper off a bit.

He’s been doing a lot better since their war council with Natori, but the curse is still active and present in his mind, and they can see it when it goes to work on him. When Nishimura starts to think his friends don’t trust him to do something as simple as make it to school on his own, and his arm blooms with vivid, obscene color, the only thing they can do is assure him. Tell him of course that isn’t true, they do trust him, and if he thinks he doesn’t need an entourage, then they’ll be willing to back off a bit and give it a try. Anything that might give him a foothold to wrestle control of his mind back.

But he was supposed to be here nearly ten minutes ago, even accounting for the way he constantly gets distracted by cute dogs and weird bugs and talkative neighbors. Tsuji, who lives a few houses down from Nishimura, once famously dragged him into homeroom by the elbow and announced, “I bumped into him in the combini this morning, holding the bento he bought for lunch in his hands, and he told me he forgot about school until he saw my uniform.” It was hilarious at the time.

“Sensei left early to make sure he got here,” Natsume says tersely. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m calling Kiyoshi-niisan,” Kitamoto says, phone already pressed to his ear.

Taki, who has been pacing in restless circles since Nishimura didn’t show up on time, says, “He can’t see. He doesn’t have the circle anymore. What if—”

“Don’t,” Tanuma says, not unkindly, but more like he can’t bear to listen to her bolt down that frightening rabbit hole. “I’m sure he’s okay. Fish would have told us if he wasn’t.”

At about that moment, in an example of the most absurdly perfect timing any bird has ever had, an agitated magpie flutters down onto the closed gate and raises the alarm.

Sitting in the backseat of the town car, his arms folded tightly across his front to hide the way his hands are trembling, the unconscious Nyanko-sensei a heavy, boneless weight in his lap, Satoru says, as firmly as he can manage, “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Matoba replies easily. “Your little pet is proof of that.”

Even more glad now that Fish seized the opportunity to bolt at the first sign of trouble, Satoru insists, “She’s just a bird. There’s a ton of birds just like her around here. Natsume’s mom has crows in her garden.”

He doesn’t know how long he’ll get away with playing dumb—when Nyanko-sensei scared Matoba off that night after the visit with Natori, the lucky cat spoke in front of them both. There’s no way this guy forgot about that. But Satoru has no idea what is safe to discuss with this boogeyman Natsume was so careful to warn him about, so he defaults to bald-faced denial.

Something darts across Matoba’s face that looks like curiosity when Satoru mentions Touko, there and gone again in a split-second.

“This conversation would go a lot smoother if you’d do me the courtesy of honesty,” is what Matoba says, as if he’s been the epitome of good manners this entire time.

The half of Satoru’s brain that isn’t spinning in anxious circles puffs up in indignation.

“Courtesy? You’re the one who abducted me on my way to school!”

Rather than offense, Matoba seems to take delight in his attitude. He’s weirdly likable, for all that he’s also very dangerous and powerful, if Natsume and Nyanko-sensei are to be believed. It creates a sense of conflict in Satoru’s head, because part of him wants to sit here and argue with the friendly, conversational man, while another, much larger part wants to run far, far away.

That larger part wins, because Satoru is literally in the backseat of a strange car, alone, with his phone sitting out of reach on the dashboard up front.

He wonders, for a brief, hysterical moment, if anyone is missing him yet.

“I can see why you and Natsume are friends,” Matoba says, as if he’s a proud relative and Natsume is a charming, if ornery, little cousin. “And I can see that you know more than you are willing to share with me. Is that loyalty, I wonder? Or ignorance?” He leans in, his long hair falling over his shoulder, and says, “Are you being kept in the dark?”

Satoru presses his arms tighter against his middle, trying to think past the hurthurthurt that pulses through the curse mark. He’s glad he wore long sleeves today.

He’s beginning to see shadows again, even here in the well-lit interior of the car. It’s a fog that creeps into his head, past reason and logic and common sense. Sometimes Satoru can feel it starting to happen, his mind turning against him as dark sympathetic magic makes him doubt, but there’s nothing he can do when that happens except cling to what he knows and hope it’s enough.

