#like not being white washed for starters
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Wandavision is unintencionally a terrifying story about how cishet middle class white woman can get away with almost anything with just a slap in the wrist and still feel like a victim.
#monica deserved so much better than being the black friend#to have a black woman fall for the white woman tears trope was soo bad#wandavisiom#wanda maximoff#anti wanda maximoff#anti wandavision#anti mcu wanda#anti mcu#mcu wanda is also the histerical woman trope#i hate her soo much#comics Wanda deserved better#cartoon wanda deserve better as well#like not being white washed for starters
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| it ends in heartbreak |
pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader
summary | you both knew he would break your heart. he couldn't help himself.
wc | 1400
warnings | cursing, sadness/heartbreak [aka the title]
a/n | I've had this in my drafts forever lol I forgot about this one! Also this is the first time I've ever written pure angst so go easy on me <3
You always knew this day would come.
There were signs pointing to the downfall of your relationship, signs you chose to ignore to enjoy the moments of happiness.
But the signs couldn’t be any clearer–it would never last. It couldn't.
It was the end of the world, for starters. Life was always in shambles. The group never stayed in one spot long enough. Even the prison wasn’t safe. With everything unstable, it should’ve been obvious this would happen, but you were naive to think you’d would be any different.
Because the reality was: this was always how it was supposed to end.
He was built on a fractured foundation. He set up walls and built his life around a broken base, worn down by his past that he couldn't escape. First, parents had cracked and hardened his outlook on life. Then his brother taught him he meant little to others by leaving him behind. Not once did he ever learn how to fix the ache in his heart.
Yet when he met you, things changed.
It was gradual. Pieces of him started to align and heal. The tough outer shell wasn't as indestructible as he first imagined. After some time he opened up and let you in.
But you both knew he would break your heart.
He couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to push back, to fight and wrangle away from anything that became too real. Too good.
But for the time being, you enjoyed the blissful moments of his affection.
When he kissed you goodnight it was over.
He lingered, almost as if he was allowing his lips to memorize the feeling of your skin on his. His fingers fell against your curves as you pressed into the cellblock’s cool cement wall. It was in these seconds of quiet where you both had a chance to breathe.
Pulling back, Daryl rested one arm above your head. He leaned in close, gazing sweetly down at you. His other hand slowly traveled to your face and Daryl’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip.
Without hesitating you whispered the words he never imagined hearing from you.
Love you.
There. Right there. You saw the spark in his bright blue eyes dim. The crystalline color washed away into a deep ocean blue. Rocky and turbulent. Daryl’s eyes were no longer filled with love, but rather, fear.
You lost him, right there, pressed against the concrete wall of Cellblock D.
This was destined to fail.
“Please don’t do this.”
“Have to.”
“No…no you don’t have to, Daryl.” Your chest tightened. It was like the air was on fire. No matter how deeply you breathed in and out, pain still resided in your chest. He was crippling you.
“Daryl–”
“Ain’t up for debate.” He stepped back, snatching his crossbow from the watchtower’s metal flooring.
Your hands fumbled to find your shirt, hating how he sprung this on you in the middle of the night. He didn't have patience to wait, apparently. Just break your heart and go, like it was nothing.
“I’m not trying to…I just…” you groaned. “What happened? Was it me? Did I do something?”
His eyes went wide. That scared, fearful expression washed over him once again.
Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut. That was it. That look. It was just like the other night. When those stupid words stumbled out of your mouth, falling to the ground at Daryl’s feet. Just before he crushed them with his silence.
“Was it something I said?”
He didn't answer and his silence (unlike most nights) wasn't good enough. You needed answers.
“So that’s it then. You say ‘I’m done’ and leave before sunrise?”
The broody man fought to glance in your direction. Instead, he focused out towards the tree-line. He grabbed onto the windowsill and squeezed so tightly that the white of his knuckles appeared. But his tactics to avoid the conversation at hand weren’t getting past you tonight.
You shot up from the floor. “Daryl.”
“I ain’t got time for this.”
“You fuck me, say we’re done, and leave? Like this was all nothing? Like we mean nothing to each other?”
Daryl paused. He turned to you with lips curled into a tight frown. Even in the darkness of the watchtower, through the bright white moonlight, his frustration was clear.
“I said ‘I love you’, Daryl.” There was a desperation behind your words. Your voice was so deeply distressing it made your chest ache. It was heavy and exhausting to display your feelings out to him in the middle of the night. But you wanted more–deserved more–than a shitty ending to whatever you had with him.
“You think this is love?”
You gawked, “yes!”
He paced the small room like a caged animal ready to pounce.
You love this man.
“This ain’t love.”
You love this man. This jerk.
“Then what the fuck is this, Daryl? Tell me.” You paused, tears welling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. “Fucking tell me!”
The shirt in your hands balled up tight around your closed fist. You were hurt. Everything about him was trouble and you let him in.
“I said ‘I love you’. I said it and now you’re pulling away.”
As he watched you, just for a moment, his eyes didn’t fill with fear or confusion. There was something there. Between the declarations, he looked apologetic. His blue eyes softened, letting the emotions he desperately tried to conceal slip past those walls he built back up.
“Well, shit! I’m sorry I said it. I fucked this up, didn’t I?” The gravel in your voice scratched your throat. Everything burned.
The apologetic stare turned pitiful. A deep scowl crossed his face and your heart sank. “Can’t mess it up when there was nothin’ here, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. It was so condescending as his drawl pulls at the syllables. That tightness in your chest balled into a pit of rage. Fire that burned you before ignited an anger inside.
You moved closer towards him. “You sleep with me every night. You kiss me before leaving on runs. When you think nobody’s looking, you hold my hand. We talk about our past. Our future. This is real, Daryl.”
“Nah.” He grabbed his belt, twisting it through the loops. “This ain’t real.”
Your fingers tightened on the fabric as you tugged the shirt on. “That’s not true—“
He huffed, staring out into the cloudy night sky. “You’re better off without me anyway.”
“Don’t. Don't say that. I’m not better off without you. I’d be worse.”
Daryl paused.
But the hurt and anger fueling your body didn’t stop. “So don’t make me feel crazy for falling in love with you. Like it was a choice? If I was fucking smart, I would’ve ran far away from you the second we met. But I didn’t. Because I saw you for more than the asshole you pretend to be. So excuse me for feeling blindsided by your decision to leave me.”
“Leave you?” He spat. “Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine! You’re just some bitch I screwed.”
The frogs croaking down by the creeks ceased to exist. Trees stopped rustling in the breeze. Crickets no longer sang under the stars. The world froze as his words were thrown at you with such haste. Like he didn’t think twice.
Your arms wrapped around your waist, tugging at the fabric clinging to your body.
He didn’t look back at you. His eyes seemed to drift anywhere but you like he couldn't face the fact that he said it out loud.
No, no. He doesn’t really think that…
Your voice cracked as the tears from earlier were not going to wait much longer. “Daryl–”
He turned on his heels and was out the door. Down the ladder, each step was louder than the last. You paused, bawling your fists as the tears finally spilled across your cheeks. Loud and heaving gasps, muddled together with hot tears.
He broke you down within seconds. The tears and sobs continued on for what felt like forever until you finally had a moment of rest. The tightness in your chest subsided, thankfully, but this was the easier part. Tomorrow will be harder when you’ll have to put on a fake smile, wipe away tears in the dark prison hallways, and avoid him.
Forget him. Forget him…right like it would be easy. It’ll be fucking impossible to forget him.
You wished you could hate him. But you don’t.
So for tonight, you let yourself feel the heartbreak and planned to stand taller tomorrow. Because in the end you knew it would never last.
But it didn't matter.
You loved that man.
Yet after everything, he might have been right. You weren't truly with him.
And maybe he never really cared for you at all.
-xx-
-xx-
a/n 2.0 | daryl PLEASEE {as if I didn't write him to act this way}
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#dary dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#y/n x daryl dixon#reader x daryl dixon#you x daryl dixon#angsty angst#sad reader and broken daryl#daryl twd#daryl x reader#the walking dead daryl
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OG ATLA is a diverse show, Netflix ATLA isn't.
In a world where so many people are fixated on skin color and skin tone, it's crazy to me that I haven't seen anyone say anything about this yet. However, I believe most people are thinking it, so I'm going to say it.
ATLA is a show of characters with diverse skin tones. Sokka and Katara are brown-skinned characters.
Whereas, Aang has white skin and Zuko and Azula have very fair almost porcelain like skin. Their skin was supposed to be without blemish, and Zuko even pointed this out in one episode.
When you look at the live-action cast of ATLA, they are all white-washed. They all have very similar skin tones with the exception of Sokka's actor who is very fair-skinned.
Now, I know what you're thinking. OP how could they all be white washed? They are all indigenous or of Asian decent. None of the main characters are white.
Well, you are correct. However, I am going to introduce you to the concept or colorism. It allows for POC characters to still be white washed, under the notion that the European beauty standard is the idea beauty standard. Translation: the lighter (whiter) the skin, the more beautiful the person.
Which is what we see here with the lightning of Sokka and Katara's skin. Now, you might say, that they were appropriately cast as indigenous. Yes, they may have been. However, idenginuous people come in wide range of skin tones. There's light-skin indigenous, brown skin indigenous, dark skin indigenous and everything in between.
Therefore, we cannot pretend that this was the only canonically correct depiction of Sokka and Katara. We certainly cannot pretend that these actors were the best fit for the job, since they both walked their parts and completely missed the motivations and central themes of their characters.
As a kid, I know that it made me as a black woman and a lot of my friends who were brown women (Indian, Asian, North African, and Latino alike) feel seen when they saw Katara. They were able to see themselves in Katara, because Katara looks like them. I felt more seen when I saw Korra, because Korra was darker and starting to approach my skin tone.
That alone should be enough to want to cast the characters correctly. I mean we so often hear people complain about the blackification of once white characters. The most recent example being Halle Balley playing the Little Mermaid. However, it has always been FAR more common, that individuals and roles of color have been played by and adapted by white actors who do not bat an eye.
Yet, that's not enough, because Katara and Sokka's skin tone meant something. It means something and so does Zuko and Azula's skin tones.
For starters, Zuko and Katara have brown skill despite living in a cold climate, in order to protect their skin from the harmful rays or the sun. Wow.... I know shocking right? 😲
Some of you are shaking your head and thinking that doesn't make sense. It's cold in the arctic, why do they need protection from the sun? It's because the sun's rays reflect off of the white snow. Without a sufficient amount of melanin, the sun's rays could burn the skin of the indigenous people who live there. However, with too much melanin, the indigenous people who live there may not absorb enough Vitamin D. Hence, the brown skin.
Secondly (this point is more race-y), Katara and Sokka at this point when the Southen Water Tribe has been demolished by the Fire Nation, are effectively peasants. They are especially peasants when compared to both the Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation.
Peasants work outside. Therefore, peasants tend to have darker skin amongst the people in their given region. They have darker skin because they are exposed to the sun more.
Royalty has lighter skin, because they stay inside palaces, they don't do manual labor, and they have servants, so their skin is always protected from the sun. Has anyone ever notice how pale Toph is and the fact that she's the only character in ATLA who has a last name? That's by design people.
The sibling pairing of Sokka and Katara and Zuko and Azula are diametrically opposed in the original show. They are the ultimate dichotomy.
Sokka and Katara:
- wear blue
- are Water Tribe
- are brown skinned
- are peasants
- grew up in tents and igloos
- are kind to each other
Zuko and Azula:
- wear red
- are Fire Nation
- are fair skinned
- are royalty
- grew up in palaces and slept in Alaskan King sized beds
- hate each other.
The sibling pairs are opposed by more than just their nations of origins and the colors of the clothes. They are also opposed by their skin tones in order to reflect their lot in life.
