#maybe I won't color this since I loath coloring
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Mood
#Bruce Wayne#Batman#dc#my art#causeimanartist#wip#or not idk#maybe I won't color this since I loath coloring#I had to draw my mood which was 'annoyed and so tired' (because of the job hunt I'm STILL fucking on)#(I'm sick of writing cover letters and then heading NOTHING from the companies)#so I did the old stand by and projected onto b lol
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The Lost Girl
You just wanted to travel and forget all about the drama you left behind. You didn't expect to fall in with four boys who would become another family. Maybe more.
[Part One of Three]
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm- I'm alive? Surprise! I'm still in a bit of a pickle with where I want part two to go, but I figured if I post this now then I can't back out and delete it. I need your help, but I'll ask at the bottom so I won't spoil this.
Words: 7.9K
Santa Carla is the total opposite of Mystic Falls and you couldn't have loved it here more if you tried. You grew up with pageants and balls and trying to stay at the top of the popularity totem pole, but you secretly loathed every second of it. Not to mention your sister was a beacon for the supernatural, attracting vampires like no one's business, which eventually led to you getting caught in the crossfire and being turned at the ripe age of twenty.
Stefan Salvatore did his best to teach you how to feed and control your blood lust, but his techniques just weren't cutting it for you. So Damon took over, leading Bonnie, Matt, Elena, Jeremy, and Tyler deeming you untrustworthy. You don't know why they disliked your friendship with Damon so much, but their wariness of you only grew when you eventually befriended the Original Vampires that once sought to kill you, your family, and friends.
The last straw was when everyone started fighting over a cure for vampirism. They all thought there was enough of the cure to go around for all those who wanted it, but nope. There was only a single dose, and both Elena and Rebekah wanted it. So when you saw the lines being drawn, you packed a couple of bags and left to see the world.
The only person who knew of your travel plans were, surprisingly, Elijah and Klaus. Elijah was sad to see you go, especially since you were one of the only ones who he could trust, but Klaus was all for you seeing the world and experiencing life as you should have. You were more than content compelling your way through the trip, but the Mikaelson's were having none of that and gave you a card to use since they amassed a ridiculous amount of money over the years.
After deleting all social media, with the exception of a traveling Instagram account that was newly made, you bought a new phone and only gave your new number to Elijah and Klaus. You traveled abroad first, touring the most beautiful cities, museums, and seeing every landmark you could. You kept the Mikaelson brothers in the loop about everything that they sometimes surprised you by showing up for a week before flying back home.
For a year you saw all you could and then headed back to the States. You wanted nothing to do with Mystic Falls, Virginia, so you settled in California. Santa Carla was the most nitty gritty town you'd ever seen, and it was the last place anyone in your family would expect for you to stay in.
It was perfect.
With a new hotel having been built in Santa Carla, you compelled yourself one of the suites indefinitely. You didn't want to purchase a house in case you needed to up and leave, and having a housekeeper stop by weekly was perfect.
You stood out amongst the locals of Santa Carla, it seeming like everyone walking around either had some crazy hairstyle, hair color, or numerous piercings. And then there was you, skin untouched and the only piercings you had being those in your ears.
So after a week of settling in and compelling those who needed compelling, you finally decided to hit the infamous boardwalk.
The boardwalk, for some reason, feels like you've stepped into the past. Could be because of the music playing or the way everyone dressed, but you know you didn't actually slip into the past given the cell phones in people's hands or air pods in people's ears. The bells, whistles, and flashing lights make you giddy, taking you back to a time when you were excited as a child to be attending the annual fair Mystic Falls put on, but the attendees were the total opposites of those you'd find in Mystic Falls.
The employees in charge of the various game booths attempt to entice you to play, but you rather spend your cash at the crafts section of the boardwalk. There was no use in paying for a rigged game that made sure you lost ninety percent of the time when you could buy handmade crafts and help support someone's living.
After buying some handmade jewelry and a couple of shirts, you decide to eat. There's a Chinese place that smells marvelous as you stroll by, so you turn back around and enter the establishment. And then almost as soon as you're seated, a waitress comes by to take your drink order. You quickly skim the menu as she gets your drink, then order a bowl of Hot and Sour soup, a plate of Chicken LoMein, two egg rolls, and a pan of fried dumplings. The waitress seems impressed, and you merely laugh it off before sipping your Coke.
As you wait for your food, you grab a napkin and start ripping it apart piece by piece as you stare out the window you'd chosen to sit by. People pass by, uncaring for what's going on in the small restaurant, but then there are two boys that you just so happen to clash gazes with. Both fit with the eighties aesthetic- one with wildly tamed blonde hair that only a true rocker could pull off and the other with a dirty blonde, curly mullet. Both hairstyles are wildly out of place, even if they're trying to make a comeback now, but fortunately for the boys they can pull it off.
"Hey, chika, you want some company?" The blonde with the teased hair shouts so you can hear him through the window.
Holding back a wince at his loud volume, you shake your head. "Maybe next time!"
"Aw. Come on, babe. You're breaking my heart!" He pouts, even as his friend smirks behind his fist.
You shrug, grinning, but are saved from having to interact any further when the waitress appears with your food. As the food is set in front of you and you thank her, you glance at the boys one last time while giving them a wink before digging in.
You casually devour your food bit by bit, asking for a refill on your Coke only once. Then when you've had your fill, you ask for your leftovers to be boxed up. And as you walk outside, you hand said leftovers to a couple of teens digging through a trash can.
Walking around, you soak in the night time atmosphere. The sweat from the humans and the oil used to deep fry all sorts of food is rather distracting from the ocean scented air wafting in, but none of it is as distracting as the copper smell you pick up on one particular gust of wind. There doesn't seem to be any panic-induced mayhem on the boardwalk, so you figure someone must have cut themselves and is getting bandaged up.
A diner further down the boardwalk advertises milkshakes on its main window, and suddenly a strawberry milkshake sounds superb. So after making a quick trip inside to secure yourself a milkshake, you're back on the boardwalk once again.
No one has bothered you the entire time, but the moment you perch yourself on the railing to sip and people watch, one confident individual saunters towards you. It hardly takes you two seconds to realize this individual is in his teens obviously thinking you're a teen as well. But given you were twenty when you were turned and have spent a few years undead, you're so not interested in whatever this boy has to offer.
Before the individual can open his mouth, you hold a hand up to stall him and shake your head. "Stop right there. Not interested."
The boy's expression drops into shock before quickly morphing back into his too confident persona. "Aw, come on, girl. You look like you're in need of some fun."
"I am, but you need to be at least this tall-" you say while holding your free hand at least a foot above his head, "-for me to ride that ride."
There's a snort to your right, but you ignore it, even ignoring the presence that jumps onto the railing next to you before sliding their arm around your shoulder. "Sorry, kid. Maybe the next girl you hit on won't have a height requirement."
There's even more laughter and the boy rethinks his approach before scoffing and leaving. You grin, wrapping your lips around the straw of your milkshake and turning your head to your new companions. "Blondies one and two," you muse. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Just thought we'd play knight in shining armor," blondie one says. "I'm Paul. My friend is Marko."
"YN.."
Paul practically vibrates with energy. "So do I meet your height requirements?"
You laugh, uncaring when he steals your milkshake to sip from. "You may meet the height requirement, but I don't go for blondes. Sorry."
"Aw, chika, you wound me!" He feigns his hurt, holding a hand to his heart as you take your milkshake back. Marko can only laugh, shoving at his friend's shoulder when he leans a little too far his way. Once he corrects himself, he doesn't remove himself from your side. "So what's a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Waiting for friends? Family?"
"Ugh, no." Your nose wrinkles. "Too much family drama for my tastes so I've been traveling the world for a little over a year now. Santa Carla seems like the least likely of places my family would think to look for me, so I'm staying as long as I can."
Marko seems interested as he leans around Paul to ask, "What's been your favorite place so far?"
"Tromsø, Norway," you reply.
"Why?"
"Because ever since I was a little girl, I've been obsessed with the aurora borealis. It's the best place to view it."
"Cool."
"Where are you staying?" Paul asks. "Maybe we can have a party one of these nights."
"Doubtful. I'm staying in a hotel suite and I have a feeling partying with you would lead to my place being trashed. No thanks."
Marko smirks. "Smart girl."
You grin and sip your milkshake as Marko comes around to lean against the railing on your other side. They ask some more about the places you've been, and you don't know what comes over you that you feel comfortable enough with these two to regale them with your tales of travel. In return, Marko and Paul tell you about themselves and their two other brothers. They tell you that they're all not originally from Santa Carla, but ended up finding each other throughout the years and made their own family unit in town.
Then just as you hop down to throw away your empty cup, the crowd seems to part as two individuals approach. Another blondie with a mullet and a brunette whose hair is almost as wild as Paul's. You can't tear your eyes from the brunette who is all too comfortable going shirtless with nothing but a weathered leather jacket hanging off his frame and some snug fitting jeans.
"Oh, I see how it is." Paul muses in your ear. "You like 'em dark haired."
You throw your elbow back, tearing your gaze away from the brunette in front of you to smirk over your shoulder at Paul when he grunts. Marko snickers at his brother's misfortune. "YN, this is David and Dwayne."
Both the new blondie and brunette nod at you, and you flash them back a faint smile. You're quick to toss your trash, then head back to your new friends. "Well, it was nice meeting you boys, but I should get going."
"Aw, come on, girlie. Hang for a bit more," Paul pleads, but you shake your head.
"Maybe next time."
"Will there actually be a next time or are you gently letting us down?" Marko wonders.
Your eyes roll. "We've only just met and you're already clingy?" You tut at him. Marko gapes and you wink at him. "Yes, there will be a next time. At least there will be if we cross paths again."
"We'll take that," Paul says. He slings an arm around Marko and smiles. "See you around, girlie."
The next afternoon, you decide to have some fun in the sun. You spend the early afternoon in your room, ordering room service and having a nice steak and fry lunch. While eating, you post a few pictures you snapped of the boardwalk nightlife, ferris wheel, and carousel all lit up. Then afterwards, you dress in a bikini before pulling on a pair of jeans shorts and a tank top. Only after slipping your feet into a pair of flip-flops do you pack a backpack with a beach towel, your phone, sunglasses, and some cash before taking your leave.
You're surprised to find that the beach isn't packed, so you pick a spot on the beach to lay out your towel and backpack. You spend a bit of time searching for sand dollars and shells, then go swimming in the ocean. Afterwards, you lay out on your towel with your sunglasses shielding your eyes. You doze on and off, and then just as the sun is setting you start to get up.
Shaking off your beach towel, you get rid of all the sand before folding it and shoving it into your backpack with your clothes. Then heading over to the beach showers, you rinse off all the sand and ocean water, and let yourself dry in the lingering sun rays before slipping your shorts back on.
In the middle of choosing what to eat, you hear catcalls and wolf whistles. You try to ignore it, hoping they're directed to someone else, but nope. They're directed at you. However, when you turn to glare and give the boys a piece of your mind, you find Paul and Marko beaming at you with their other brothers Dwayne and David just watching on.
Your glare vanishes and you roll your eyes as you slowly untense. "Do you guys have nothing better to do than check out girls on the boardwalk?"
"Nope." Paul hops off his bike and practically skips towards you. "What are you doing?"
"Heading to dinner. I spent most of the day on the beach so I'm starving."
"Ohhhh. What are we having?"
"I'm having pizza and wings. If you want to tag along, you buy your own."
"Done." He turns around and shouts, "Come on, boys. We're getting pizza!"
You shake your head and greet Marko when he approaches, smiling at the other two who have yet to speak up. Paul takes the lead and you walk side by side with Marko. The pizza place isn't far and you all head inside. You place your order first- a medium Hawaiian and a side order of boneless honey bbq wings. You accept your number tag after paying and then wait for your new friends to order as well. Then once they've got their own number tag, Paul leads the way to a large booth meant for a large group at the back.
Paul and Marko slide into opposite sides of the booth, and it only takes you a second to scoot in next to Marko before placing your bag at your feet. Paul gasps and you chuckle. "What? Marko seems less likely to continuously elbow me as I try to eat."
"That's cold, girl."
You wink at Paul and are surprised when Dwayne scoots in on your other side. David settles in next to Paul and his ice blue eyes practically pierce you. "So what's a girl like you doing out here all alone?"
"You mean Paul didn't tell you?"
"I'm asking you."
The coolness of his voice makes you arch an eyebrow at him, but Paul's snickering keeps you at ease. So in the end, you shrug. "My siblings and I weren't seeing eye to eye for a while. I had some money put away to take a trip out of the States, but my new found family wasn't having any of that and gave me access to their money. I've traveled for a year before coming back, staying in a place furthest from my hometown."
"Parents?"
"Dead." Paul's smile falters and you kick him under the table. "None of that. It's been a while. It's fine."
"How did it happen?" Marko asks.
You face him briefly before saying, "My sister had a fight with her boyfriend and asked our parents to pick her up from a party. They did, but on the way back home my dad somehow lost control of the car and drove off a bridge. A bystander found them, but by the time he dove under water, my dad made the bystander get my sister out first. My parents ended up drowning."
"Do you have plans on returning?"
"Eventually." Just then a waitress stops by to deliver your drinks. You grin as Paul immediately starts flirting, sipping your Coke as the waitress blushes and stutters before leaving. "These poor Santa Carla girls have no idea how to handle you, do they?"
"Not a clue."
As Marko and Paul laugh, you shake your head rather fondly. You don't know what it is about this group that makes you feel at ease with them, but you're glad to have some people to talk to while you're in town. Another group enters the establishment, a little unruly as they find themselves a table. One of them catches your gaze and you grimace when you notice him leering at you.
Feeling a little exposed, you reach for your bag under the table and pull free your tank top. You quickly pull it on and then free your phone while waiting for your food, not paying much attention to Dwayne who's shifting in his seat next to you. You do, however, notice when something is dropped on your shoulders and realize Dwayne has given up his jacket.
You freeze and quickly glance up at Dwayne, taking a moment to stare at all the bronze skin now on display, but his glare is directed at the table of troublemakers who are snickering among each other. "Uhh.."
"Just wear it."
"Okay."
