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iicarused · 3 months

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More on that whole Alastor having a spouse thing (spoilers for ep5).

A dynamic I've had rotating in my mind is of Alastor having a partner who died and went to hell with him. They represent the stereotypical couple from their time and all around are just happy, despite being in hell. Before they died Al's darling helped him cover up his crimes. Being his alibi, lying to people and cleaning up any messes he might have accidentally left behind. Even on occasions helping him cook or even back using the meat he hunted for. And when they both eventually kicked the bucket they held those values as they did when they were alive.

From an onlookers perspective they come off as a couple who's madly in love with one another, still holding that adoration towards each other through the decades they've been together. They dance together, they hold hands, they kiss… But it's not love. Ok, let me rephrase that for you. They gouge out other people's eyes out of jealousy, they pick their next victims together, they have eachothers back through thick and thin. It's not love, it's deeper.

The thing about those two is that no one can really understand them, as cheesy as that sounds. It gives them a sense of solidarity, that there is no one else for them because there is no one else like them. They are the only ones they would consider… Equals. Heh, one of the reasons why they're so intertwined with each other is because they're both just so terrible. His darling spouse just seems more negotiable, but their passiveness is a ruse. Coming of as motherly/fatherly (whatever the gender neutral term is) easily reeling in any weak minded sinners. Their diabolical antis have Alastor weak. HAH, the demon/angel, whoever has Alastor on contract wishes they had this amount of power over him because he, is, whipped.

Oh, and we can't forget the hotel's residents finding out about Al's little darling doe. Either it was Alastor who mentioned them or Mimzy did through her retelling of how Al rose to power. Or they already meet them (Husker, Niffty), but nevertheless the crew has only heard good things about you. Much to their surprise considering how self centered the dear demon is, while Vaggie is weirded out by this her girlfriend is happy and wishes to meet them someday/night. And when they do meat? They weren't very surprised, they kinda already had an image of who they were due to Alastor's ramblings.

Holding you close he kisses your neck where the burn marks are most visible. You can feel his everlasting smile tugging into a frown against your skin, the mere thought of you taking your own life still makes him sick. How afraid you must have been without him. You lean back cupping his cheek with your hand looking deep into his sorrowful eyes. An unfamiliar look for the usually dapper man, it didn't suit him.

“There's no need to get so worked up over old scars dear, I don't, so why should you? Besides, I'm here now aren't i?”

At your words the radio demon saged and let out a content sigh, his lovely smile returning.

“Your right” he said, kissing the inside of your palm before returning back to snuggling with his lover.

…

I can't imagine the reader not having a twang to their voice, their own vibe, not radio per say but something like from this youtube clip. It probably wouldn't make sense for them to sound like that but I couldn't get it out of my head.

If there's one thing I love , it's when others explore the relationship between the two individuals before they went six feet down under. And one of those versions that i quite enjoy is Deer Dolly by ohproserpine check em out. And also, Where do I begin? on ao3 (be warned, for there is implication of SA in it, nothing too graphic but still, protective Alastro being protective, love it).

I think the appeal of Alastor was how different he was (except for in the creepy ass twink department, we've got plenty of those). Mainly in the way he was presented. “a show made independently, and the voice actors are making streams talking in their characters voices? Ö”. And everyone just ran with what they had, we were given just enough to fall for the colorful cast, enough to make fan content before the pilot was out. Like the dad jokes, fan animations, Alastor saying darling~ and the many accounts of them flustering Ashley, among other things :) (all the letters are links, haven't seen some of these in years dafuq). I'm surprised that not many people use what they said in the streams in their writings, I'd wish to see more of that. There's some real gold in there to be utilized.

But anyways, back to the topic at hand. There's always been one song I've associated Alastor with, since I was like 15 to16 years old, and it's something has to happen. Can't help but imagine a chase sequence whenever I listen to it, and I recently found some more inspiration in the form of this! and that.

He could smell the fear radiating from his prey, they ran with haste, trying to put distance between them and their pursuer. The demon chuckled to himself at their persistence. Such a lively prey they were, truly, he couldn't wait to hold them close to his chest, to trap them in the grip of his teeth, tearing tissue and bones in his jaws. Oh He loves them, he hunts them.

…

Man, I remember back in the day there were so many stories revolving around Alastor appearing in the living world to torment his darling, or to make a meaningful connection with them. But I've never seen one where his darling is his accomplice, helping him spread his “curse” onto unsuspecting victims. I got this idea from this piece of artwork by lanveril.

i remember the days of that too! it was such a great time of alastor and obsession fics yknow, but also small??? since it was just the pilot and we had a lot to toy around with. but you are so right about him and his s/o being a cheesy couple.

the sweetest couple on the block who seem very normal and overall a prime example of love. “darling, i have the meat!” and you would beckon him in the kitchen with a sweet smile so you could prepare it.

i think he would be a cliche husband, but also one who enjoys a little rough housing form time to time.

i had to gatekeep this ask for awhile mb LMFAOO i loved it so much😭

#★*#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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ms--lobotomy · 20 days

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This one's for the men in my audience. (It might end up being gn in the end, but I have a male reader in mind at the moment!) (Update: It's gn!) I have Angron on the mind, thank @angronsjewelbeetle and @kit-williams for that! Post nails AU.

Summary: You and Angron spend the first night together after the Nails are removed.

Content Warnings: Slight implication of sex,

Image Credit: @squishyowl

The bed was just large enough to fit him, which meant that it was far too large for you. You weren't complaining. It was largely for Angron, who was maybe twice your size. He was sitting at the side of the bed, clad in only a pair of cloth pants, looking down at you. The bandages were still wrapped around his head, obscuring rough scars from recent events. He regarded you with a soft expression, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Why don't you lay down?" you asked, scooting over in the bed.

He grunted, and shifted over onto the bed. The bed was mostly for you despite its size, but sometimes he would crawl in and cuddle with you, if you didn't go further. In the past, the metal made it so that your cuddle sessions wouldn't be long, and even then you felt bad about the grinding pain in his head. But maybe it would be different now.

He lay next to you, facing you. Your faces were inches apart. His garnet-red eyes were half closed, full of wonder and love. He slid a hand over your side, touching you as if he were touching you for the first time. He may as well have been.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice low and gentle.

"I..." he started, looking away for a second to gather his words. "It doesn't hurt."

You chuckled a little bit, your hands trailing to the sides of his face. They were almost laughably small against him. You ran your fingers along his scars, rough in your hands. He recoiled before steadying himself. His eyes widened and his mouth hung agape a little bit. You could feel him tense up in your hands.

"Don't worry," you said softly. "The Nails are gone. You're safe now."

He uttered your name, careful with it. You tensed up as you heard it, your hands freezing in place.

"Oh, uh... is this okay, darling?" you asked. You felt blood rush to your face.

In the dim light, you saw his eyes glisten. You felt him relax. "It feels nice," he rumbled, his hand light against you. He leaned into your touch, slightly nuzzling your hand. He looked at you with reverence, focusing on your lips.

You chuckled, your lips spreading into a wide smile. You relaxed against him before you pressed a light kiss to his forehead. The bandages tickled your nose where they slightly distended from his skin. He sniffed. His hand left your waist to grab a tissue before he turned over and cast it in the bin.

