#ill write…eventually…to many things to do
Note
ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol
so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia
i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭
if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨
Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm
EMPTY CHAIRS
Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow)
WC: 4.2k :)))
Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time.
Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times)
Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.
A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.
It knows no law, no pity.
It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.
Their family may be cursed.
For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass.
The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move.
She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest.
In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him.
But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will.
Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.
“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”
The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery.
With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend.
Naturally, it didn’t last.
The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.
“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.
“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response.
“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.”
___________________________________
The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell.
When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions.
“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg.
“Always,” was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia.
But the empty seat felt an ill omen.
___________________________________
The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.
The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well.
When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose.
Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had.
Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all.
___________________________________
The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.
But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.
For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development.
Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again.
There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself.
First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something.
Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands.
Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.
And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more.
___________________________________
Grandchildren are the best reminders
of the beauty and innocence of childhood.
When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling.
“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white.
A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach.
The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body.
“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”
Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope.
She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her.
But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will.
Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far.
___________________________________
In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind.
She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more.
When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?”
Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands.
“And this is mother?”
Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble.
Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?”
A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.”
Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.
When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.
She should visit them more often now.
___________________________________
She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers.
Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.
She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe.
The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this.
She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book.
“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress.
They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.
“The gardens look atrocious.”
Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”
“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”
“Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included.
Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection.
She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?”
“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.”
She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees.
Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.”
Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.
“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”
“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.”
Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”
“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”
A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.”
Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away.
“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.
#twst#twst fanfiction#maleficia draconia#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#meleanor draconia#levan draconia#40 min spent on deciding a header alone#'hey amy she hasnt even been in the game yet' and?#listen maleficia may be 0% in-game but she is 100% in my brain thank u#obviously some flexibility with the facts here idk who malleus' grandpa is or what maleficias thoughts were during malleus' upbringing#but AAAAAAA listen... her.#lian i hope i did u proud i even made it a happy ending LMAO
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something experimental based on this illustration by Al Parker :]
#inukikiart#art#my art#vtuber#amemori#calliope mori#amelia watson#hololive#hololive en#mayhaps ive been cooking up an au for a long while#will i explain? maybe…#<— absolutely terrified#oomfs i am so sorry in advanced i just cant keep this any longer cause i was really really enjoying how it turned out#sweats….#get lorem ipsumed#ill write…eventually…to many things to do
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Some1 voicing interest on Libero a Due.....🥺
#speculation nation#ladue shit#ive been very occupied with itnl but i still do have the 18k words WIP for ladue chapter 3#and i. should finish that up to post it. at some point.#i think i really should decide whether theres any chance of actually continuing it after chapter 3#bc it's a reasonable conclusion to the thing. conclusion to the arc at the very least#but i also had so much more in mind for its future.#but im not even working on discacc rn man i have NO idea how long it would take for a potential 4th chapter of ladue...#so do i wanna keep it open on the off chance ill pick it back up eventually? or be honest with myself and call it here?#either way ive been sitting on 18k words for about half a year now#and i think they should be posted before Too long...#i gotta remember wtf i was doing with it lol. i had only a tiny lil bit left to write too...#aaaagh life is so hard. why must i be a chronic longfic writer. too many things i want to focus on. so little time and energy...
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Unfortunately relatable. I grew up in the church and have a lot of Christian trauma from that. I show up for special occasions for my parents… sometimes. But it’s uncomfortable from the moment I step through the door. Bigoted pastor, the self-righteousness disguising the prejudice, the political comments from the altar. Shots at young people left right and center as if the hell on earth wasn’t caused by the same older generation 90% of the congregation belongs to..
I miss being young in the choir and the youth groups and not struggling with it. It’s wild to look back at the younger version of me who was unshakeable in his faith and honestly just saddening.
I was texting my sister today about it and she said
“I 100% think ALL of us have a ton of religious trauma and everyone else in the family just doesn’t realize it cause they’re still drinking the kool-aid.”
I ran out of tag room and didn’t want to delete any 😭 seriously not lying I could write a book about all my thoughts and experiences
#I relate to all of this so much#and it’s so sad how many people truly have religious trauma#I still find myself lucky and privileged cause I know there are stories MUCH worse than mine#it’s really hard cause my parents still think I’m a Christian#honestly at this point I have no clue what i am#even if I end up still being a Christian that doesn’t help or heal all of the years of church trauma#but the hard part is still acting the part for my parents#growing up I always tried to fit into the good Christian girl mold#cause I know that’s what my parents wanted and I didn’t want to disappoint them#but once I started smoking weed and they found out? it went all downhill from there#their perfect angel fell from heaven#and I feel like ever since I haven’t been really their daughter…. I’ve just been living on the outside looking in to everything#it hurts looking back at all the years I spent brainwashed into believing that was the ONLY faith#it genuinely makes me sick to my stomach thinking about the fact that I went to a pro life rally#the thing I was talking to my sister about was how mental health was never talked about in the church#when I started dealing with it and went to my parents or the pastors or any adult really and told them what I was dealing with#wanna know what the first thing they would ALWAYS say? well have you prayed about it? the way they treated mental illness was that it was#YOUR fault cause God is punishing you for something…. that you need to pray or go to church so then God will eventually take it away#and the thing is I don’t necessarily blame my parents (which kinda sucks cause I want to blame someone)#but honestly it’s just the environment they grew up in too… like I’m 99% sure my dad has dealt with depression his entire life#but won’t get diagnosed or anything cause they always believe faith has something to do with it#which makes me incredibly sad cause I just think about how much my dad has suffered and how he didn’t need to#^^ I was typing this out when I was late to my family gathering hahaha but then I think my sister called or something so I had to stop#sorry this post is all over the place - I swear I could write a book about religious trauma#yesterday went ok surprisingly but today? TODAY is going to be so much worse#sure I’ll make a post about it later but I guessssss I should go to bed now? it’s 2am and I have to get up at 5:45 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃#and I have a fuuuuull day of fun Christian festivities while I’m dealing with all of this bottled up and unresolved crap from my past#please don’t get me wrong I love my parents and like I said I don’t blame them - they did their best#it just really sucks wondering what my life would have been like if I didn’t grow up in the church or in a super religious family#I wonder if when I told my parents I was depressed if they would have instantly brought me in to get help
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also re: lucius furius house. one i will show and that i like is the description of his study actually
Study/library:
Coming off from the passage between the atrium and peristyle, this room is wider than it is deep, with a small hallway to enter it, making it T-shaped. There is a heavy wooden door which can be locked from the inside.
The walls of the room proper are plain, a light-brown-ish color, and covered in wooden shelves for holding scrolls. The scrolls are neatly arranged, labelled, and meticulously cared for. Most of the books are of Stoic philosophy, although there is also literature and historical works. The floor is a mosaic, which has a pattern in black and white tiles.