Those are the first three words Dwayne has spoken to you and you absolutely do not shiver at the sound of his voice. Paul, Marko, and even David sense something else and you flip them off after slipping your arms through the sleeves of Dwayne's jacket. Then just as you go to sip on your drink, your phone starts ringing with a video call.
Big Bad Wolf, complete with a wolf emoji, is stamped across the top of your phone above a picture of a smirking Klaus. "Uhh, do you guys mind if I accept this?"
"Go ahead, girlie."
You accept the call, keeping it so that only you're on screen. "What do you want?"
"Is that any way to talk to me, love?" You roll your eyes, grinning, and Klaus chuckles. "What are you doing?"
"Uhh, I'm out to dinner with some new friends," you say.
"You've already made friends?"
"Mhm. Look." You turn so Marko is in frame. "This is Marko." Marko grins and nods. Then you flip the camera and catch Paul. "This is Paul and David is next to him, but David is glaring at me. I'm pretty sure he'd kill me if I put him on camera."
Klaus chuckles. "Fair enough."
"And then this.." You glance at Dwayne, but he merely arches an eyebrow at you. You grin and turn the camera on him. "This is Dwayne."
A split second later and then, "No."
"W-What?" You splutter. Paul and Marko choke on a laugh, and finally both David and Dwayne smirk. "What do you mean no?"
"Elijah!"
Your eyes widen. "Why are you calling 'lijah? Don't call 'lijah!"
Elijah appears next to Klaus and you groan. "Go on, sweetheart. Put your friend on."
"Marko? Or Paul?"
"Don't play dumb."
You grumble and put Dwayne on camera. "Absolutely not," Elijah says.
"You guys are embarrassing," you grumble. "He's literally only said three words to me."
"Mhm. And whose jacket are you wearing?" Klaus asks.
You pout. "I hate you." Just then you catch sight of two waitresses coming with your pizza. "Oh, look. Food's here! I'll talk to you gentlemen later."
"YN-"
"I'm fine, Klaus. I'm okay and I'm happy. I promise."
"Well okay then. Call me back when you get to your room."
"Will do, big bad wolf. Talk to you later."
You end the call just as a pizza is being placed in front of Paul and Marko, then yours is placed in front of you, and then another is placed in front of David and Dwayne. You're handed your boneless wings, and you happily wiggle in your seat. You're starving!
After you take your first bite of the sweet Hawaiian pizza, David asks, "So was that your boyfriend?"
"Ew. No." Your nose wrinkles and you quickly swallow your bite of food. "Klaus and Elijah are like my older brothers. They're the two who are funding my whole trip."
"They sound fancy with those posh accents of theirs," Paul muses.
"They are fancy," you admit. "They host balls and everything. I seriously hated wearing those dresses with a poofy skirt. They're so uncomfortable to sit in."
"No way!" Paul laughs.
"Mhm. Look."
As you eat some more of your food one-handed, you open the photos app on your phone and seek out the album from all the parties you attended. You hand your phone over to Paul, and Marko actually leans across the table to get a glimpse of the life you left behind.
As the two of them swipe picture after picture, laughing, you eat in peace. You even crack a grin when Dwayne picks off your tray of boneless wings, chuckling when he tells you it's payment for wearing his jacket. You end up having to tell the boys who is who every time they ask and deny any romantic relationship accusations when a picture of you dancing with Damon pops up. You admit he was a good friend up until his feelings for your sister clouded his judgment and you'd had enough of their drama.
Dinner proceeds uninterrupted, but it's when you get up to leave that the table of troublemakers from earlier causes an issue. With Dwayne's jacket returned to him, you follow the group as David leads the way out. You've just passed the table of leering individuals when a loud smack! resonates in the room and a brief stinging pain blossoms on your butt. You freeze, your new friends freeze, and then you're whirling around to glare at the culprit. You slowly look at the smug individual as his friends cackle like morons.
Anger flaring, your hand whips out and grasps the guy by the back of the neck. You slam his head down onto the table, causing him to grunt and his friends to fall quiet. You lean down so your mouth is next to his ear and grit out, "Touch me again and I'll rip your fucking throat out." You put pressure on his neck, causing the table to groan under the weight of the pressure. "With my teeth," you hiss. Pushing off the too quiet guy and facing your new friends once more, you shrug. "What?"
David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul just stare at you before chuckling.
"You're scary, girl. I like it."
With a roll of your eyes, you step forward and push past Paul. "Come on. Show me what Santa Carla has to offer."
Over the course of a week, you hang out with who the locals have dubbed the Lost Boys. Paul and Marko treat you like a long lost best friend, Dwayne has taken to hovering over your shoulder, and David is pretty indifferent to your presence although he will stand up for you if need be. Your senses tell you there's something off about the boys, but you don't realize what it is until you scent the coppery fragrance of blood coming off of them one night they're late to meet you.
If they're vampires, they must be vampires who don't know who the Mikaelsons are because none of them recognized the family in your pictures. But you don't call them out, nor do you hint about yourself, at least not until you're walking on the beach one night and your senses are assaulted with the scent of a lot of blood and screams off in the distance.
Glancing around, you notice the boardwalk is empty and shutting down. The beach where you're at is empty as well, and as you speed towards the sound of terror, your suspicions are proven correct about the Lost Boys.
They're unlike any vampires you've seen, more brutal in their feeding than even the Big Bad Hybrid himself. Their vampire visages showcase a true monster, but for some reason it doesn't bother you as it probably should. They're sinking their fangs into necks, shoulders, torsos, and even skulls, laughing all the while their victims scream in horror.
In their feeding frenzy, they don't notice you standing just on the outskirts of the firelight. Limbs are ripped from bodies before being tossed into the fire, blood spraying carelessly across the sand. But the moment the frenzy dies down, you can't help but make an entrance.
Slowly clapping, you smirk as all four vampires freeze and turn towards you as you walk into the light. David snarls, his monstrous face still on display as Paul and Marko quickly change their features. Their expressions are a bit crestfallen as you continue to find amusement in this situation, so you walk towards Dwayne who has gone stoic. "I get the bloodlust, but do you guys have to be such messy eaters? Gross." You wrinkle your nose as you kick an arm into the raging fire.
"W-What?" Paul splutters.
Looking back at Dwayne, you reach over and run a finger through the blood staining his chest. Then popping that same finger into your mouth, you wrap your tongue around your finger and savor the fresh blood now coating your tongue. You feel the veins beneath your eyes slither to the surface and your fangs elongate in your mouth. Then meeting Dwayne's gaze, you flash him a fangy grin. "I prefer to compel, eat, and release, but you do you I guess."
"Holy shit. You- you're a vampire?!"
Meeting Marko's stunned expression, you wink.
"You have a lot of explaining to do," David says.
"Sure." You meet his now ice-blue gaze. "But only after you clean up after yourselves. This," you say while gesturing to their dismembered victims, "is sloppy."
You watch as David oversees the cleanup of their little section of the beach, burning the bodies and kicking sand over the spilled blood. Afterwards, they all take a dip in the ocean to cleanse themselves of their meal.
On the way to their bikes which are parked just a bit down the beach, Paul asks, "So how old are you?"
"Which age are you referring to? The age I was when I was turned or how many years I've been a vampire?"
"Both."
"I was turned at twenty," you say, "and I've been a vampire for less than five years."
"No shit? How were you introduced to this world?"
"That.. is a very long story. Why don't we get someplace where I can actually tell it?"
As their bikes get nearer, you hiss at Paul when he pushes you in Dwayne's direction. Almost as if it was expected of you to ride with Dwayne, he settles on the seat of his bike before offering you a hand so you can situate yourself behind him.
Hanging on loosely, you enjoy the ride and take amusement in the sudden turns and jumps they take to try and startle you. But instead of being shaken, you merely laugh and pinch Dwayne's side when you're jostled too much.
The drive to the cliffs that you know to be Hudson's Bluff, overlooking the disgruntled sea, is rather short. You have a moment to glance down a rickety, wooden staircase before the group is driving down them one by one. You're jostled even more as the bike is driven over various rocks and through a gaping hole in the fence that's meant to keep trespassers out. They drive into a cave where the bikes are then parked, and you climb off to follow Paul down a very humid path.
Swiping cobwebs, vines, and roots out of the way, you're then led into a cavernous room. There are shafts of moonlight lighting up the space, and then Paul and Marko fire up barrels all around the space. The place is trashed, but you quickly realize it's not a normal cave. There's a sofa, chairs, and a broken water fountain. There's what appears to be a long counter- or was it a desk?- and a tattered portrait hanging behind it.
"What is this place?" You ask as you glance around in wonder. They obviously made it their own- seashells and broken CDs hanging from every place available, as well as hundreds of melted candles over every surface. You even spot a mattress, pillows, and blankets hidden behind some type of gauzy material.
"This was the hottest resort back in the day," David drawls. "Too bad they built it on a fault line though. When the big one hit San Francisco in 1906, this place took a header down into the ground when it split open. It's been our home ever since."
"Nice." You plop down on a couch, sighing as you stare at each boy. "So what do you wanna know?"
"Everything." David takes a seat on a wheelchair, staring right at you. "Start from the beginning."
"Fair enough. I was born and raised in Mystic Falls, Virginia to parents who ran their own business. I didn't want for anything and ended up being a letdown when I wasn't into pageants as my mother hoped I would be."
"Did your parents even die by drowning?" Marko asks.
"Yes. That was true," you tell him. "After their death, my aunt Jenna took in me, Elena, and Jeremy. Both my siblings grieved differently, but when the new school year started, my sister did a complete turnaround when Stefan Salvatore entered the picture."
"Why do I get the feeling this Salvatore dude is a major player in your story?" Paul asks.
"Because he is. Unbeknownst to any of us, Stefan Salvatore was vampire number one. He was drawn to Mystic Falls all because of my sister Elena."
"Why your sister?" Dwayne asks, startling you. He rarely spoke up, but when he did, you couldn't help but be drawn to him.
"Do you guys know what a doppelganger is?" At their nods, you explain. "Elena was the latest human doppelganger. The previous doppelganger, Katherine, toyed with two brothers back in 1864. The Salvatore brothers, to be exact."
"Shit." Paul giggles. "Talk about a vampire novella."
"Anyway, Katherine toyed with Damon's feelings and made him fall in love with her. When she tried the same with Stefan, he resisted so she compelled him to love her. And then when it came to light that there were many vampires in town, every vampire was rounded up, vervained, and anyone who associated with them were killed. As it just so happens, the Salvatore brothers' father found out his sons were romantically linked with Katherine, so he shot them. Unfortunately for him, Katherine had been feeding the boys her blood, so when they were killed, they didn't stay dead for long.
"Fast forward to the present time and both Salvatores are now salivating for the newest doppelganger. Only this time, Stefan has fallen in love with Elena without any compulsion, and so has Damon. Katherine's apparently been keeping tabs on the brothers and she's not happy that Elena has the love of the brothers."
David makes a motion with his hand to hurry you along. "How did you turn?"
"Katherine has made it her mission to make Elena's life a living hell, so what better way than to kill one of her best friends and older sister?"
Paul gapes. "You're joking."
"Nope. The crazy bitch fed me her blood before snapping my neck, then smothered Caroline who happened to have Damon's blood in her system. When we woke up in transition and fed on human blood to complete the transition, half of our friends turned on us. We had to rely on Damon and Stefan to teach us to control our bloodlust, but things were never the same. And to top it all off, learning to become a vampire was the least of our worries."
"What's more important than knowing you've died and have to kill people to survive?"
"How about that one of the Original vampires- who is over a thousand years old, by the way- needs the blood of a human doppelganger to break the curse on him, so he decides it's his turn to make your family's life hell as well?"
"Oh shit. What curse?" Paul asks.
You slowly smirk. "Niklaus Mikaelson is not just one of the original vampires, but he's the one and only original hybrid. He's half vampire, half wolf, and one of the most lethal individuals that still walks this earth."
The boys fall silent, but then Marko speaks up.
"Hold on. The dude funding your trip around the world is the same person who made your life a living hell?"
"Yep," you muse. "We were at each other's throats for the longest time, then his sister killed my sister which turned her into a vampire as well, and there was just a shit load more drama with doppelgangers, witches, werewolves, and hybrids." You shrug. "Elijah was never truly terrible, so I spoke more with him first, but then Klaus really took the brother role to heart. The Mikaelsons have kind of adopted me, and my siblings and friends didn't take too kindly to that. So, to avoid all the drama, I left. And now here I am."
For the rest of the late night and early morning, you answer all questions you can. Paul and Marko are interested to see the differences between you and them, but David and Dwayne are more interested in learning about the Original vampires and their unique differences. Their biggest hangup, however, is that the sun has no effect on you like it does them. Sure you both will catch on fire, but it doesn't pull you to sleep the day away like it does them. You're a bit jealous that they can fly, but you're so much faster than any of them.
The moment David mentions the impending sunrise is your cue to go, so you bid farewell to your friends before winking at Paul and disappearing before they can even blink.
For the next couple of days, you keep yourself busy by running some errands for Klaus. You meet with vampires and piss off a couple of werewolf packs, but all in all the work gets done. You hadn't been able to keep in touch with the Lost Boys, so Paul and Marko whoop in cheer when they spot you.
"Well if it isn't Miss Mystic Falls," Paul muses. "Where the hell have you been, chika?"
"Sorry. Sorry!" You lean against the railing in between the group, grimacing. "I had a few things to do and since you're all allergic to modern technology, I couldn't text or call."
"Anything we need to know about?" David wonders.
Normally you'd say no, but Santa Carla is his territory and you don't want any bad blood with him. "Not really. I had a few things to pick up for Klaus and a few messages to deliver to some werewolf packs up North."
David frowns. "There are packs nearby?"
"The closest one is fifty miles out, but they're all pretty scared of Klaus and what he can do so they stay in line. If there's anything to worry about, it's any lone wolves who decide to take shelter in the woods around Hudson's Bluff and don't give a flying fuck about the Original Hybrid."
"Pft. We can take on a rogue werewolf if need be," Paul says.
"You say that now, but you won't be saying much when you get bitten by one. Remember, werewolf bites are lethal to us vampires." Paul's smugness dims. "Now who's good to eat around here? I didn't have time to grab some blood bags from the hospital."