He remembers, against better judgement, being made to wash the seeing circle away. Natori’s face frowning at him from across the table, even though he got what he wanted.

Was he being kept in the dark?

No, Satoru thinks. It was for his own good. His friends were worried.

Were they? Then where are they? If they’re so worried about him, why aren’t they here?

They don’t know where I am, Satoru thinks wildly. No one knows where I am.

He doesn’t know where he is, either. They’ve been driving for what feels like a long time, and the windows are too dark to see through unless he presses his face against the glass and he won’t do that while Matoba is watching him. Nyanko-sensei, Natsume’s unofficial shiki and glorified babysitter, is sprawled across Satoru’s knees in an unnatural sleep and dead to the world.

He’s on his own.

“I’m sure you must have heard stories about me,” the man says, almost gently. He’s still smiling. “But really, I’m not so bad. I just want to have a talk, and then I’ll drop you off wherever you want.”

Rattled, Satoru dares to glance sidelong at him. Matoba’s smile widens.

“All you have to do is tell me the truth,” he goes on. “Just level with me. Are your eyes the same as mine? Do you see the same strange world that I do? Is that why you and Natsume are such good friends, hm? A common perspective? It would explain a lot.”

Something about that remark wriggles past everything else, a slippery eel darting through muddy water. It’s the first clear-headed thought Satoru manages to grasp.

“What’s that mean?” he asks. “What does it have to do with us being friends?”

“Well, historically, Natsume doesn’t have the best track record, does he?” Matoba’s voice is rich with laughter. It isn’t mean-spirited, but it rubs Satoru wrong anyway. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” Satoru blurts. The pain in his arm recedes and the shadows peel away—he’s still afraid, but it’s the normal sort of fear now. It’s not the influence of a monster, leaning on him until he can’t see or think or hear straight. And it’s eclipsed, easily, by irritation. “He’s my friend because he’s funny and sarcastic and nice to everybody and a sore loser at trivia games. I like him. Our whole class likes him. It has nothing to do with whatever you’re talking about.”

That curiosity flicks across Matoba’s expression again, like something Satoru told him is brand-new information, completely unheard of.

It doesn’t do anything to curb his knowing smile which, in Satoru’s opinion, has become less likable and more punchable with every second Matoba talks about Natsume like he actually knows anything about him.

“And even if he did see your strange world, or whatever, what does that have to do with me? And what are you accomplishing by kidnapping me?”

“I would hardly call it kidnapping—”

“There are so many other things he has to worry about without worrying about you,” Satoru goes on, warming up to the subject. “You just show up and make his life difficult and threaten him and drag him into dangerous situations like he doesn’t endanger himself enough as it is! Yeah, he told me stories about you, because you scare him.”

For the first time, Matoba seems genuinely thrown-off.

“No I don’t,” the man says. “He’s well aware that there are better things to be afraid of.”

Satoru knows that much, too. Being cursed by a yokai on the edge of the woods was equally as scary as being forced into a car by a stranger. Maybe those two situations were entirely different, but the way Satoru’s heart thundered in his chest, the way he wondered for a brutally honest split-second if he’d ever see his brother or his friends again, was exactly the same.

“That's the point,” Satoru says belligerently, aware that he’s digging his own grave, “Natsume knows a monster when he sees one.”

Matoba studies him with keen eyes. His smirk is a quiet, thoughtful thing now.

“One last question,” he says. Lifting a pale, elegant hand, he points to the other side of the partition, at the burly figure in the driver’s seat. “What do you think of that guy?”

Burying anxious fingers in Nyanko-sensei’s thick fur, Satoru darts a glance that way, trying to find the trap in Matoba’s words. The driver, for his part, doesn’t turn to look back or acknowledge Matoba in any way.

“I don’t know,” Satoru says defensively. “He hasn’t said anything this whole time.”