Lucius' desk and chair are newer, quite nice, made of carved wood. Above the desk is a window. On it is usually something he's working on writing, kept very neatly; the desk has spaces on either side of the writing surface for storing reference works. On either side of the desk are two bronze stands for holding lamps. Next to one of these is a bust of Marcus Camillus.
Next to the desk is a smaller stone-topped table; this is for food, when Lucius eats in his study, which he often does.
On one side of the room (perhaps in a niche surrounded by the bookshelves?) is a soft, red upholstered couch with a table next to it, and a trunk with blankets and pillows at its foot; Lucius keeps this area in his study for when he's feeling too under the weather to sit at his desk but still wants to read or work.
haunted level: 5/10. It's haunted in a different way than the other rooms of the house so far; haunted in the way all libraries are, rather than by the ghosts of the family's past. Lucius redid this room soon after inheriting the house from his father.
#ficposting#the couch in lucius' study is also the site where martinus does many evil things to him. but that hasnt happened yet#also what statues are in which room is still subject to change. actually a lot of it is . its a work in progress and so on#im keeping this as a document on my computer to reference when i write. ill eventually do one for martinus' house too#ive just thought abt lfcs house more so far so hes first#martinus' house wont have a haunted level though. its only really applicable to lucius
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Sketchpage of Iris ft. Leo, Tilt, and a little of my headcanons about the bomber gal
Leo is my current High Card fave but god is Iris such a treat. She may only have a minute of screen time total throughout all 12 episodes but there's so much to be curious about. I want to know more about her and her relationship with Tilt and why she's so loyal to him but also the fact she's Leo's foil in the Klondikes makes me very :Dc about her too
(also the rightmost drawing is from my lil fanfic "I Hate You (I Know)" because im very self-indulgent lmao)
#Iris Moise#Iris#high card#highcard#leo constantine pinochle#i have so many headcanons about Iris like no joke#she's stoic and aloof and cold towards anyone not Tilt#who btw she sees like a big brother figure and kind of has an unhealthy attachment to him bc of it#but also her and Leo DO NOT get along because they see themselves in each other and hate it#(eventually they befriend each other though!!)#also im very much an Iris/Michelle type of gal but Leo/Iris feels like a fun ship too even if neither has canon basis#so far#actually im a Iris & Leo or Iris/Leo person and it's just a game of “if you ship it great but if not also great” w/ me#it's still a shame that episode 12 didn't see Leo briefly fighting against Iris in the palace attack#since she was implied to be there bombing things AND YET#after being shown at Tilt's side in episode 11 she just vanishes#im so curious about Iris she's so mysterious and yet also one of the Klondike's most powerful players#and ahhhHHH i wish we would've seen more of her this season but next season maybe OTL#guaranteed ill write a fanfic about her and Leo though because ive already started on one and it's kind of becoming a collection now
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Gosh I'm so overwhelmed with all the requests in my askbox. I'm trying to find ones to write for but there's so many, so...
If I delete the asks chances are I'll open up requests sooner. Keep in mind I am juggling multiple blogs so I can't guarantee immediate answering and quick speeds but it'll open up the asks a lot quicker than otherwise.
Thing is, I'd prefer not to get asked for the same asks again. So if there's an ask you sent that you desperately want done, you'll have to wait even longer for when I want to open the asks up to those. But if you didn't get a chance to request you'll be able to send something new in right away.
I'm making this poll because I don't want to be like 'haha whoopsie I deleted all the asks :))))' without any forewarning. So, this is your chance to decide.
#ieatsmallorphansnamedtom#my polls#sdv#stardew valley#sdv x reader#stardew valley x reader#sdv headcanons#stardew valley headcanons#sdv hcs#stardew valley hcs#btw theres 49 asks in there i think#THATS SO MANY!#personally ill be voting to delete but idk#let me know what you think#i will eventually open up to the older asks to be re-requested but if someone requests the same thing straight-up it will be ignored#i want to write for sdv so bad but i dont want to open up and be more overwhelmed#and i dont want to ignore peoples old asks without saying anything#ill work on the asks while the poll goes on#but dont be annoyed if i dont do yours
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OH FUCK BELOW ZERO'S FIRST ANNIVERSARY WAS THE 14TH!!!! I MISSED THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY!!!!!! I THOUGHT IT WAS TOMORROW!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#did everyone else forget or was i the only one planning on making a post :(#well. HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BZ... I LOVE YOU THROUGH YOUR FLAWS.....#flaws include: froze to death on land and lost an entire inventory of items (tools and 1 titanium not included)#but upon returning to the exact location every single item was gone (AN ENTIRE INVENTORY BESIDES ONE FULL TOOLBAR AND A TITANIUM)#and also there was a piece of titanium that stayed put in the purple vents through three reloads in that same file#that one hurt me deep bz. it hurt me DEEP. but i FORGIVE YOU. DO NOT BREAK MY TRUST AGAIN#bz my beloved <3#also unrated but like. subzero still sounds so much cooler than subnautica below zero. and its so much more fun type subzero#so like#subzero my beloved <3#ANYWAYS. RARE UNSCHEDULED POST. IM TIRED AND I NEED TO WRITE SO MANY THINGS DOEN FOR MY WRITING BUT IM NOT#GOOD W WRITING THINGS DOWN I LIKE THEM TO LIVE IN MY BRAIN UNTIL I DUMP THEM IN A DRAFT#BUT ITS ALL JUST STRINGS OF LORE OR INFO ABOUT VARIOUS DIFFERENT THINGS AND I CANT JUDT STORE IT ALL ILL FORGET#THESE FINAL TAGS HAVE NOTHIN TO DO WITH SUBNAUTICA I JUST. VENTING MY ONE CHRONIC FORGET YOUR STORY BRAIN CELL.#THANK YOU FOR LISTENING ILL FINISH MY MARG FANFIC EVENTUALLY I PROMISE!!!!! THIS YEAR IS THE YEAR!!!!#subnautica#below zero#subnautica below zero
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The thing I love about Hbomberguy’s latest video essay on plagiarism is it really gets to the root of why someone plagiarises, which in turn reassures the audience of the soundness of their own creative process and that of the creatives they love. He spends so much time praising and analysing the difference between derivative works (non-negative) and plagiarised works that it reassures and broadens the knowledge of other creatives and of the audiences consuming their works, which in turn helps assuage any unconscious reactionary feelings of “But this other creative I love does something slightly similar”.
As someone who writes, and as someone who went through the churn-em-out of the modern university degree system and all the plagiarism anxiety that comes with that, the topic of copying and mimicking other creatives is a heavy and ill-understood topic in so many spaces. The education system, at least in my country, went from encouraging rote-learning and copying by rewarding those who best memorised answers previously learned (e.g. exam answer schedules, memorising the wording of pre-practiced essays) to encouraging original thought in extensively-written about topics for essays. It’s very hard not to feel like you’re plagiarising when you’re one of 300 first year law students writing about a a topic from one very in-depth source that you’ve studied in class and three smaller ones, and Turnitin has put in your mind that the MOST important thing you can do for this essay is not to pass it, but to reword it well enough not to get caught up in this plagiarism detector. And I can recognise my behaviours in what Hbomberguy identifies - I remember minute-before-the-deadline essays where I was guilty of padding out my biography with sources from my sources, and can think of phrases or techniques of writing I’ve read in books that I sometimes worry might come through in my writing in a way that feels like stealing.