"Stay away from the Surf Nazis," Dwayne says.
"Surf Nazis? What the hell kind of name is that?" Your nose wrinkles in distaste.
"A name that they've had since the eighties," Marko says. "It just stuck because they're still a bunch of racist and bigoted pricks."
"Fair enough. So, if I can't eat them, who can I eat?"
All four boys readily scan the crowd, excited at the prospect of picking your dinner.
"Do you have a preference? Male or female?" David asks.
"No junkies and I'm good with either male or female."
After mere seconds, David already has his pick. "On your three. Group of guys keep glancing this way. I'm pretty sure they're not checking Marko out."
You subtly glance at them and figure any one of them is good enough. "Alright. Since you guys are intimidating as fuck, you're gonna say goodbye and go do your own thing. Whoever approaches me first is dinner."
"Boo. You're no fun." Paul's the first hop off his bike, giving you a side hug. "We'll be watching from the roof."
"Of course you will." You roll your eyes, laughing.
Marko winks at you as he follows after Paul, David nods at you, but it's Dwayne who makes you arch an eyebrow at him as he glares at the group of guys before leaving. You chuckle at the oddness of it all before shaking it off and then pulling out your phone to kill some time.
It doesn't take long at all for someone to approach you and you easily fall into the role of the lone human girl way too easily. You chat for a bit and find out he's in fact in college, on break for a week and just looking for some fun. You tell him you're taking a gap year, just passing through Santa Carla and was hoping for some fun as well. His lecherous grin lets him know you have him on the hook.
"Wanna take a ride on the ferris wheel?" He asks.
"I'll do you one better. I say we visit an alley away from prying eyes without giving any ride operators an eye full."
"Oh, fuck yes."
Smirking in triumph, you hop off the railing and grab up the guy's hand. You briefly meet his friends' gaze before winking at them, leading their friend off to what they think is going to be a very good time. For you it will be, but for him? Not so much.
Once at an alley that doesn't have much traffic passing by either end, you lure the guy inside. In the middle of the alley, you turn so your back is against the wall and let him grab you by the hips. But as you cradle his face before he kisses you, you meet his gaze and say, "Don't scream. Don't fight. This will be painless."
The guy goes quiet, and you let your face change before his very eyes. He tenses, but he stays stock still without uttering a peep. Then reaching around to grasp the hair at the back of his head, you angle his head so you can sink your fangs into his neck. You drink and drink, satiating your thirst while listening for the first skip of his heart. When you've had enough, you clean his neck wound of any blood and then prick your tongue with a fang to smear your own blood on the bite wound. It heals after a minute, and you pull back to meet his gaze once more.
"When you get back to your friends, you're gonna be smug but also a little bit let down. Admit I'm the greatest kisser you've ever had, but before we could get to any of the good stuff, we were interrupted by a homeless couple."
"We were interrupted by a homeless couple," he parrots back.
"Good boy. Now to make things more believable..." You slowly smirk before pulling him close, capturing his lips with your own.
The guy is shaken out of his compulsion and his arms wrap low around your waist to pull you even closer to him. You kiss him roughly to make sure his lips appear swollen and even muss his hair up. But the moment you reach under his shirt and rake your nails across his back, causing him to groan, you hear someone drop down beside you.
One second, you're enjoying a kiss and the next your victim is shoved away from you. Dwayne practically puts himself between you and your meal as he snarls, "Get. Lost."
The other individuals drop down into the alley, and you meet three amused expressions. Paul and Marko are snickering quietly whereas David is smirking at his dark-haired brother.
"You alright there, Dwayne?"
Dwayne turns, expression unimpressed at David's question. Instead of answering him, he turns his stare on you. "What?" You feign innocence. "I had to sell it. His friends needed to believe I brought him in here for anything other than feeding."
"Whatever. Next time, just kill the guy."
As Dwayne stalks off, you smile at his back. The moment he disappears, you ask, "Was that- was that jealousy?"
"Yep." Paul skips to you, draping an arm around your shoulders. "Dwayne's always been possessive, but it's been a long time since he took real interest in someone."
"This is going to be fun," Marko muses.
You roll your eyes and sigh but can't help but agree.
Over the course of another few days, it's now very obvious that Dwayne's hovering wasn't just because you were a female. He most definitely knows you can take care of yourself, yet he's still there, but now he's openly snarling when someone looks at you a little too long. To placate him, you only ride with him and pull him into the V of your thighs when you're sitting on the railing. He starts tensing up the moment you all people watch for your next meal and other guys stare back, but the tension drops from his shoulders when you hop onto the railing, pull him into the V of your thighs, and hug him from behind.
Nothing intimate happens between you and Dwayne, but it becomes an unspoken rule among the small coven that you're off limits.
Everything seems to be going well until you meet the boys on the boardwalk one night and David looks livid.
Your smile instantly vanishes. "What's wrong?"
"The woods smell like fuckin' dog," he seethes.
Immediately your gaze snaps towards the sky and your heart sinks. "It's a full moon."
"We know. We're gonna try and kill this wolf for stepping into our territory and pissin' all over the place."
"What?" Your voice is lethally quiet as you meet David's gaze. "You have to be joking. One bite- hell, even one nip!- is a death sentence."
"We'll be fine. We just thought we'd let you know."
As they turn to mount their bikes, you swear. "Goddammit. Wait for me. You're not doing this alone."
You climb onto the back of Dwayne's bike, wrapping your arms around his waist as you glare at the others for their idiotic choices. They're quite solemn as they drive to the woods, and you keep your eyes peeled for the werewolf in question. As they come to a stop, you climb off and glance around the eerily quiet woods.
"So do you have any tips on tracking a werewolf?" Paul muses.
You gulp. "It's a full moon and this wolf most likely claimed these woods as theirs. It'll be hunting us."
The boys chuckle and start walking, combing the woods for any sight of the wolf. It isn't long until a twig snaps- a twig that neither you nor the boys have stepped on. You all freeze.
"Showtime?" Marko wonders.
You sigh. "Be prepared to run. Werewolves can match a vampire's speed on the nights of a full moon."
"We'll be alright."
Almost as soon as the words leave Marko's mouth, the werewolf rushes in. It takes down Paul by his knees, standing on his back and snarling. Before he can snap his jaws, you rush over and kick the werewolf to send it flying.
"What the fuck was that?!" Paul incredulously asks as he hurriedly climbs back to his feet.
"A werewolf," you deadpan. "Keep your guard up. It'll come back."
For a few minutes, it seems like the werewolf is toying with all of you. It keeps knocking down the boys, snarling before disappearing. You've kicked it off your friends three times by now, but the second you hear a howl in the distance, you and the boys freeze.
"There's a second one?" You ask. David shrugs and you bite your tongue to keep from giving him a verbal lashing. "It was stupid to do this on the night of a full moon. We need to leave right now, and I'll do my best to sniff out the werewolves tomorrow so we can handle them when they're in their human forms."
"How much harder can two werewolves be?"
"Pretty fuckin' hard, David. I know you're a badass and all, but we need to do this another night."
Before David can answer, Dwayne shouts. You whirl around, eyes widening at seeing a werewolf pinning him to the ground with its sharp teeth inches from his face. Without thinking, you fly at the wolf, tackling it off of him. You and the wolf scramble for the upper hand and you hiss when there's a pain in your shoulder.
Eventually, you manage to pin the wolf to the ground by its neck and shove your hand into its chest cavity to yank out its heart. With the wolf dead, you toss the heart aside. "Now will you listen to me? This was such a stupid fucking idea." The boys remain quiet, staring at her.
Actually, they're staring at your shoulder.
"What?"
Dwayne steps forward, carefully reaching for your arm and pulling you a step towards him. You frown, but then hiss when he moves the neckline of your shirt off your shoulder. "You're bit."
Your heart falls into your stomach and you quickly glance at the shoulder that you now realize is burning. Your eyes fill with tears. "O-Oh."
"Oh? Oh?!" Dwayne nearly shouts. "Werewolf bites are lethal, remember? How could you be so goddamn stupid?!"
Your bottom lip trembles. "I'm well aware of that, Dwayne. I was the one who told you to hunt the werewolf another night, remember?" You sigh and pull your hand free from his grasp. You take a moment to collect your thoughts before admitting, "There's a cure. Only a select few know and the cure is hard to get your hands on unless you're on friendly terms with those who have access to it. It's not my secret to divulge, so I was compelled to not say anything unless it was an emergency."
"What is it?" Dwayne asks. "We'll get it."
"You can't. But I can," you admit. "Let's just get to the cave. I have a phone call to make."
So, for part two, do we want the Mystic Falls gang to follow Klaus to Santa Carla or do we want the Santa Carla gang to visit Mystic Falls?
#the lost boys#the lost boys imagine#the lost boys fanfiction#lost boys x reader#the lost boys x reader#dwayne x reader#the vampire diaries imagine#the vampire diaries fanfiction#david#dwayne#paul#marko#klaus mikaelson#elijah mikaelson
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Ohmygod i love the blurb you wrote for mafia bobby 😭 you did so well with it!
Still on anon for now, a bit shy about requesting on my main but -
Would you do a Jake x Kazansky reader where he's jealous/infuriated/*cough* horny *cough* because the reader (who's also an aviator) is always being praised by their superiors?
Enemies to friends with benefits to lovers?
If he's a teeny bit mean to the reader (calls her a nepotism baby or something) i would love that 🥺
Thank you so much, everything you've written so far is brilliant!
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮
𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞
𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
You can feel his eyes on you. Those bright green things that somehow feel like flames licking your skin. They're burning your cheek, the one you have turned towards him. If you didn't loathe him entirely, maybe you'd admit that his eyes were actually a shade of green you were fond of. If you liked him more, maybe you'd say that his eyes are the color of eucalyptus or clover. But since you don't like him, since he really doesn't like you, you privately imagine his eyes to be the same shade as pond scum.
Both of you tend to gravitate towards the front of the classroom, which means that when you're late--like you were today, only by a minute or two--you have to sit in the empty seat beside him. Which means that you had to move his feet from the chair where they were resting--the only seat left in the front row. You knew he certainly wasn't going to move them, especially when he smirked up at you and settled into his seat further.
So you swiftly gripped his ankles and let his feet drop unceremoniously to the concrete floor.
He started to make a sound of protest, started to laugh dryly and without humor, but you already settled into your seat and fixed him with a wonderful view of your middle finger as you "itched" your temple.
He's pissed now. You know that. Honestly, you knew he was going to be pissed before you even did it. But you did it, anyway.
You can't stand his entitlement, the way he takes up all the space around him like he owns it and smiles through it all. And you can't stand sitting anywhere except the front of the classroom--it's where you focus the best.
Maverick is droning through another training and you're being your usual studious self, taking notes with your fine-point pens and chewing on your bottom lip.
"Take a fucking picture already," you finally mutter to Jake, not peeling your eyes away from the screen Maverick stands before.
Jake snorts softly, scoffing at you.
"Don't flatter yourself," he spits back, finally turning away from you as he incessantly taps his pencil against the desk.
You try and ignore it--really, you do. But you're certain after a few minutes that he's doing it just to annoy you. That stupid repetitive clanking--tap, tap, tap, tap, tap--it's starting to drive you fucking crazy.
You're right--Jake is trying to annoy you. He doesn't like it when you sit next to him anymore than you like sitting next to him. And he didn't like that little stunt you pulled by scooping his feet out of the seat they were resting in. He won't admit it to himself or you, but he wouldn't have moved if you asked. Really, you moving his feet were the only way you would be able to sit in that chair.
But he's still pissed at you; he's always pissed at you.
You're a Kazansky, which means everyone treads lightly around you. And if Jake hates one thing--it's people who get a free ride. And you with your pretty fucking face and your sweet-smelling hair and your stupid fucking eyelashes and the ferocious way you bite your lip--you have it easy as far as he's concerned. He decided that the first time he ever met you at the Academy, as soon as you introduced yourself. Your call-sign is Wisteria, born from your unsuspecting appearance and lethal temper. But Jake doesn't like to call you that--he really doesn't like to call you anything.
Growling, you turn and stare at his pencil. He just smirks. It makes your face hot with annoyance.
"You're insufferable," you hiss at him quietly, taking a grab at his pencil.
He's faster than you, just by a fraction of a second. He moves to tapping his pencil incessantly on the other side of the desk where you can't reach him.
"You're fuckin' annoyin'," he bites back in a whispered tone. "You can sit anywhere and you choose here?"
You roll your eyes.
"Newsflash, you fucking dick--you don't own the front row," you mumble, blood rising to the tips of your ears.
"You know I always sit in the front row," he tries to reason, glaring at you, his mouth pulled into a grimace.
"So do I," you whisper back incredulously, finally peeling your eyes away from Maverick to return his wide-eyed look. "So just suck it up and shut the fuck up. Can you do that, Bagman? Pretty please?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely," he grins menacingly.
You groan softly, squeezing your eyes shut. He's going to be the death of you.
"If I ask you pretty please to fuck off, will you do that, too?"
Across the room, Rooster and Payback watch your exchange slyly. Rooster is shaking his head, smiling softly. Payback's lips are slightly parted and his eyebrows are raised.
"How long until they just fuck already?" Rooster whispers to Payback.
Payback shakes his head, shrugging.
"Could be hours. Could be days. Could be weeks. Who knows? God works in mysterious ways," Payback whispers back.
Rooster eyes you--your cheeks are flushed and your lip is nearly bloody from your incessant chewing. Jake is tapping his pencil again, smirking as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.
Oh yeah. You two are definitely burning for each other--Rooster can practically smell it from here.
"I give it two days," Rooster says to Payback.
Payback snorts softly, then sighs.
"I give it two hours," he mumbles back.
The two shake hands slyly under their shared desk.
"I don't know--why don't you try?" Hangman hisses at you.
You square your jaw, breathing through your nose. Lord, grant you some patience for this big hunk of blonde muscle beside you.
You softly smile at him, eyebrows blanched.
"Will you please fuck off?" You ask sweetly, even batting your eyelashes.