Matoba’s smile widens, as pleased as a cat with a canary.

“That’s fair,” he replies, and gestures with his hand. The driver catches the signal somehow and twirls the steering wheel, pulling the car around in a neat U-turn. “A deal’s a deal. Where am I taking you?”

Home, Satoru wants to say, except mom will be there, and she’ll be angry if he shows up when he’s not supposed to. Kitamoto, is his very next thought, filled with wanting, so he says, “School. Even though I’ll definitely have detention thanks to you.”

“Studious,” Matoba says with a laugh. “I admire that.”

Rubbing one of Nyanko-sensei’s velvety ears between his fingers, Satoru asks, “When will sensei wake up?”

“I’d give it another hour,” Matoba replies, his tone reassuring. “He’s a little too eager with his teeth when it’s just the two of us, so I figured it was best to be extra cautious.”

Secretly, Satoru wishes Nyanko-sensei had managed to get one good bite in. Then maybe Matoba would have slightly less to be smug about.

Something strikes the windshield, and Satoru flinches in surprise. The car continues gliding smoothly forward, but another tiny projectile joins the first, and then another after that. Satoru stares as all the windows on the car are plastered with scraps of paper until the vehicle is entirely covered.

The interior is dim now, cave-like, and Satoru clutches Nyanko-sensei closer.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Matoba says, making another gesture. The car slows and comes to a stop. He sounds unbothered, unlocking the doors with the button panel by his arm. “They’re here for you.”

When the door lock springs up, Satoru grapples for the handle and wrenches it open before Matoba can change his mind. He all but topples out of the car, Natsume’s cat clutched in the crook of one arm.

By the time he’s managed to find his feet, large hands are on his shoulders, guiding him upright. He jerks back reflexively, whipping his head around, but it’s not another stranger. It’s Natori, and the breath goes out of Satoru’s lungs in a rush of relief. He doesn’t even question how the man is standing here in front of him, the last place on earth a famous actor should be.

“Easy,” the man says, studying Satoru’s face carefully. “Are you hurt?”

Satoru shakes his head. For all that he was running his mouth a moment ago, he’s got nothing to say now. He lets himself be pushed behind Natori’s back as Natori makes himself a wall between Satoru and Matoba.

“There is such a thing,” Natori grits out, glaring murder at his shadowy counterpart, “as going too far.”

“You’re always one step ahead of me, Shuuichi-kun,” Matoba replies genially. “It seems like every remarkable child I manage to find has already been snatched up by the Natori clan.”

“This child has a family willing to press charges,” Natori bites back. “If you don’t think his aunt would take you to court and drag your name through dirt until she won, that’s only because you haven’t met her yet.”

Kitamoto’s mom, Satoru’s Auntie Mikako, is a force of nature. If she got wind of this, it’s over for Matoba already.

But he remembers Natsume’s warnings, how he talked about Matoba’s connections and his powerful family, and he doesn’t want the Kitamotos anywhere near him.

“Natori-dono,” someone behind Satoru says.

Jerking his head, as if shaking off a collar someone tried to put around his neck, Natori says, “This is far from over. But for now, get lost.”

“It’s always such a pleasure,” Matoba laughs, and leans out the door Satoru left hanging ajar to pass Satoru’s phone to Natori. After snapping the door shut smartly, he rolls down the window, because of course he has something else to say. Satoru tenses when Matoba looks at him, and Natori makes a furious sound, but the strange man only adds in parting, “Natsume is lucky to have a friend like you. I hope he keeps you close.”

From anyone else, it might have been a threat. From Matoba, it sounds genuine. For the life of him, Satoru can’t get a bead on this guy at all.

When the car pulls away, Natori says, “Follow. Make sure he leaves,” which Satoru assumes is a command to his shiki. He’s too busy staring down at the lucky cat in his arms and keeping his breathing steady to worry overmuch about what’s going on around him now.

That is, until Natori touches his chin, a gentle instruction to lift his head. The man looks angry and exhausted and worried, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he demands.