Plagiarism anxiety is real, and it’s fed by a lack of understanding around what plagiarism is and where it comes from. Hbomberguy is so right for complimenting a bunch of lame youtubers for the enthusiasm with which they openly bounce off of other people’s ideas. This collaborative method of creating where ideas are taken and passed on due to love of the craft can feel derivative eventually - but taken within a body of work where the creator is riffing or paying homage to and not merely regurgitating others success is at the heart of where any meaningful success and love for the medium lies. Creators need to be coming from a place of genuine enthusiasm and respect - it’s when they dont, when they’re looking down on others, that we see these behaviours emerging.
And that helps identify the urges within ourselves, and know more firmly whether what we’re doing is tribute or theft, including the many not just acceptable but positive ways of referencing back to sources and inspiration. It helps us tell when we ourselves are genuinely trying to pay homage and when we are treading the more murky waters of unfair attribution. So thanks Hbomberguy for dumbing down this topic in the most relatable but inaccessible-by-length way possible, as per usual.
#continually impressed with the way he manages to add to conversations tbh#hbomberguy#breadtube#video essays#james somerton
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to leave the warmest bed i've ever known
pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara
summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office
warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death
word count: 4.1k
notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)
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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.
You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.
Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.
Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.
You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.
When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late.
How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.
Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.
The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.
The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.
Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.
That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.
“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.
“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.
“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.
The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.
“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?�� he questioned.
“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”
Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.
He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”
He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.
“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”
You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”
He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end.
“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.
Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.
First though, you had to find Gwen.
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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao
NEXT CHAPTER
#miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#into the spider verse#spider-woman reader#across the spiderverse#fem!reader#fanfic#fanfiction#spiderman#spider man#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderverse
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part 1 of something specific
TG: oh my god you get it
CG: OF COURSE I FUCKING DO, DAVE. I’LL ALLOW MYSELF CREDIT FOR ONE GOOD THING, AND THAT’S THE FACT THAT I KNOW HOW TO CONSUME MEDIA CORRECTLY.
TG: you understand me
TG: so many damn times ive tried to turn john over on this business and he doesnt listen
TG: like you dont need to be gay to see how naruto and sasuke are the romance of the fuckin century man its not rocket science dare i say it is elementary level
CG: IT’S BASIC READING COMPREHENSION, I AGREE.
CG: I’M NOT ABOUT TO EVEN *TRY* TO UNDERSTAND EARTH’S BIASES TO CERTAIN FORMS OF ROMANCE, BUT IS IT LITERALLY JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE BOTH GUYS?
TG: i dunno i dont think hes like
TG: homophobic or something
TG: i think if anyone is the number one ally to anything its probably john yknow hed have your back bro if you were all up and being bisexual on earth and people werent scrambling hand over foot away from you because youre an alien
TG: but just because you were that
TG: thing
TG: bisexual
CG: YEAH, THAT THING.
TG: he wouldnt care man
TG: he wouldnt give a shit or fuck about it probably
CG: SPEAKING OF LABELS THOUGH!
TG: aw man are you about to pull out the quadrant shiz on my boys
TG: are you gonna tell me naruto and sasuke got a hate on for each other or something cus thats
CG: OH JEGUS NO, DAVE. THAT WOULD BE COMPLETELY MISSING THE POINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP’S GROWTH AND THEIR ENTIRE DYNAMIC, NEVERMIND THE PURPOSE OF THE STORY ITSELF.
TG: alright lay it on me shercock homos ill be your watson watching you with the big twinkling eyes of a newborn fawn
TG: sleuth this shit like you were there when kishimoto invented it
TG: his alien understudy rises from the caverns of anime hell clutching the scroll of one universally understood truth and with his otaku disciples there to listen he takes a deep breath and delivers his groundquaking sermon to the masses
TG: jesus take the mic
CG: I’M CLUTCHING THE MICROPHONE IN MY CALLOUSED AND BONE-DRY TOUCHSTUMPS, BODY WEARY AND ON THE BRINK OF CAVING IN ON ITSELF, BUT I SPEAK WITH A STALWART DETERMINATION THAT WILL RING TRUE THROUGHOUT THE COSMOS FOR SWEEPS TO COME. THEY WILL WRITE MY FUCKING WORDS IN THE STARS, DAVE. IT’LL BE ALL THEY HAVE LEFT OF ME EVENTUALLY, BECAUSE I’LL PREACH IT HARD AND FEVERISH UNTIL THIS MORTAL COIL DECIDES IT’S FINALLY HAD ENOUGH OF PUTTING MY PATHETIC HALF-CORPSE THROUGH THE RINGER BY MAKING ME GET UP EVERY MORNING LIKE IT’S SOME KIND OF JOKE, AND FINALLY LETS ME KEEL OVER. THAT, DAVE, IS MY CRUCIFIXION. IT REPEATS ITSELF, OUROBOROS-LIKE, EVERY CYCLE, AND MAY WELL LAST UNTIL THE COLLAPSE OF PARADOX SPACE ITSELF SINCE THEY APPARENTLY FIND IT SO INCREDIBLY HILARIOUS. THEY BETTER MARTYR THE FUCK OUT OF ME. YOU BETTER PERSONALLY SEE TO IT THAT I AM MARTYRED TO *SHIT*.
TG: done and done
CG: THANK YOU. WHERE WAS I? OH RIGHT. NARUTO SHIP ANALYSIS.
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ghostie | c.b.
pairing: colby brock x fem!reader
summary: you met something very cute while waiting for boys to be done with exploring haunted place and decided to keep it.
warnings: fluff, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english is not my first language), wasn’t proofread
pictures are from pinterest:)
You were sitting in the back of Sam’s car waiting for Sam, Colby, Seth and Nate to be done with exploring the haunted house.
You were supposed to be with them inside but because you felt ill earlier, you decided to stay in warm of the car, especially with the bad weather outside.
You knew it could even be hours till Sam and Colby will be done there but you weren’t complaining. Car was warm and you had a blanket, snacks, water and your phone so you were sure you wouldn’t die from boredom.
Currently you were watching old episodes of grey’s anatomy. No matter how many times you rewatched this show, you still were amazed by Addison’s entrance.
You were so into your show that you almost didn’t hear silent groan from under the car. Key word - almost.
Your first reaction was of course uneasiness, you were in a driveway of a haunted house so of course many possibilities went through your mind.
Then you heard it again and for sure, unless something wanted to lure you by pretending to be some animal, it wasn’t a ghost or some dark entity.