You knew what to do. "Oh, oh!" you exclaimed. "Keep facing that way. Please," you said.

"Why?" Angron asked, his voice slightly muffled.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, burying your head into the nape of his neck. His skin was rough against yours, bearing the scars of his share of battles fought. You brushed your lips against him, and he shivered against you. You ran your hand along his chest. He said your name again, his voice rumbling gently.

"Angron..." you replied, your voice muffled against his back. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and he shuddered. Your eyelids drooped, and your breathing was slow and warm against the back of his neck. You began to drift out of consciousness, but not before you heard the familiar soft snore of the man that you loved. You smiled as you begin to fade away. It was going to be a long road to recovery, but you were ready to face it with him.

#post nails au #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #angron x reader #angron #warhammer lobotomy

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apathyofthesympathetic · 1 year

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@somerandomdudelmao oops my hand slipped

Donnie smiled giddily to himself as he plugged the tiny cord into Casey’s mask, absolutely stoked by the opportunity to analyse and pick apart something of his own creation that he’s never seen before. The technology crammed into every nook and crevice of the mask had him smothering an excited churr, treacherous tail wagging non stop as he wondered what amount of data and information could await him.

He was, for once in his life, so incredibly glad Leo decided to open that big mouth of his. It was, after all, his comment that led to them addressing Donnie’s curiosity and Casey nonchalantly handing over his tech.

His computer takes a suspiciously long moment to download all of the data, and suddenly he’s met by at least three dozen folders and files, all storing incredible amounts of data by the looks of it. The majority of them were labelled in seemingly random letters and numbers, except there was something about it that felt more organised for the purpose of looking random rather than actually being random. He opened one of the folders and was met with more folders, maybe fifty of them, all labelled in various kinds of gibberish.

It took a good minute or two of wondering why the fuck would he organise files in such a way to recognise his simple-but-complicated titling system: the one Donnie’s been implementing into his recording files for years now. His brain began automatically translating the letters and numbers into their actual meaning, while something in the back of his mind screamed that this was an invasion of Casey’s privacy.

Donnie soon realised he folder he’s currently perusing should be labelled with the year, but was instead labelled with a simple 21. Maybe it meant 21 years into the apocalypse? Casey never said how long it lasted, but he did say he’s sixteen, so it’s not too far of a stretch of the imagination that the apocalypse could’ve lasted that long.

He’s clicking on another folder just as he realised the implications of there being recordings stored in Casey’s mask.

He was, essentially, perusing through Casey’s memories.

That was bad. That was an invasion of privacy, and he should absolutely be unplugging the mask and telling Casey about this (assuming he doesn’t already know), and yet.

And yet he doesn’t. And yet he doesn’t unplug the mask and he doesn’t delete the data, and he does select a random file and click onto fullscreen to watch something he may regret seeing.

He’ll only watch one.

Judging from the angle, the camera (probably something stored in the mask) was propped up against something, giving him a decent view of what looked to be some sort of medbay. Someone was lying beneath crisp white sheets on a bed mostly out of frame, and someone else…

…

Donnie was seated at a surprisingly old looking computer, typing furiously away at a speed that’s more than a little impressive for someone with six fingers. He’s hunched over in a way Donnie knew wasn’t comfortable as he worked, occasionally leaning forward and shifting more of his face into the view of the camera. He’s covered in scars of varying severity and age and appeared to have gained several more markings, including three purple stripes that trail from his chin down his neck. He’s significantly taller by the looks of it, and was wearing not only a version of his battle shell, but also his mask and goggles.

It’s kind of like looking into a warped mirror, even though Donnie could only see maybe a third of his torso, the rest hidden by the camera angle. It made the breath freeze in his chest as he watched this twisted version of himself work in silence, eventually slumping in his chair as he stared at the grainy image of his future self.

Donnie - the one in the video (he’s going to refer to him as Donatello for convenience’s sake) - paused his typing and leant forward, furrowing his brow - god he had worry lines - and frowning in a way easily recognisable as his ‘I’m talking to an idiot and I have to be civil about it’ face.

Donnie couldn’t look away, even though, objectively, nothing interesting was happening. His future counterpart was simply typing, working on something while guarding a sick or injured patient. He silently watched at least two minutes of Donatello typing monotonously before something interesting happened: the person on the bed shifts.

Donnie couldn’t see who the patient was thanks to the camera angle, but his curiosity was soon satiated at the awkward little “uhh” sound Casey let out, sounding noticeably younger. Donatello jolted so violently at the sound a keycap literally went flying, and the small corner of his face Donnie could see displayed a very complicated emotion. Donatello was up and exiting the frame in less than a second, presumably grabbing Casey’s arms while a limb from his battle shell extended to grab something above the camera. Casey had just enough time to ask “Uncle Tello?” (oh come on, Leo and Mikey get master but he gets uncle?) before Donatello was speaking overtop of him.

“How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No.“

“Hungry?”

“No?”

“Thirsty?”

“A little.”

Donnie heard another mechanical limb reach out and grab something, presumably a glass or mug.

“Want to destroy humanity?”

“Is that a symptom or a suggestion -“

“Do you need anything?”

“Umm…” A short second of silence. “Where is sensei? Is he okay?”

Donatello moved to sit on the edge of Casey’s bed, allowing a small portion of his body to be displayed to the camera.

“I remember I attacked him,” Casey continued, and okay, what??

“Yeah, well.” A small sigh. “You didn’t succeed.”

“But I tried,” Casey’s voice wavered, “he’s not mad at me, is he?”

“I don’t think so,” Donatello said, voice both soft and stern. “But he has his responsibilities, so he couldn’t stay here all day - he tried though.”

“Hm.”

Donnie could practically feel his future self panicking through the screen - thankfully, though, he seemed to be saved by the proverbial bell, and faint footsteps became audible as two people rapidly approached the medbay. Donnie managed to catch the end of “pretend I’m dead, and use your brain instead of mine for once” as he heard mechanical doors slide open, light illuminating part of the floor.

Leo - a very much taller and older Leo with a freaking metal ARM - dashed into full view of the camera, and Donnie barely had time to take in his appearance before, with a quick shout of “Sensei!” Casey practically flung himself into the turtle’s arms. The turtle in question looked suddenly very conflicted and concerned as his hands hovered over Casey’s back, listening to his little repetitions of “I’m sorry.”

He seemed to realise that Casey would not, in fact, fall apart at the slightest touch, and gently placed his metal arm (METAL. ARM) on his shoulder, patting Casey’s head with the other. “You don’t need to apologise, Case,” Leo said, sounding like his voice hadn’t aged a day despite the twenty-two years that’d supposedly passed, “you didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you did amazing!”

In one smooth motion Leo was suddenly cradling Casey in his arms and turning in a circle, a movement somewhere between twirling him and just holding him as he spoke, “You were literally too cool for the kraang! How can I blame you? Haha, Casey Jones is now certified cooler than aliens!”

Despite the joyous laughter filling his ears, Donnie felt dread creeping up his spine as their words began to paint a very unsettling picture.

“Maybe even I won’t stand up to him now!” Leo laughed, now holding Casey bridal style in a way that finally displayed his bandages to the camera.