Someone once said that Katara would never marry Zuko because she's too dark. Her skin is not the skin of royalty, and that person was probably right.
However, Sokka and Katara's skin is powerful, because if you read the Kiyoshi novels you'll learn that there's a great lineage in regard to who gets to train the avatar. It's my belief that if Aang met all of his friends before the 100 year war, Azula and Toph would have been the only people deemed worthy to train Aang. The most powerful people in the world are usually associated with the avatar, yet in the OG show, the most disenfranchised people in the world: Sokka and Katara made Aang into a fully realized avatar.
#atla#colorism#netflix atla#avatar the last airbender#nickelodeon#korra#katara#kiyoshi#four elements#sokka#aang#azula#toph#zuko#fire nation#water tribe#waterbending#firebending
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NINTENDO SWITCH !
NINETEEN - greedy for love
masterlist <3
AN : there is probably so many typos and errors but like ITS OKAY yall can shit on me abt it, my feelings dont get hurt that easily 😭😭 this is an apology for the last chapter BUT IT MAKES UP FOR IT EHHEHEHEHEHE. based of the song greedy by miss ariana grande
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“it was a misunderstandingggg im sorryyy” mira fake cried shaking chishiya whom was sitting on her chair near her desk; the unamused look on his face gave everything away. shock and horror washed through mira, “no you know what! i couldve just name dropped her if you wanted too!” “that would’ve made it better huh? huh chishi?!” pushed his shoulder a little harsh crowing her arms together pointing her nose to the air.
“no that would’ve made it worse since it would make me like like a pussy” he groaned putting his hands on the shoulder mira pushed. “EXACTLY so don’t go acting mad at me for saying her.” mira scoffed sticking out her tongue. chishiya let out an amused huff.
he was quiet upset but at the end there was literally nothing he could do since he waited so long bundling up his feelings. “still though..you could’ve said you were joking.” “and you shouldn’t of bundled up those feelings you’ve had for her!” “fair.” “very much fair.”
“and does she know i like her?” an amused grin popped up on his face as mira shrugged her shoulders, “she may be stupid but she probably isn’t that fucking stupid.” “well maybe! but she is a smart girl i think she figured it out when she had the sleepover with the girls..” mira smacked her lips twice before plopping her self onto the bed.
the soft compact of the mattress against her back made her smile, turning her head to face chishiya “to be honest. both of you suck at your feelings.” mira’s words felt as cold as ice. her eyes were empty as if they had no life in it, “ouch?” chishiya playfully frowned.
“i mean it is the truth,” a long dramatic sigh left her lips “ i mean i have so many reasons as to why you both suck and think it’s unreciprocated love.” she moved her head to look at the bland white ceiling with circle shaped lights engraved into it. “go on. im introduced in your thought.” chishiya was quite intrigued. he felt as if he did his best to be flirty with her in his own chishiya like manners.
“well for starters! you suck at giving signs, she thought you were just challenging her to some MORE academics which pushed the agenda of her wanting to be rivals with you. she even vowed TO HERSELF she was going to be rivals with you till she dies. she completely mistook you being a tease in a loving way for you wanting to be better than her!” mira had a thin a-line smile as chishiya furrowed his eyebrows letting out a small hum.
“secondly! you yourself chishiya, you’re like a heartthrob that doesn’t want to be a heartthrob. you have all these girls wanting to marry you so yn probably took that as you never looked at the way she looked at you! which makes me laugh..you can’t even express your feelings and you always have the same look on your face! like YOU HAVE A NICE SMILE WHY DONT YOU TRY SMILING INSTEAD OF GRINNING for a change!” mira three her hands up in the air as chishiya gave her the disappointed parent look.
“there are so many more reasons but thirdly, god you are so hard to break through. you’re always serious and maybe for a change you could like loosen up, you’re so head focused on your studies that sometimes you forget that the whole academic rivals is an act. AND GOING BACK TO REASON ONE IT TIES IN. like chishiya sometimes i want too just—“ mira was cut off by him throwing a plushie at her face. “OKAY OKAY. i understand jeez.”
mira rolled her eyes lifting herself up going the the kitchen living room with chishiya trailing behind her, “i understand damn. that felt more like a let’s hate on chishiya moment then a tell me an actual reason moment.” he rolled his eyes grabbing a water bottle from the fridge as mira sat herself on the counter eating a bag of cookies.
“everyday is an i hate chishiya moment. the way you cock a grin, hell even a smirk makes me want to deck you in the face. you rich bastard” mira munched on her chips—chishiya faked a hurt looked expression on his face. “that hurt.” he blunted. mira shrugged her shoulders; the sound of yn’s door room opening caught both of their attention.
“miraaa, do we have anymore green tea bottles~” yn had a tired like whine escape her lip; “check the fridge i think i bought more!” mira continued to munch on her cookies. chishiya opened the fridge handing yn a cold green tea bottle, “here.” a small think lip smile was predominate on his face.
yn’s mouth formed an o shape looking up at him, she took the bottle from him. her fingers grazed his; the ever so slightest blush formed on her cheeks, she shook it off remember that he had a girl. chishiya’s usual hard cold stare softened when he looked at her. he hated the idea of misunderstandings; he wanted to clear up this air but he didn’t know how too.
mira read the room and cocked a grin on her lips, “if you need me i’ll be in my room watching some horimiyaaa~” she jumped down from the counter skipping to her room. the two just stood near eachother in silence, it was very tense almost as if it was waiting for someone to talk. it was like that for a good soild five minutes.
chishiya cleared his throat, he softened gaze couldn’t look away from hers. the red undertones from what looked like tears; the puffiness. he wanted to hold her. “yn.” his voice didn’t come out louder than he expected—it was soft yet stern. “chishiya. what are you doing here?” her voice was harsh yet gentle.
“well..well i was here because mira invited me here.” a small oh escaped her lips, a forced like smile was formed on her lips “that’s nice! i’m studying for the mid term tomorrow,” yn sighed “its really kicking my ass.” chishiya chuckled at that. “i forgot that we had that..just my luck.” chishiya had stuffed his hands in his pockets. his eyes slowly wandered around her face. his eyes landed on his soft lips, so many thoughts had wondered through his mind.
“well isn’t that just my luck! i can finally beat you in something, god. that makes me feel so..” an actual smile was shown on her lips. it was almost out of pure excitement. “so..???” “so..happy.”
“i could finally kick your ass in something that matters, this is my victory right here. i cracked the key.” yn had taken a swig of the green tea sighing in pure bliss; chishiya furrowed his eyebrows walking closer to the girl—closing the gap between them. his eyes moved from her lips to her eyes. yn’s eyes had a look as if it had a plan behind it.
yn had figured out chishiya wasn’t looking at her eyes anymore. a smirk formed on her lips, “you know chishiya we all can’t have what we want.” she sucked on her teeth. her eyes had a seduced like look that captivated chishiya. “and for that you are a greedy bastard.” chishiya was not even in his right state of mind. the thoughts had flowed through his mind, so many intrusive thoughts.
the thought of having her in his arms, the thought of her lips against hers, the thought of her cuddling up to his body. god he wanted all of that. he scoffed at the idea of him being greedy. he wasn’t greedy.
yn had pulled herself closer to chishiya, getting on her tippy toes to become ever so slightly his height, she wasn’t shorter then him but wasn’t taller either. “the greed has finally gotten into you chishiya. and im laughing.” she whispered in his ear with a smirk like smile prompted on her face.
chishiya’s breathing was hitched for a second, maybe a second too long. yn planted a soft kiss on his cheek; she got off her tippy toes turning her heel to go back to her room. the soft lips against his cheek made him blush.
it had snapped him out his daydream; he thought to himself maybe he wouldn’t have this opportunity again to be so close to her. he couldn’t let it slip. he really couldn’t. he had let his intrusive thoughts get the best of him.
“fuck it.” he grumbled—he grabbed yn by the wrist spinning her around to him; it took her by surpise. he lifted her up seating her on the countertop, “me greedy? im never greedy” he snarled at her, smashing his lips against hers.
the kiss was rough catching yn by surprise, to say she enjoyed it would be an understatement. a surge of butterflies had formed in her stomach; heat rushing to her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. her smirk liked grin turned into an excited smile. she kissed him back with the same rough tone but ever so slightly softer. chishiya had wrapped her arms around her waist, a smile had formed on his lips.
“god i should’ve done this way before…” he groaned as he broke off the kiss, more heat rushed to her face as he broke off the kiss. “you’re so annoying and greedy chishiya..” she rolled her eyes pulling him back in for another kiss.
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tags !!
pink doesn’t work
@crinklypink @flrtsbin @4pparecium @afckingswiftiebtch @em-asian @saiewithakatana @minyoungieee @eternal-gf @kimtaehussy @theinfaethablefig @elakari @too-many-fandoms666 @lastheavcns @pyrrhicgaze @andreeasancheez @hadesdaughtwr @Iserluver @urgodmoon @nmsl0v3r @lowilaufeyson @dee-dino-man @chiishiiya @444neapolitain @wroophruh @vensworld @starsval @dr3amscap3 @kuinaheartz @bre99 @cheshireshiya @eissaaaa @sollum @conny1111 @luvelyxp @shinobuily @gelliyo @fanfangying1304 @ikon-teen @stay-moa-army @bbyjackie @naegisimp @midlystupid @yvrikoo @chepoyo @luv4kuina @vernon-dursley @itadorim @vseqvt @shigamiryuk @wonswoorld @elisiumnie @abyloxk @asoullessentity @seventeensstrawberry @cupidsaster @bubblycloudy
#chishiya x reader#aib chishiya#alice in boderland x reader#chishiya shuntaro#chishiya headcanons#chishiya fluff#chishiya imagine#chishiya smau#chishiya x fem!reader#chishiya fic#꒰ა 🎧 ─ nintendo switch : .. ꒱#- surshica ♥︎
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Creepypasta Headcanons!
(Jeffery Woods, Eyeless Jack, Toby Rogers.)
Starting off with our crispy himself!
Jeffery Woods:
I actually believe he'd be moderately okay with self care (with the exception of showering, because he's gross 🧍)
Like, he def keeps different kinds of lotions to help hydrate his burn scars (I'm projecting ikik) and has a variety of different scents.
I actually think he doesn't have a strict preference for what kind of music he listens to, but tends to listen to heavy metal or older emo music.
Def listens to ICP. You can't change my mind.
I actually heavily headcanon him as someone that'll pick at his skin, specifically the skin on his fingers/hands. It's a bad habit that he has tried (and failed) to shake off.
Drinks monster/energy drinks like its WATER.
He's the type of guy to point at someone's concert shirt and ask them to name 3-5 songs
Eyeless Jack:
Out of any of the pastas, I believe he'd be the best when it comes to self care-- Considering the idea of him originally wanting to be a surgeon.
Carries hand sanitizer with him EVERYWHERE.
I believe he has a habit of over washing his hands and is constantly using hand sanitizer.
He has sensitive hearing from his heightened senses, so I believe he'd keep earplugs on him 24/7
Tried to prepare organs like someone would a sandwich, he regretted that.
The type of guy that doesn't pick up on humor. You quote something online around this guy and he'll just take it as you being dead serious.
Tried to eat human food so he could feel "normal" again, but it made him sick. Still tries it every now and then, but it can result in him just curled up on the floor. Think of how some people that are lactose intolerant will still eat dairy (you know who you are 🙄)
In some med schools, it's actually preferred to know a second language (that could also just be where I live, so 🚶) and I actually believe he knows bits of Spanish.
Parts of his life before the sacrifice is actually a major blur for him, it's like looking through a fog for him.
Hates the smell of mint.
I feel like he mainly uses echolocation. Or if he could "see" anything, it would probably be like seeing the temperature of something
Example:
Bro constantly cold. It could be the middle of July and he'd probably be LAYERED up. Long sleeves, hoodies, etc.