You were almost sure it was meowing of a cat, eventually really weirdly sounding dog.
But what concerned you was the fact that sound was coming from under the car and it didn’t sound nice. From just the sound of it you could say that the animal was scared and maybe even hurt.
So of course you did the only logical thing. You got out of the car and got on your knees to look under the vehicle. Rain was now pouring on you and you were sure your pants are already stained with dirt and water.
But there it was. Meowing silently, black cat was sitting probably trying to escape the cruel rain.
From its stained with dirt fur you deduced he must be a stray.
You carefully reached your hand in its way to see if it would escape but little creature only smelled it and went for pets. You peted it with smile and then you carefully lifted it from under the car and into your arms just to see that it was a girl.
“Hi baby, what are you doing here? Are you hurt?” you asked in baby voice and got into the warm car with cat in your arms “Do you have an owner baby?”
After moment of silence while you were petting her, you made a decision.
“Well, now you do have an owner. Even two owners” you smiled at her. Apart from dirt on her fur you didn’t saw any wounds so you carefully placed the cat on the blanket and reached for water to give it to her.
“What should I call you, hm?” you thought for a moment “Since you were here with ghosts maybe I will call you Ghostie? I think Colby will like it. Do you like it?” you observed the cat while she was drinking from your hand “I know animals don’t like visiting vet but we have to check you for wounds and some shit like flies, baby.”
You knew she wasn’t an old cat, for sure not older than few months so it broke your heart how someone could possibly leave that baby outside. Especially with that weather. It was certain death for that young animal.
After some time, in which you told Ghostie about Colby, you noticed Sam, Colby, Nate and Seth leaving the house so you quickly covered Ghostie with the blanket and your body.
You knew you would have to eventually tell boys about her but you decided it’s better for them to cool down after exploring first and then visit the vet.
You only hoped that Ghostie will be silent on your way home.
After few minutes while boys were saying goodbye to theirs guests, they got into the car and you asked “How was it?”
“It was great, love! We got so many evidences on the camera.” Colby smiled at you and started telling you everything about their investigations with Sam adding something sometimes.
So far your plan was working. You were already in LA, almost in your house and neither Colby or Sam noticed the presence of a little cat.
But unfortunately, Ghostie felt left out by boys and demanded attention by really loud meow.
Your eyes immediately got wide while Colby looked in the direction of the sound - your direction, and Sam narrowed his brows but didn’t looked away from the road.
“Y/n? What was that?”
“Why it sounded… like a cat?” asked Sam and you laughed awkwardly.
But you didn’t have to explain yourself. Ghostie did that for you by jumping out from where she was bundled in the blanket and got onto your boyfriend’s laps, demanding pets.
“And who’s that?” asked Colby while giving the cat pets she was asking for, but also looking back at you with something that was between amusement and resignation. He already knew what happened.
“Why there’s cat in my car?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, by the way Sam, turn left and go to nearby vet, please.” you asked and then you looked at Colby and laughed awkwardly again “Guess the cat’s out of bag now.”
He just sighed and shook his head.
“Does it have an owner?”
“Yeah” you nodded “Us.”
Colby looked at you with wide eyes.
“You don’t know if it had owners before?” he asked and you shyly shook your head “So you basically stole a cat?”
“She was under the car while I was waiting for you guys! And look at her, it’s obvious she was a stray.”
Colby only sighed but you could tell. He didn’t mind it, he just wasn’t expecting it.
“Her name is Ghostie.” you added silently and you could see that Colby was starting to smile.
“I like it.” he said and you bit back a wide smile that wanted to appear on your face.
“We’re here guys.” Sam announced parking next to an animal clinic.
You got out of the car with Colby while Sam declared he will wait in the car.
“I hope you know it was irresponsible.” Colby said to you while taking your hand with his free one and with the other one still holding Ghostie.
“Yeah, but you want to keep her.” you stated with a smirk and he only rolled his eyes and held door open for you.
“Whatever.” he snorted and kissed your forehead before heading to receptionist’s desk.
Now you were officially a family of three.
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that anon is a genuis? the showering one 🥺
okay okay I’m still gonna write a full on fic but I wanted to do the showering together rn because I have no shame, but but I hope you enjoy this lil fluffy thing
take care of you (2.k words)
lando norris x fem!reader sickfic
You were never sick, and that’s why Lando was getting worried. The both of you had always laughed at the thought of being ill, boasting a little too much about your amazing immune systems and now it’s come to bite you in the ass.
It had started as - what you thought was - a hangover, having a little too much to drink at the bar where Max had practically forced you to come two days ago. Lando hadn’t really been feeling it, still a little sore from the race a few days prior and in need of a night in where he could just relax. But you’d both gone eventually, had a good time and then you’d woken up violently ill the next morning.
Lando had set aside his aversion to vomit, quietly gagging as he tried to nurse you back to health. But it had become clear that it wasn’t just the aftermath of the night before coming to haunt you. Your nose had turned stuffy, voice hoarse and your fevers were running high. Dangerously so. Lando had never seen you so drained of energy before and it was starting to scare him.
He’d ignored your protests of staying away, not wanting him to catch whatever the fuck was making you feel like death was knocking on your front door but Lando was nothing but stubborn, glaring angrily at you when you tried to wave him off.
Max had dropped in to dump a plastic bag of medicine and everything a pharmacy held before fleeing, saying that whatever you had, he didn’t want it. You just wished Lando had the same attitude.
You didn’t want to admit it out loud though, that a part of you was glad that you had your best friend by your side to look after your basic needs when you couldn't. He always ran cold and it was a great advantage as he sat by your side as you went in and out of consciousness, placing his chilly hand on your forehead and cheek to hopefully stave off the fever.
By day two, he’d had enough. His stomach was twisting in worry, and he’d rang his mum three times - looking for advice or anything to help with her in a different country. You’d been a little delirious, skin slick with sweat as you laid on the bed; barely conscious and drifting between that place where you're not quite lucid, but you're also not completely knocked out. Lando would’ve thought that you were sleeping if it weren’t for the mouth breathing and little whimpers you occasionally let out when the pain in your head spiked out of nowhere.
It was three in the morning when you sniffled, waking up from your doze and blinking at him. You looked so miserable that he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you, brushing a few strands of hair sticking to your forehead and ignoring the fact that your hair was absolutely soaking. Anxiety was already gripping his heart in a fist and he couldn't handle feeding into it anymore, in fear of it bursting at the seams.
“Do you need anything?” He asked, voice quiet as to not worsen your headache but you still groaned like he’d put a megaphone to your ear and screamed into it.
You made a pathetic attempt at shaking your head, and the little gesture made him smile in endearment when you nuzzled the side of your face against the pillow; squishing your nose and mouth into the damp fabric.
“No.” You murmured. “‘s so hot.”