“Pfffhaha!” Casey laughed, smiling so easily despite the bandages and cast covering his arms. He used the arm not in a sling to reach up and grab Leo’s mask tails, tugging on them with a smug smile that matched Leo’s as he successfully blinded the slider.

“Oh no! My only weakness!” Leo crowed dramatically, slumping onto the ground as if bested by a mighty foe, Casey giggling childishly as he slid down to sit in his lap. “Donnie,” Leo said, facing the direction of the purple genius, “can you help Raph lead the resistance instead of me? I think I’m defeated.”

And just as Casey let out another boisterous laugh and Donatello his own amused chuckle, the recording ended, displaying their smiling faces as the footage sat frozen on the last frame.

Donnie exited fullscreen with a slow blink.

Was he misreading the situation, or had Casey been… kraangified?

That… would explain a lot of his scars. Not that Donnie could exactly confirm or disprove his theory, because it would reveal that he knew of and had access to these recordings.

Speaking of which, he really should stop watching these. He really should unplug the mask and delete the footage from his computer, and finish his examination before giving the mask back to Casey with an explanation regarding the footage.

C’mon, Donnie, just exit the fucking files, you’re being insane. This was a ridiculous invasion of privacy and he’d probably try to kill - or at least maim - Casey if he did this to him but god damn it, his hand. Won’t. Move.

It’s like he’s hovering his hand over a hotplate. He had the autonomy and know-how, but no matter how much he tried he couldn’t even brush the red hot surface. His hand was hovering midair, only inches away from doing something part of him will inevitably regret, but that’s all it would do. Hover. His eyes were glued to the screen as he scrolled through the files, and god, there were dozens of them - hundreds, even.

Donnie exited the folder and perused through the 21 folder for a moment, before clicking the last folder listed. They seemed to be organised and labelled as different weeks, so this one would’ve taken place around Christmas time.

He clicked on the first file, entered fullscreen and pressed play.