Hangman wants to say something. Really, he does. But Maverick is clearing his throat and looking at the two of you. So you slump into your seat, mumbling an apology as you flush. And Jake just nods at Maverick--except he stops tapping his pencil. But he knows that he's going to get you back.
And get you back he does. It's when you're both in the air, cutting through the cornflower sky, teamed up for a dogfight. You're a good pilot--maybe even one of the best. You're vigilant and calculated. You do everything by the books, which is why you've been asked to be Team Captain on more than one occasion.
Of course from Jake's perspective, it's only because of the legacy you hail from. In his opinion, you lack gumption and the kind of recklessness fighter pilots sometimes have to embody.
Needless to say--neither of you like flying with each other. So of course, Maverick pairs the two of you up.
Hangman can be calculated when he wants to be. And today, there's a special fire that's been lit under his ass--and you're the one that's been stoking it all day. So he plays by your rules, obeying you, even using your Lieutenant title--which he makes a point to never use.
But it's at that crucial moment, when you need him to cover you, when you need your wingman--that he dips. He hangs you out to dry, lets you get shot out. Hell, he practically lines up the shot for Maverick. The two of you were close to getting Maverick--so close that Jake could've gotten tone before Maverick even got close to you.
But then your tone is ringing out in your aircraft and you're dead. And Jake is grinning at you as soon as your jet touches down on the tarmac.
"What's got your panties in a twist?" He asks you, smirking as he wipes some beads of sweat from his forehead.
You're thoroughly pissed off. Like red in the cheeks, blood boiling, boulder-sitting-on-your-chest kind of pissed off. You're so pissed off that Bob is crossing the tarmac as soon as he sees that unhinged anger in your eyes, the one that usually prefaces some sort of discipline from the higher-ups.
"You son of a bitch!" You spit at Jake, pointing at him accusingly, throwing your helmet on the tarmac. "You gave Maverick the shot! Fuck, you basically lined it up for him!"
Jake is standing beneath the golden sun, his eyes narrowed as he squints at you under the bright sky. He likes seeing you like this--angry. Like, really, really angry.
"Me?" He asks dumbly, pointing to himself.
You have half a mind to scratch those green eyes out of his pretty face. You stomp towards him, hastily wiping the sweat off your face with your sleeve.
"You!" You shout, puffing your chest out as you square up to him. "You fucking--you-you-!"
"C'mon," Jake taunts, smirking down at you as your furrow your brows deeply. "Spit it out, nepotism baby."
Just as you're about to wallop Jake in his pretty fucking face, just as you're literally about to sink your teeth into his jugular, Bob steps between the two of you.
"Wisty, he wants you to hit him," Bob reasons, his sweet eyes pouring into yours. Jesus, you look feral right now--your teeth are bared, your eyes are glassy, your cheeks are red, you're damp with perspiration. "Do you really wanna give Seresin what he wants?"
Jake isn't surprised that someone jumped in to save your precious reputation. Typical behavior. Everyone always rushing to your aid like the big fucking baby you are.
"Maybe she does," Jake tells Bob, clapping him on the shoulder. "C'mon. Give it to me, baby."
Bob has to put his hands on your shoulders and hold you to the tarmac. He's certain that if he let you go, you'd be impossible to get ahold of again. And Jake would have to run for the hills if he wanted to avoid any major surgeries in the facial region.
"You're a fucking asshole!" You accuse Jake, little bits of saliva flinging at the skin of his face.
Jake comes closer to you--like a toddler taunting an animal at the zoo through the glass--and puckers his lips, making a lewd kissing noise.
He just fucking blew you a kiss.
Bob fights the overwhelming urge to let you loose. Fucking dick.
Jake swiftly turns on his heel, grinning, finally feeling like he has the upper-hand. But he is stopped only a few paces later when Cyclone bellows his official title.
Cyclone, who listened to the comms for once during your training exercise and witnessed the entire tarmac ordeal, has a few words for Jake.
Jake's stomach sinks. Fuck.
And he knows without even turning around that you're grinning now. Of course someone comes in the save the day again. If not Bob or Phoenix or Bradley or Maverick, then fucking Cyclone.
"Karma," you mutter to Bob, sighing deeply.
Bob nods, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He takes a look at your slumped shoulders and your slacked features and decides that he's probably okay to let you go.
"You know he just wants to get under your skin," Bob tells you warily, bumping you with a friendly elbow. "He's threatened by you."
You nod, scoffing.
"Good. I'm better than him."
Bob laughs and it makes something in your chest melt. You suddenly don't feel so angry anymore. You even smile a little bit.
"That you are, Wisty. Now, go take a shower. You stink."
You're in the middle of a much needed shower when the locker-room door suddenly rips open. You're startled enough to jump as you lather your body, straining on your tip-toes to look over the curtain at who just barged into the room.
The rooms are uni-sex, much to your dismay, and you're almost certain that everyone's in the air right now or has already showered after training. You cycle through the squadron in your head, furrowing your brows as you let the hot water boil the anger off your skin.
"Rooster?" You try, your voice echoing out on the tiles in the showers.
There's heavy footsteps--ones that are moving quick. Lug-sole boots, for sure. And if it really were Rooster, you're certain he would've come in humming or whistling or singing some dumb 80s song. And he would've called back at once.
No, this is someone else. Someone who's rapidly approaching, someone who's pissed off. They're stomping in your direction.
"I'm grounded for two fuckin' weeks."
Jake's voice is just outside your shower cubicle. All that separates your naked body from him and his rage is a flimsy shower curtain, one that is very nearly translucent.
You swallow thickly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. You're naked for crying out loud--and he's trying to do this now? Here?
"Can this wait?" You ask, almost sounding timid.
Jake scoffs.
"No."
You roll your eyes, tipping your head back so the hot water washes over your face and hair again.
"How's it my problem that you're grounded?" You ask, your voice echoing in the vast empty room.
Jake is certain that the shower curtain is about to be set ablaze by his heated gaze. He wants to rip that shower curtain open and shake you silly for getting him in trouble the way you did. He can't see much of you besides your vague silhouette behind the curtain--that and your feet on the tile. Your toes are painted the color of a blueberry--on any other girl, Jake would think it's cute. But it's you, so he thinks it's juvenile.
"Because you just had to make a scene in front of everyone, didn't you? I bet you fuckin' knew Cyclone was watching!"
You scoff so loud that it makes your throat hurt.
"Bullshit, Seresin! I'm not some fucking cartoon villain! You fucked me up there and you know it. You knew I'd be pissed when we landed. I didn't know Cyclone was there."
Jake rakes his hand through his sweaty locks and groans loudly, starting to pace the damp tile outside your cubicle. He knows how threatening his boots against the tile must sound, how stuck you must feel right now. And a tiny part of him takes a strange sort of joy in that--of his presence being so big and looming that it holds you still.
"Yeah, well I guess life just has a way of going your way, huh, Kazansky?"
Your blood is beginning to boil again. Just the way he says your name, with all that venom and malice, it makes your nails dig into your palms.
"What's that mean, Bagman?"
He scoffs now--it's loud enough for you to hear above the blood rushing past your ears.
"It means that you have it easy! You've always had it easy! Your dad is fucking Tom Kazansky! Your daddy was a fighter pilot so he let you be a fighter pilot, too."
You're almost vibrating with anger now, hastily washing the conditioner out of your hair so you can rip the shower curtain and deliver a swift smack to his cheek.
It's one thing for him to say something about you--but it's a whole other thing entirely to bring up your father. You love your father--he's always been your real-life superhero. To hear Jake just say his name like that, just to hear him spit out Tom Kazansky like it means nothing makes you want to make his pretty eyes black.
"Oh, fuck you, Jake! Rooster's dad went to Top Gun, too, but I don't see you bringing that up every chance you get!"
"Rooster's dad is fucking dead!" Jake calls back, sighing in exasperation. "Doubt he helped him climb any ladders from six-feet under!"
Stomach gurgling, chest flushed, heart racing, you act before you even think. You rip open the shower curtain, your ears ringing, and stare at Jake. You want to hit him; you want to hit him more than you've ever wanted to hit anyone in your life. But you know that's probably what he wants.
So you just stand there, your naked body glistening with suds and heaving with every breath you huff out.
Jake stops his pacing, mouth falling open as he stares at all the skin that is suddenly on display. You look fucking pissed--your eyes are rimmed with red, your fists are clenched, your skin is quivering, your mouth is a tight line. But fuck if you don't look sexy right now; your nipples are pert and pink, all the hills and valleys of your body are slick, and that blueberry color on your toes looks mildly endearing as you stomp closer to him.
"You think I've got it easy?"
Your voice is laced with absolute malice.
Jake is backing away from you, his lips parted, his eyes wide.
"Yeah, I do," he says, but he sounds less sure now.
You point up at him, narrowing your eyes.
"Yeah, because women notoriously have it easy in the military. Right, Jake? I've never had to work hard for anything because my dad is an Admiral, right? And all the other people in this program that had parents go through it aren't nepotism babies if their parents are dead, right?"
You're getting closer and closer to him with every word that spews out of your mouth, pressing your finger into his chest, glowering.
Before Jake can answer--which he's having a hard time doing since all the blood in his brain is suddenly draining down, down, down--you get on your tip-toes to get all the more closer to his face.
Something is bubbling up in you, something that's been coming on for months. You're good at hiding your emotions, especially around your family, especially around your dad. You know how upset he gets when you're upset--even as a little girl, you did your best to conceal any sort of crying or whining around him--so you bottle all those tears and that rage and that grief inside your chest cavity. And now that you're naked and pissed and so close to Jake, it's all coming out in hot breaths.
"So, in a few months, when my dad is dead--you're gonna stop calling me a nepotism baby? Is that how this works? Or am I grandfathered in?"
There it is--sitting out in all the steamy air between the two of you. Your dad is dying. You know it, you've known it for a while now, and you're trying to come to terms with it. You haven't been able to tell anyone on base, therapy is too expensive, and you can't cry in front of your dad. So Jake gets to hear it all right now as you stand before him, soaking wet, trembling with rage.
And Jake suddenly feels like a fucking asshole. He hates to feel guilty--which is why he usually actively tries to steel himself against people's reactions to what he says--but he can feel the rusty anchor of it dragging across his chest heavily. He knows that his eyes have softened, that his shoulders are drooping. He knows it because you suddenly soften too.
"Wisteria," he says quietly, trying hard to keep looking at your face and not your breasts or your belly or your legs or your legs. "I'm so..."
And you feel like you're going to cry now--which is great. That's just fucking great. That's all you need right now is to cry in front of Jake fucking Seresin, who will probably internalize all of it to tease you about it for the next ten years.
With a sudden wave of goosebumps, you realize it. You're butt naked right now in front of Jake. Like, properly naked. And you're soaking wet. So, while you still have the slightest bit of dignity intact, you spin on your heel and start to hurry back to your cubicle. A deep blush is covering your chest and throat, climbing up onto your cheeks.
"Hey," Jake says, his voice softer than before. He reaches out before he even realizes what he's doing, wrapping his hand around your bicep.
You whip around quicker than he's expecting, your wet hair smacking his sweaty cheeks. His eyes are wide when you press your nose against his. And even though he knows you're angry at him, angry at the situation and at him and at the world, he knows that you're sad, too. You're sad in a way he doesn't quite understand but that he wants to help--really, he just wants this guilt sitting on his chest to fade.
"Fuck you," you hiss, jabbing his chest. Your voice breaks and he squeezes your arm tighter.
Jake is staring at you. His eyes are wide and his pupils are blown. His mouth is twisted and his cheeks are red and his hair is messy. He's something between pissed and elated, but you don't know what.
"Fuck you," he whispers back, except his voice holds no malice at all. It's soft, soft as the little breaths of his that are fanning over your face.
And he moves closer to you, just barely, just enough so that you can feel his hard cock against your naked hip.
Oh--you recognize that look now. It's lust. He wants you. He wants to fuck you.
Your heart is racing and when his hand moves to tenderly move wet hair off your shoulder, you shudder. Heat is beginning to pool between your legs now, the same heat that is making your lips swell with want.
You're still upset, your emotions are running high. But maybe this would make you feel better--actually, you know it would make you feel better. Between your busy schedule and all the family you're constantly entertaining, you don't have much of a dating life.
"That what you want?" You whisper finally, not moving away from him.
He nods once, swallowing hard.
Fuck.
"That gonna make you shut the fuck up?" You whisper to him, lips just barely grazing his.
And fuck if just the feeling of his lips on yours isn't already making a coil tighten in your belly.
He moans softly, pressing into you just a bit harder. You're steady on your feet, swallowing his sound with a hunger that you've never had for anyone else before.
You're slightly shocked that he's letting you take the lead, letting you talk to him that way. You're also shocked that you're about to kiss Jake Seresin in the locker room at your place of employment. But here you are, your tongue licking a hot stripe across his bottom lip until he opens his mouth for you.
But, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, he wraps your hair tightly around his hand and tugs harshly until your lips disconnect. There is a string of spit connecting the two of you, which makes something very warm grow in your belly.
"You're a bitch," he tells you, panting.
You nod blindly, desperate to press your mouth against his again.
"You're a dick," you tell him.
He moans again--a glutton for punishment. It makes you wet just thinking about all the mean things you can spew at him, all the frustration he would happily let you take out on him and his abs.
You're fumbling with his uniform and he's feverishly pressing kisses to your wet shoulders and neck, both of you moving quickly so you don't change your mind or get some sense knocked into you.
"Princess," he mumbles against your skin, sucking harshly over your collarbone.
"Entitled prick," you moan back, pushing his shirt on the floor and eagerly working on his belt buckle.
Jake can't believe this is happening. He never thought he wanted to fuck you--honestly, the thought had never crossed his mind. But now that you're here in front of him, naked and wet and ready for him, he can't believe he hasn't indulged in this fantasy before. You're so fucking hot that he's already straining against his service khakis, his mind spinning, his chest heaving. He's only ever strictly--and honestly, begrudgingly--noticed your beauty. It's hard for him to not notice beautiful people so it's usually your face that he lands on.
"C'mon," he hisses at you, dragging his calloused hands down to your breasts. "Faster."