He glanced at the one too many covers and blankets on you, thinking that maybe he’d gone overboard with his mum’s advice to ‘let you sweat your fever out’.
“I know, bug.” He frowned a little. “You’ll be okay soon.”
“I feel like I’ve taken a nap in the devil’s arse.” You complained and Lando laughed, a bit relieved that your humour was still there.
He thought back on his mum’s advice that he’d immediately brushed off with heated cheeks as soon as the words left her mouth. Let her have a shower, it’ll do wonders for her, poor girl.
How was Lando supposed to get you in the shower when you hadn’t even left the bed for days? He glanced down at you and sucked his teeth, hands going to push the covers from your body before he could second guess himself. You made a sound of confusion when he grabbed at your hands, helping you sit up.
“What are you doin’?” Your speech was a little slurred, exhaustion clinging to your very soul and Lando ignored the pang in his chest at your rare vulnerability.
He’d ever only seen you like this when you were pissed out of your mind drunk, or when you were really sad. Or sick.
“We’re taking a shower.” He said, helping you stand up and you went easily, leaning heavily on him because the room was fucking spinning and he’d just said we.
The slow realisation made you yelp as he walked the both of you to the bathroom, and you gripped his hoodie in your hands in a lousy effort to stop him from walking any further.
“We? You’re not seeing me naked.” You said, feeling a little panicked at that thought.
Lando gave you a look you couldn’t decipher, pushing the door open with his foot and guiding you inside. He flipped down the toilet seat lid and gently sat you down and any other day you would've laughed at how much he acted like his mother when she fussed over her son or even you.
“Then we’re showering in our clothes.” He said, like it was that simple but it really wasn't that simple.
“We’re not.” You frowned but immediately stopped because fuck, that hurt your head. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll shower tomorrow when I've got my strength up.”
“You said that yesterday. You’re literally laying in your pool of sweat.” He pointed in the direction of your bedroom as if to get his point across and your mouth pursed in displeasure.
“You said you wouldn’t mention that.”
Lando’s eyebrows climbed to his forehead in exasperation and you flushed hotly. It was embarrassing and he’d promised not to make fun of you. Not that he was making fun of you, but still.
“You’re being an idiot.” He said, watching you pout a little at that and immediately feeling bad. He backtracked. “I mean… I don’t want you feeling faint and falling when I’m not here. I promise I won’t be a creep and look.”
You narrowed your eyes in disbelief and Lando placed both of his hands on his hips as he exhaled, the tips of his ear turning a nice shade of pink.
“Fine. I won’t look too much.” He swept a hand in the air. “Can we please get you in the shower? You’re starting to stink.”
“Now you know how I feel every day around you.” You muttered, ignoring Lando as he repeated your words in a mocking tone. “Okay, can you at least just… Look away?”
He regarded you with a contemplative look before nodding slowly, turning around and you stared at his back for a few seconds before starting to undress. Lando was patient, keeping his eyes firmly on the sink as he heard the shuffle of clothes and your noises behind him. You made a small sound that let him know that you were done and he stretched a hand out without turning or looking, offering his support as you stepped into the shower with weak legs.
You didn’t want to admit that he was right. You were in no shape or form to wash yourself without risking blacking out, but Lando thankfully didn’t say a thing as he let you draw the shower drapes to cover you.
You stood quietly, shivering and a little nervous as you heard him undress, nausea roiling your stomach and tying it into knots and you couldn’t figure out if it was because you were nervous or simply sick. It must’ve been a combination of two, you decided, thoughts spiralling until Lando’s voice echoed in the bathroom.
“You okay?” He asked and you nodded before you realised that he couldn’t see you.
“Yeah.” You flattened your palm against the tiled wall when you started feeling a little dizzy, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can you hurry? I’m feeling sick.”
The weakness in your voice must’ve triggered your best friend into action because he pulled the drapes aside and stepped in, grabbing your hand like it was a normal and every day occurrence to be standing in the shower. Naked.
You opened your eyes to find him looking intensely at your face, eyebrows pulled together worriedly and you gave him a shaky smile.
“Do you wanna lean on me?” He asked, tilting his head to look you in the eyes.
You were about to shake your head when you felt your world tilt on its axis, stumbling a little and Lando was quick to wrap his arms around you. He pulled you into his embrace and took some of your weight off your feet, trying not to think about how incredibly naked and warm you were against him.
He exhaled, feeling your hands weakly rest on his back; like you were welcoming his help and it made something warm bloom in his chest.
“I’m going to turn the shower on now, okay?” He walked the two of you to the corner before reaching back and turning the knob.
There was a sputtering sound before the spray came, and you could feel the cold mist as the shower head splattered cold water by your feet. You hummed in delight, leaning your forehead against Lando’s shoulder and closing your eyes.
“I feel like shit.” You confessed quietly between the two of you and Lando’s hand came up to brush the hair down your neck in quiet comfort. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Don’t mention it. You know I always will.” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite decipher, but you let it go when he took a step back into the shower once he’d deemed it warm enough.
The lukewarm water felt like heaven as it pelted down the both of you, washing away the sweat and everything you’d managed to accumulate these past few days. You hummed in pleasure, feeling your hair soak and you pushed your head off his shoulder to look at your best friend.
He was busy making out the hundreds of different bottles, looking lost before he finally found the shampoo bottle. The sight would’ve made you laugh if you had any strength left, but you settled for an amused smile that Lando clocked as soon as he turned his attention back to you.
“Shut up.” He said, seeing the clear laughter in your eyes and you raised your eyebrows as if to say hey, I didn’t say anything. “Turn around and let me wash your hair.”
You weren’t about to protest, doing just that and placing the palm of your hand against the wall to keep yourself upright.
Lando quickly washed your hair, the suds of the shampoo sliding down your face and getting in your eyes and it wasn’t as relaxing as one would’ve thought but he did the job and you couldn’t complain. He even went as far as conditioning your hair, rinsing it off gently before you offered to do the same for him.
“You don’t have to do that.” He scrunched his nose. “You look like you’re two seconds away from falling asleep.”
“Put your head down and shut up. Let me wash your hair.” You tried to sound stern, but you ended up sounding a little ridiculous with your stuffy nose and Lando grinned before complying.
The smile on his face vanished when he realised that he had, in the process, put himself in direct eyesight of your naked body and he struggled not to tense up as he heard the cap of the bottle pop, staring hard at your bare feet instead.
You did a way better job at washing his hair, digging your nails pleasantly around his skull and massaging his curls thoroughly before rinsing the suds off. Lando didn’t realise how relaxed he’d became until he tried to stand upright, hair drooping over his face and dripping wet.
His breath stuttered when you let out a hoarse laugh, pushing the hair out of his face and the movement was so intimate that Lando had a hard time breathing, wondering what the fuck was happening.
You didn’t seem bothered by the gesture though, none the wiser as you picked up a loofah and pushed it into his hands. He blinked down at it like it was a foreign object, trying to make sense of what exactly you were asking of him.