“What? It wasn’t me, I swear!”

~~~

His brothers (plus Casey and April) were just finishing cleaning up after breakfast when Donnie burst into the kitchen, clutching Casey’s gear to his chest and with his purple hoodie slung over one shoulder, shouting, “SHUT UP LOSERS WE’RE GOING TO THE ZOO.”

Pretty much everyone did that slow blink of what the fuck did I just hear, staring at Donnie with expressions ranging from pure bafflement to startled surprise.

“…What?” Leo spoke up, putting down the plate he was in the process of drying.

“I had a revelation while reviewing Casey’s tech,” Donnie started, holding out said gear to the human, “thank you, by the way - it was very informative.”

“You’re welcome?” Casey squeaked, accepting the gear and placing most of it on the table he stood next to.

“But yes - the revelation!” Donnie slid the purple hoodie off his shoulder and began squeezing the fabric as a stim, smile spreading slightly when he saw how Casey eyed the fabric with recognition. “Casey grew up in the apocalypse, yes? That means that he’s missing quite a few experiences we deem normal nowadays, such as eating certain foods or watching certain -“

“Yes yes,” Leo interrupted with a roll of his eyes, “we’re working very hard to introduce him to fast food, science fiction and Lou Jitsu. Your point?”

Donnie smirked triumphantly as he slammed both hands on the table (a little louder than he intended), “Animals.”

Casey blinked. “…Animals?”

“Animals,” Donnie nodded, “what with the those-that-shall-not-be-named rampaging across the world, it’s not hard to assume that a lot of animals would’ve gone extinct, or at least become very rare. Tell me, Casey - have you ever seen a horse?”

“What’s a horse?”

“See!?”

“You don’t know what a horse is!?” Mikey exclaimed, practically materialising in front of Casey. “Even I’ve seen a horse! What else have you never seen before!? Sheep? Cows? At least tell me you know what a kitten is!”

“U-uhm, I do know what a cat is,” Casey stuttered, leaning away from the hyperactive teenager.

“Have you seen one?” Raph asked, giving him a look that said ‘your life as you know it depends on how you answer this question’.

“No?”

“We must rectify this!” Mikey shouted, darting out of the kitchen and ignoring Donnie’s mutter of “why do you know what rectify means but not imminent?”

“We must!” Raph agreed, practically sprinting out of the room. April rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, only to close it as a faint crash could be heard from somewhere else in the lair. She promptly disappeared to look for the source.

“Great!” Donnie said, “Now that that’s settled…” He turned back to Casey, holding out the ball of fabric that was his hoodie, “Wear this. Just for today.”

“Oh, thanks Unc-Donnie,” Casey stuttered, accepting the outfit and promptly putting it on. It fit him almost unreasonably well.

“What!?” Leo exclaimed, and Donnie had the distinct feeling that if he was still holding a plate it would be shattered across the ground. “You’re giving him your hoodie!? You don’t give anyone your hoodie! Not even Mikey!”

“Oh shush,” Donnie said, rolling his eyes and blushing slightly. “I do so, stop being dramatic. Besides, it’s cold out and Casey doesn’t have any winter clothes.”

“Then we can get him some!” Leo sputtered, gesturing wildly as he struggled for words. “Why are you giving him your hoodie!??” he eventually hissed.

“Would you believe me if I said out of the goodness of my heart?”

“NO!”

“Well then, I guess l’ll never tell you.” With that, Donnie walked past Leo into the living room, planning to grab his winter jacket from the cupboard, only to stop as Leo grabbed his upper arm and whirled him around.

“What’s going on with you?” Leo asked, voice low as he gave Donnie a surprisingly concerned look. He searched his twin's eyes for a long moment, taking note of his deep eye bags and his missing mask, and how he adamantly refused to make eye contact. He saw how his hands shook as they were folded against his plastron, and that he looked a little pale and off-balance.

“Nothing.”

“Donnie…” as Leo looked closer at his twin's face, he could’ve sworn he saw dried tears covering his cheeks. But that’s impossible, because Donnie never cried.

His mouth flopped open and closed uselessly for a moment, before Leo finally spat out, “Are you okay?”

His question was enough to startle Donnie into making eye contact. Eye contact with his brother who, objectively, deserved to be asked that question a thousand times more than him.

Donnie’s eyes wandered over to the cracks in Leo’s plastron, held together by fibreglass and covered by resin, and suddenly he was surging forward and wrapping his arms around Leo, burying his face in his neck willing himself not to cry.

They were both frozen for a long moment, before, slowly, Leo slid his arms around Donnie’s softshell and held his twin close. They both felt as Donnie’s breath stuttered in his chest, and as he pressed his snout deeper into Leo’s shoulder and neck. “I’m okay,” he whispered, and they both knew he was lying.

And with that, Donnie withdrew without another word, walking away and leaving Leo to ponder what the fuck just happened.

#oneshot #writing #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #Rottmnt fic #my writing #dual post

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vinnoa-articles · 9 months

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Just a Sip

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Habit Substitute Drabble Series! This will be 2 out of the 8 drabbles I will be writing, because, why not? Some characters like certain things on a daily. But what if you were there?

Here are the links for the others.

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Law] [Smoker] [Crocodile]

Rating: +18, you have been warned. If you are a minor, leave now.

Word count: 871

Type: Smut

Characters: Zoro, reader (Female)

Trigger warnings/content: Sexual implications at the end, drinking, swearing

His lips met the gourd of sake, leaning against the rail of the Thousand-Sunny as his legs were outstretched, going through his simple schedule of working out, a nap, snacking, a short closing of the eyes, then working out, maybe a jog on the island, eating, then rest, only to repeat it the next day. However, today was different. Everyone demanded he stay on the ship, for he would get lost like he always did. Sense of direction was never his forte, but his mind was mapped out perfectly. This perfect routine that never strayed far away from its course.

“Drinking again?”

“Hm?” His right eye opened, his scar twitched to only see you sitting cross-legged in front of him. Since when did she get here? When? “Huh? What do you want?” Raising the gourd back up, the soothing burn that he craved slid down his throat. Easing his mind, which was already at peace, yet something about not sensing her presence was something else. His eyes wandered from her slightly bent legs, leaning on her fist, her eyes unfazed by his question.

“Let me have some,” her free hand outstretched, just out of reach from the bottle. Zoro just stared, him? Share? Why on earth would he do that, when Sanji uses the majority of it for cooking. There was no way.

“Why should I?” Almost spitting at her, as her hand didn’t falter. Steady as the calm waves, her hand tried to creep closer, but it stopped, her eyes still lazily staring at his face. “No!”

“Why not?” The same outstretched hand now slapping her knee, almost pouting. Just for a split second, she looked cute, her stubbornness definitely was similar to his, and he loved a challenge here and there. This was the only time though, he could enjoy the lack of his captain running around screaming with Usopp and Chopper, along with the ero-cook fawning over the other women on the ship, and off, almost drooling over them which agitated him. “Come on!”

“No! Look-” Zoro pointed at her face, her eyebrow raised now, curious as to what he would say. It was written all over her face, she was unimpressed, unfazed, and right now he was going to make sure she understood. “This is MY liquor that I worked hard for. Can’t you see that I get only one luxury around- HEY!” She snatched the gourd as he used his hands to express his emotions, yet she didn’t seem to care. Slowly, her lips touched the gourd, yet Zoro lunged forward, the bottle grazing his fingertips, his eyes only focused on the prize. The slow-motion of the bottle releasing from her palm as it slid onto the deck, cracking and the contents spilling out. “Ah...ugh” He held up his weight above the ground, his other hand smacking his forehead, upset that the only bottle he could secure was now broken all over the grassy deck.

“Hey”

“You!” His grip grasped her top, almost stretching it out, as he could see her collar bone, her head hung slightly above the floor, “why can’t you fucking listen!?”

“Zoro…”

“And you just like fucking with my things! I caught you touching my swords, which I still don’t trust you with. Then you constantly badger me about my bounty being lower than that perverted cook’s, and now-”

“Are you going to just keep me pinned on the ground, or are you going to move?” He finally took a breath, his vision clearing a little, seeing exactly what it looked like. His thigh was between her legs, one on the right side near her thigh, one hand holding himself, as his grip nearly tore her shirt. Her unbothered stare, finally cracked into a small smile. “Alright, since you craved the taste of that shitty booze…” Her head turned, what was her antic this time? What ploy this time? He felt a tug on the top of his green long jacket, it was firm, he was going to fall onto the ground? There was no way. Her lips gently touched his, the taste of the liquor lingered on her tongue, it was intoxicating; shocking.

“Hey…”

“Yes?” Her eyes staring into his soul, the feeling of longing, he was getting drunk off of just a single kiss. “Well, that was kind of boring, thought I would get a rise out of you,” sighing as she let go, still gripping her shirt, making sure her body was in limbo.

“You took what’s mine, and now I am about to take what is yours,” Zoro’s eyes ignited, and what a perfect opportunity it was for him to find something to do, a new activity to do other than drink. “I guess instead of a drink, I’ll have to take you now won’t I?” His smile creeped onto his face, “unless you are too weak to handle me…of course I guess I could just…” his grip loosening on her shirt, but she grabbed his hand, gripping it to signal for him to hold her firm.

“About time don’t you think?” As his lips crashed into hers, her assertiveness clashed with his.

“Well, then I guess I should show you how to properly take things, yes?”

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the-great-knight-gay · 7 months

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Character Analysis: The Seven (Riordanverse)

Each of the seven have issues:

Percy is suicidal as in most of his POVs there is a large lack of regard for his life, multiple times stating he believes people will be better off without him and even stating he wanted to drown in TLF and SoM. On top of that... Physically abused as a kid. C'mon we all remember and hate Gabe. I hate how his entire character was literally forgotten about, despite the fact that an abusive parent should stick with a kid for quite some time.