“I’m sure,” Satoru replies. “All he did was talk to me. He asked me questions about Natsume and the guy driving the car and then said he’d drop me off at school. He’s really weird.”

Natori’s face does something strange. “There wasn’t a guy driving the car.”

Satoru frowns at him, pushed well past his personal threshold of stuff he’s willing to put up with. He’s over today. He’s going to have to deal with an unexplained absence from school and his mom’s temper when she finds out, but that sounds like tomorrow’s problem. All he wants right now is his bird and his best friend and a stack of comfort movies and sugary snacks, and maybe his brother, too. He doesn’t think that’s too much to ask for.

“It’s not like it was driving itself,” he mutters.

“No,” Natori says slowly. “You misunderstood me. There wasn’t a human driving the car.”

Satoru blinks at him. As he watches, a little black tattoo crawls up the side of Natori’s face, coming to rest on his forehead.

“Oh,” he says dumbly.

Belatedly, he looks over his shoulder, and finds Hiiragi lingering behind him, where she’s probably been this whole time. She’s a little hazy around the edges, like he needs to squint to see her properly, but she’s there.

“You’re not wearing the circle?” Natori asks in a quiet voice. He sounds like he already knows the answer.

Satoru shakes his head, wide-eyed.

“Guess my eyes adjusted,” he whispers.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #nishimura satoru #matoba seiji #natori shuuichi #my writing #full circle #natsuyuu fic #and it only took me 2 years :)

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thebiscuiteternal · 4 months

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Okay, sending the picture doesn't work, sorry about that, so:

Anything for the Au where Meng Yao gets snatched up by a wen solider, works his way up and is one day 'rewarded' by wen Ruohan who has Nie huaisang sent to his room?

Ah, yeah, nonnies can't send images. Submitted images require a name attached too, but with that I can at least edit you to be anon in the actual post. Totally understandable if you'd rather not, however, no push.

(note: I originally had an opening conversation between Meng Yao and Wen Ruohan for this, but my WRH "voice" felt... slightly off. Not up to my standard. I didn't want to extend your wait while I fought with it, so I might try revising it another time.)

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

By the time he opened the door to his room, he had gone through over two dozen possibilities for what this 'mystery present' could possibly be-

-and what he found was not any of them.

He put a hand over his mouth to keep any sound of surprised dismay from escaping, lest someone be listening in where he couldn't see them, then stepped into his room, closed the door, and immediately pressed a silencing talisman to the seam before approaching his bed.

Where there was a boy tied to one of the posts.

Almost immediately, his mind began instinctively taking an inventory of information. Which was good. As long as it was occupied doing that, it wasn't panicking.

First off, the clothing that bore all of the hallmarks of the Nie sect- captive, an important one, clearly, yet sent here instead of the Fire Palace.

The overall ragged state of his hair- clearly pulled more than once in a struggle- and the painful looking bruise that spread down from his left temple over his cheekbone- a favorite knockout tactic for attempted escapees.

Gingerly, he lifted the boy's chin, and estimated that they weren't that distant in age, maybe two or three years at the most.

As he continued his examination, his unexpected... guest made a faint little disoriented moan, eyes fluttering open just enough for him to see they were a vivid pale green before they closed again and the boy once again went slack in his bindings.

Meng Yao took a very slow, deep breath and let it out.

Then did so again.

The number of Nie family members who were in or close enough to the central bloodline to inherit that eye color could be counted without running out of fingers, which, put together with the other things he'd made note of, meant he'd been handed none other than the brother and heir to the sect leader currently leading the war against his own.

He had heard quite a bit about the Brothers Nie since he'd first come under the direct command of the Undying Sun. Wen Ruohan's opinions and feelings about them wandered the entire gamut from 'upstarts to be crushed under heel like bugs' to 'wayward children who merely needed to be taken well in hand," depending entirely on his mood at the moment he happened to be -frequently- thinking about them.