“You want me to wash you?” His voice went high, almost in a squeak and you shot a questioning look at him.
“Yes.” You decided on replying before frowning, adding: “Is that weird? I can do it if —“
“No, no. Um, I can do it, just —“ He was flustered, turning a little in the small space of your shower and trying not to yelp when his arm brushed your naked skin. “Body wash. I need body wash.”
Your face was on fire, watching him pop the cap of the body wash and ripping it off in the process. He made a little sound in his throat but didn’t dare to pick the broken cap off the floor, squirting the liquid onto the loofah before waving it in front of you.
You turned around, figuring that it was maybe a little easier if you weren’t in each others faces and Lando must’ve felt the same because he blew out a breath and started washing your back, albeit a little timidly.
He gained confidence after a few moments, finishing scrubbing you before doing himself and you didn’t call him out on him using your sponge because really, he’d probably done it a million times whenever he showered at your place.
The both of you stepped out, and he was there to immediately wrap you up in a towel before doing the same to himself. You didn’t want to acknowledge your heart, how it was speeding up abnormally so at the sight of him and how sweet he was being. Taking care of you, sending updates to your mum with how you were and assuring her that you were being taken care of. He knew how much of a worrier she was, and it made something immense swell in your chest as he rubbed a second towel over your hair, gentle and so very careful not to snag your hair or accidentally hurt you.
“What?” He halted when he pulled the towel away, revealing your face and your eyes staring at him. He wasn’t sure if it was the shampoo that had gotten in your eyes but they looked like they were on the verge of welling up.
“Nothing.” You replied, voice thick and so obviously lying but Lando didn’t touch on the subject. He made sure to ask later, when the air wasn’t so charged and you weren't teetering on the brink of death.
“Get into bed, I’ll bring you fresh clothes.” He said as he steered the both of you back to your bedroom. Lando stopped as he eyed your bed, a little critically. “You know what, let’s go to the couch instead.”
You laughed, voice a little thick and you reached a hand to weakly slap at his arm.
“What?” He grinned. “We need to change the sheets. Or maybe even burn them.”
“You’re a prick!” The way your voice cracked made Lando cackle, yelping when you shoved him a lot harder than he had anticipated.
Your words may have sounded malicious, but there was an undertone that your best friend couldn’t help but latch onto.
It sounded a lot like, I love you.
don't look at me, i love pain. anyways, hope you enjoyed this little drabble as i go crawling back into my cave to write something better than this. (also how did this turn into 2.6k words? i need help)
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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘
𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰
𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊
wc - 5.7k
warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn?
notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!!
anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥
Lonely girl looking for owner.
Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him.
At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.
Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are.
You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox.
From: squeakycleanscot
Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl
Hi,
Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.
I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.
When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them.
I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)
Happy to send a picture if you'd like :)
Hope to hear from you soon,
Johnny.
Johnny.
You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind.
Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious.
You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.
hi johnny,
scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound?
it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;)
cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby.
i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3
if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay?
have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences!
y/n
As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird?
You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up.
Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.
Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;)
I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers.
I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind.
Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol
Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post.
His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for.
You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting.
Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man.
looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?
i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic?
barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)
same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay?
Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too.
Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate.
It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach.
Clearly, he's a softie at heart.
When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message.
Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :)
You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere...
It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.
You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.
Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.
holyfwucj
holy fuck
Like what you see?
i need a hug from you urgently.
now i feel shy...
It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck.
Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance.
Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal.
You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go.
Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you.
I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie.
okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!!
Holy fuck yourself.
And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background.
If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.
sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep.
Can you do me a favour?
That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you.
depends on what it is!
Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah?
does that mean you're coming for me?
One day, if we're both lucky.
seems promising so far, Johnny.
Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell.
The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible.
how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean!
Patience, bonnie. Be good for me?
You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.
It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave.
okay, but I see how this is going to be :(
Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;)
now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny...
Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?
cuddling up to barnaby now.
You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets.
talk tomorrow?
Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3
You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness.
For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight.
He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.
-//-
Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar.
The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.
Good morning, sweet girl.
Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in.
He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you.
morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep?
Like a baby. Yourself?
not the best, but I swear you were in my dream.
Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do?
I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though.
You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.
My dreams were shite, you didn't show up.
i'll try harder to be there tonight!!
Promise?
promise.
God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into.
You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation.
You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information?
It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.
With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.
What's your plan for the day?
lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu?
I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can.
On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there.
You rush to follow up your message with something else.
will you still be able to call tonight?
Aye, give me your number, I'll save it!
You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.
The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.
Cute profile pic on whatsapp.
Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.
it was Halloween, I swear!!
You make an adorable little kitten, lass.
imagination running wild now? ;)
Aye, but I'm a gent.
hopefully not always...
Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty.
talk to you then <;3
Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice.
What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears?
The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.
Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home.
You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer.
It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you.
You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.
i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!!
Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.
i can tell <3
Ready to call?
whenever you're ready!
The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat.
"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too.
"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak.
A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident.
You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?"
He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise."
Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face.
"I like yours too, you sound so sweet."
You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes."
"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?"
"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..."
"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then."
"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive.
"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite."
"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar.
A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass."
"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.
"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten.
The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating.
"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing."
"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."
If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more."
He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."
"Now I'm pouting."
"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver.
"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy.
"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips."
You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Might not be gentle with you, though."
"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.
"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth."
"You have no idea..."
He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie."
"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone."
He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head."
"You're already making good progress." You admit.
"Oh aye?"
You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight."
"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.
"Already spoiling me, too."
Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.
"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine."
You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?"
"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh.
While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise.
"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life.
In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?"
"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt.
If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you."
There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air.
"Hard to come by, I've found."
The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love.
You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?"
"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing.
"That's... horrible."
Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.
"A few of the lads here have a similar story."
"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.
"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?"
"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course."
At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye."
You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling."
"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone."
"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow."
"So do I, alarms set for 4."
You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.
"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand.
"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?"
You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest."
"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much."
You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"
"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder.
"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?"
"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy."
Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."
"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there."
"Well, I wouldn't be opposed."
"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken.
"Oh yeah?"
He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?"
"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.
"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me."
"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke."
"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.
"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though."
"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."
You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!"
"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice.
"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that."
"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling.
"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side.
"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy."
You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked."
"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation.
"Mhmm."
"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.
When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive."
You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything."
"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs.
"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."
Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.
"You like the military get up?"
"Love it, more than I probably should."
"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?"
"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?"
"Sergeant."
"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?"
"Mactavish."
Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.
"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders.
"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs.
"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title.
The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.
"What else do you like to be called?"
"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir."
"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt.
"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie."
"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.
"Aye, spanking arm at the ready."
"My pouting lips are ready."
"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."
Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it.
Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot."
The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.
The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.
As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake.
"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.
"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking."
"Me either, but av got bad news."
You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on."
"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome.
"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am.
"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?"
"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.
"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."
Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"
"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?"
"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane."
Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'"
You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you."
"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."
Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?"
"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime."
And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.
"Yeah?"
You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please."
His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday."
"5 whole days."
"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?"
You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?"
Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass."
"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon."
"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."
You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead.
#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#call of duty fanfiction#call of duty x reader#call of duty fanfic#soap mw2#this is a crime against literature i swear#also a crime against graphic design#crimes all round???#anyway posting and pretending this doesnt exist so the self loathing goes away xox#aaaaaaaaaaah#collars and cages
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Your angst fic had made me go into angst creative mood. Twisted wonderland Character/s of your choosing of younger sibling that have chronic illness but hide it from their family. Often when to the toilet to cough out blood to avoid suspicious. Even went as far as asking the dr to keep it a secret because they don't want to burden their family and wanted them to enjoy their life because they already suffer so much and the distance actually help. Until sibling collapse and went into coma and the Dr had to break the news that they don't have much time left.
If it not to much- I'm feeling very angsty-
Oh my the heavy angst. This is so sad tho but I love it. These actually ended up longer than I thought they would be. I just had too many thoughts and it hurt my soul to write this because it's so sad but I enjoyed it
sorry not sorry if anyone cries <3
Characters: Leona, Idia, and Malleus
warnings: Mentions of blood, implied reader death, angst, no happy ending
Request rules and Masterlists
Leona:
you knew you should tell Leona about your condition
he was your older brother and he should know
but Leona was pretty protective and would drive himself mad demanding that somebody find something to help you
and he would spend all of his time worrying and fussing over you
so you didn't tell him
you wanted him to enjoy things and be happy
he's already struggled so much growing up and you don't want to burden him more
also you wanted to peacefully enjoy the time you had with everyone without a lingering sadness in the air
so you pleaded with the doctor to keep it a secret
and thankfully they did
all you had to do was hide the blood that you may cough out
so your bathroom trips became more frequent
Leona even joked that you should see the doctor about how much you have to go to the bathroom
but he didn't know the truth, and he was happy
that's all you wanted
until one day you woke up feeling weaker
you tried to fight it and carry on as you normally would
but for some reason you just couldn't
it was when you were walking in botanical garden towards Leona
black spots started to cloud your vision and you felt like you lost control of your body
the last thing you heard was Leona shouting
Leona was very worried when he saw you collapse
and you weren't responding to him either
he rushed you to the infirmary as quickly as he could and demanded that the doctor sees you immediately
when the doctor tells him that you're in a coma and don't have much time left, he's angry
how could you not tell him about your illness
he would've tried to help you if you just told him
Leona will spend most of his time by your side, waiting for you to wake up
he's not going to waste a moment somewhere else
he doesn't know what to do with himself
he's so angry with himself for not knowing sooner and not being able to do anything
you have to wake up, you just have to
Idia:
the Shroud family was a strange one
most of the family were shut-in's that were pretty isolated and lonely
your big brother Idia was a prime example of this
he spent most of his time behind the screens and barely interacted with other people
and he didn't really have friends either
both you and Ortho wanted him to be happy
and that's why you didn't tell him about your illness
if he knew he would isolate himself further and bury himself in trying to help
he would sacrifice his own health for the sake of you
and you couldn't let that happen
though you did hope that somehow he would be able to be happy and have a friend before your illness took over
it was difficult to keep it hidden
Ortho regularly does scans on you and Idia's health so he knows if something is wrong
so he knew, but you had to convince him not to tell Idia
it was a long process and filled with tears but he gave in eventually
and so when you would spend time with Idia, Ortho would be a little sad but hide it well
when you made and excuse of going to the bathroom Ortho knew what was happening and would make up some excuse to Idia about you drinking a lot of water or something
but then one day you were walking through the school halls with Ortho and Idia's tablet
it hit you so suddenly that you didn't even have time to react
as you coughed you could feel the blood sputter out and onto your chin
this coughing fit seemed worse than the rest and you couldn't stop
it hurt and even brought you down to the ground, and after a bit you passed out
Ortho was quick to help stabilize your condition and take you to the infirmary
all that came from the tablet was panicked noises and frantic questions
once the doctor checked up on your condition, he gave them the bad news
you had been sick for a long time and it's led you to a coma
with the way your condition was progressing, you didn't have much time left
Idia was so confused
how could both he and Ortho not notice especially when Ortho did health scans
but Ortho didn't answer and Idia could just tell that Ortho already knew
Night Raven College was buzzing with gossip that day
some were saying they saw Idia Shroud himself quickly walking through the halls and others denied that it couldn't be true
the notorious shut-in would never even leave his room or go outside Ignihyde
but the rumors were true
Idia Shroud had left his room and walked through the halls to the infirmary
and he stayed there all day constantly checking up on every little change in your condition
and when he wasn't checking on your condition he would sit there quietly and think
why did this have to happen?
why did it have to be you?