Here's my headcanon for that. It wasn't forgotten, just not acknowledged. We all remember in the earlier books Percy was pretty much apologizing for doing anything right. That's a trait instilled in people who are used to getting abuse for doing anything. I could just be reading into it too much, and I probably am, but it's the only thing that reassures me that this wasn't forgotten about.

In fact I don't think Rick really understood the implications of what Gabe's actions would have done to Percy as he stated that in the upcoming show Timm Sharp's performance as Gabe had everyone laughing and I think that's the only thing I am slightly apprehensive about in the show.

His lack of self-worth is honestly probably a result of Gabe and I feel so angry that it was never touched.

Annabeth has abandonment issues as nearly everyone she has ever loved has left her at some point. Her mother disowned her after TLH, her father chose her mortal family over her and ignored her as she grew up, Luke betrayed her and Thalia joined the Hunters. There was even that time when Chiron was going to leave for good in SoM. That was why she was so threatened by Rachel. Because she was taking away the one good person left who stood by her.

Yes I just ignored Grover. I realize that.

Jason suffers from image issues as he was put on a pedestal from day one, even as a child just because his daddy was a king. He does NOT get enough credit my man suffered as a kid. This was probably one of the only ones where Rick actually tried to address the problem and eventually he found his calling and grew past that. Then Trials of Apollo came along. *Ugly sobbing intensifies*

Piper suffers from neglect from her father who didn't have enough time to spend with her and from her mother leaving. Even when her mother was there in Charleston, she paid much more attention to Hazel and Annabeth than she did to her own daughter.

Leo... Where to start? The kid was homeless and slept in sewers. That on its own is just sad but even more, he believed he was the reason his mom was dead. He was shunned by his own flesh and blood and was forced to retreat behind the comfort of his machines and even then, Festus was brutally taken away by those lasers. Rick really just pulled out the most brutal, sad backstory for this kid ever.

Frank is one of the less traumatized ones but still, a dead mother and having to watch his home burn down with his grandmother inside? Not good.

Hazel... Pulled out of time into unfamiliar circumstances. Having to deal with the knowledge that her childhood friend moved away, thinking that it was his fault that Hazel left (Sammy and the diamond). Having to deal with the knowledge that she was part of the reason one of the giants had risen. Forcibly exiling herself from Elysium into Asphodel just so her mom wouldn't suffer. And speaking of her mom... Maria Levesque's treatment of Hazel, acting as if she were a curse and not a living child, making her sympathize with the Minotaur of all creature, would leave lasting scars on all of them.

The most consolation I can get for this is that it looks like most of them have managed to move past all of this. Jury is still out on Annabeth and Percy as I have not read CotG yet but I'm hopeful.

Except Jason. They just had to completely overhaul him by ripping away the relationship he had with Piper, which didn't need to happen, right before he died.

My reason for not liking the Jasiper break up is the fact that, the argument that they were forced into the relationship happened at the wrong time. This was after they had done a fresh start of the end of BoO. Anytime before that I can understand, but at that point? There was no reason. Then they just had to kill my boy. RICK I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS IF THIS HAPPENS TO ANYONE IN THE WRATH OF THE TRIPLE GODDESS AND WHATEVER THE FINAL BOOK OF THIS NEW TRILOGY IS I WILL FIND YOU!

Apologies I get a bit worked up sometimes.

DON'T KILL GROVER

It's a bad habit.

PERCABETH BETTER NOT FACE ANY RELATIONSHIP PROBLEMS THEY ARE PERFECT DON'T RUIN IT!

Anyways, Knight out!

Go check out my Ao3 and Wattpad

No Riordanverse fics yet as I am still focusing on my Pokémon OC story but just you wait! It's coming!

#annabeth chase #percabeth #percy jackson #rick riordan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #jason grace #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #piper mclean #jasper #jasiper #frazel #trauma #dark themes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months

Note

thank you so much for you answer to my question! Can i ask you some more? Do we know how Lenoa got his scar? And do you think that after book two, he is dealing better with all his problems? (The bad things people say about him in the palace, being second prince, etc..) I just really love him and hate to see him suffer!

[Referencing this post!]

As of right now, no. We don’t know (or even have any implications about) how Leona got his scar. I believe Scar, the character he is twisted from, apparently got his when he was tricked and then bitten by a snake—but we don’t know if this at all relates to the origins of Leona’s scar.

It’s hard to tell for sure what any character is thinking or how they’re coping since we’re only ever in their heads once (during each boy’s respective post-OB flashback sequence). However, we do get to see brief glimpses of Leona after book 2 which alludes to small changes in character and attitude: he’s willingly going home in book 4 (despite avoiding it before), he’s playing an active leadership role in book 5 (stage work) which doesn’t involve an element of personal gain, he’s willing to concede power to Ruggie while he goes with Ferrymen in book 6, he has a heart-to-heart with Jamil while exploring the STYX facilities, etc. Perhaps the most important changes we’ve witnessed are in book 7, in which Leona declares that he doesn’t intend to be held back again (which indicates a shift in motivation), and is even considering an internship which will benefit his country (even though Leona once became upset when his brother told him there were other ways he could contribute to the Sunset Savanna with his intelligence).

I don’t know if that’s enough to confirm that Leona’s “dealing better with all his problems” or feeling any happier about his circumstances; we don’t know for sure how Leona feels internally about all these things, nor what coping mechanisms he’s relying on now versus before. He’s definitely taking steps in the right direction in terms of his observable behaviors, but again this doesn’t tell us a lot about his emotional state (aside from that one time in book 6 when he implies there is still hope for Jamil, but not for himself). I’d wager that Leona is still shouldering a lot of difficult, complicated emotions built up from what is essentially a lifetime of being put down, and those continue to cloud his self-image (not necessarily about being second born, but just not being recognized or appreciated as an individual in general). Also keep in mind that it has been maybe half a year since the events of book 2, so… not a lot of time has actually passed. Of course Leona (or any of the boys, really) wouldn’t be making massive character or mindset changes in such a short period.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #notes from the writing raven #question #spoilers #Ruggie Bucchi #Jamil Viper #Farena Kingscholar #Falena Kingscholar #Scar

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little-cereal-draws · 9 months

Text

I transcribed Ballister's notes

Image 1.

Location Stables 2

locker

Blitz's stall

Weapon cart (this one has an asterisk and is circled)

Location Glorodome 3

stage

Noble boxes?

Image 2.

Hidden Tech?

Details

weight off?

no scar (I think this means the "B" on the hilt was wrong)

no visible accommodations

Sabotaged sword

Logistics

where?

* Who has the resources to create this (this one has an asterisk and is circled)

when was this imp. ???

Reason?

Image 3.

The note on the left is labeled Timeline. Some lines are circled, numbered. or asterisked. The note on the right has a lot of text, some of it crossed out, and a box at the bottom

Image 4.

A close up on the box at the bottom of the note from the last image. It says Location Institute 1. There are three bullet points under it but I can't read them

This is so interesting to me!!! I'm so happy that Blitzmeyer got a little shout out and the implication that he met her right before the knighting ceremony opens up so many possibilities. And the fact that he was considering that the blast came from the noble's boxes at one point really shows what he thinks of them (and possibly ambrosius' family by extension? maybe? for angst?) Idk there's just so many cool things here

pt 1, pt 2, pt 4, pt 5

#i'm back on my overanalyzing of details bs #i'm writing up a list of details i've noticed too but that will come at a later date #nimona #ballister boldheart #dr blitzmeyer #meredith blitzmeyer #nimona movie #nimona 2023

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yuhi-san · 2 months

Text

I think I should do a ‘live react’ to reading the trigun manga…

I mentioned wolfwoods introduction before but there are other things that stood out to me

Meryl bitch slapping vash was, well, a thing. clearly hurt her more than him. On one hand, chill meryl. But to be fair to her, it did work and got vash from wild screaming after suddenly bolting upright taking a breath and, albeit cryptically, actually explain. Like, vash beloved, you cannot shout at people in a wild panic right after waking from unconsciousness and expect them to think you are of sound mind. But also meryl, brutal

Vash’s other incarnations (especially stampede vash) are far more reluctant if not downright avoidant of confronting knives. Trimax vash on the other hand almost immediately goes; you want to play? Fine with me, I will come and I will beat the shit out of you (it goes not go well for vash. At all. Oof.)

on that note, wolfwood immediatelly having a crisis about the fucked up shit he just saw with vash and the angle arm and, you know, all of that (understandable my dude)

Legato very bishie. Obviously haven’t reached his tragic backstory yet but it’s immediately clear that are at least six different things wrong with that guy and every appearance just adds one more to that.

Talking about legato. That girl looking at him at the saloon is one of the things that stuck out to me a lot but not even for the obvious big reasons. Her eyes were all empty and dull until she looked at legato, who is just minding his business. And like, pretty sure its not an attraction thing going on, or whatever the hell the slave masters think. At least that’s how I see it. So I wonder what she was thinking. Why look at legato of all people like that when before she had no reaction at all?

Its literally just these two frames. Not sure why it feels like there is so much going on lol