Toby Rodgers:
Chews. His fingers, the scar on his cheek, dead skin on his lips, he just chews.
Unironically wears socks and sandals
Due to high levels of stress, I like to think he'd have white steaks/patches in his hair. :]
Tried to give himself a piercing once, it didn't work out. It scarred.
Either Midwest emo or grunge, you can't change my mind!
Has listened to the front bottoms (father...) and the mountain goats.
Listens to Nirvana sometimes. 👏
Due to his trauma, he prefers to not drive or ride in the passenger seat. He either forces himself to sleep or zones out SOOOO hard.
Since he can't go get his hair cut professionally for obvious reasons, some of his hair is uneven since he doesn't know how to cut it properly.
Toby doesn't like sweetened coffee, he either drinks it black or eats instant coffee because "it works faster"
He regretted this.
Got my first ACTUAL post down! Hope you guys like it! Tried to keep it lighthearted since it's a starter. I take requests btw. :]
#creepypasta#jeffery woods#jeff the killer#jack nyras#eyeless jack#toby rogers#ticci toby#creepypasta headcanon
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The Chain Driving Cars
Time: Will drive with his knees or start swerving to freak out whoever’s in the car with him, tolerates music but will force you to turn it down if traffic gets too thick because he “can’t see”
Warriors: Really good driver, prides himself on getting the best parking spots, keeps like five extra pairs of sunglasses in his car, takes it through the car wash probably more often then necessary
Twilight: Drives with the windows down on the highway, one hand on the wheel, blasts music, but it’s really a roll of the dice what he’ll play, usually can be convinced to stop for coffee, will yell at you if you don’t wear your seatbelt
Sky: Is probably the best at driving by day, but isn’t great at night-driving, tends to get stressed out in traffic, always has nice-smelling air fresheners, there’s always blankets in the backseat
Legend: Road RageTM, no you cannot have the aux cord, lays on the horn most often, always prepared, keeps jump cables, a jump starter, an ice scraper, extra umbrellas, etc in his trunk
Wild: What it says on the tin, actually a good driver just enjoys being reckless, what the heck is a seatbelt, goes 10-15 over the speed limit on the regular, always has snacks
Hyrule: White-knuckled driver, brakes hard at yellow lights, consistently drives under the speed limit and hates passing people, lots of screaming, sometimes struggles to keep his eyes on the road because he gets distracted by the scenery
Four: Does not meet the legal height requirement to sit in the front seat
Wind: Just got his permit, voted Most Likely to Hit Something While Backing Up, isn’t allowed to play music because he starts singing along and gets distracted
#please don’t come for me four stans#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu twilight#lu legend#lu time#lu wild#lu hyrule#lu sky#lu warriors#lu wind#lu four
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Looker and Anabel's Pokemon
Due to the fanfic Neither Black Nor White on AO3 (Rated Mature), I was thinking about my headcanons for Pokemon husbandry and what it takes to keep such amazing, unique, and uniquely costy creatures, especially in the terms of Anabel.
Looker is pretty simple since he only has Croagunk, but a good reason he has another Croagunk after his last one's passing is that he's well aware of the species and how to properly care for one.
An old piece but Looker wears safety gloves when handling this species. Not just to protect himself from the poison that seeps from its body fairly naturally (even if it's in very low doses) but mostly because amphibians are very porous. Gloves that do not irritate its skin and are frequently washed are something Looker has for the lil guy. He also is well aware of how Croagunk's poison/venom works: in very low doses from a Poison Jab it can safely knock down a fully grown person to put them in a drowsy state. It can even be reworked for medicinal purposes.
Beyond that he's well aware of the environment Croagunk needs to thrive. Regular water misting or splashes in bodies of water keep the frog's skin moist, but Croagunk isn't too hard to maintain due to the body size and species.
The real tricky person is Anabel.
Now still on Looker's side, Anabel has given him (forced onto him, really) shared custody of her Riolu/Lucario in my headcanon. He's been learning how to take care of such a Pokemon, which is actually quite a simple species due to being a loyal canine. I don't believe Pokemon eat processed kibble, but Lucario can eat a diet similar to a human except with more of a meat/eggs focus. (And no chocolate, I don't believe the Lucario Movie in the slightest.) Unlike Croagunk, doesn't need a special place to sleep or regular skin moistenings.
Now firmly on Anabel, we have from order of obtainment: Snorlax, Alakazam, Raikou, Latios, Entei, Weavile, Mismagius, Salamence, and (Shared Custody)Lucario.
Having a Munchlax/Snorlax starter ALONE sounds costly enough. It's known to be a gluttonous Pokemon, so it's already expensive by itself. Anabel thankfully has a plan. International Pokemon League Societies provide benefit for trainers: things like access to specialized food, items, and certifications based on the level trainer someone is. (This is why you can only buy Ultra Balls after certain amount of accomplishments.)
So Anabel has special nutrient rich Snorlax food that keeps it happy. Snorlax as a species tend to fall under "you are what you eat" so if they eat low energy vegetation they'll need a lot, versus high protein/calorie food products that get processed easier into energy. Snorlax also enjoys restaurants that also serve the Pokemon, as it can enjoy human-based food as treats.
Alakazam and Weavile are simple diets like Lucario and Croagunk. Mismagius doesn't need to eat but can "ingest" a treat if she wants to. Salamence needs more due to size but can eat fruits, root veggies, eggs, and meat.
And then there is Raikou, Entei, and Latios. Two big cat carnivores and one long-migration Pokemon, all legendaries. There is not enough information about this Pokemon, and people who train legendaries are but a handful. Anabel needs a properly licensed certificate alone for Salamence and Snorlax. She needs a VERY SPECIAL certification and Trainer ID to even allow for her rare, precious, and intense legendary creatures-- and to prove that she can take proper care of them.
They are like endangered species mixed with cryptids, and their diets can be specialized. Thankfully, however, Latios is easy to feed with a similar diet to Salamence except with less meat. He often finds food on his own, however. Raikou and Entei can have meat at home, but would much rather hunt for their own food. That being said, they also seem to gain energy from volcanic activity and thunderstorms, as they are still a rather mystical species. Anabel is weary about letting them hunt for themselves, because they fall under an invasive species or something akin to letting your cat be an outdoor cat so that it kills all the birds in the area (Not cool. Stop making your cat an outdoor cat.)
But if anything, Latios, Raikou, and Entei are very, very intelligent. They don't overhunt; they take what they need from the earth and repay it. They rely on the energy of the planet as well as the energy of their diet, so they are three independent Pokemon that keep themselves fed.
Even so, with International Police and the League Associations, Anabel can breathe easy that she's not breaking the bank just to keep her Pokemon fed. Just as long as she's following regulations and providing research info on rare species, a lot of her food costs as subsidized or her Pokemon are taken care of when she uses the PC to send them over to a general caretaker.
Burnet and Wicke in Alola provide free health screenings on her Legendaries as they are the only ones Anabel trusts, and they want to work with such increadible Pokemon!
And that's what I have in terms of Pokemon husbandry. It can be rather difficult to upkeep such increadible creatures without extra help, so this is probably why so many people have one or two Pokemon that are considered more pet-like than anything.
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HALSEY / BADLANDS (2015) STARTERS
❛ Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise. ❜
❛ Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it. ❜
❛ Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it. ❜
❛ I'm headed straight for the castle. ❜
❛ They wanna make me their queen. ❜
❛ I sold my soul to a three-piece; And he told me I was holy. ❜
❛ Hold me down. ❜
❛ Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown. ❜
❛ We are the new Americana. ❜
❛ What kind of dough have you been spending? ❜
❛ What kind of bubblegum have you been blowing lately? ❜
❛ All we do is drive, ❜
❛ All we do is think about the feelings that we hide. ❜
❛ All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign. ❜
❛ Sick and full of pride. ❜
❛ Would it really kill you if we kissed? ❜
❛ I let him climb inside my body; And held him captive in my kiss. ❜
❛ I'm a wanderess. ❜
❛ I'm a one night stand. ❜
❛ Don't belong to no city; Don't belong to no man. ❜
❛ I'm the violence in the pouring rain; I'm a hurricane. ❜
❛ And I found myself reminded; To keep you far away from me. ❜
❛ Well, lately I like 'em crazy. ❜
❛ Do you remember the taste of my lips that night. ❜
❛ I remember the fear in your eyes. ❜
❛ Didn't know where we were running to; But don't look back. ❜
❛ I imagine the tears in your eyes; The very first night I'll sleep without you. ❜
❛ I'm searching for something that I can't reach. ❜
❛ I don't like them innocent. ❜
❛ I like the sad eyes, bad guys; Mouth full of white lies. ❜
❛ Where'd you go? ❜
❛ What happened to the soul that you used to be? ❜
❛ You say that you're no good for me. ❜
❛ Saying that I love him but I know I'm gonna leave him. ❜
❛ You're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope. ❜
❛ I hope you make it to the day you're 28 years old. ❜
❛ You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece. ❜
❛ You were a vision in the morning when the light came through. ❜
❛ I know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you. ❜
❛ And I'm still waking every morning but it's not with you. ❜
❛ They think I'm insane. ❜
❛ I don't have to fucking tell you anything. ❜
❛ Well, is this fine? Will it be alright? ❜
❛ That's the beauty of a secret; You know you're supposed to keep it. ❜
❛ I found God; I found him in a lover. ❜
❛ I found the Devil; I found him in a lover. ❜
❛ A love like religion. ❜
❛ I'm such a fool for sacrifice. ❜
❛ I'm such a fool to pay this price. ❜
❛ 'Cause he's off to pay his crimes; And he's got no time for mine. ❜
❛ Keep on haunting me. ❜
❛ I was as pure as a river; But now I think I'm possessed. ❜
❛ You put a fever inside me; And I've been cold since you left. ❜
❛ You've got a fire inside but your heart's so cold. ❜
❛ I've done some things that I can't speak. ❜
❛ I've tried to wash you away but you just won't leave. ❜
❛ 'Cause I came here so you'd come for me. ❜
❛ Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me? ❜
❛ Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me? ❜
❛ You can't wake up, this is not a dream. ❜
❛ You're part of a machine, you are not a human being. ❜
❛ Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline. ❜
❛ I think there's a flaw in my code. ❜
❛ These voices won't leave me alone. ❜
❛ Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold ❜
❛ Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me? ❜
❛ They're coming for me. ❜
❛ And I tried to hold these secrets inside me. ❜
❛ My mind's like a deadly disease. ❜
❛ I'm meaner than my demons. ❜
❛ I'm bigger than these bones. ❜
❛ Please stop, you're scaring me. ❜
❛ I can't help this awful energy. ❜
❛ Goddamn right, you should be scared of me. ❜
❛ Who is in control? ❜
❛ I couldn't stand the person inside me. ❜
❛ I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head. ❜
❛ You know we're gonna be legends. ❜
❛ I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight. ❜
❛ Do you feel like a young god? ❜
❛ You know the two of us are just young gods. ❜
❛ Don't get cut on my edges. ❜
❛ My tongue is a weapon. ❜
❛ If you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight. ❜
❛ I walk the line. ❜
❛ Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you. ❜
#rp meme#sentence starters#rp sentence meme#Lyric Meme#lyric starters#rp prompt#roleplay meme#roleplay prompts#sentence meme#rp memes#rp starters#*lyrics
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THERE IS NOT ENOUGH MITSURI HEAD CANONS AND I FEEL THAT IS AN ABSOLUTE CRIME. A SHAME.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Mitsuri Kanroji Body Head Canons+Random HC's˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
HOOOO BOY
So for starters, my girl is chubby. Not pudgy, no, no, no. Chubby.
You're telling me that this woman can pack down plates on plates of food and not gain anything? Anything at all???
Idc about her metabolism, that woman is chubby and you can pry that out of my cold, dead hands.