One of his very few requests of his sect leader was that he be allowed to keep his job and his home entirely separated, so given that... that Nie Huaisang had been sent here, it seemed that Wen Ruohan's opinion was currently in the 'wayward child' category.

Which didn't exactly make things easier for him, since, again, it could change at any time. For all he knew, this was anything from a genuine gift to some kind of test.

He sighed and rubbed his head.

Alright.

He would simply -as if anything about the situation he'd been handed was simple- focus on 'for now,' to prevent giving himself a headache.

For now, this was intended as a gift.

One to be taken care of, akin to a surprise puppy.

He could do that.

Maneuvering into a position that would make it easier to catch Nie Huaisang once he was no longer bound, he pulled a knife from his sleeve and went to work on the ropes. When the last came free, Nie Huaisang slumped forward into his arms.

Huh.

He was a lot lighter than expected.

Filing that away in his mind in case he needed it for later, Meng Yao managed to get him laid out on the bed with very little difficulty.

He was not, however, a fool, so before he resumed examining for other injuries, he tied both of Nie Huaisang's hands back to the bed post.

By the time he was done, he'd found a handful of other bruises -though none as serious as the blow to the head- and some minor scrapes, as well as a qi-slowing sedative that would need to be burned out of Nie Huaisang's system.

And then it would just be a matter of figuring out what to do once he woke up.

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #fanfic #no sangyao yet but we all know it would go there eventually

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skyshipper · 1 year

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Hi! I can’t believe I’m going to post this but here goes. This is a note to say please don’t take gifs from gif makers and then put them together into your own post. Even if you think up a clever parallel or want to compile characters or celebrities into a set you think looks cool. It’s really hurtful to gif makers who spend a lot of time learning how to make gifs and provide their own unique stamp on scenes with coloring, effects, etc.

I’m writing this because I want to believe the best in all of you. I genuinely think most people who do this don’t see what is wrong. They think that the media is out there, so it doesn’t matter who made the gif. But it’s a huge understatement to say that giffing takes a ton of time. Learning how to color correct scenes takes a lot of skill. 99% of gifs you see have a LOT of color correction done to them so you can actually SEE the details (unlike most shows & movies today which are dark as fuck). Add on to that things like gif effects and vivid coloring and you have behind that gif someone who spent hours upon hours learning how to make those things happen and bring their own creative skill to that set.

If someone posted a paragraph taken from a fanfic writer without credit everyone would rightfully be up in arms. Yet when this happens to giffers no one seems to care or notice. Writers put their own unique spin on media we all love just like gif makers do. Please be mindful of this, and if you have a cool idea for a set, reach out to a gif maker for a request! Most of the time gif makers are incredibly flattered to get requests (I know I am). Either that or put in the time to learn to make your own gifs if you have an idea for a post.

If you don’t make content, or haven’t made a set with stolen gifs, this post still applies to you! Please be mindful of reblogging sets with stolen gifs. It’s usually easy to tell if a set was made by the person posting. In posts made by a gif maker, the gifs are usually similar size, have similar coloring, and the overall set will look cohesive. Most importantly, every gif maker I know has a tag like #mine or their username +gifs so you know they made it. Please look for those things before you like or reblog.

Lastly, if you want to use a gif to go along with your story or in a post, please reach out to the gif maker to ask permission. At the very least, please credit the original maker in your post, so people know where it came from. Again, most giffers I know are flattered to be included this way, but it’s always a good idea to ask first to be safe.