That moment with monev the gale… trimax ties vash’s choice so strongly to rem. The image is wonderful and it hammers home how much rem and her ideals shape vash into who he is. It is a little less in your face in the 98 anime but on the other hand, johnny young bosh voice acting for vash gives the scene so much

On a funnier note, ignoring the obvious implications of it, the scar reveal is still majorly funny even without johnny young bosh’s hilarious little noises. But! Unlike the 98 anime where milly and meryl went to check on vash because they heard ruckus from his room and he was yelping, they just went to his room to go talk to him. And like… what if vash was the kind that got out of the shower all nude and got dressed in the room that he expected to be empty? Meryl, were you hoping to get an eyeful?

#trigun maximum #trimax #vash the stampede #legato bluesummers #meryl stryfe #reading trimax lets go #how bad can it be? i know the answer and it wont make it better will it

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foamysoapbar · 2 months

Text

Shadows of redemption

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Warnings: violence, mention of SA, emotional distress, PTSD and trauma, angst.

Chapter 07: Breaking point

In the depths of the night, Viper found herself entangled in the familiar web of her past. The dream, a recurring specter that haunted her slumber, unfolded once again. But this time, there was a glimmer of clarity, a hint of resolution that danced at the edges of her consciousness.

In the dream, fragments of the assault materialized, like shards of a broken mirror reflecting distorted images. The details were still shrouded in haze, obscuring the face of her attacker. It frustrated her, the inability to distinguish between dream and reality, to unravel the truth that lay dormant within her mind. This time, however, the fog lifted slightly, revealing glimpses of the faceless assailant who haunted her nights. Dark eyes, blonde hair, and a scar etched upon his lips—a composite of features that began to take shape.

Days blend into nights, and the dream remained a persistent phantom reaching deeper into the recesses of her subconscious., an enigmatic puzzle she yearned to solve. Yet, the identity of her attacker remained just out of reach which made he heart ache.

Viper and Ghost embarked on a journey of emotional intimacy, the unspoken desire to transcend their past traumas hung in the air. It was a delicate dance, a tentative exploration of their shared vulnerability. The time had come to take the next step, being intimately intertwined into one.

In the intimate embrace, the world outside faded into insignificance. As the pationate heat of their bodies emenated, a tender moment of trust and vulnerability unfolded. But then, amidst the whispers of longing, a sentence slipped from Simon's lips—a seemingly innocuous string of words that reverberated through Viper's being with seismic force.

" You don't know how long I've been wanting this."

The impact was staggering—a sudden flood of emotions and fragmented recollections washed over Viper's fragile psyche. The puzzle pieces of her assault began to align, forming a chilling picture that shook her to her core. The realization, like a lightning bolt, struck her with a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and turmoil.

The memories, once obscured by the mists of trauma, now clawed their way to the surface. The dreams that had plagued her nights were no longer blurry whispers, but vivid snapshots of a painful truth. In the midst of this revelation, Simon's presence became a paradox—a pillar of support and a possible embodiment of her darkest fears. Simon, the man she trusted, the one who had held her fragile heart, was the one who had inflicted upon her the pain that haunted her every waking moment . He was the one and only who sexually assaulted her under alcohol influence two years ago in the military base.

" Get off me. Get the fuck off me! " She screamed a the top of her lungs hysterically, Ghost immediately backed away from her alarmed.

Viper grappled with a whirlwind of emotions. Conflicting thoughts and feelings swirled within her, entangling her in a complex web. How could the man she grew to love be the same person who had caused her such irreparable harm? The weight of this newfound knowledge threatened to shatter her fragile sense of trust and stability.

Yet, in the middle of the chaos, there lingered a maddening uncertainty. Were her conclusions accurate, or were they the twisted fabrications of a mind ravaged by trauma? A small doubt gnawed at her, fueling a desperate longing for an alternative explanation, a way to absolve Simon from the haunting accusations her memories seemed to implicate. Despite his face reveal being just recent there was no doubt it was the same face, it's was definitely him. What made things worst was Simon unaware of the depths of his transgression, standing before her clueless.

As She confronted Simon with this revelation his initial response was one of denial. The magnitude of the accusation smacked him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in a sea of disbelief. He struggled to comprehend the depths of his own actions and the pain he had inflicted upon the woman he loved despite her being a stranger back then.

But as Viper's voice trembled with the weight of her trauma, her words piercing the air like shards of glass, Simon's denial crumbled. In its place, an enraged burst of emotion erupted from within him. The sheer magnitude of his own self-denial and ignorance fueled a storm of anger and frustration, a tempest that lashed out in shouting and intense words.

Caught in the crossfire of Viper's revelation and Simon's own internal turmoil, the room crackled with tension. Her military training, honed through years of service, surged forth as a muscle memory, her senses heightened and on guard. The walls of her emotional fortress rose, shielding her vulnerable heart from further harm.

Simon, in his bewildered state, found himself facing a woman transformed, her strength and resilience burning bright. The realization of what he had done, the weight of his actions, slowly began to sink in. It was no longer a drunken mistake, a lapse in judgment—it was a violation that shattered the trust and love they had built together into dust.

As the shards of their shattered relationship lay scattered around them, Ghost's mind rewound the tape of his own history. A flicker of recognition sparked within him, connecting the dots of his own troubled past. The specter of his alcoholic and abusive father, who had assaulted Simon's mother in the same monstrous way, emerged from the depths of his memories.

In that moment, the echoes of his own trauma reverberated through Simon's being. The realization that he was slowly becoming a version of his father which he despised most shattered his own self-image. The questions, the self-doubt, and the agonizing self-reflection flooded his thoughts, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion and remorse.

With the truth unraveled, the fragile bonds they had built came crashing down. Viper felt a surge of anger and disbelief, her pain resurfacing with an intensity she had never known. Ghost's attempts to explain only fueled her anguish, leaving him drowning in a sea of regret and despair.

" Get the fuck out of my house ! I don't want to see your face ever again ! Get out now !" She screamed at him with boiling rage.

Betrayal tore them apart once again, and they chose to walk separate paths. The weight of guilt and the burden of their shared past became too much to bear. They distanced themselves from each other, seeking solace in the solitude of their broken hearts.

In the aftermath of this devastating revelation, both of them found themselves standing amidst the ruins of their connection. The silence between them was heavy, pregnant with unspeakable grief and the bitter taste of broken dreams. The road ahead, now appeared bleak and uncertain. Simon quietly gathered his his clothing and left without another word disappearing from Viper's life.

#cod modern warfare #simon ghost riley #angst #a lot of angst #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ptsd #trauma #cod ghost #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost x reader

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thesixthplaneteer · 6 months

Text

I haven't posted in a while so here is my I haven't posted in a while post! I wanted to throw some info about an OC into the void that I haven't posted about before, Ray! Info below the image and break!

Detective Raymond Mulder was a homicide detective in Chicago. Dedicating himself to his job left him divorced and drifting through life. Until he was brought in the Special Investigations unit where he was thrown into the world of darkness. He started to find love again with a museum curator that he would learn later was a kinfolk. One night hot on the trail of a suspected vampire implicated in a particularly horrendous murder, he and his lieutenant Arthur thought they had the man cornered. But instead all they found was an empty room and a file. Ray opened to file to find hard evidence Arthur had been working to cover the trail of vampire activity. Ray being the boy scout couldn't let it go, so he attempted to arrest Arthur, forcing a subconscious decree planted in the lieutenant to remove himself from the mortal coil. Feeling helpless and lost, Ray left Chicago with Tav, the museum curator. She hoped she could take him back to the tribe to regroup in a manner of speaking. Unfortunately her ex-husband didn't like her bringing an outsider. In an altercation Tav's ex turned into a beast the likes of which Ray had never seen, leaving Ray with a large scar running from his collar bone to his hip. It would turn out to be a small blessing of sorts, as through unexplained means he could now feel the presence of the supernatural. Ray was once again alone and now on the road not knowing what to do with himself so he just wandered. Finding himself in Tucson, Arizona he couldn't ignore his gut feeling and the aching scar on his body. He was once again on the trail of a vampire, only this time when he thought he had him cornered someone else had beaten him there, Joaquin Hidalgo. After a tense discussion of sussing out loyalties they joined forces. Joaquin's knowledge and hatred of vampires along with Ray's detective skills and desire to make positive change in the world made them a competent force. Things are going as smoothly as they can for two dudes in their forties fighting vampires until they make it to Reno. Joaquin gets reunited with his sister Noa, who is a vampire, along with her friend and Joaquin's former acquaintance Nyth. Things become very complicated as Ray tries to come to terms with accepting Joaquin's sister and dealing with Nyth's manipulation. Ray never wanted to see vampires as pure monsters. Something in him hoped they were still people in some way or like in many of the cases he handled in the CPD, they were just forced into a bad situation. Ray would learn too late that a bleeding heart only attracts the worst kinds of monsters.