She is so soft, like pillow.
Mitsuri screams the type of girl who pouts about her thighs in thigh highs (the little muffin tops <3)
Screaming.
She absolutely had issues with her weight in the past, insecure about her stretch marks and the moles on her body because it was "imperfect".
It took a lot to love the body she has, she still probably struggles with it but is definitely better
Also she's absolutely pink-toned. Like fleshy pink tones.
OH SHE ABSOLUTELY HAS MORE MOLES ALL AROUND HER BODY
I like to think she has one on her thigh, one on her shoulder and hand and a few scattered around like star dust
She would paint her nails, not any bright colors but a subtle clear gloss
And makeup. Screams the type to just do natural make-up.
She loves it when you hold her from behind, or you let her lift you up.
Girly is strong under that chub.
Like Kyojuro, she's an absolute heater in the winter. Like furnace/fireplace warm.
Her entire face gets warm when she blushes.
I feel like Mitsuri would overheat in the summer, like heat wave bad, often needing to cool down under some shade or take plenty water brakes.
Naturally long eyelashes. I do not make the rules.
I feel like she's pretty pale, like not paper white but an off white.
Bruises easily, not as much as Shinobu but she's definitely covered in em.
ALSO SCARS
She would be so insecure of them at first, but would eventually grow to like them with a little help from her comrades.
She loves being taller than her lover, no clue why but it makes her so happy.
Also, gives tiddy hugs, bear hugs and is just a nice hugger.
She wants the person she's hugging to feel safe in her arms, so she sometimes squeezes too tight (rip to your back...)
Back to the boobs
Sometimes she doesn't even realise it, and she gets so embarrassed when she does!
(Subconsciously learned it from Kyojuro. It's comforting)
Thick hair, like yes we see how it is braided but it's so thick that it takes forever to wash and longer to dry.
Naturally a little curly. I don't make the rules.
Oh and she's got a chubby face, like round/circle shaped.
And plump lips (pls bbg just lemme kiss u </3)
#mitsuri kanroji#kny mitsuri#demon slayer#kny x reader#kny#kny headcanons#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer mitsuri#mitsuri x reader#headcanon#zombiewrites#body headcanon#shes my wife
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Full House Sentence Starters
Send one for my muse’s reaction. Feel free to change pronouns as needed.
"Gee, your hair smells like melon. What are you using?"
"Why thank you!"
"Don’t say it if you don’t mean it."
"No way, Jose!"
"She signed up for Shop Class cause she thought it was taught at the mall."
"We have this thing here in America called a restraining order"
“I guess we’re not as old as we thought we were, are we now”
"You don't have to be hip and cool. You're spick and span."
"I hope you're not offended. But if you are, that's her father over there."
"Darling, I just hope you are alright. But if you are alright, I'll kill you."
"You got it, dude."
"The baby's sleeping like a baby."
" Did ya get the triple chocolate with pink frosting in the shape of a clown's face with a big cherry-red nose? Did ya, did ya, DID YA?"
"I'm just cleaning my rubber gloves."
"She had the most incredible hypnotic eyes, the face of an angel, the most amazing body."
"You got a bad attitude."
"I can't have chicken pox, I'm immune."
"That's not a big problem. A big problem is like... well... if your butt fell off."
"You've been in toon-town for 2 days. Now, start acting like a human being."
"Cut. It. Out!"
"Talk to me."
"You're immune to common sense."
"Disco will never die."
"Shame on you!"
"Duh!"
"You should take a drive through a car wash without your car."
"I'm stuck in a room full of eggheads. They're worse than eggheads, they're omelette-heads!"
"Well, pin a rose on your nose."
"Oh, puh-lease!"
"How rude!"
"Don't shake your head. Your story's read. It's time for bed. To bed, I said."
"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you... Only you're not joining in."
"Jail break!"
"Now you can have ice cream and chocolate milk, no cookies."
"Elvis never made one golf movie."
"Boy, this is gonna be a fun night."
"Tell me something I don’t know!"
"This kid has been walking for three days and you haven't stopped taping her. I'll feel sorry for her when she starts potty training."
"She was choking on a bad piece of cheese, so I gave her the Hoover maneuver and sucked it out of her."
"'Sorry.' 'Sorry.' 'Sorry' doesn't change the fact that my chicken tetrazzini is ruined!"
"I had a traumatic experience with squash once. I ate one."
"Aw, nuts!"
"Have mercy!"
"You gotta be kidding."
"A telescope that can only see your face?"
"I think you're a little mixed up."
"We never clean at my house. We move in, trash the place for five years, then move out."
"Yeah, well I bet you won't be getting surprised tonight."
"You can't buy my vote... but you can rent it for an hour."
"I’ll stay home and watch public television."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Whoa, Baby!"
"Am I the raddest, baddest dad a kid ever had?"
"Oh, mylanta!"
"I tried, and I failed. I'm just glad I figured this out now, and not when I'm 46."
"Hey, you had your adventure and now I'm going to have mine"
"Watch the hair!"
"You. Are. Not. Welcome!"
"I am stoked! Whatever that means."
"Who wants white meat? Scratch the white meat. We have dark meat and really dark meat."
"You have the brain of a paramecium."
"I am not and I'm telling you said that."
"Hey, I thought we were going out for ice cream."
"I need that cake!"
"You’re in big trouble, mister."
"You can keep the drums, but the sticks have got to go."
"Like on 'Oprah!' People married to two people at the same time… oh my god, They are a botanist!"
"Happy birthday to me!"
"That’s not funny."
“I will never die”
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First Night
summary: Natalie and Herbert spend the night cleaning up after their mess
word count: ~1.5k
content warnings: dried blood mention, zombie/dead mention, morgues
author's note: i wrote this little piece after really crushing on him and. um. well. yeah. um. i'm so subtle with how much i like him guys
“Huh,” Natalie said wearily, “Now I understand why all the floors here have a drain.”
She watched the odd mix of soapy water and old blood swirl round and around until it disappeared into the floor. Her hands were turning white with how hard she was gripping the mop but she didn't seem to notice. All she could pay attention to was the way the drain hid away the gory evidence that was left behind mere moments before.
“Of course they have a drain.” Herbert's voice pulled her out of her dazed state, “How else could you work on the bodies? Just lean it over the sink and hope for the best?”
She looked at him, slightly embarrassed, “...Right.”
While Natalie was looking forward to spending time with Herbert West and seeing him work, this was not what she expected. She expected something more like tea, some small talk, maybe even swapping notes.
Instead, what she got was him begging her to allow him to sneak into the morgue where she was fulfilling her apprenticeship to perfect his experiments. They went back and forth for about ten minutes, with Herbert pleading with her and with Natalie exclaiming that he'd get her into trouble. He promised that he wouldn't and that he needed someone “smart like her.” Finally, at that compliment, she caved and confessed that the morgue did have a relatively recent John Doe on their hands.
And now they're here cleaning up after the mess they created.
“You look tired.” He commented, disposing of his soiled latex gloves.
“Really? How could you tell?” Natalie asked sarcastically, sighing heavily.
Herbert drew his lips into a thin line, “Well, for starters your blink rate has increased significantly. Your movements are almost sluggish, too. It's practically written all over you.” He responded, not picking up on her sarcasm at all.
She turned back to the floor and hummed, “I guess that happens when you stay up past midnight fighting a…um, reanimated corpse…” Natalie struggled to force herself to say the last bit.
The air felt tense in the cold, almost empty room. Both between them and in a general sense. They both had trouble looking at each other and instead spent a lot of time and energy on cleaning the place up.
Drying splatters of blood still littered the floor and walls of the place, even after almost two hours of them cleaning it. Natalie insisted they washed every square inch of the place before they even considered leaving. She was desperate to not have any evidence of what the two of them did there. Herbert reluctantly agreed but only in an attempt to keep her calm.
He kept making sneaky glances at her in hopes that she wouldn't notice. With the way she was still staring at the floor, he could feel confident in thinking she didn't see him. Although he would never admit it, he was starting to feel a bit guilty for frightening her so. He got over excited about his research and was looking forward to sharing that with someone who wasn't Dan.
He cleared his throat, catching her attention again, “I think our studies were very successful today, Natalie.”
Our studies?
“Y-Yeah,” She stuttered, hung up on that one word, “I guess you could say that. You know a lot more about brains and that stuff more than I ever will.”
“Well, it helps to have a morgue attendant aid me.” He responded honestly.
“You probably could find a better one, if I'm being frank.” She snapped some gloves on and started to work on the little bright red flecks on the wall.
Herbert shifted uncomfortably, a little annoyed that his attempts to comfort her were falling flat, “I don't think I could. Your smarts are impressive.”
She sadly chuckled, “I think you're just being nice to me.”
Once again, he grew slightly frustrated that his efforts seemed to be in vain. He took a short breath before saying, “No, it's the honest truth, actually. Your help was very much needed and appreciated.”
“Well, thanks Herbert.” Natalie coughed, “I mean, Dr. West. Excuse me.”
“No, Herbert is fine.” He said with the faintest smile.
The cleaning was practically done at this point and there was only really Natalie’s side left. While she continued scrubbing the wall with the harsh, medical grade chemicals, Herbert cleared his throat to ask, “Should I leave you to work? If you're anything like me, working alone is the best option-”
“No!” Natalie whipped around with a frightened look before composing herself, “I mean, um, no thank you. I'd prefer to have your company, thanks.”
She wanted his company? Him of all people?
He couldn't help but be skeptical of her at first. She must have misspoke. It's been a long night and she's dead tired, she must have meant to say she wanted some form of company and not just his. Why would he care, anyway? Herbert wasn't fond of any sort of relationships or human connections. So why did he sort of like the sound of her liking his company?
“If that's true, would you want me to walk you home?” He asked, surprised at himself for even uttering such a sentence.
Finally, the cleaning was finished. Not a fleck of blood could be found anywhere. Natalie let out a relieved sigh, “I would like that a lot. I don't think I want to be alone tonight after…you know,”
He hummed, “Well, if it's truly that stressful for you, then why don't you just spend the night in my room?”
They both looked at each other with utter confusion. Did he really just ask that with a straight face? Natalie assumed he was making some sort of mean, sarcastic joke on her. Herbert thought he had completely lost his mind by asking that.
“Do you mean that?” She finally asked.
“I asked, didn't I? Why would I ask you about something I wasn't being honest about?” He cleared his throat, “I don't really sleep anyway. Either way, I'll probably be working at my desk or down in the basement. The bed would remain empty.”
Her head tilted to the side, “And you'd let me take it over for the night?”
Herbert avoided making direct eye contact and shrugged, “You're the one who said you didn't want to be alone. I'm merely offering a solution that could work.”
Natalie went quiet. She thought about how out of character it was for him to offer such a thing to anyone, let alone her. She was just some mortuary assistant that had access to the dead. The types of bodies he needs for his experiments. She couldn't possibly mean anything more, right? Well, even then, maybe he just wants to be polite and keep on her good side so they could do this again? But, what if he genuinely wanted to build a connection with her?
Herbert cleared his throat again, this time to grab her attention, “Is that something you would like or not? Your answer won't offend me either way.”
She fiddled with the sleeves of her black button up a bit, feeling a little embarrassed at how happy she felt that he even wanted to offer such a thing to her. Her voice was quiet and barely audible, “I'd like that very much, actually. Thank you.”
“Alright,” His response was almost emotionless, “Let's go then. Our work here for the night is finished.”
Natalie took extra steps to make sure it looked like no one had been in there the entire night before locking it up and finally leaving it. The walk back to Herbert's shared residence was quiet, save for some brief, mindless small talk every now and then.
He quickly unlocked his place and ushered her inside quietly, both of them ensuring they wouldn't wake up Daniel and Megan if she was spending the night. Silently, he led her to his room and pointed at the bed.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He whispered, “I must ask you to only touch the bed and nothing else that belongs to me.”