He pinches hard enough to make you cry out, enough to make your toes curl. White-hot pleasure is raining over you, licking your heels, scorching you.
"Fuck you," you moans again, finally undoing his belt and getting rid of his pants and underwear in one swift movement.
"Plannin' on it," he whispers to you, delivering a few more sharp pinches to your nipples as he kneads the soft tissue of your breast in his rough hands.
His cock is freely pressing into your skin now, hard and hot and leaking pearlescent beads of pre-cum. He's big--he's really fucking big. You can feel all the veins around his cock pulsing, can feel how badly he wants you. If you weren't as wet as you are right now, you'd make fun of him.
"Shower," he commands, already pressing you against the wall of your cubicle.
The water is still running, clouding the room with steam, and after only a few moments both of you are sopping wet again. He's kissing you like he's trying to devour you, relentless in his harsh movements on your chest. The pleasure is almost paralyzing you, almost rendering you motionless.
But after only a few moments of his harsh movements, you finally move down and wrap your fingers around his cock. You give a few tugs, slipping your thumb over the his slit.
Jake Seresin, Jake fucking Seresin, moans into your mouth. It's a deep and throaty thing, something that shoots you straight in the core. And then he presses himself against you, holding you up with one of his arms as his other one slips between you. In one swift movement, his fingers are spreading you open and circling your clit furiously. There's no easing into it, not with him. It's hot and desperate and needy.
You're moaning, too, throwing your head back against the slick tiles, squeezing your eyes shut. And Jake is kissing feverishly across your neck, nibbling your collarbones, trying not to outwardly moan at how silky and good you feel on his fingers.
That coil is tightening in your belly, pushing you closer and closer to an edge you weren't even near when you started to shower a short while ago. But his fingers are so rough, so calloused, and they feel so fucking good against this delicate part of you.
"Make me cum," you desperately whisper, the water pouring down over the two of you deliciously.
He's still moaning at your swift movements over his cock, at the way you are giving special attention to the head of his cock the exact way he likes.
"You're such a fuckin' princess," he whispers into your mouth, biting down hard on your lower lip as you mewl desperately. "Always gotta be taken care of, huh?"
Nonetheless, he's picking up his pace, rubbing your clit in hard and fast circles. He can tell your close by the crinkle between your brows, by the way you're bucking into his hand, by those desperate little breaths that are puffing into his face. You're soaking wet, too, which makes him so hard that he thinks he might combust.
"Oh, Jake," you moan, trying to match his pace with your hips.
He keens at the sound of his name falling off your lips. And when you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, it only encourages him to move faster.
If you weren't so close to cumming, if he his cock wasn't dripping in your hands, then you would laugh at him. Jake Seresin has a degradation and a praise kink. Typical.
"Beg for it," he mutters to you, swallowing hard.
You don't even think twice.
"Please," you whisper pathetically, mouth parted in utter ecstasy. "Please, please, please, Jake. God, give it to me, Jake. Please let me cum."
Jake's sounds are sacrilegious. He's pressing his lips agains yours harshly, his tongue folding across yours, pressing down just right until he's thrown you off the edge of a cliff and directly into the vortex of an orgasm. You convulse in his arms, shaking and nearly crying, and he swallows every single sound your pretty mouth makes.
"That's it," he coaxes, uncharacteristically soft as he works you through it. "Good girl."
Your fingernails embed themselves in the skin of his scalp.
And if he wasn't planning on fucking you just as soon as you can stand on your own two feet again, he'd endlessly tease you about the way you like to be teased. Typical.
And just as soon as you've come down, just as soon as your vision isn't whited out, you're turning yourself so your chest is against the shower wall. Jake almost moans just from the sight of your supple ass raising just slightly in the air--a signal that you're ready for him.
But he takes not a moment of hesitation. He smooths his hand down your spine, holding the meat of your cheeks in his hands, silently thanking God for his bad attitude earlier.
And you're panting, still recovering, so turned on still that you can't even speak. You know that if you did speak, you would sound downright dumb. You'll be damned before you let Jake Seresin know that his fingers alone have made you totally stupid.
"Ready for me?"
You just nod, stifling an eye roll.
He braces himself against you, a firm hold on your hips. And you brace yourself against the wall, pressing your hot cheek against the cool tile.
And just as he lines the head of his weeping cock up to your sopping entrance, just as he's about to practically rip you in two, he leans forward. You want to whine, really you do, but then he's very tenderly moving all the wet hair out of your face so he can see your pink cheek and your swollen lips and half-lidded eyes.
"You want this?" He asks, voice steady but desperate.
You glance back at him, brows furrowed slightly. He's being totally earnest right now--you can tell from the flat line of his lips and the way his eyebrows are just barely knit.
"Yes," you whisper after a moment, nodding.
He smiles, nodding.
"Good," he whispers, pressing himself into you all at once, rendering you speechless and breathless. "Cause I fuckin' want it, too."
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞
horny!mean!Hangman rise
this has been extended to a series!! you can find all the parts on my masterlist!!
if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!
here is my tag list!!
#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman x y/n#jake hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#jake smut#jake seresin series#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin angst#hangman seresin#hangman top gun#hangman seresin x reader#hangman?? more like hang that man's penis...in my mouth#top gun hangman#hangman angst#hangman x reader#hangman x you#angst with a happy ending#top gun maverick#top gun maverick hangman#hangman smut#hangman series#hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman seresin smut#hangman seresin imagine#top gun maverick imagine#jake hangman fic#hangman fanfiction
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A letter from one's aching heart.
╰┈➤ nanami kento x reader ･ﾟﾟ･｡ wc: ~600
╰┈➤ post shibuya 2018 incident, spoilers for the recent s2 ep (18), gender neutral!reader, angst, mostly hurt/small amounts of comfort, grief, unedited . ･ﾟﾟ･｡posted on ao3!! ･ﾟﾟ･｡ @bitchcraftinc ੈ♡˳
"I've lived and I've loved, I've drank bitter and cold coffee, and I've drunk it warm and sweet too. Lately the world lost its color, and with it the respite of love went away. Maybe it's still there, in the way I still cook, make coffee, load the laundry, buy takeout, and more; everything for two. I keep forgetting I'm going to wake up in an empty, cold bed, that my towels won't ever be warm again when I get out of the shower; sometimes I speak waiting for a response, but what answers me is the silence of a hollow house. I keep saying 'I'm home!' with a smile every once in a while, but then again, hollowness is all I get back.
Sometimes I wonder if things could be different, if we could have had an eternity of warm embraces and late sunday mornings. Wondering is futile, you taught me that, what matters is the present, the now. There's days where I buy myself a flower bouquet and put it in your favorite vase, the one that I think is boring and dull, and other days I treat myself to a dinner date, always pouring something for you too; I hope you're enjoying that.
Don't worry about me, I'm doing good, it seems I was prepared to live without you, it's so hard, but I'm doing good. Though I loathe the day your clothes stop having your smell, I keep spraying your cologne in your pillow, hoping that the smell brands itself in my brain. I've had no luck yet, maybe if I try harder I will achieve it. I hope you forgive me, but I made one of your ties my lucky charm that I tied to my bag, and I had to cut it in half, with the rest I made a bracelet which I use almost every day, hoping to have a piece of you with me always, at least physically.
Maybe I will adopt that little kitten, the one you insisted I should stop feeding. His mama vanished, and he's doing relatively good by itself. But I have all this love inside me that is for you, overflowing and drowning me; it seems to like the charm made out of your tie because they always play with it when I put my bag down. Even when you're not around you still are a magnet of strays.
…I am making this longer than I planned, maybe I will write you another letter next week, or when I feel ready. I hope you don't mind the ink a little smudged because I'm crying.
With love, always and forever, until we meet in another life, Kento."
You carefully folded the letter, chest full of sobs and tears completely clouding your vision. Nestling the pen you just used against your chest carefully, it's weight heavy in your hands, is Nanami's favorite.
After calming down enough to move, you take the folded paper and move it next to the plain cream vase that now holds half wilted flowers, leaving it there, with the pen over it as a weight.
Grabbing your bag as you take a tissue from beside the door, you put on your shoes. The keys on the door jingle, a solitary keychain with now no pair dances. Closing the door, your next destination is the pet store, the kitten is going to need a lot of new things… absentmindedly you wonder what name would suit them as the sounds of the city engulf you.
╰┈➤ a/n: this has been rotting in my docs since SEPTEMBER !! i'm so happy to finally release it here into the wild, it's not much but im thinking about grief and him allllllll the time. thank u for reading!! ♡
reblogs are greatly appreciated
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currently brainrotting about the possible antagonists that we could get in Trolls 4 (if that does end up happening) and I need to get this shit out somehow
I’ve seen people talk about Crimp being the next antagonist, and imma be real; I don’t see it- like sure, that lil mop thing is smart, hell, even Velvet acknowledged that and ended up not trusting her as a result, but I highly doubt Crimp could be some kind of evil mastermind (also wondering how she didn’t get arrested as well since, legally speaking she could be considered a as an accomplice to the whole shit fest with Floyd?? make that make sense, but then again, law may work different in their world so what do I know)
some said something about Creek coming back, and let me just say I HATE plots like that-
Creek’s dead, end of story, and even if he is somehow still alive, he doesn’t deserve to fucking return (I hate Creek, alright- can’t stand the little shit)
now, I’ve seen someone speak about a new kind of Troll popping up and I gotta say that caught my eye a bit more; Phonk Trolls- I’d say it would be an interesting concept to play with-
I got a personally idea of mine since, throughout the movies, the subject of grey trolls in general is never truly talked about again- so far, canonically, Branch seems to be the only troll we know of that has turned grey and remained that way for a long period of time- but what if there were more, similar to him? trolls who had lost their colors and just- never gained them back
I find the idea of a whole tribe of grey trolls rather interesting, and it would be a fun concept to tweak and play around with- and how they could pose a threat to our beloved main cast- perhaps they want to rid the world of color, or they want to steal that color to have some sort of happiness back, unfortunately ripping all the others trolls of that same mirth- are they driven by anger, grief, vengeance, or a mix of all of these?
or perhaps the newest antagonist is another species entirely, or a bigger threat than anything they’ve experienced before-
anyways it’s midnight where I am and I need some sleep
-🪶
I don't really have any big hopes for the antagonists of the fourth film, were there to be one. I'd like to see some returning antagonists, to be fair, even if they've all been pretty safely written off and tucked away where they won't be a problem anymore.
I don't remember if the storyboards I saw were real or not but I honestly wouldn't mind if Creek was a returning villain. I'd honestly like to see him antagonize Branch a lot more, I enjoyed their bitter dynamic before the Snack Pack got taken in the first movie. While Chef is most certainly dead we saw Poppy save herself from a similar experience during Get Back Up Again so I don't think it would be entirely out of pocket to have Creek survive somehow.
I just don't know how the franchise could do that in a way that I wouldn't despise. I know that I absolutely loathed how Creek was written into The Beat Goes On and I would hate to have the main series ruined by some blunder like that.
I'd just like to see one of the Trolls movies expand a bit more on what we already know, like how World Tour really went into detail about the Trolls and their different cultures and subspecies. I don't want a whole new species like the Mount Rageons even though I adore them, I think it'd be fun to dig a little deeper into the world we already have and then continue to expand it later down the line maybe.
I like what I've seen a few people say here and there, though. I'd like to see a scenario where Branch is the one that needs help for once, instead of being the one to offer it and pull off the rescue. I love seeing how competent and aware he is but I'd like to see what would happen if the rest of the trolls didn't have Branch to rely on for once. He's always a really big piece of the solution so what would happen if they didn't have him to put things together?
Regardless, if/when a fourth film comes out I hope I love it just as much as the other three. That's all I can really ask for.
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Okay
Listen
I have things to say
First of all, I'm OBSESSED with your writing.
Secondly, I came up with an interesting idea that I would LOVE to see your take on, if you're interested. I am NOT a writer, my ADD won't allow it, but I think your writing would really bring this idea to life...
Touya Catfishing you...
Now HEAR ME OUT
Imagine a modern au Touya catfishing you. Not for any nefarious reason, but because he's self conscious about his scars. We know canonically that he thinks he's ugly af.
He's never had a girlfriend. sure he's had the occasional drunken hook up, but they never stay once they see him in the harsh light of day. None of them can see past his scars. He's tried online dating, only for it to result in the same rejection. Although he loathes to admit it, he's a romantic at heart; he just wants someone to love him. Maybe he met you at your job at a coffee shop, or a book store, either way he's met you and he wants nothing more than to get to know you. so he does something stupid. He knows it's a shitty thing to do, but he did it anyway. he makes a fake Instagram account, opting to use his nickname from high school; Dabi.
but instead of using some random person's pictures, he makes the decision to use his much more attractive (though he'd never admit it) little brother's image. It's the perfect plan, shouto doesn't have an Instagram, opting to stay mostly offline since he had no interest in it and he's got access to all the pictures he could ever need of him to send to you. He'll use his little brother's pictures to reel you in, and when you fall in love with his personality he'll reveal his true self to you. You'll be so in love with him that you won't care about the scars and the lies.... Right?
He begins a conversation with you on insta, he's funny, charming. A real smooth talker. His dry sense of humour compliments your own perfectly.
You guys chat online, about your lives, about your similar interests, and you quickly start to catch feelings for him. After about 2 weeks of strictly dming, you give him your number and you start talking on the phone. And OH, his voice does things to you. He's a sweet talker for sure, but it's more than that. he's everything you want in a partner, and you desperately want to meet face to face. You try to facetime him, only to be met with a blank screen. 'Dabi' tells you his webcam is broken and he hasn't gotten around to getting a new one. You shrug it off, continuing the one sided facetime. Things eventually heat up after a few more weeks, you do things on camera for him that you NEVER thought you would do, but you're falling so hard that you'd do it for him.
The more time that passes, the more suspicious you get. He never got a new webcam, he's never met you in person, siting every excuse in the book as to why he can't meet up with you; He got called into work last minute, he's out of town, he's sick, there was a family emergency. You bought the excuses at first, maybe he just had really bad luck? But the red flags are getting bigger by the day.