~~~

So Ray's name; I based his looks on Charlie Hunnam's character in The Gentleman and just decided to go with that character's name, Raymond because I liked it. I thought it would be funny for his last name to be Mulder because Ray actively dislikes supernatural media. In the game I played him in it was modern nights so the big joke was he'd never seen x-files but it would always be the first topic of conversation when someone learned his name.

#world of darkness #art #Ray #oc #hunter the reckoning #vampire the masquerade

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lovepeachh · 5 months

Text

Shark Week

Jason Todd x reader smut

Warnings: 18+ content, period sex, fingering, swearing

Might make a part two cuz it ends right before reader gets dicked down.

"What's wrong, baby?" Jason's words come out concerned as he notices the pained grimace on your face.

"Period." you reply. one word, and it comes out as more of a grumble as you tuck your knees to your chest and lean against him, and he wraps an arm around you reflexively. Painkillers were just not doing their thing today, and you were feeling every single ounce of pain your uterus was committing against you.

Not to mention the fact that you're feeling incredibly horny to top it off. And the compression shirt your boyfriend is in is not helping at all.

And boy, does he notice. The second he looks at your lusting eyes a wicked smirk graces his features.

"Got something you wanna ask me, sweetheart?"

What a fucking tease.

But the pathetic little dry sob that leaves your lips wipes the cocky smirk off his face as he puts a reassuring hand on your cheek. "You ok, Babycakes? Cramps bugging again?"

You nod, leaning into his touch.

His gaze becomes a little more predatory as he asks, "Want me to make it better?" The implication of his words is clear to you both, and he is just as horny as you are right now.

Another nod.

"Words, baby." he chides, lifting your chin to face him.

"Yes."

"Good girl." He gives you a quick kiss before

He gets up to get a towel and you whine needily at the sudden loss of his body heat.

When he comes back he moves the blanket on your bed to a chair and places your darkest towel down over the sheet to minimize messiness.

He picks you up and carries you like it's nothing, placing you on the bed and kissing you softly and saying, "just relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

He undresses you carefully, grinning like an idiot when he realizes how sensitive your tits are right now. He pinches a nipple just to hear you gasp and whine. "So pretty", he murmurs, as he leaves you bare and exposed to him.

He's all too eager to take off his own clothes, and as always, he's a sight to behold. Like a greek sculpture, the image of perfection. The scars on his body are just footnotes in the beauty you see before you.

You could see his body a million times and still be in awe every time.

He closes in on you, slipping one thick finger and then another into your messy bleeding cunt. The moan you let out is like music to his ears, and he starts moving them fast enough to keep those pretty little sounds coming.

He uses his other hand to play with your tits, caressing, squeezing, sucking as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers.

He adds a third finger, curling them until you see stars. How easily you become his pathetic little mess, and he hasn't even fucked you on his dick yet.

He kisses your mouth, your shoulders your collarbone. he bites and sucks at your skin and you moan desperately for him.

"Look at you. So needy." he teases as he presses his thumb against your clit, earning a breathy whimper.

"Fuck- Jason-" you whine, as his movements speed up and your thighs tremble and you tighten around his fingers.

"Come on, pretty girl."

He traces tight circles into your clit as your climax crashes through you as you let out a pathetic cry of his name. "Jason! Fuck- Jason!"

He kisses you softly, letting you catch your breath for a moment. The stabbing pain that's been coming and going in your lower abdomen all day has lessened. He presses another kiss to your temple.

He shifts his position, wiping his hands on the towel spread beneath you. It's impossible to miss the huge hard on he's sporting.

"Good girl, baby. So, you ready for my dick or do you wanna stop?"

Taglist: @millyhelp

Dividers from here

#jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #peachh writes

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noes-pillow · 8 months

Text

this one i didnt have time to edit within my 1 hour time limit so yeah... like i implied in the last post, these arent gonna be great quality, im just going off vibes... so here have some pain... happy @whumptober

VNC Whumptober Day 2:

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

cw: so much fucking angst, torture implications

Noé is…

Right, he’s in a memory. Who’s memory?

Vanitas'

But this is odd. This body doesn’t seem to recognize that name.

…

Noé has perfected this technique. His teacher trained him diligently. It was beneficial. He learned so much about the capabilities of his power. Even if now he still feels like there’s a part of them he hasn’t quite found yet.

But for now, he knows when he’s diving. It feels like a lucid dream. One where you walk the halls of the dreamscape in a body you can’t control, which is yours for the moment, although it doesn’t belong to you.

It feels deep.

It feels personal.

It feels violating.

It belongs to the person of whom his fangs are currently embedded.

While Noé’s body enjoys the nourishment of blood, the taste of which he could never find a replacement, his mind is none the wiser.

His mind is trapped.

Trapped in a body.

The body of a child.

A young boy no older than 8.

A boy covered in bandages.

A boy who misses his family.

For a moment he sees his own childhood. The times when he was alone after his grandparents died. The time until Teacher bought him.

Teacher.

Mikhail.

Vanitas’ younger brother. Mikhail.

He was part of these experiments too.

Then the thought dawned on Noé.

How long had Vanitas been with Moreau when Mikhail met him?

The image he had seen in Mikhail’s blood placed him around the age of 10-12. But this body. This body was no older than 8.

2 years.

Vanitas had to endure for at least 2 whole years. And more when he took on more sessions to spare Misha.

Vanitas.

The boy here couldn’t be called by that name. For all this body knew, Vanitas wasn’t someone that even existed.

Yet.

…

Vanitas cradles Noé’s unconscious form. He knows the vampire is out of it. His arms are limp. They would normally seek out the closest thing to latch onto to ground himself in his slumber. But for now his mind is far from at rest.

The sapphire eyed human lays his partner back on the bed next to himself. He runs his fingers over the bite on his neck and winces at the sting.

His fingers are covered in blood. They’re dripping. He feels it dripping down his neck too. And he has a horrifyingly sensual realization.