“Of course,” She said while taking a hesitant seat on his stiff bed.
Herbert started to undo his tie, “Will a light bother you? I need my lamp to write down some notes from tonight.”
“Oh, no, not at all.”
“Very well. I hope you get some rest.”
“Thank you.” Natalie gave him a weak smile before snuggling under his covers.
Much to his shock, it didn't take her much to fall asleep. Either pure exhaustion or she genuinely felt comforted by his presence. For some reason while he was working, Herbert kept feeling a need to look over his shoulder to check on her. He would always force himself to focus on his notes but the urge never left him.
Before retreating down to the basement, he wrote down one last note, “Natalie was more important than I initially thought. Not sure where I would be without her tonight. Maybe I should look into more of a fulfilling relationship with her outside of experiments.”
tag list: @bobmckenzie @kylars-princess @gideongrovel @fates-theysband @bioexorcizm @felixrichtershubby @lieutenantselnia lmk if you want to be added/removed! <3
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19 on the angsty/suggestive sentence starters post, a Lucius x male reader (if you don’t write male, fem is okay too)
When Lucius and the reader(who is a half-blood) were at Hogwarts, they used to be in a Secret relationship, but Lucius had to get married and all that, and The reader still in love with him
Please💙
Some Things Are Hard to Quit
Pairing: Lucius x Male Reader
Genre: Smut, Angst
Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI! 18+ Only!, Sex, Sexual Language, Cursing, Male-Male Relationship, Infidelity in Marriage
Masterlists
Prompt: "I loved you. Past tense."
Even though Lucius was married, he still called you on rare occasions. Each time he beckoned you responded to his call with great haste, dropping everything to be there. Usually, he just wanted a quickie and you happily obliged. It reminded you of the time back at Hogwarts when you two would slip off in secret for some quick alone time together. Back then, you had been in a secret romantic relationship, that was until Lucius ended things.
Being one of the last purebloods he had a duty to his family that he had to carry out; get married and produce offspring. As advanced as the magic community is compared to the muggle one, there still is no way for two men to have biological children, and you yourself are a half-blood anyway, not that it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. Lucius was and still is determined that he must continue in the ways of his family before him and he broke your heart in the process.
Deep down, you believe that he holds some form of love for you still. Otherwise, why would he continue to call you up for sex every now and then? You hold out hope that maybe one day he will accept his feelings and leave his wife, leaving you to raise his child with him alone.
You know that hope is slim, he seems relatively happy with her, but every time he corners you, your hard cocks rubbing together as you grind into each other during a passionate make-out session, you can’t help but think that maybe she can’t satisfy him the way you can. Maybe, just maybe, that is enough for him to one day realize that he would be better off with you.
Tonight was no different. Lucius had called upon you, for the third time this week, in fact. Now, he was thrusting into your hole violently, his cock pressing up against your prostate each time. The sensation was both painful and pleasurable, just the way Lucius likes you to take him.
“UH! Lucius! I’m coming! Lucius!” you scream in pleasure as you near your climax.
“Shh now, my prince. You need to last a little longer for daddy. Can you do that?” Lucius says, slowing his pace just a bit.
“I’ll try,” you say through gritted teeth as you attempt to hold back your floodgates.
Lucius caresses your head, running a hand through your hair before gripping it and pulling your head back. You groan in pleasure at the sensation.
“Such a good little whore,” he tuts. “You will come when I command you, got it?” he sneers.
“Yes, sir!”
“Good boy,” Lucius says with a smile.
The next moment, Lucius is pounding into you again, his long white hair disheveled and falling into his face. By the change in his force and rhythm you know he’s going to finish soon, but so are you. You hold back your orgasm with all your strength, you don’t want to disappoint him.
“You can come on the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
Both of you orgasm at the same time, Lucius groaning as his hot seed flows into you and you scream his name as yours gets all over his freshly washed white sheets. As you near the end of your climax, ‘I love you, Lucius' falls from your lips. You regret saying it the moment it does as Lucius stills and rolls away from you.
“We aren’t boys sharing in the pleasure of a secret romance anymore, (Y/N),” Lucius sneers.
“I - I still love you, Lucius! What is this all about if it’s not love?” you question.
“I loved you. Past tense. We are over now. This, all of this, is just simply a means of pleasure!”
“What about your wife then? Does she know about your other means of pleasure?”
“Actually, yes she does.”
“And she's fine with it?”
“More than fine, in fact, she’s got her own little playmates on the side as well.”
“I’m just some playmate to you! Fuck you, Lucius!” you scream. You hurriedly gather your things and redress. “Don’t bother calling for me again. I won’t come.
“I think,” Lucius starts, a hand trailing down your face causing you to shudder, “we both know that you will.”
Rushing away, you apparate back to your home, deep down you know that Lucius is right. You will return when he calls you again no matter how much you hate it. Some things are just hard to quit.
#lucius malfoy#lucius x reader#lucius x male reader#lucius smut#not sfw#lucius malfoy smut#ensnapemysenses
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@bjorkn - Closed Starter
He'd thought the brusque walk back to his flat would be quick enough, even in this weather. But as the snow keeps coming, and the wind, he's realizing he might have to stop in somewhere safe for the time being. He sees someone else who looks like she's being buffeted around like him and waves an arm a bit to her from afar before trying to gesture at the coffeeshop he's standing closer to. In the white-washed air from snow-dust that's biting his skin, it's hard to even see in front of him. "Get inside!" He shouts to her as he walks closer, holding out an arm to help her as the wind picks up. "Think we need to take cover for now." He says above the sound of the wind.
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Crazy shit my friends have said but as inbox starters part 2
Part one.
you are allowed to adjust these in whatever deems appropriate to your muse!
"I'm psychically passing on my brain hemorrhage onto you."
"You're at a ten I need you to being it down to a three."
"You deserve everything I send to you."
"You will die in six seconds, and I forgot how to count."
"God gave him his last breath and right now he's holding it."
"Burn in the bowels of hell like the shit you couldn't take on this day."
"Start chucking buckets, buddy."
"I'm playing 3d chess while you're out here playing baby checkers, stop eating the pieces, dumbass!"
"I hope you're in a gaming mood because you're about to speedrun the rest of your fucking life."
"Change the card color one more time and I'm changing your birth certificates date to never."
"May your fate not be the same as Icarus, you waxed-winged bitch."
"Why are there potatoes on the floor?"
"I've had just about enough of your crusty ass in my realm!"
"THAT WAS SO CHEAP IT AINT EVEN ON THE DISCOUNT RACKET. THEY'RE GIVIN IT OUT FOR FREE."
"I'm proud of my feet, they brought me to a lot of places."
"Sorry, the demons came out."
"Those nuggies are mine and that clown's a wash."
"It's not gay, it's tactical bro."
"You've stolen from my people! You've poisoned my crops!"
"I wouldn't be in your shoes, we wear different pairs of shoes."
"Your ass would have been grass and they would have mowed it."
"I'm gonna get so close to his face he's gonna see the whites of my eyes before he sees the whites of the pearly gates."
"Rome wasn't built in a day, but this ass-beating will!"
“My knees! God broke them to nerf me!”
"These arrows can tell me where to go, but only god can tell me how close hell is!"
"I took a ton of Demerol and I thought I became religious."
"She's/He's/They're dying and my lean is mixed. Let's get to work."
"I don't care what you look like so long as you look like you've met god."
"I've inserted a cow with sunglasses and now time is unstable!"
"You can't prove I lost if I'm dead."
"Instead of frozen, its colden. It was really hard breaking it together."
" I hate to tell you this, [name], but Papa John is real and He Can Hurt You."
"Everyone knows the C in Chess stands for Cuck."
"You don't know what that pufferfish did."
"I like my men lean and mean.. and preferably a machine."
"I GOTTA SHOOT BACK TO CHRISTMAS."
"If they are the 1% they're gonna get 100% of these hands."
"Waste my time once more, Petty Man."
"FUCK YOU YOU WANNA TEST GOD? I WANNA TEST CHILLI'S!"
"Everybody knows that the perfect gamer cup is a red solo cup that has a bite taken out of it."
"I did kill myself once and won."
"Someone's fucking corpse just flung into me and reversed the polarity, the alignment, and the religious affiliation of my knees."
"I gotta go mow my drive thru."
"Does his mom love him? I sure hope so."
"Who knows? The power of fish is endless."
"I'm gonna dox you so I can beat your ass publicly".
"Because I saw the future, and you're not in it."
"Want me to cancel your heartbeat? There you go!"
"We got no time to fuck around, only to find out."
"What's stupid is thinking you need permission to ask questions."
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Deadmen Don't Decide
(Deadmen Got No Luck, part III)
Steve Harrington x Henderson!Female!Reader
SYNOPSIS (I ADVISE YOU DO NOT READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE 1ST PART YET): this is a Steve Harrington AU, in which after a mission gone wrong, you are thrust into a world where you’re a rising actress playing yourself in a series called Stranger Things... which retraces the past year of your life almost down to a T. Now you have to figure out what happened, but most importantly - what’s real and what isn’t.
New to the series? Try fighting Vecna here - Then wake up in 2021 here.
A/N: I don’t know where all this angst is coming from, but it’s just hitting me like a tsunami every time I sit down to write. It’s also a bit slow moving, but I promise things are going to pick up in the next few chapters! Thank you for bearing with me!
Shower has always been a kind of your thinking temple. Granted, the topics have usually evolved around “what to wear to your shift at Hideaway to avoid giving ideas to handsy assholes” or “are demodogs’ blood and saliva toxic to the skin”, and not, you know “what a girl to do stuck in some parallel universe after dying in her own world”.
At least there was some consistency in the way common sense gradually seeped out of your thoughts as time progressed; much like water swirling down the drain at your feet.
Hot streams hitting your head and shoulders like needles, you spent at least twenty whole minutes studying your body - or rather, what it could have been if Upside Down has never existed. Your skin was soft and lovely to the touch, no scar tissue in sight. If it weren’t for the bluish bruise on your right knee, you would probably feel overwhelmed by the unnaturalness of it all. Marks on your body were what you were used to; never in your wildest dreams you would have thought that this ugly blue patch of skin would help you to hold on to some kind of sanity; confirming that amidst of it all, you were still you.
The wound on your forehead also stung a little when the water first washed over it; and you actually felt thankful for the pain, the sharpness of it grounding you - making you feel alive.
Last time you were in your world, you were dying of a blood loss. As far as you’re aware, you died of blood loss, in Steve’s arms.
So now, you’re what, undead? Reincarnated? Worst case scenario, you would expect yourself to come back to life as a cockroach or - if karma was really out to get you - Tommy H. But now that you’re here, surrounded by the faces you love with minds you know nothing of - you decide, that maybe, there is a fate worse than waking up as a raging asshole one day. Maybe, the scariest of all is to wake up as yourself - with the people you cherish most in the world not knowing who you really are.
You refuse to dwell on it too much - on how your entire world turned upside down in a matter of hours. Now is not the time to grieve, because you haven’t given up yet.
Once again, you find yourself being a woman on a mission.
If there is a way out, you’ll find it. Whatever it effing takes.
You need to understand exactly what happened - and that without raising any more suspicions. You need to blend in - the last thing you want is to end up in a white room with cushioned walls. So no chance of “I’m from some kind of a parallel universe in which Vecna is real and out for blood” being a conversation starter.
The thought that you might still be stuck in the Upside Down, with this entire world being a figment of your imagination and one of Vecna’s ways to torture you did cross your mind. But then, if you were, in fact, unconscious, would you be feeling any physical pain?
And, come on, replacing Steve Levi’s Straight Leg Harrington by Joe Hug Your Ass Fit Keery is very much outside of your realm of imagination.