Touya knows he should tell you, the longer he waits, the worse it will be when you do find out. He hates disappointing you with another excuse as to why you can't meet, he feels sick to his stomach every time you tell him you love him. He loves you so much it feels like he can't breathe. He had to tell you, he knows..
But everytime he tries, he feels his throat closing and he can't will himself to do it. He's used to rejection; he's been rejected by every love interest he's ever had. Hell, his own father rejected him and he'd been able to move on. But he doesn't think he could take it from you. Not you.
So he tells himself that he'll lie to you for just a little longer. Next time, next time he'll definitely do it.
He never does.
Until one day, you're at work and are surprised by a very familiar bi colored head of hair coming into the shop. It's Dabi, you'd know his unique appearance anywhere. You're elated, he's FINALLY come to meet you, you weren't being scammed, he is real. You call his name excitedly, only for him and his companion, his brother Natsuo, to look at you like you're crazy.
You try again, looking directly at him, but he continues to look confused.
His name is not Dabi. He tells you as much
His name is shouto, and he doesn't even have Instagram. He's nice enough, he feels bad for you, your heartbreak so apparent on your face. The conversation is awkward, and he and Natsuo leave without making a purchase.
You're completely humiliated. He tricked you. Dabi, or whatever his name is, had been catfishing you this whole time.
You take your break to call him, as soon as he answers you let him have it. You don't let him get a word in edgewise. Why would he do this? Was he trying to earn your trust so you'd send him money, or did he derive some sick pleasure from making you fall for him? And oh God, the things you did on camera just for him... Did he screen record them? Was he going to blackmail you with them? Was he going to sell them? No matter how many times he tries to tell you he would never do that, that he loves you, he can't. you keep cutting him off with worse and worse accusations.
You tell him you hate him. To lose your number. You block him on EVERYTHING
It's been weeks. You're heartbroken, he's heartbroken and you don't know if you'll ever recover.
Touya NEEDS to talk to you, to clear things up, to explain himself. If he can just talk to you you'll understand. But try as he might, he can't reach you. As a last ditch effort he does the one thing he'd been avoiding; he goes to meet you in person at your job.
The shop is quiet, your boss decides to close early, sending you home. As you make your way out of the store, keeping your head down, you knock into someone.
You mumble an apology and continue on your way...
Until he speaks up
"... Hey Doll..."
That's all you need to hear to know EXACTLY who he is.
You try to storm past him, all you want is to go home and cry into a strong drink, but he follows you begging, BEGGING for you to hear him out.
You stop, waiting with your back to him to hear what he could possibly say to justify his actions.
So he tells you everything. About his low self image, his disfigurement, the rejection, the hurt. He also tells you how much he loves you, everything he loves about you . He's frustrated, with himself for fucking everything up, with you for making him so nervous. Never in a million years did he think he'd ever be this open with anyone, but he's desperate.
You're still mad, it's not an excuse to do what he did, but you can empathize. And when you do finally look at him, so vulnerable and open, your heart stops.
He's scarred, and pierced and tattooed, but he's so so beautiful.
You take him home, you show him in the most NSFW way possible just how gorgeous you think he is, how his scars don't deter you, how deeply you love him.
You still give him shit after for lying to you, but you'll give him a chance to make it up to you.
And OH BOY does he
WOOOAAAHHHHHHH.... Sp, I wanted to reblog one of my fics this weekend but this is actually way much better!
Thank you so much for sharing, this had me really captivated! I love it when you all share your ideas with me. 💙💙💙💙💙
Now, if you don't mind, share how Dabi DOES make it up to us hehe...
#queen answers#soft dabi#tw catfishing#bnha dabi#dabi#dabi todoroki#dabi my hero academia#mha dabi#touya todoroki#todoroki touya
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[Starter for Bob @youbringtrouble]
It was the dead of night. Little to no places were open to satisfy his rare craving for food. But alas, there was a light in the darkness-- a 24 hour gas station; complete with a convenience store!! Johnny turned into the lot and parked his car. He wasn't familiar with this area, so finding this was a stroke of pure luck.
As he exited his car, he also pulled out a backpack and slid it on his shoulders. After living a while in his car, he found that a backpack was easier to carry around the essentials. At least it was better than relying on pockets alone.
A small smiled dawned on his face as he approached the store. Johnny wondered what should he get. It had to be something light to quell his stomach. Jalapeño chips? Soda? Maybe a can of spaghetti-o's? Or one of those small fried wraps filled with mystery meat?
His eyes widened as he entered the store. There was no way in hell he was this lucky, but lo and behold-- there was a slushy machine. Granted it wasn't his beloved brand 'Brainfreezy', but he would take what he could get. Besides, a slushy was the perfect snack. It was mostly water with flavor and food coloring! It barely counted as food.
He scampered with glee over to the machine and grabbed the biggest styrofoam cup they had. The red cherry-flavored ice was his target. He pulled the handle and... nothing came out the nozzle. Johnny's heart leapt up to his throat. This had to be a fluke; an odd coincidence. Perhaps the machine was broken or merely turned off. This scene was all too familiar. Still, there was a glimmer of hope.
"Excuse me. Can you turn on your slushy machine? I would like a slushy." Johnny called over from across the small store. He was the only customer there, so it wasn't difficult to communicate with the clerk.
An annoyed grunt came from the cashier. He had been watching Johnny with tired discontent. Clearly he didn't want to do his job at two in the morning. "I ain't turnin' on that machine fer one customer. Would be a waste o' electricity." He said simply.
Johnny's mood dipped at the response. "Oh..." He slowly put the cup away. All his previous joy had vanished and was replaced with a deep sadness. He really had his heart set on that slushy. Life had been hard on him ever since he left his old house and there was very few things that brought him happiness. However, he didn't have to leave with nothing and depression.
His sorrow quickly morphed into anger. He unzipped his backpack and grabbed a handle inside of it. A comically large knife was then pulled out and Johnny was in the cashier's face in an instant. "I'm so sick of the universe refusing to give me an ounce of happiness. That slushy was all I wanted tonight and yet you had to go and refuse to serve the only damn customer here! Hell, I coulda bought two or three. Who knows?! But if I can't have the one thing that will bring me joy tonight, then you aren't leaving here with your life!!" He shouted as he climbed onto the counter to get closer to the clerk.
However, this clerk was not about to be a victim to some crazed maniac. He pulled out a shot gun that was previously hidden from view and pointed it at his thin assailant. "How about ya calm down fer a sec? It's only a goddamn slushy."
Johnny froze at the sight of the gun. It was a weapon he loathed with every fiber of his being, and now that he had been killed with one it was something he feared. "Yeah, that's right. Git down from the counter." The clerk gestured with his gun. Johnny moved slowly; his body trembled like a leaf.
A smirk grew on the cashier's face. He clearly had the upper hand here and planned to use it to his advantage. While he kept the shotgun pointed at Johnny, he rounded the counter to get a better shot in case this guy tried anything. "How 'bout you drop yer knife and leave me yer wallet? Maybe I won't call the police on ya." He demanded to the other man that was clearly frozen with fear.
#youbringtrouble#RP Starter | “I'M AT THE THRESHOLD OF SOMETHING GRAND AND NEW.” |#IC | “I DETEST SLEEP. I'VE BETTER THINGS TO DO.” |#ITS FINALLY HAPPENING#long post#gun tw#death mention
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Most fucked up story I've read today was an article from 2016, where it turns out the reason Pit Bulls became so loathed and mistreated was because of a deliberate long term smear campaign by the media, because at the time Latino and African Americans depended on Pit bulls as their companions. The racists basically ruined public perception of this wonderful dog by deliberately associating them with non white people, having them stigmatized as "savages and demons", with all of the ghastly and associative implications for their owners.
Racists don't bring any joy or good to the world. They just ruin everything because they refuse to stop looking for any reason to hate and oppress people.
The article doesn't provide any actual proof of pit bulls being demonized for racist reasons. It just says that people of color were being demonized and people of color owned pit bulls and also there's this one article that said pit bulls are bad and thus this all connects, but it doesn't have any proof of this theory. Pit bulls have had their dangerous reputation one since the 1890s because they are bull fighters and dog fighters. They were never an "American icon" just because there was one cartoon pit bull and one maybe pit bull who was a mascot.
And in any case, the "pit bulls are actually perfect little angels" is part of the reason why they have such a bad reputation, because it encourages pet owners to be irresponsible. There is nothing wrong or evil about a dog being aggressive towards other dogs or smaller animals, or even a dog that is very human selective, and encouraging people to ignore this is what creates accidents. When we say "pit bulls deserve responsible owners", we don't just mean owners that won't beat them or use them in dog fighting. We mean owners that will acknowledge that yes, this dog cannot be near other dogs, like many breeds, and that they will work with them rather than ignore them.
Pit bulls are not the only aggressive dogs. They are not the only dog-reactive dogs, in fact, many breeds can't tolerate other dogs. And they have gotten an unfair amount of press for it, I agree. But this is not "stigma for the sake of stigma". It's the result of irresponsible ownership that pushes this exact agenda, that pit bulls are must be either angry demons or harmless little angels, rather than accepting them as they are. You having to keep your dog away from other dogs, cats, or even children does not make you a bad owner or them a bad dog. They can be all of the above and still be wonderful goofballs who will put 110% into loving you. It means they need a specific environment to live their best life, and it's our responsibility to provide that. Not to ignore it because it makes us uncomfortable.
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Here ya go, ya filthy animals! /j
───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───
In his throne room Sheogorath was focusing his entire energy into his hand and mind. Impatiently he sometimes closed and opened his eyes, guessing that maybe it would work if he didn't look. He stopped and started to pace around the room.
"By- me. This is worse than I thought."
He crossed his arms. He was annoyed. He is supposed to be near all-powerful. Pah.
Maybe... Mind over matter? He thought to himself and he closed his eyes again.
In his mind he was trying to imagine a door. The outline was there. What color should it be- No! No time to think of that. What is the handle like?
His eyebrows lowered.
He slowly reached out to open the door. It wouldn't open. "Why won't it?! I will it! Open the door!!", he thought harshly.
"It's my realm. My home. My people. My plane! I am Sheogorath! Deadric prince of madness and you -will- open on my command! Open!"
The door flung open and the Daedric Prince opened his eyes only to find himself being disappointed. He loathed himself and turned around.
"Are you mocking me? ... It's no use."
He sighed helplessly, "Martin, I'm sorry. It seems like I am not the master of my own realm."
"Sheogorath, you are so silly."
Sheogorath's ears twitched and he spun around.
"I'm sorry. It took me a while longer to appear," Martin smiled softly.
"Pft! It doesn't matter! At least you are here now," Sheogorath pouted.
Martin slowly looked up and then around. The avatar admitted, "It's quite beautiful here."
Martin's eyes locked onto the tree in the throne room. "Hm, never thought of having a tree in a building. Very creative, " He hesitated, "I thought oblivion was all fire or darkness but this is actually quite nice."
Sheogorath cackled, "You have seen nothing yet!"
"Oh?"
"I can show you the gardens and what grows there! Most of them are my inventions!"
"Please do fill me in!"
Just before Sheogorath tried to grab Martin he could hear a baby cry nearby.
"Is there a child here?"
Sheogorath mind started to race. "Oh no nononono." His mind filled up with thoughts of negative scenarios.
Haskill entered the room and was just about to call out that the little demiprince was awake only to see an Aedra in the middle of the throne room.
"It seems that you successfully opened a doorway, my Lord," he exclaimed with raised eyebrows.
Martin turned to look at the crying child only to see close resemblance to his lover's face.
"I- I am confused, Sheogorath."
Sheogorath gracefully walked around Martin and grabbed his child, trying to calm it down.
"Do you remember the night before Mehrunes Dagon appeared? Where you finally recognized yourself as emperor and wore the amulet of kings? Where you told me details about how you have never drunk that much alcohol since your encounter with Sanguine? Do you remember that night?"
Martin's heart sank. Sheogorath didn't dare to look at him.
"Barely.... does that mean-"
"Martin Septim, you left me with child. At first I didn't think that it was true but..."
Martin's heart seemed to stop. He went through the first stages of grief in mere seconds. He stammered, "Why didn't I know? I-"
"I prayed to Akatosh every night," Sheogorath whispered. Haskill stepped back a little but still stood there in support for his master.
The little one still cried in his arms and he started to rock them.
"If you are questioning if they truly are yours then yes they are. If I am being honest they even stopped the Sheogorath cycle but only for a little while."
Haskill looked past his master and nodded, "She did."
"So It's a girl?"
"They were born female. I'm not sure if they will be in the future, though."
"Does she- What's their name?"
Sheogorath gently hugged them and they stopped crying.
"I don't know yet. What if they won't like it? I was thinking about Septima or... Martina, but... that would be too obvious."
Martin approached slowly until he could see their face. He very carefully put his hand on Sheogorath's shoulder.
"I truly am sorry, Sheogorath. Please look at me."
Sheogorath very slowly turned around and the avatar touched his cheek.
"Even though you have changed immensely I still can see you, Sheogorath. The real you. Do not try to think of your mortal side as a weakness. You are so much more than your heritage or than what you have turned into. Stay vigilant. Stay strong. I can't be with you to raise them, but I will be here. Continue to be a good parent."
The daedric prince tilted his head and whispered, "Would you like to hold them?"
Martin opened his arms.
"I will be careful," promised Martin.
Sheogorath attempted to give his child over to Martin, but they immediately started to cry again.
"I apologize. She's shy with strangers. But my little demiprince! That's your other father! See?"
Sheogorath got closer to his lover and held them up so they could look at both his face and Martin's face.
"He seems very scary right now since he is see-through but he is still your father," Sheogorath noted.
The little one slowly stopped sobbing and reached out for both of them. Martin's and Sheogorath's eyes met for a second.
"Let us both hold them."
Martin nodded and they both embraced, holding their child between them. Affectionally the little demiprince looked between both of their fathers. Both fathers were very busy nuzzling a bit.
Suddenly Sheogorath felt a bit lighter and when he looked down he was slightly floating over the ground. He started to chuckle but knew who was to blame, "Martin? What are you doing? Showing off your divine power right now?"
Martin smiled, "Why not?"
They started to float a little bit higher and higher while chuckling playfully.
Haskill rolled his eyed and could only think, "Gods," before leaving.