Vanitas licks his fingers. It tastes of blood, obviously. Warm iron. But something else. There is no aroma, but Vanitas can still taste Noé’s venom.

It is a comforting feeling. A sweet gentle numbness on his tongue. As if he was feeling his adrenaline pump without any of the pain.

But for as gentle as this feeling is, Noé’s bite itself is anything but. He’s managed to rip several strands of muscle in his neck and it fucking hurts. But honestly he doesn’t mind.

He doesn’t need to look to know he’s been marked. And the wound will likely scar underneath it.

Good.

Vanitas rolls up his sleeve and scours at the marks that appeared on his skin years after his birth.

It is about time Vanitas has a scar he chose to have. A mark, dare he say, he wants.

And the human nestles his head under his vampire’s chin. Just this once, Noé would be his hug pillow for the night.

It was only fair.

Noé, experiencing the exact memories of himself as a child, needed to know he wasn’t alone.

“I’m here.” He whispers. “Noé.”

There is no response.

Vanitas hugs him tighter.

“Don’t move. Moving is bad. Moving hurts.” The vampire mumbles.

He can’t hear him.

Vanitas cries.

Please. Hear me…

Noé…

…

Vanitas!

Noé’s thoughts and those of this child are one and the same.

Don’t move. Moving is bad. Moving hurts.

He feels a tightness around him but he fights it. He prepares himself for another shock. These were still shocks, right? Moreau hadn’t taken out the rolling cart yet. Which means he probably wasn’t bleeding yet. Yet.

Noé’s consciousness separates long enough for him to make a single wish.

He calls out to the body of the boy he was. He hopes he can hear him. He hopes this is the part of his power he had never been able to grasp. Now is his chance. Noé wants this boy to know he isn’t alone. That he wasn’t alone. That Noé was always there with him in his pain. Just that. Just to call out to him.

Noé has this wish.

And just as Noé reaches out to this boy.

He realizes.

I don’t know your name, No. 69.

And the title is too bitter for Noé to think, let alone speak. He just can’t refer to this child as that. Named Vanitas or not, this boy will become someone important to him. This boy is someone important to him. But to the boy, what’s important isn’t his future.

Its what he was forced to leave behind in his past.

Vanitas!

Noé can’t decide what’s worse. Thinking you are alone, or knowing someone could’ve changed that.

No matter how many times Noé could try to call Vanitas’ name, this body wouldn’t recognize it. This body would still feel alone.

And he would continue to feel as such until a chance encounter on an airship above Paris.

But that was a decade away.

Countless days.

Countless days specifically with Moreau.

Im sorry...

...Vanitas.

fin

#im scared to reread but im TRYING TO STICK TO MY HOUR LIMIT AHHH #i dont have time for more #and i dont wanna burn myself out #whumptober 2023 #vnc whump #vanitas #noé archiviste #vanoé #the case study of vanitas #vnc #vanitas no carte

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gilverrwrites · 1 month

Note

Hello, dear! Could you please write something about 2022 Oz with a reader who is insecure about her torso and often chooses to keep her shirt on when they are being intimate? She is particularly shy about her breasts (I don't know if you need this information, but they are kinda large and she doesn't like the shape of them). Doesn't have to be smut, just fluffy comfort! Thank you so much and no pressure at all! ♥️

The Gift

2022!Penguin/Fem!Reader ≈800 words

AN: Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic, and have a wonderful rest of your day. ♥️

Oz comforts you have you confide him that you don't like the most recent gift he bought you. Rated: M

CWs: Body dysmorphia, petnames: doll, implied sexual relationship.

Please remember: You are beautiful, as you are.

The fabric is unbelievably soft between your fingers. A deep regal purple with fine black embroidery, a cute heart-shaped gem set in gold dangles from the cleavage of the bra. It was such a beautiful set, and Oz had looked so chuffed when you’d opened it. So excited to see you in his gift.

But as you sat at your vanity, preparing for your celebratory night, you just couldn’t bring yourself to put it on. Couldn’t bear the idea of how you would look in it, so exposed. Underwear this delicate wasn’t meant for bodies like yours, at least in your opinion.

The worst part was knowing Ozzie was waiting for you, eager for a glimpse, and he’d be disappointed either by your refusal to wear it or by the unsightly image he’d have to look at if you did.

So wrapped in your thoughts, you don’t notice Ozwald entering or the sound of his uneven footsteps, not until you catch the sight of him in the mirror’s reflection.

“What’s wrong doll?” He asked, concern furrowing his brow. His eyes scan your face before falling to the lingerie clutched in your hands. “You don’t like my gift?”

“No, I do, they’re beautiful.” You reassure him, you’d always admired his taste. But… “I just don’t think I can wear it.”

“Why not?” He squints his eyes and tilts his head, puzzled, but laughing, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Did I get the wrong size or somethin’?”

“Not it’s not that either.” You look down, unable to face him, unsure how to approach the conversation from here. The sight of the underwear isn’t helping, so gently place it back in the gift bag.

“Then what is it?” He leans down, baring his weight on your shoulder for support as he places a kiss to the back of your head. Trying to comfort you as best he can without knowing what is wrong. “Don’t keep me in the dark here, you got me worryin’.”

“I just…” You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for your confession. It’s hard; to admit your insecurities aloud, especially knowing you’re likely to disappoint Oz in the process. But the alternative feels impossible. “It’ll show too much, I know I won’t feel good in it.”

“Is that it? That’s why you never wanna take your clothes off when we’re doin' it?” He shakes his head, dismissively, more to himself than you. With a sigh he turns from you, making his way over to the bed. Seated, with the pressure off his bad leg, he looks relieved, until he looks at you. His face turns sombre. He purses his lips, mulling over what he’ll say next. “Look, I ain’t exactly one to judge, you know?”

He gestures to his scarred lip before patting his plump belly. You hate the implication, that he might be lesser because of his weight, or his scars. Hypocritical, as is human nature. You open your mouth to object, but he stops you, holding his hand up briefly as he begins to talk.

“I ain’t done. This ain’t about me.” He has a knack for commandeering a conversation without making you feel small or unheard. “If it isn’t obvious, I think you’re beautiful, all of you, flaws an everythin’.”

He gestures towards you, finally offering you a smile. Your body grows warm, you can’t help but smile, after all this time he still makes you feel coy under his gaze. His words won't heal everything, but they make you feel at ease in the moment.

“Come sit with me.” He pats his good leg, and you make your way over, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settle on his thigh. A strong hand settles in the curve of your back, keeping you up straight.

“I didn’t pick those out 'cause I thought they’d make you look good; I think you look good all the time.” Up close you can feel the warmth of his brandy steeped breath on your neck, he presses a kiss to your skin before placing his free hand under your chin, directing you to look at him as he continues. “Drives me crazy, tryin’ to get work done and you’re just there, lookin’ like sex on legs no matter what you’re wearin’.”

“But if it means that much to ya, we can take ‘em back, you can pick out somethin’ that makes you feel your best.” He leans in, pressing a greedy kiss to your lips. You sigh into him, embracing the familiar feel and taste of him as he slips his hand up to your cheek, using it to guide your face closer. When you eventually pull away, he runs the back of a thick, ringed finger against your skin and asks; “How does that sound?”

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