When you return back to your room, the Steve / Joe is still nowhere in sight. Turning on the lights and trading a skimpy silk pyjamas you found under your pillow for an oversized gray t-shirt, dug up from the dirty laundry, you collect every single piece of information you can find in the room; some of it useless; some of it not - and dump it on your bed for further investigation.
What looks like the most important finding of all is a bounded stack of papers with August 8, 2021 etched upon it, the one your eyes found at the foot of the bed earlier. Marked, dog-eared, with coffee stains here and there, it’s a story filled with dialogs. It’s the Stranger Things script.
Just as you’re about to turn over the first page, the soft knock on the door calls for your attention.
“Come in”, you beckon Joe in, without taking your eyes off the starring actor’s list of names.
(Keery’s sound of steps is exactly the same as Steve’s, down to the last tap.)
Finn Wolfhard. Millie Bobby Brown. Sadie Sink. Maya Hawke - your eyes devour words off paper.
All of these names mean shit to you. But the names right next to them: Mike Wheeler, Eleven / Jane Hopper, Robin Buckley… These are the names of the people you would kill to see again.
Steve Harrington - Joe Keery.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” the man of the hour breaks you out of your thoughts, before they can send you spiralling downward towards all of the things - people - that you’ve lost.
Biting the inside of your cheeks, you tear your gaze away from the printed words, and venture a look at him.
Joe has changed clothes and taken a shower. His hair is still a little wet, and he’s wearing a simple molten brown cotton shirt this time with a pair of light grey joggers, the elastic of his underwear showing.
And you are definitely not staring.
“Like I’m still here,” you lay the sarcasm on real thick, hoping it takes the attention off the way you just gawked at him. “All tucked in, like a big girl, see?” You gesture towards your blanket-covered legs with a snicker.
A mischievous smile flickers across his face, and it has you stalling again, reminding yourself that he is not Steve.
“Well, don’t expect me to be impressed. Now, once I see you eat with a spoon and all…”
His words startle a chortle out of you.
“Oh, I’m a menace with a spoon”, you inform him zealously, raising your chin to look at him, only to find him already staring back, sparkles from the fairy lights above your bed dancing in his eyes.
“Oh really?” he folds his hands over his chest, as if deciding to indulge you for a minute. Bastard, you think, you’re enjoying this as much as I do. “I couldn’t tell. Not with all the ice cream you demolished on the set of Scoops Ahoy”.
Before his mentioning of the Starcourt can weigh on your chest and spin your mind down the memory lane and a never-ending sequence of million questions (how does he know about Starcourt?!), he drops the backpack you didn’t realise he was carrying on the floor and fishes something out of it.
“Prove it”.
Your eyes grow wide as you read the words on the pot of ice-cream he’s holding.
“Is that- Is that Cherry Garcia?!” you just blink at him in shock, momentarily forgetting where you are and who you’re with, “No way”.
All you see is Steve shrugging as he squats in front of you, so that your eyes can meet on the same level.
You feel a shooting pain rip through your chest, something awful; but it isn’t the reason you feel pressure grow behind your eyes.
“If you don’t want it, then…” he pretends to want to take the pot away from you, drawing his hand back; and before you know it, your fingers wrap around his wrist, and you are snatching the ice-cream out of his relaxed hand, his smiling eyes watching you closely.
You press the icy thing to your chest; it frostbites your skin through the t-shirt, but you barely take notice. All you can do is stare at this man before you - close enough to touch and yet so far to do it - because you know he is not Steve; but for a briefest of instants, it almost feels like it’s just you and him, on your regular Movie Night Thursday, with his shitty parents inexistent, as always. Almost like you’re together again.
This Joe person is going to be the death of you - provided that you aren’t dead already.
“What?” he asks as he stands up, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, unblinking eyes fixed on you.
“Nothing,” you quickly retort, dropping your gaze to the script, still laying next to your thigh. You clear your throat, tears pulsing in the back of it, just to fill the silence.
Joe slides a spoon into your lap without a word, and you bite down on your bottom lip with all your might.
He’s not Steve. He’s not Steve. He’s not…
“So here’s the plan,” he derails your train of repetitive self-conviction, making an effort to sound nonchalant. “I’ll sleep on the floor - kind of like a guard dog. If there’s anything you need, just, I don’t know, kick me?”
A watery laugh escapes you as you look up a him, and you pray he doesn’t notice how painful it sounds.
“I’ll try to remember not to step on you tomorrow morning”, you promise him, your gazes lingering on each other again.
Joe rubs his bottom lip with the very tip of his thumb; there’s certain softness to the air around the two of you - thick and zephyr-like, all sweetness and gelatin. The two of you are paralyzed, and you’re not sure if it’s the intimacy, in which you’ve slipped so briskly; or the terror of losing control over the rapid thumping of pulse at the base of your necks.
“So uh- What are you reading there?” Joe asks shortly, and then thinking it a bit abrupt, adds: “Anything interesting?”
You watch him kick his ass into gear and start unfolding some kind of a thin foam mattress he produced from his backpack. He lays it parallel to your bed, and you get the feeling that he is desperate to keep himself busy right now. He doesn’t look at you.
You almost tell him that he doesn’t need to do this; that there is enough room for both of you in your bed; but you bite your tongue.
Steve is a friend - Joe is a stranger, you have to remind yourself again. Harmless, maybe - but still a stranger.
“I was just-”, you flip through the pages in your lap, rubbing the tip of you nose. “Refreshing the memories, I guess”.
You feel Joe approach to take a better look at the papers - and then you’re hit with the smell of him, musc, something spicy, and velvety.
It goes to your head.
He grunts.
“Cool. Although I don’t think the Duffers are going to let you in on Stage 3 just yet. Don’t get me wrong, Lovebug, but with your stitches,” he motions around his own forehead with his pointer finger - “you look like you went against Vecna - and lost”.
You would have laughed at how close to the truth he actually came if you paid attention. But everything that comes after Lovebug gets lost in the roar of blood in your ears.
The pet name rips an almost visceral reaction out of you. Maybe it’s because it sounds so well-used, like his lips have been saying it for ages. Maybe, it’s because he looks exactly like Steve, your Steve. Or maybe, it’s because you know that he’s all you have now, and that you may never see, touch or talk to your Steve again.
“How long-“, you suddenly feel like you need to learn how to speak again, letter by letter. “How long have I been unconscious, exactly?”
Joe studies you carefully. He’s weighting his words.
“Long enough to give us all a scare of our lifetime, for sure”, he finally ends up saying, and you know he means it by the way the electric lights reflect in his dark eyes, stark white on spotless black. “A couple of hours, give or take”, he nods his head, pressing his lips together in a thin line.
“The longest couple of hours of my life”, he adds in a murmur after a pause, looking away.
Before you can even begin to unpack the meaning of it, he scratches the back of his head, his cheeks turning peony pink.
“I, uh- “, he swallows. “I brought some groceries for you,” he gestures behind his back towards the kitchen. “I’m going to go and put them away in the fridge. Call me if you need me?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, and drop your gaze back to the script, refusing to watch him linger for a second at the foot of your bed.
When he leaves, you drop your head down, taking a deep breath.
You close your eyes for a moment, and give yourself a pep-talk. One, he’s not Steve. Two, you’re a woman on a mission. Three - you need to find a way out.
And so, with a renewed sense of determination and a spoonful of ice-cream, you begin to read.
Your skin is glistening in the warm afternoon sun. The car window is rolled open; gentle breeze caressing your cheeks and twirling the ends of your still-wet hair around your head in cheery pirouettes. You look up, watching the wide blue expanse of the cloudless sky; your brother’s light snoring from the back seat mixing eerily well with the soft music flowing out the car speakers.
“I can’t believe they’re finally asleep,” you hear Steve whisper as he makes a right turn into your street. His eyes are fixed on the road, the corners of his lips turned up in amusement. “Do you think it was the canoe that knocked them out or-“
“Oh, it was definitely the burrito”, you don’t let him finish, grinning at him. “I’m pretty sure Dustin still has avocado on his cheek”.
Steve whips his head back at your words, and his eyes spot Dustin tucked in between Mike and Lucas; surely enough, there is a smudge of squashed avocado just above the right corner of his lips.
Steve turns back to face you with those big chocolate eyes, and you exchange glances that test your self-control. Before either one of you can burst out in gloriously loud laughter, you look away from each other; you’re going as far as pressing the back of your hand to your lips.
When Steve’s BMW finally comes to a halt in your driveway, your house looks boring and stale; nothing like the fun day you just spent with Lucas, Mike, Dustin Will and Steve at the Lover’s lake.
You never want this to end.
As you un-click your seatbelt, you turn to face Steve; he’s already looking at you with a nostalgic air - like he’s already missing you.
“So uh- how did the whole re-looking of the attic go?” He is a man catching at straws, and you are more than happy to lend him a hand. Neither of you wants to leave the peacefulness of the car with the kids sleeping in the backseat just yet. That’s what you’re telling yourselves, at least - when in reality - neither of you wants to say goodbye. “The colors turned out okay?”
A smile slowly grows on your lips, a ring of an idea going off in your head.
“Do you want to check it out?” you whisper back, feeling a bit giddy. “Give Dusty 5 more minutes to sleep?”
Steve’s eyebrows pop up, almost reaching his hairline. His mouth falls slightly open, and he’s nodding a bit frantically.
“Um- Yeah, sure. Let’s check it out”.
The two of you get out of the car, trying not to make too much noise. You feel the squishy grass mattress underneath your sandals; when you reach the porch, Steve is hot in your tracks.
Your Mom isn’t home yet, so you open up the door with a soft click and silently beckon Steve to follow you to the stairs.
The steps on the way to the attic grow narrower. Your foot almost slips once, so you grab the railing, your palm landing squarely on Steve’s fingers. Your back touches his shoulder, and he’s quick to stabilise you with his hand on your hips.
“Easy now”, he whispers in your ear and something goes off in your chest, like a firework.
In five more steps, you make it to the attic. You swing open the door and the sight is beautiful, the room bathing in the sunlight coming through the open window.
“Huh”, Steve lets out in surprise. “I wasn’t sure about this sunflower explosion color, but I guess it works”.
That’s right. You and Dustin have painted the floors of the attic in rich, almost golden yellow.
“Thanks to your advice to use a primer, I think it actually looks even better than in a can”, you share in delight, looking around, your hands on your hips.
Steve nods, making his way further into the attic to look at the walls of the room.
“And what color are you going to paint the w-“
A breaking sound echos in the mostly empty space. A woof escapes Steve’s chest as he crumbles on the ground, you rushing to help him stay up, but falling on your ass right behind him instead.
You can’t explain why, but a contagious laugh falls off your lips as you spot Steve’s foot, buried in a hole in wooden floor. He seems to notice his predicament at the same moment - rolling back, leaning into you, with his other foot in the air, he laughs, and laughs, and laughs: until your voices are uproarious sounds of joy, your bodies touching. You look at him from above as his head presses against your chest - and you can’t help but giggle as soon as your eyes meet.
“Are you-“ you are fighting for breath trying to grip Steve’s shoulders to bring him into somewhat sitting position. “Are you okay?” You can’t help another melodious giggle that squeezes it’s way through your lips, and you slap a palm of your hand over your mouth.
“I’m sorry I’m laughing”, you manage through laughter wrecking your body. “This isn’t even remotely funny. Are you okay?” As he sits down, his upper body facing you, you reach out to him again, your palm lying flat on his chest.
He is still a chuckling mess as he looks back at you; his hand covers yours as he bends forward, unable to resist another urge to laugh out loud.