Sheogorath and Martin nestled while holding their child. Sheogorath knew that this wouldn't last long but at least the little one got to know their father. Fully trusting Martin he decided to close his eyes and relax.
#sheomartin#SheoMartin#sheo#martin septim#demiprince#shivering isles#elder scrolls#the elder scrolls#fanfiction#this took such a long time that its past midnight over here
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Rapidly scurrying toward you with my hands clasped together. I open them to reveal: what song lyrics, quotes, aesthetics and Vibes do you associate with Red?
You could make a moodboard or paste in a bunch of Stuff as well/instead of type. Whatever you like!
oh BOY
ok. this answer might get long. going to put this under a readmore because of length.
Aesthetics and Vibes are all very warm toned. Yellows, reds, oranges. That dusty turquoise color and saturated desert blue, the mellow pink of the sand. Red is embodied by the desert in all ways. High moon, storm in the distance while the sun is still hot on your back. That baking kind of heat that seeps into the very air you breathe. Violet twilights and cactus flowers.
SONGS oh BOY. im weak for songs.
basically anything that's heavy on the acoustic guitar and melancholy vibes, but there are specific ones i havent had a use for yet.
achilles come down
The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken
Remember the pact of our youth
Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping
Since there is no me without you
Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down
Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?
loathe the way they light candles in Rome
But love the sweet air of the votives
Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone
Engage with the pain as a motive
tight rope
And the wire seems to be
The only place for me
A comedy of errors and I'm falling
Like a rubber-neck giraffe
You look into my past
Well maybe you're just too blind to see
I'm up in the spotlight
Oh does it feel right
Oh altitude seems to get to me
I'm up on the tight wire
Flanked by life and the funeral pyre
Putting on a show for you to see
Red Headed Stranger
The red headed stranger from Blue Rock, Montana
Rode into town one day
And under his knees was a ragin' black stallion
And walkin' behind was a bay
The red headed stranger had eyes like the thunder
And his lips, they were sad and tight
His little lost love lay asleep on the hillside
And his heart was heavy as night
summertime
breathe the black
ill be seeing you
knights in white satin
#fallout#kal talks#asks#courier red#i dont have any quotes per se#hbhs me trying to explain red's vibes like They...themb...
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The Fire Inside
Chip chip chipping away at this. We have D&D tonight so I won't have time to work on it too much more today.
Fate outfitted him in a black wool cloak, the origin of which he did not question, and led him outside. It was the first he’d seen of the ocean since it abandoned him on the beach, and though he expected to resent it, to rile with either anger or fear or regret, he was instead surprised by how little it stirred him at all.
The ocean was neither man nor dragon. It didn’t hold grudges or act on emotion. It loved exactly as much as it loathed. Even having lost his brothers to it, and nearly himself, it was hard not to admire something so pure.
He breathed the salt air into his lungs and followed Fate, their heels sinking in the powder-soft sand festooned still with the flotsam and jetsam of his former life. She led him down the beach, to a perilous path that was more handholds than steps, but nevertheless climbed and up and up to an overlook high above. At the peninsula tip of the plateau, built and bolted into the stone below, stood a tower scope pointed out over the sea.
Fate preceded him to the scope, checking the binocular sight and making a few small adjustments before gesturing him to look.
He checked her face then stepped in, crouching slightly to see what she saw. Fate watched him, thoughtful, smiling faintly when he made a slight adjustment to the height and focus.
“Do you see it,” she prompted.
“I see… an island.”
She gathered her cloak around her, taking a more comfortable seat on a nearby rock.
“Describe it to me, please.”
“Basalt. Volcanic. Not overly large, but green enough that it likely has an aquifer.” He made another adjustment to the scope and grew quiet. “There’s a… a house on the island. Not built onto it, but… maybe carved out of the basalt, I can’t quite tell. Like a castle, but on a small scale.” He took his eye from the scope and looked at her. “What is this place?”
Fate folded her hands together in her lap.
“I am the daughter of two craftspeople, a mason and a glazier. My father was a sailor in his youth -- not unlike yourself, probably -- and later a tradesman. A master mason. He was granted, by some client who could not afford the gold to pay him, ownership of a very tiny volcanic island in the middle of the sea.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged, dismissive. “Mostly, as you can see, just a tiny heap of rock. A few weeks out of every year, he and his young bride traveled to the island and worked on this house. He built the walls, the spires, the solars, the keeps; she leaded and glazed the windows, filling the interior spaces with stories made of light and color. The castle, such as it is, reflects the places they visited as they learned their trades and fell for one another. The truest labor of love.”
She went on, “My father… he hoped to retire there one day. Alas, when my mother got pregnant, she convinced him it was not a practical place to raise a family. He visited it now and again, through my childhood. Kept it up, added on as he had time and resources. I even visited with him sometimes. But… by and large it was a project waylaid by necessity. A dream deferred.”
Istar stood back from the spyglass, folding his arms beneath his cloak.
“Did he regret leaving it behind?”
Her eyes lowered sadly, though she smiled. “Perhaps? Who can say. He lived a happy enough life, I suppose. But it was he who named me Fate.”
She stood, drawing nearer to him.”
“After a storm, or at the turn of seasons, I come up here to see how the island and house have faired. To my great surprise, it’s withstood decades and storms, and seems no worse for wear. At least from here. There’s a good bit of brush that needs clearing, and I don’t doubt the insides are more mildew and dust than finery and brocade, but… I see no reason why it couldn’t be as inhabitable as when last my father unmoored from its dock.” She met his eyes and held them. “The last time I came up here to look, it occurred to me that one day -- perhaps not soon, but soon enough -- I wouldn’t be able to make the climb anymore. I would be relegated to gazing up at this plateau from the sand below, never knowing the fate of my little island.”
Fate continued, “But two people could enjoy a pleasant life there. They could, with proper motivation a little bit of work, make count the remaining decades of their lives.”
He turned his back to her, cloak billowing around him, and faced out over the ocean. The sun between the clouds looked like magma, luminous beneath black rock. The light glinted off the sextant at his hip, catching his eye.
Istar came around to face her.
“I make no promises but… we’ll go. On the morrow, we’ll go, and have a look.”
Fate stood abruptly, for the first time looking truly excited.
“Will I get to see it?”
His eyes opened in a wide blink until she clarified, “The whole… turning into a dragon business. Assuming you haven’t been lying to me all this while, and I’m really as naive as I always feared.”
He grunted in his throat, shoulders shrugging to better conceal himself in the folds of his cloak.
“In time you will assemble a long list of the things I am. A liar is not among them.”
He studied her, then said, “Nor, I suspect, are you naive.”
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17 and 24 of that ask game for Sanji, Hayato and Xiao uvu
This Ask meme
17. What's a book, movie, or show you think [character] would like?
Sanji
Very obvious answer? Anything to do with cooking. He breaths cooking. But he is also a majour softy and slight pervert so I can see him have some guilty pleasure movies that involve a lot of romance and soft erotica. I am not very versed in ANY of these things, but I could see Sanji enjoying Titanic and Moulin Rouge. I also think he would love Food Wars for not just the cooking, but the over the top orgasmic depiction of how good food can taste.
Hayato
Obvious answer? Cryptid fanatic. Doesn't even matter if the movie/show/book is good. He WILL engage with it, even if just to say afterwards that it SUCKS. I personally see him def more into horror that is on the supernatural side and less horror that goes into splatter or gore territory like Saw or-- whatever other slasher film there is, I personally do not watch much horror. Since he is also incredibly intelligent I can see him be REALLY into crime thrillers, but only the super technical and bizare ones that are hard for some others to read. I can also see him be into extremely accurate mafia novels. If he reads a mafia related book and it gets something terribly wrong he stops IMMIDEATLY. One movie that especially fascinates him and the book it is based on is 'I heared you paint houses'. I think he is a biiit of a fan of Scorcese, tho he does also have his opinions (TM)
Xiao
I think there is ONLY an obvious answer? Xiao is REALLY into chinese mythology and Wu Xia Stories. He isn't someone who engages a lot with shows or movies, but he does read enough especially theoretic books about different martial arts. Fiction isn't exactly his thing unless it's historic novels set in ancient China. Or the usual classics. He actually also has a bit of a soft spot for poems and books that are juste purely wholesome. Stories about someone making it out of the darkness or just the beauty of mundanity. Nothing overly melodramatic. Maybe that means he would like some Ghibli movies? Jury out on that one.
24. What's your favourite thing about [character]?
Oh boy here we go
Sanji
wet boy soggy cat baby pathetic manlet. Need I say more? I won't go into spoilers, but Sanji is both incredibly infuriating and beloved to me. I just love when he is caught up in a situation, where he just ends up showing his true colors. How soft and kind he can be, how much he cares about others even those he might not particularly like much or strangers. He is ready to lay his life on the line EVEN IF HE SAYS HE DOESN'T CARE OH BOY DOES HE CARE!!!! Especially the Wano Kuni Arc has made me adore him so much. Whole Cake Island broke me into pieces but Wano Kuni showed both his worst and his best sides. Also who doesn't love a man that can cook? The way he just LIGHTS UP when he gets to talk cooking or about his dream of finding the All Blue! *chefs kiss* (pun intended I am absolutely kissing that chef, icky smoke be damned)
Hayato
The fuck do you mean like? This bitch is the bane of my existance and i hate him and his stupid face with his aweful green eyes and the dumb smile he is capable of making. Oh and don't get me started on his aweful obsession with UFOs and cryptids wow what a loser, what an absolute cringefail, it's not like I enjoy his damn progress as a character from a selfcentered obsessive idiot to a more open cooperative jerk that actually trusts people and relies on them, oh gods are you crazy nah get that away from me. Bitch is so smart it's infuriating I loathe how intelligent and truly innovative he is, god his brightness is so annoying!
I do love his cat tho c:
Xiao
Love of my life one of the most misunderstood and MISINTERPRETED characters in all of Genshin yes you heared me FIGHT ME!
Look. Xiao is dear to my heart. I know I say it was Kaeya who got me into Genshin, but nah we all know that is a lie, yes he was the character that piqued my interest, but before the game was out the Genshin website already had some mini profiles on some characters and Xiao also had one. I made one look at the guy and said "that one". He is an abuse victim that was enslaved and forced to do horrendous things, knowing nothing but savagery and violence until he was saved, swearing unwavering loyalty to his savior who gave him his current name. And his life just kept being full of violence, as he became a Yaksha, cleansing and protecting Liyue through slaughter. This guy has probably MILLENIA of karmic debt accumilated, he was a GENERAL in a war, he faught alongside a myriad of other Yakshas and-- in the end he became the only survivor. Xiao is the LAST Yaksha, he is the only one remaining, he keeps his comrades and friends memory close to him, he saw them perish and fall to their karmic debt and after it all he became someone who kept fighting for Liyues safety in pure solitude, because GUESS WHAT he can't even get close to mortals. His strong karmic debt causes others harm, so he naturally isolated himself and accepted this fate. Sacrifice is something Xiao sees as natural and unavoidable, bitch is DEPRESSED and absolutely unsocial. He just has no social skills whatsoever and human customs confuse him. It's not maliciousness, it's actual confusion and mostly ignorance that leads to him being mostly misunderstood. He needs patience and a lot of understanding. So many people just write him off as some edgeboy, being rude and arrogant- when in actuallity boy just doesn't know how to deal with people. deep down he is a soft soul. FOR FUCKS SAKE his namecard says QUOTE
He longs for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers.
HE WANTS TO DANCE IN A SEA OF FLOWERS WHILE FLUTE MUSIC PLAYS I AM SORRY HOW CAN ANYONE SAY THIS GUY IS EDGY WHEN HE IS A FOCKING MARSHMALLOW DEEP DOWN
He lost so much, he believed to find his end by being alone forever until he succumbs to his karmic debt-- and yet he tries SO HARD
From watching the Lantern rites Xiao lantern from just outside the city, to watching the fireworks on the roof of wang shu inn, to COMING INTO THE CITY TO DINE WITH OTHER PEOPLE, TO ACTUALLY RELEASING A XIAO LANTERN WITH THE TRAVELER HIMSELF!!!! Even in his letters he says that he is starting to be more casual with the other adepti, he joined the fucking Poetry Festival-- I am losing my mind at this guy he is genuinely so fucking pillowy soft deep down, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE SWITCH THE VOICES TO CN AND HEAR KINSEN IN ALL HIS GLORY CONVEY XIAOS CHARACTER!
(I am sorry but whatever the english voice director told his VA was absolute bullshit fight me on this.)
I am very normal about this guy
Other canon things that make me lose my marbles
The fact that the moment Xiao and the traveler first meat a track plays in the background that is called Lovers Oath
You can bait Xiao into coming somewhere or participate in something when you say the traveler will be there
During the Chasm Storyline he first wanted to keep the others away saying that to keep them safe and Yanfei USES THE TRAVELER TRICK to get Xiao to IMMIDEATLY join their gang.
Usually special dishes are food that is prepared by the characters themself. Sweet Dream, Xiaos Specialty dish is something the traveler makes for him
He???? eats or at least ATE dreams???? He says almond tofu tastes like sweet dreams???? thats where the special dish got its name from???? hello?????
when a traveling pilgrim came to the mountain as Ganyu and Xiao were training he did NOT want to deal with a mortal and basically told Ganyu her next training task is to deal with that guy before he skidaddled. Pro move to escape social interactions
when saving everyone from the chasm he sacrificed himself to ensure everyone else makes it to the surface. Daddy dearest ofc saved him but he was SO ready to let this be his end. I am glad it wasn't
from what I can tell his illuminated beast form is a bird, not like cloud retainer however and the fact there is a CHONK BIRB XIAO PLUSHY has me wheezing.
especially in early game crystalflies are hard to catch. Xiaos first birthday letter included 10 crystal cores, the item that drops when you catch crystalflies, a very valuable resource for crafting condensed resin. He also admits that he kind of didn't intend to catch that many and that he believes they would look cute in the travelers hair
he is strongly implied if not outright confirmed to be in chronic pain from his karmic debt. Pls save my boy
I might be a bit off on some of these but I am at LEAST 89% sure these are true facts.