If you made it this far, thank you for listening. This isn’t so much a callout post but a PSA. Lead with kindness my friends. Happy creating my loves! 💛

#rants #giffing #creator woes #i don’t even have stolen gifs that I’m aware of #but I just saw a post with a friend’s gif #it was even watermarked which is how I knew #I just thought I’d post this because I truly believe most people here are nice #but maybe they don’t know this bothers gif makers #anyway carry on

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spiderdramaqueen · 1 year

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so, i’m finally writing a post about my ren/doc/red king/martyn au i mentioned here.

it’s called complementary quartet au (or cq!au for short), because Ren’s and Red King’s color is red, while Martyn’s and Doc’s is green, which are complementary colors on color wheel.

in this au, traffic life and hermitcraft are different universes. also only third life happened at the start of the au.

cq!au is set in season 9, during Ren’s king arc. rift that grian found doesn’t lead to empires. instead, one day, Red King (RK for short) and his Hand come out of there. mentally, they’re still red lifes. so needless to say they’re pretty hostile to the new server, especially to the players who ‘were’ in third life. besides, it’s hard for them to believe that on this server you can respawn infinite amount of times and you don’t have to battle to death.

and then they meet Ren and Doc, and new problems arise…

okay, let’s start with relationship chart at the beginning of an au.

now let’s examine every pair closer.

Ren and Doc. these two are in established relationship at the start of cq!au. but they’re kinda in a fight because of Ren’s kingship. Doc didn’t declare Perimeter’s independence yet tho. Ren and Doc didn’t took an official break in their relationship or anything, but they started seeing each other less than before and there is some sort of tension between them at the moment. they both miss each other, but too stubborn to actually talk it out.

RK and Martyn. they’re in love with each other, but didn’t talk about it yet! it seems that everything is good between them, but meeting Ren changed things. Martyn is trying to get closer to Ren. seeing this, RK… he doesn’t feel jealous (…it’s a lie), but he’s… thinking. he doesn’t think that Ren is a good king, but at least he’s living on a peaceful server and has a lot of friends (while RK has only enemies and dead allies). so, he distances himself from Martyn, because he thinks it would be the best for his Hand. (at some point they have a conflict about it, but maybe i’ll elaborate on this in another post, because this one is getting long already. let me know if you’re interested i guess?)

RK and Ren. they’ve seen some pieces of each others’ lives in their dreams. things are VERY tense between these two at the start of an au. Red King despises Ren and think that he’s an unworthy ruler. secretly, RK’s also envious of Ren’s peaceful life and doesn’t know what to do with this feeling. meanwhile, Ren is a little bit scared of his alter version. but they grow closer to each other after RK and Martyn have a fight (again. i’ll need a whole another post for this)

Ren and Martyn. as i’ve already said, Ren and RK have seen bits of each other lives in dreams. therefore, Ren has seen Martyn in his dreams before. the most vivid dream was Martyn promising to “go through as many crits as he can” and then taking three painful swings of axe to kill him. so. Ren is wary of Martyn even tho he seems cool. at the same time, Martyn is very curious to get to know this version of his king better. he likes to spend time with Ren. eventually, Ren warms up to Martyn.

Doc and RK. oh, these are fun. their first meeting was literally RK attacking Doc. so, they start with some sort of rivalry. but in the end they both have a lot of fun with it. RK can blow off steam and his pent-up blood thirst with Doc. plus, he respects Doc as a worthy adversary. Doc was irritated with him at first, but now he enjoys thinking of new ways to counter RK’s attacks. though RK’s red life morality kinda unnerves him sometimes. when Doc declares Perimeter’s independence, RK supports him.

Doc and Martyn. probably the most chill guys here, they’re on a good terms. RK told Doc a lot about Martyn, so Doc thinks Martyn is a nice guy, even tho Martyn likes to mess with Doc every now and then. and Martyn heard a lot about Doc from Ren. he’s extremely curious to find out why he and Ren fell apart. these two also grew closer after rk-martyn argument.

so, even tho these four definitely have some troubles at the start, with some time they get to know each other better and overcome their problems and end up in a weird and funny polycule.

if you have questions or just want to talk about cq!au, my askbox and dms are open!

i actually have more bits about cq!au scattered in my friends’ dms lmao, so i think i might post some of them later too. i also drew some stuff for this au but idk. don’t really like these scribbles.

#i'm sorry if there're any mistakes in text #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #rendoc #treebark #docmartyn #rk/ren #selfcest #cq!au

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