it wasn't fair
Idia was making the stressful trek through the halls every day so he could stay by your side in case you woke up
as he sat there he would play some of his video games and tell you all about it like he normally would, but this time you weren't able to respond
Malleus:
Malleus didn't have a lot of people he treasured in his life
those in Diasomnia were like his family, but you were actually his family so he treasured you dearly
he was always looking out for you and doing everything he could to make sure you were happy, and you wanted the same for him
so when the doctor had informed you of your illness and what would happen, you didn't want to tell him
Malleus would be crushed at the news
He had always been someone who was lonely
and you were like the one person he had that wasn't required to be around him
if he were to learn that you would soon be taken away from him, he wouldn't be able to cope
and you wanted to see him happy as long as you would be here
you couldn't tell him and instead kept it hidden from everyone
Malleus never questioned it much when you ran off to the bathroom
he would just ask if you were alright and once you said you were, he wouldn't ask past that
and so many days and even weeks past as you spent time with Malleus
he seemed happy and you were happy to see him like that
but it was when you were going on one of his gargoyle walks when the world started to spin
you wanted to ignore it and act natural before Malleus could notice, but it was all to much
your legs seemed more tired than usual and you fell to the ground
you could hear Malleus ask you repeatedly what was wrong but you couldn't answer
then the world faded to black
The great Malleus Draconia was terrified
you weren't responding to him and he didn't know what was wrong
his healing magic was amazing, but he couldn't heal injuries he didn't know about
so he picked you up and teleported the two of you to the infirmary
the doctor had to stop whatever they were already doing when the fae prince himself demanded his assistance
and the doctor checks up on you and tells Malleus everything
you were sick, now in a coma, and you were running out of time
the room was quiet for a minute as Malleus processed what the doctor said
and then, thunder
the worst thunderstorm Night Raven College has ever seen has been summoned
lightning was striking all around the campus and many students were taking shelter while terrified
but the infirmary was the safest place from the storm
Malleus sat by your side quietly pondering his thoughts
he was angry
not at you but at your illness for doing this to you, life for cursing you this way, and mostly at himself
he should've been able to see the signs before it got to this point
he should've been there for you
he should've helped you
how ironic it is that one of the most powerful mages was so helpless to save the one person they treasured most of all
Lilia, Silver, and Sebek came to find him after the storm started
and when they did, they didn't even say anything, but felt the heavy atmosphere
Lilia tried providing some comfort, but Malleus just stayed silent
for days after that, his three guards stood outside the infirmary and prevented anyone from disturbing the two of you
the storm persisted and Malleus never left your side
he would sit there for hours silently wishing for you to wake and be okay
even though he knew that was unlikely
but he wouldn't leave and possibly miss you waking up
that was simply one event he wouldn't miss
Malleus was never good at noticing how quickly time passed
but as he sat by your side, he was painfully aware of every passing second that you lie there
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland angst#twst angst#leona kingscholar#twst leona#twst leona x reader#leona x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#twst idia#idia shroud#idia x reader#idia shroud x reader#twst malleus#malleus draconia#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader
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I was thinking of this, if you'd be willing to write it, something based on "Redeemer" by Palaye Royale where simon's s/o is depressed and suicidal... it's ok if you don't want to thanks anyway luv ya<3
Every Step
Reader is struggling with their mental illness
A/N: This is a HUGE trigger warning, if you cannot read any sort of suicide please do not read. It gets dark in this one. And Anon! This really broke me, this song really just wow! Beautiful and damn sad. Good one 🖤
“Will you please pick up the phone?And I'm waiting for you to come home. And I'm screaming all on my own”
Warnings: suicide attempt, thoughts of suicide, depression, anxiety, mentions of anxiety attack, mental breakdowns, angst, soft!simon, husband!simon
simon x reader guide
simon x reader fluff/angst
You sat curled in the corner of your bedroom. Everything seemed to fall apart in the last 5 months. You had a job you loved just to be let go due to company being bought, your rent was becoming overdue for a month, job hunting going South, your family starting to become more distant after the death of your mother, and Simon and you have been at each others throats.
You have tried to just smile and move on, that life will eventually piece itself back together. Mask your true self-feelings. Even when Simon had been around it was ‘fake it to you make it.’ Little to your knowledge that he noticed, mind you, it wasn’t always your fault when starting fights. However, it was most. He would ask what was the matter and you would blow up.
You never mean to, never wanted to, that’s just how it goes when you get into these ruts. Just not too long ago you and Simon fought, it wasn’t pretty both things from each other were said that shouldn’t have been. Not meant. It got to the point where
Simon left the house, didn’t say a word and left.
You threw things, punched things, broke things. Now you are here, curled up with bloody knuckles and a stained red teared face. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there. Everything ran through your mind of what was going on. What has been happening. Your mind trailing to dark places. It started to panic you slowly, things you have never thought of before.
You thought about ways to make yourself not here anymore. Ways to make the pain go away. You thought how everyone around you would be better off than to handle a bitchy person. Simon would. Your parents would. You friends would. No one truly thought of you as important or loved. You were only loved because it was an inconvenience to them.
You looked at your bathroom and thought about all the pills that were stacked inside the cabinet. Sleep then not wake up. That would be the best way. No pain. You got up to walk to the bathroom, mind racing on how rude and feeling like you have been fake. You shut and locked the door, grabbing each bottle and opening them.
You heard a soft knock on the door then the handle moving. “Love, let me in,” Simon started to put things together, he didn’t hear the water but he did hear pills. Panic rushed through his veins. “Open this door now.” He was stern yet soft at the same time. That’s when he heard the soft crying.
Simon backed up to kick the door. One. Twice. And it slammed open, he scanned the room as you were in the corner in the bathtub. He looked at the pill bottles and froze. Empty. He stormed towards you with panic on his face. “How many!”
You cried even harder. You shook your head, as he grabbed your cheeks gently yet firm. “Y/N how fucking many!”
You looked at him your tears spilling harder. “None! I threw them down the drain!” Simon stood up quickly to look in the sink, the cover go on the drain open.
You sobbed harder as Simon inhaled deeply. He walked to you and gently picked you up. You leaned more into his chest and sobbed harder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You kept repeating.
Simon hushed you softly as he placed you on the bed with him following. Laying your head on his lap while he used his fingers to comb through your hair. You just sobbed and sobbed, it felt like hours until you were able to stop. It was silent. Dead silent.
Simon inhaled deeply. “What made you want to take ‘em?”
You sniffled a bit. “I don’t know.”
Simon’s heart hurt before remembering all the phone calls. All the ones he missed just to think it could have been your last. He knew that you were going through something, he tried to be there but you seem to push it off or push him away. “I don’t think anyone would miss me,” His mind lost track of his thoughts when you mumbled those words. “I have been so angry, so upset, and so not happy. I just thought that you and everyone else would be better off without me.” Your voice choked at the end as you sobbed again.
Simon felt his chest tighten, looking at his band on his ring finger. For better and for worse right? He couldn’t fathom the world without the woman he married. Has the last couple of months been hard? Yeah but both of you said in your vows, you would always be with each other. “Baby, I couldn’t live without you. It would-it would kill me.” Simon said softly feeling his throat closing. Softly gliding his finger over your stained cheek. “I’m sorry you felt like you weren’t loved or shown differently.”
You sighed as you started to calm down. “It’s not your fault.”
Simon slowly shifted you to look up from him from his lap. You could tell the worry and hurt in his eyes. The emotion that you caused, he frowned like he read your mind. “I think we should call your therapist.” Simon suggested softly rubbing your arm with one of hands.
You rolled your eyes sitting up, your back towards him. “I don’t need to see her. I can…”
“Baby you attempted...” He said his voice breaking a bit before sighing, he saw your shoulders tense then soften. He gently rubbed your shoulder. “Please.”
You nodded slowly as he heard sniffling. He stepped up and walked over to you kneeling in front of you. Simon’s expression softened even more as he watched you cry again. He rubbed his thumbs against your knees. You sighed and wiped your eyes. “I will call her tomorrow. Can you be next to me while I do so?”
Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ll even dial her up.” You half smiled and nodded placing a hand on his. “Let’s get food?”
You nodded and looked out in the hallway. “Can we eat in here and watch tv?”
Simon stood up and kissed your forehead closing his eyes. “Of ‘ourse.” He stood back having his hand on your cheek before grabbing out his phone. He glanced over at the door and the scene that was once live. His heart tightened. Simon will fight whatever demons you have, he won’t lose you. In sickness and health. He will be there every step of the way.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty modern warfare#simon ‘ghost’ riley#call of duty#call of duty mw2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x wife!reader#simon ghost riley angst#simon riley angst#anon asks#anon answered
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