“I just made a giant hole in your floor!” he exclaims, wiping the tears under his eyes as you let go of him, the absence of his warmth feeling foreign. He gestures to his foot. “I- I swear I can fix it. I can maybe stop by tomorrow-“
“Steve,” you try to interrupt him, your hand landing on his shoulder in what’s meant to be a reassuring gesture.”You’re fine, you don’t have to-“
“-I have to fix this, I have to-“
“Steve!” You raise your voice a little bit and make a “stop it” face at him, which shuts him up almost immediately.
“Okay”, he says, his face still lit up. “But you gotta tell me how much I owe you for this shit”, he picks up a piece of wood from the floor and waves it around, making your guffaw.
When he stretches out a hand to you, you take it. His skin is a little dry and calloused, as his thumb draws a circle at the base of your forefinger. The two of you stand up, your gazes locked, your digits intertwined.
“I uh- I better go,” Steve says, not making the slightest effort to step away.
“Stay for early dinner”, you blurt out, not letting go of his hand either. “I can whip up a mean frozen pizza.”
Steve’s gaze softens, another sweep of his thumb on your hand setting your skin on fire.
“Alright, yeah, frozen pizza sounds good. I’m gonna go wake the dipshits, because they certainly wouldn’t want to miss it”, he drops his gaze and lets go of you to scratch the back of his neck. “You’ll be alright, manning the stove?”
You roll your eyes at him playfully.
“I’m a big girl, Steve. I tie my own shoelaces and everything”, you tell him enthusiastically.
He responds with a huff.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he parries, winking at you. He backs out of the room, his body still facing yours. “Call me if you need me?”
You wake up fighting for breath.
You chest feels too small, too fragile and too hot, as your hand slaps against the papers by your pillow with a flop; you’re trying to stay upright, but your shoulders shudder at every intake of air.
“Hey,” you hear a familiar voice, as you see someone’s silhouette emerge from the floor in the dark. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, I’m here“.
Just for a fleeting moment - you believe it’s Steve.
But then you can feel Joe’s hand squeeze your shoulder as he sits on the edge of the bed by your side, his dark worried eyes shimmering in the moonlight - the two of them look so much alike, but the illusion is gone as your brain sobers up.
You make out his furrowed eyebrows, the outline of his nose with a slight bump and the curve of his neck - and you know he’s not Steve, but you can’t help but slowly move closer to him anyway. Joe doesn’t ask any questions, just wraps his hands around you, as you press your forehead against his firm chest.
“You’re okay, Love”, he whispers again and again, and you let his voice drown the dream out; it wipes out the vision of Steve’s smile, and his ridiculous need to always fix everything. “Whatever it was, it was just a dream”.
You don’t know for how long you stay in this position; Joe doesn’t complain, just holds you in the silent and dark room.
At some point, you’re slipping down on your bed again, your back turned to Joe, facing the wall. You squeeze your eyes shut as you’re trying to keep your breathing in check. It’s when you feel him gently pull the blanket higher up your shoulders, and hear him lie back down on his makeshift bed - that you let the silent tears roll.
When you open your eyes again, you are momentarily lost. Nothing in the room speaks to you; until you push off the bed to look around, and your palm comes in contact with the paper of the Stranger Things script.
Memories click quickly into place, conjured by your sleep-deprived mind and you groan, falling back onto your pillow, face first.
You have no notion of time anymore. After having dreamt of better days - having dreamt of Steve - sleep was out of the question, so you spent the rest of the night finishing reading the script. You could swear the sun was rising, its early morning rays bleeding through the curtains, when you finally reached the end.
Sitting down and drawing your knees to your chest, you swallow hard as Steve’s laughter from your dream rings in your ears; you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head, trying to make the sound go away. It’s too much for you right now, and you can’t let it take over your mind. If you do, you’ll fall into pieces, and you do not have the luxury to do so right now. You need to be laser-focused on the mission - as in understanding what exactly happened and finding your way back.
If you were hoping that the script would help you figure this all out - man, you were in for a surprise. Just when you thought that there was nothing that could rock your boat at this point - you literally got transported into some kind of a parallel universe? future? where your friends and family’s doppelgängers shoot a show about your life - it freaking got overturned, and now you’re feeling like you’re drowning, not having a clue what you’re even supposed to feel anymore.
The Stranger Things script turned out to be an almost perfect recollection of what happened to you during the past week. The feeling is unsettling, as you got insights into conversations you weren’t even a part of, but you are pretty sure the way they’re described in the script is exactly how they went.
It’s like being a spectator, a powerless observer - of your own goddamn life.
There were a lot of things that left you in different degrees of stupefied as you progressed with your reading - the biggest of them being, Vecna did not die at the end. But then again, neither did you.
This is where the two stories differ - in the show, you don’t get a chance to pierce Vecna’s heart with a blade because Steve Harrington holds you back. Robin tries to stall Henry Slash Vecna Slash One by throwing another Molotov cocktail at him; just the time Nancy needs to recharge her makeshift gun and fire, sending Vecna falling through the wall and onto the ground outside.
And the fucker somehow survives.
So, in the show, you make it. But Max doesn’t. All that’s left of her is her body, a shell, and her mind is either dead or gets swallowed by a place even Eleven can’t reach.
What if, you think, too dazed to even begin to understand what this would mean, what if that’s what happened to you? What if you’re in a sort of a suspended situation - half dead, half alive - and none of this is real?
And most importantly - how the hell do you figure this out for sure?
You’re not yet ready to admit defeat and succumb to the terrifying thought that maybe, Y/N Henderson has never really existed; maybe, you are what everybody here believes you to be - a girl with a weird-ass name and ambitious acting career aspirations who took the “acting” part too far and fell one sandwich short of a picnic. Maybe, your name is really Love and you have achieved a truly fucking monumental level of unstable in life after that unfortunate fall.
The idea should be freaking you the hell out - you know that. All it does is drive you up the wall instead. This has got to be the biggest “fuck you” Vecna has managed to pull off so far. A parting gift that keeps on giving. After attempting to kill you, he has done everything he could to put you in a place where you would doubt your own fucking existence - let alone the existence of the people you love. All of those memories, feelings - are what? A product of Love’s insanity? Crazed visions of demented imagination?
Fuck you, Vecna. Fuck you, buddy.
This is the fight you are not going to win.
Huffing in frustration, you throw your legs over the edge of the bed, full of restless energy. As you let your gaze dart around, you notice that Joe is gone. The room is empty, no sign of him ever having been there in sight.
It’s better off this way, you decide as you get on your feet and head for the kitchen. No time for distractions. You need a plan, fast. God knows for how long your brain is going to be able to take this, before it finally gives up and prays for a solitary.
Stage one - coffee. There’s gotta be coffee in this place / universe / world, right? You’d need at least that to brave whatever’s going on outside of the confines of the trailer.
Stage two - recon, or information gathering. You are now pretty comfortable with all the strangers’ names; here’s to hoping that all of them look like their real counterparts. Whether you want it or not, you have to face them, if only to learn exactly what happened yesterday.
And, finally, stage three - concocting an exit strategy. If there is a way out, you’ll find it. If not, you’ll die trying (yay, you think, something new and different for you).
When you reach the kitchen, you freeze by the table, your eyes fixed on a coffee machine that looks a bit more modern than the one in your home.
Okay, maybe a lot more modern, like a goddamn robotic experiment - but that’s not what staggers you. There’s hot coffee in the glass recipient, and a bright red sticker is glued to its surface.
Thought you could use some after staying late last night. Your phone is charging in the bathroom in case you’re looking for it. - Joe.
And here you thought he has fallen asleep by the time you turned the night light on to continue to "read” (as in spy on your own fucking life, broken into dialogue sequences and words like “menacing industrial synth music playing” thrown in here and there).
You try not to think too much about it - and by it you mean Joe’s subtle way of taking care of you - like it’s a reflex, a given - as you move closer to pour yourself a cup of burning liquid.
A soul-shaking BANG! of the entrance door in front of you comes as an excellent exclamation point to end your mind’s misplaced wandering before it could even begin. The door hits the wall with such force, you jump out of your skin and all the way to the ceiling, screaming and grabbing a remote control from the kitchen isle, holding it in front of you like a knife.
There’s a tall girl with sandy hair and a fringe standing in the entrance, grimacing at the sound of your shriek, squeezing her eyes shut.
You heart thumps painfully in your chest, and you cry out before you can think twice about it:
“Robin, what the hell?! You scared the shit out of me!” You throw the remote back where you found it, burying your face in your hands, trying to level out your breathing.
A giggle escapes girl’s rosy lips as she scrunches her nose apologetically, stepping all the way into your kitchen. Making herself at home, she slides a sugary-smelling cardboard box on the table and jumps in for a hug without a second thought.
The second her arms wrap around you, the anger escapes you. You’re completely silenced as shock takes over; this isn’t Robin - but the girl looks exactly like her.
You probably should have gotten used to it by now.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, she mumbles in your ear as she squeezes you harder. “It’s just- My hands were occupied so I kicked the door in”.
Softly pushing you at an arms length, Maya (you recall) searches your face for a moment.
“Still doing that method acting thing, I see?” she smiles at you, and the room suddenly seems bigger. “It’s you who scared the shit out of me, Lovebug. Don’t you dare- Don’t you do this ever again!” With these worlds, she pulls you into another hug, and you let her, despite your inner woman on a mission screaming in protest.
Just as Robin, Maya hugs with her entire body. There’s a comforting presence about her that puts you at ease, the kind you only feel around people you have known for your entire life - or with whom you fought to stay alive, side by side.
You can’t tell whether it’s because the girl just looks like Robin - or because there’s something else there.
Tiny, slithery doubt worms its way intro your fragile mind, as much as you don’t want to let it. You don’t know her - but it sure feels like you do and have done so - for a very long time.
When she releases you, she takes a moment to study you - it’s a caring look of a friend who has been there for you for years.
“That”, she points to your forehead, her eyes glowing with reassurance. “Will heal fast”.
“I’ve seen worse”, you mutter under you nose, remembering how a demogorgon slashed your side open at Byer’s when Nancy and Jonathan decided it was a good idea to lure the goddamn thing in.
“I brought you donuts”, she chases the memory away as soon as it pops in your head, nudging the carton box open and letting the smell of sugar spread. “I don’t have any work scheduled until later today and you weren’t answering any of my messages on WhatsApp, so I decided to swing by”.
There is so much for you to question in that sentence, you decide to focus on what you think matters.
“And by work you mean…?”
“Shooting that mental hospital scene with Natalia. Since we can’t have you for the Upside Down forest part today”, she answers easily, pushing the box towards you. “I brought your favorites too. Dig in”.
With ease that suggests that she’s been here a thousand of times before, she moves forward, sidesteps you, produces two cups out of a hanging kitchen cabinet. She stops dead in her tracks as soon as she turns to grab the coffee.
She noticed the sticker, you realize, and are surprised at the blush creeping up your neck.
“Joe told me you were feeling better last night”, she smiles at you knowingly, pouring you both a cup of coffee after a beat. “Quinn looked relieved when he heard him say it. I think he’s going to pay you a visit today, too”, you don’t think you imagine the suggestiveness of her tone.
Internally, you throw your head back and groan.
Riiight. Joseph Quinn. Aka Eddie Munson.
It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together, especially when he was all everybody was in such a hurry to talk to you about.
Is Love - you - dating Eddie - Joseph? Well, does a Demogorgon shit in Upside Down?
It’s either that or you’re some kind of best buddies. Or fuck buddies perhaps?
So many goddamn options, and you are mentally prepared for neither.
“I was going to go see him,” you lie unabashedly, grabbing what looks like a caramel-glazed donut from the box, looking at Maya like you’ve got nothing to hide.
“Oh, he’s free now”, she offers cheerfully, and you curse this world six ways to Sunday in your head. Here goes your plans to avoid this version of Eddie Munson until you’re out of here. “He must be chilling with Gaten at the water station. The filming of their next scene starts in like, an hour. He’ll be so happy to see that you’re okay. Yeah, why don’t you go change so we can pop by? I’d hate for you guys to-”
You can’t seem to put a word in the edgewise. Maya rambles on and on, extremely eager to get your ass out the door and into Joe Quinn’s arms…
Or is that what she wants you to believe?