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Self loathing at its finest
Hi I'm currently 15, I was born on 021808. I don't know what music taste I have, it honestly depends on my mood but I mostly listen to Taylor Swift (so predictable). Picking a single favorite song feels impossible, as music, like life, knows no boundaries. (fuck)
I love animes so much, even tho I current don't watch that often anymore since I'm sticking to manga these days. But these are the mangas that really struck me and got stuck with me: Attack on Titan, Angel Beats, Jujutsu Kaisen, Love is War, Asobi Asobase, Bungou Stray dogs, and Fruits Basket.
I've read a lot of Mangas but here are my top picks: My Lv999 Love for Yamada-kun, Tsuiraku jk to haijin, Namaikizakari, The One Within the Villainess, Spy x family, Apothecary diaries. I won't list the manhwas I love anymore since I'll definitely end up ranting and rating them. Just know I've read a lot.
As for hobbies, I love sleeping, I sleep like most of the times literally except the nights. I love watching and reading, I also love spending money and window shopping. Blair Waldorf and Cher Horowitz raised me. I aspire to be them.
I love the color pink, and blue when done right and the kind of green where it feels either comforting or moody. if it isn't obvious enough I'm an INFJ. maybe it's a mistype maybe it's not.
Please if you see this, just pretend you didn't. the thought of someone reading my entries scares me and makes me want to jump and kill myself.
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Your 3 questions, should you choose to answer them...
Do you have a series (books, movies, TV, comic books, whatever) that you would chuck rocks at were it not for that one beloved character? (And if so, who are they?)
2. Do you have a favorite sculptor or painter or photographer? (Who are they? Or, alternately, do you have an artist you LOATHE with the fury of a thousand suns?)
3. I couldn't think of a normal last question so anyway here's my panic-button ice-breaker :
You and I are sitting at the back of a cafe off a crowded street. At the table nearest the door, someone comes down with the first case of zombification and starts attacking the neighboring tables. Everyone in the cafe is, understandably, not jazzed about this.
What do you do?
Unfortunately, since I am answering this past midnight, my response is long and pretty rambling. Please find it under the cut if you still feel like reading it, lmao.
1 - I can't think of any off the top of my head, maybe because I generally won't (continue to) read/watch a series if there aren't at least 2 or 3 characters I like? If something makes me too mad I usually don't take very long to drop it.
The only work I can think of in which I only particularly liked 1 character is Georgette Heyer's The Grand Sophy, where Sophy herself was pretty grand, and very funny, but almost every single other character was vaguely irritating.
(And none more annoying than the voice of Heyer when that came through, which was often, and consistently snotty. Like, imagine the WASPiest grandma you've ever met, and multiply by 1000. There must have been fewer than 10 people alive in her lifetime that Heyer actually held no prejudice toward, all of whom (I assume) were born and lived in a few select areas of southeastern England and hailed from families whose noble titles had been in existence for at least several hundred years, et cetera, et cetera. Even if you leave out the anti-Semitic rant that was so bad it was absent in some editions even in the mid-20th century, the author has Things To Say even about other European nobility - except the French, who were presumably on thin ice - and I'm not even sure she approved of other women. Seriously, the heroine is purportedly friends with other young ladies, but never has actual written dialogue with them unless she's talking wayward teenagers out of undoubtedly ill-fated love matches with poetry-inclined fourth sons, and she will seek advice/help/counsel/idle conversation from literally any gentleman she meets in the park before she'll take it to her, uh, friends.) *cough* anyway...
2 - Well I definitely can't think of any artist whose work I really hate! and I don't think I really ever would unless it was actually harmful in some way. I'm also so unfamiliar with sculptors and photographers that I'd be hard-pressed to name more than like 2 of each (though I definitely still appreciate both, and I think sculpture especially is so cool!)
If I had to pick a favorite painter it would be van Gogh, which I know is kind of a cop-out, sorry. I don't think I really have a favorite so much as I like bright colors and light/shadow, and I tend to prefer paintings that are recognizable as ~something,~ if not realistic, rather than more abstract stuff. Basically my tastes are pretty basic lmao
3 - Realistically? Probably pull the old octopus panic reaction by freezing/retreating and staring for a good long while before piecing together any kind of action plan. But given the time to strategize from the safety of my cozy blankets, I will say: Pick a couple decently heavy adults around me, convince them to help me gang up on & pin down the zombie (as far as I know zombification does not endow enhanced strength, right??), probably facedown to avoid any biting or however that works. Maybe like 1 adult to pin down each limb. Try to get 1 or 2 others (from the crowd I assume is swiftly evacuating) to be the assigned emergency line-caller and Zombie Neutralization googler/wikihow user. Lastly, once the zombie is no longer a threat, try to snag some chocolatey treats from behind the counter while people are distracted since I've a) earned it and b) will most likely die soon in the zombie apocalypse. Assuming that you haven't yet abandoned me to my fate, I will even share 1 of them with you :D
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😭 the Au Drabble is open again omg! Jellyfish y/n and sea prince Au + “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BEFRIEND A SEA SERPENT?!” Idk why but it’s such a funny thought 😭😭😭- Jellyfish Pumpkin
"What do you mean you befriended a sea serpent?!"
You flinch slightly upon Seokjin's scolding voice, color turning green with slight guilt but still you turn towards the small little child, a kind smile on your face. "He's a nice guy, I promise," you whisper to the kid before turning back to your princes. "Um...I can explain."
"Please do," Yoongi says.
So you clear your throat to prepare yourself. "Well...I wanted to go exploring, right? And I know, I know you guys hate it when I go out alone but I just..you know...kinda wanted a little space from the overbearing servants so I escaped."
"You escaped?" Taehyung raises a brow and you gulp before continuing your story.
"W-we'll come back to that. Anyways, as I was exploring, I found this little serpent who was getting bullied by a swarm of fishes so I knew I just had to stop it. And I did. After they ran away at my presence, I promise I just wanted to check up on him but he sort of kind of maybe grew attached to me so now he may be mistaking me to be his...mother..."
You feel a slight tug along your arm after you said that, only to hear a small wince leave the serpent's lips. A small gasp leaves you when you turn to him, realizing he had just tried to touch you and was stung.
He did that the first time he met you mere minutes ago as well and you think the kid still understand that a jellyfish can sting anyone that touches them — aside from the seven sea princes.
"Careful, you can't touch me, remember?" You try to explain, face contouring with worry as he touches his stinging hand to try and soothe the pain away. But with the way tears are beginning to form along his eyes, you know he's trying to hold the pain in.
So you turn to your lovers, pleading at them for help with silent eyes.
Jimin lets out a sigh but goes on to generously heal the poor kid.
"You can't keep him," Namjoon states and your glowing color begins to drain.
"What?"
"First of all, he thinks you're his mother. Second of all, you can't even be with him without hurting him," Hoseok explains.
"Not if we don't touch."
"He's not going to understand that at this age."
"He will."
"Y/N—"
"Please," you beg at the leader of them all, desperate to keep the poor little kid. "He doesn't have a family and everyone else either fears him or will try to hurt him. You can't exactly leave a sea creature like that alone in your oceans, can you?"
"He's a sea serpent, he'll survive."
Your brows furrow and they can see the way your color glows with a mixture of blue and red. "Just because he can survive on his own doesn't mean it won't be lonely," you say with a remark and they know you don't just mean the sea serpent.
The life you had before meeting them was a life of loneliness. Born a jellyfish, you always yearned for connection but no one ever approached you. They were always too afraid of you and you grew to loathe yourself for what you were.
It's been a few years now since you've last felt true loneliness but it's something you will never come to forget.
And they understand just how much you see yourself in the sea serpent.
Namjoon sighs. "Alright," he decides. "Now stop your crying. You know how weak we are to your tears."
When your light glows brightly once more, they can feel their hearts feeling light once more.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" You chant aloud at them with the brightest smile.
God they're so weak to you.
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TACENDA — (1)
SERIES MASTERLIST • NEXT CHAPTER
SERIES SUMMARY : a non-shaman recounts her time with Geto Suguru; infamous for his sudden massacre of one-hundred civilians. Surprisingly, her moments with the cursed user aren't filled with horror. Horrors promised from a man who has nothing but loathing for the weak.
Instead, her detailed rhapsodies are filled with moments akin to love.
CHAPTER ONE : a god and curses
PAIRING : geto suguru x fem!reader
WRD COUNT : 1.1K
CHAPTER SUMMARY : even with the inability to see curses, ones your mother described as vile things rooted from none other than man, you still have a curse of your own.
WARNINGS : implied past abuse, mentions of blood and violence, takes place a little while before the prequel's main events.
NOTE : ahh I've putting this off for so long. I hope you like it and shout-out to @nxvacaine and @moonlitdabi for beta reading this short lil thing that I'll hopefully go through with as a series 🙏🏿
"Again?"
"Yeah," you whisper, timid. Your head turns to the ceiling as light from the open door peeks through. You reach a hand upwards as a shadow of the eye passes by. "It– he won't leave." You restart, confusion nicked into your every crevice, a habit for many days now.
You dismiss it with a soft chuckle, peering at where Geto would be standing but it’s too dark to see.
"Can I . . . sleep in your room tonight?" You hear him shuffle somewhere around your room. You take his silence as refusal with pursed lips. But you later feel strong arms come to haul you up from your futon.
You blink twice and sweep your gaze across his face. Stubbornly, he doesn't meet your stare. Not when the bright lights of the hallway shine down. Not when he passes by the chattering sisters who stop their conversation in turn of looking over to you both. Not even when he enters his own room and places you on his bed.
"Sleep." He demands, his voice deep and set. There's no need to disobey. But as the night stretches on farther and farther, you find yourself in an abyss of what you've most feared.
Sticky claws sharp like knives — threaten to graze your skin. A figure fights to form, it's halfway there. Torso to feet complete — his torso and feet complete. Your eyes widen as it steps closer to the foot of Geto's bed, its footsteps silent as it pads. Buckets of sweat trickle down your spine as your chest nearly caves in. In your hazardous mind, there’s an if that repeats. It ends with a burrow.
If it were to come close, it’d slither in, burrow itself into your sternum and put an end to your beating heart.
"Geto." He hums low from his chest, the sound layered with sleep. For a second, you envy him.
"He's here." You know you sound pathetic. You know that it's a trick of mind. Something Geto has hammered into your brain ever since he'd whisked you away from it.
But just like any other night, Geto pulls you close. With an imaginary snap of fingers, the spell of suffocation dispels. Just like it always does.
And what you had hoped he would always do.
—
You’ve only known Geto for one summer.
Every summer before that had waned terribly. Needle-pricked fingers, honey lips, and a silent mouth were all you knew. Days passed with strewn colors, blurry in their hue. You can’t remember anything past that.
Though you’re not sure if you’ve forced yourself to or it really is something your mind has chosen to crumble into a fine dust.
Either way, you’re satisfied with it. But Geto isn’t. Well, he thinks you aren't.
“You still act the same.” You halt, the kettle still in hand. The tea you're pouring in his cup overflows. You both don’t pay it any mind.
“What do you mean?” You keep your eyes low, there’s a spell of smoke from the hot tea that beckons up to the sky. You wish maybe to be taken with it.
“I didn’t ask for tea.” Your back straightens, Nanako takes the kettle from your hands. You silently thank her.
When she leaves, a glaring Mimiko trailing behind, you grasp for a reasonable explanation but it's hard to think of one. His gaze, without seeing it for yourself, is pressuring.
"Is your only goal to please a man?" Your hands grow clammy. You wait for the internal sting of pain to come and it does. But only when you hear a flip of a page. It's like he's reading an excerpt of some depressing book, not caring for his viewers.
He's not this blunt with everyone else. It's a question you've been asking ever since he brought you here.
Instead, with everybody else, he speaks with rounded humility. You wonder why he treats you so indifferently.
"Do you want to be treated like a normal human being?" This time you look up at him. His focus is still on the book in his hand; The Code of The Samurai.
Seemingly, you take too long to answer because he's snapping his book shut. He passes by you without a word and enters the estate.
In the far distance, you hear a loud crane give off a loud rattle. A sound you've remembered from your mother's textbooks and teachings.
You do want to be treated like a human being.
You're just not sure if his meaning of a normal human being is the same as yours.
After all, you can't see curses.
—
Nanako is too smart for her own good, you realize as she enters your room when it’s past midnight and you can't sleep, like always.
Geto's question still runs through your mind. The answer should be simple. Yes. Yes — you want to be treated like a human being. Not a factor of environment, not a sacrifice. Not a doll to use at any given time.
But perhaps, you're too scared to change. Everything has been engraved into your very soul, your veins, cells, blood, and mind. All to shape you, mend you into a woman who knows nothing but the word serve.
"Don't think too much about Geto-sama's words." Nanako fusses. "Here's a crepe." She doesn't give you any time to process her previous sentence. She hands you something thin and vibrant in color, it looks and smells like some kind of dessert.
"What — Never had a crepe before?" She raises an eyebrow, scandalized.
You shake your head.
"What have you been doing your whole life?" You know she means it as a joke but you can't help the words that tumble from your lips.
"Serving my husband."
—
That night, Nanako asks about your time at the Fujiwara estate.
"H-how did you get away?" A teary-eyed Nananko asks, you hand her a tissue to wipe the snot from her nose. You don’t notice a brooding Mimiko behind your door.
"Your husband sounds like a powerful guy." She snuggles closer to you, almost to comfort you. You're not sure if she's succeeding.
"Geto."
Nanako parts from your arms to give you a quizzical look. "What?"
"Geto killed him." You think back to that day. Of how unfamiliar it was to see blood that wasn't yours. You'd felt at liberty, no longer entrapped. So liberated, that you had foolishly asked to stay by Geto's side.
You don’t entirely want to know why he had said yes.
"That's not really like Geto-sama."
You hum. "So it seems."
You don’t tell Nanako of how you left your mother and siblings, the ones who’d given you up as sacrifice. But you don’t need to.
The guilt curls around you, thorny and gnashing. It makes the split decision to take your lungs and pushes them into deep, murky waters. And for the first time since that night, you’re thrown into a deep sleep.
You’re not sure if it’s of punishment or mercy.
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