You’ve seen enough at your job as a bartender at Hideaway to know when people are lying - or hiding something. Hell, you called bullshit on Nancy and Jonathan pretending they were just friends even before they knew they weren’t. And don’t even let you started on Dustin trying to pretend like Mews ran away (although, to be fair, it was Steve’s inability to hide a single thing from you that earned you the truth).
Fact of the matter is, your girl Maya here is hiding something. The jury is still out on what exactly.
You listen to her for one more minute; exactly the time it takes for you to finish the donut.
“Why are you pushing this?” is all you say, narrowing your eyes at her intently.
You know you’re right on the money when Maya stutters and goes silent. She actually has the decency to look guilty as she puts her cup to a side with a sigh.
When she looks back at you, you’re somewhat taken aback by the genuine concern seeping out of her big eyes.
“Okay, before you say anything, I know your sex life is none of my business-”
You feel the shock register on your face as your eyebrows swish up, reaching your hairline. Stunned into silence - again - you realize your brain cogs are not turning fast enough for this conversation.
In the meantime, Maya goes on:
“-but you are my best friend, and-“
“What in the ever-loving world are you talking about?” you measure your words, fighting an inability to compute.
Her face grows ashamed.
“You and Joe K!” she squeaks, and your stomach drops.
Woah. Hold on. Rewind. Play it again.
Something must have changed in your expression, because Maya steps closer and throws herself into yet another never-ending ramble:
“Please, Love, hear me out”, she begs, standing in front of you with conviction. “I’ll say this once more and then I will shut up for eternity, okay? Joseph Quinn is hot,” she asserts, like it’s universal truth. “Just because I don’t ship you guys together doesn’t mean I’m blind, alright? And I guess he’s really smitten with you, and you kind of look cute together… Like, I don’t know?” She throws her hands into the air and you step back to avoid getting smacked, your eyes huge in your face. “Kind of like a baby holding a kitten? Super PG-13. And then there’s you and Keery”, she smiles like she can’t help it. “The looks you give each other! I feel turned on, and I’m not even a part of the interaction! Standing between you two is a suicide mission - without meaning to, you are crushing everything that keeps you from each other. That’s like soulmate-level shit right there, okay?” she bites her lip, exasperated. “I just thought maybe, since you wanted him to stay with you last night, you have finally-“
“Nothing happened between us!” you finally burst out, waving your hands as if trying to stop her words from reaching you - shielding yourself from them.
“Well, not yet!” Maya parries, without skipping a beat. “But it will. And when it does, do you really want see Quinn’s heart shatter into a million pieces, because of what everybody knew was going to happen all along?”
You wish you had more time to compartmentalize everything - starting with her words and ending with your own feelings on the topic - to pull a practical reaction out of the variety of all the available ones.
But you don’t - so naturally, the words that come out next are laced with emotion. You don’t even know anymore if you are playing along, or if it’s a genuine concern, falling off your pale lips.
“Who knows?” you ask, defeated.
“Knows that you have feelings for Keery? That you belong with him?” just like Robin, Maya doesn’t shy away from speaking her mind. “Gaten. Me. Joe, obviously”, she rolls her eyes. “Both Joes, actually, and the two of them are in deep denial. Sees?” she points out mercilessly. “Everybody else”.
Great. That’s- That’s great.
You’d think you drowned puppies in your previous life in Hawkins, that’s how bad of a bitch karma is being to you right now.
If someone were to tell you a couple of weeks ago you’d be stuck in a love triangle with Steve “The Hair” Harrington and Eddie “The Freak” Munson you would have laughed your ass off, rolling on the floor, and then advised them to get their heads checked - in that order. Now - you’re feeling strangely emotional about the problem that isn’t your own - technically speaking, they’re not in love with you. They’re in love with, well, Love.
But why the hell are you feeling like this is somehow your fault? And, even worse - like you are torn between the two, when you know fucking neither?!
Your mind frantically inspects its thoughts for a reasonable explanation. It’s because it’s Joe - who walks, talks, jokes and cares like Steve does.
And also, because, it is, effectively, your problem now.
“If it’s because of the age gap…” Maya speaks again - or, rather, huffs in disapproval.
“Age gap”, you parrot back to her stupidly, unblinking. Excuse me?
“Well, Keery’s what? Thirty?” she squirms as if trying to remember. “Ah, I Googled this just yesterday!”
You watch her produce that weird thin metallic device out of her pocket and tap something on a lit up surface; nothing registers - or so you think - except for the uncontrollable screaming in your head.
This world’s Steve is thirty fucking years old.
If there’s a time for you to wake up, now would be ideal - before you explode in a fit of hysterical laughter - and get locked up for life.
“Called it!” Maya confirms triumphantly, tucking what appears to be her phone away in her pocket. “And you’re 21 on Friday. So if it’s the age gap that you’re worried about, whatever Joe you pick it’s pretty much the same.”
You catch yourself thinking you’d rather not know how old this world’s Eddie is. Save some brain cells.
“Okay, I’ll talk to Ed- Joe. Quinn”, you try name after name, scrambling for the right one, just wishing for this conversation to end. “Tomorrow?” you suggest, and your voice sounds a lot like you’re begging. “What day is it today, again?”
Maya eyes you disapprovingly.
“It’s Wednesday,” she says somewhat drily. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, Love. It’s your birthday in two days. Quinn has-“
“Dude”, you cut her mid-sentence. “I don’t think I understand anything”.
And isn’t that the God’s honest truth.
The tension in Maya’s shoulders drops at the sight of you. God, you must look like a train just hit you. Confused, pathetic and almost physically sick. No wonder her eyes soften and she reaches out to squeeze your shoulder.
“Gonna sound like a cliché,” she warns, “But what does your heart tell you?”
That I need a goddamn drink.
“That it’s over”, you admit, feeling like you’re ruining someone’s life. “Between Ed- Quinn and me. It has to be”.
There is no way in the world - whatever world you are in - you can pretend that you’re in love with Eddie Munson, that much is clear. If there’s a sure way to blow your cover - it’s to pretend you’re carrying a torch for him, when, clearly, you are hung up on somebody else.
The thought makes you pause, your mind going silent. You feel your heart flutter gently in your chest.
Somebody else. Ever since the shit has hit the fan, the inner voice has been stubbornly bringing you back to everything Steve every time it got the chance, and now it-
Doesn’t?
Your stomach flips, the sensation catching you off guard. The emptiness that settles in the pit of it at the realisation is almost enough to shut down your brain.
This is what fear feels like. You recognise the signs. For the first time in a very long time, you are scared.
With the alien feeling clutching your very being in its cold, clawing hands, you are still brave enough to admit that in the world where he only exists on paper and on camera - unlike Joe - you are fighting to hold on to Steve.
And while you spare no effort - you’re not sure for how long you’ll last.
My (stunning, beautiful, fantastic) tag list: @vulgarfuckinvirgo, @carpediem1219, @555stargirl555, @rqmanoff, @mvaldez7821, @sundarksposts, @the-winter-spider, @flicksturz, @theghostpeach
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington au#stranger things imagine#stranger things au#Steve Harrington x female reader
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—# whispers of the moon. | bloodborne! au
—desc: heed the beckoning whispers of the moon, lest one desires to know an eldritch truth.
—c. warnings: possible spoilers for bloodborne. oh, and body horror.
—a. notes: you guys have no idea how obsessed i am with bloodborne. so watch me go insane.
—original au made by: @/claranoctis, basic synopsis here.
so, for starters, these are just my ramblings or i guess my own two cents on this au. like i said, i am insane and these are just my ramblings, haven mostly come up with these on the spot.
thank you~ (´◉◞౪◟◉)
curse the fiends…
MOZUS TREIN— would probably fill the role of Father Gascoigne.
Like… the blueprint is right there. (His wife is gone, and he has two daughters.)
He’d obviously be a veteran of the Black Church, maybe a squad leader, perhaps even Ace’s and Deuce’s squad leader, who knows?
But either way, Mozus, or perhaps Father Mozus, is a veteran of the Black Church who’s just as strict as he is religious and who’s been hunting for almost half his life.
That was… until he succumbed to the blood.
Now, at this point, I guess you’re wondering where Lucius is? Great question.
If you’ve played Bloodborne and the Old Hunter’s DLC, you know how Ludwig fuses with his horse, right? Right.
If you haven’t caught my drift yet, I’m basically saying that Mozus fuses with Lucius when he entirely turns into a Scourge Beast.
He carries that cat everywhere, so I wouldn’t be surprised if, even if he had become blood-drunk, Lucius would stay by his side no matter what…
their children too…
DIVUS CREWEL— an outsider within the walls of Corvareth who essentially plays the role of Gilbert and Eileen the Crow.
Divus used to be a Hunter of Hunters, a hunter who had dedicated themselves to hunting Hunters who have gone blood-drunk from hunting beasts. (e.g. Mozus)
He first started off as a cliric of the White Church, but switched the Black Church to become a Hunter of Hunters due to no one in his generation wanting to become one.
And for context, the blood in Corvareth (Yharnam in this AU) is basically like alcohol and intoxicating, to the point inhabitants would even drink blood just to get drunk.
He’d mentor Vil during his time in the White Church, telling him about Corvareth’s rich history, unbeknownst to him igniting Vil’s curiosity about immortality and what not.
Anyways— after being afflicted with the Beast Plague, Divus retired from being a Hunter of Hunters, leaving the title to the next generation, and decided to confine himself inside his home.
Wether or not he turns into a Scourge Beast by the end of the night or if Vil comes to find him is up to you..
and their children…
GRIM— could play the role of the Orphan of Kos. But with a few tweaks, obviously.
Still in his mother’s womb when her deceased body washed up on a lone fishing hamlet’s coast. Only to crawl out, still alive, unbeknownst to the hunters sent by Crowley when they began to dissect her body, laying waste to the poor hunters a few moments later.
Ah, but now what about YUU?
Well, as you know, Grim loves to talk about Yuu being his servant. So why not take that to a literal sense.
Taking some elements from Mergo’s Wet Nurse, Yuu is still taking the role of caretaker in this AU, but not to a bunch rowdy teenagers, but to a unhinged baby Great One who wants to go home. Great!
Yuu themselves isn’t a Great One nor a Kin. But seeing as how the more time they spend around Grim, they might as well being turning into one.
They’re just a poor fisherman’s child who got caught up in some eldritch business and is now being dragged around Corvareth by Grim, facing the consequence they didn’t ask for… (PД`q。)·。'゜
And because I’m mean, after Grim goes back home (a.k.a. the higher plane) to be with the other Great Ones, Yuu just becomes a walking, mumbling, mutated husk of themselves due to being around an actual Great One for far too long. A wonderful remind of how dangerous the Great Ones really are.
…forever, true.
—post note:
uhh, i lowkey half-assed the last part with yuu and grim, but i think i can come up with something better. i’m just fleshing out ideas here, ig.
i like how crewel’s part went, i also think i half-assed trein’s part, but with what he has canonically in twst, it just felt right.
i wanted to do sam and vargas, but i didn’t know how exactly they’d fit in? i suppose sam could be a traveling merchant who knows the danger’s of using blood healing while vargas could be a hunter of vilebloods, maybe take logarius’ role or alfred’s, but idk.
anyways, thank you for supporting my ever growing bloodborne obsession. :D
#𐀔. flowers#twisted wonderland#twst#twst bloodborne au#twst au#twst mozus#mozus trein#twst divus#divus crewel#twst ashton#ashton vargas#twst sam#twst grim#twst yuu#twst headcanons#twst writing
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