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s-ublimewrites · 5 months

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writing sonnets (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: your students tease you relentlessly and melissa can't help but to join in

words: ~1.4k

warnings: none i think? wholesome borderline crack

note: im not sure i ever actually gender the reader here? but f!reader to cover my own ass<3

Don’t get it twisted - you love the inquisitive nature of your students, you really do. It’s something every eighth grade English teacher longs for. But your fourth period class has a certain knack for getting you off topic with their curiosity. On this particular day - a Friday, so blissfully close to freedom - you have relinquished all control and let them fall down the rabbit hole of fanfiction, of all things. Leave it to middle schoolers.

They had only been learning about first, second, and third person narration - so innocuous, you didn’t see how you could possibly be derailed. Maybe you’d make it through the lesson, and you could relish in the four minutes of silence you get between periods, and-

“Where is second person narration used?” Angel doesn’t bother raising his hand, and you don’t bother admonishing him.

You think briefly. “Honestly, not many pieces of published works use it - not that I’ve seen, anyway. We don’t talk about it much. I’ve really only seen the second person used in one place.”

You intend to leave it at that, but of course, Angel pushes.

“Where?” he asks.

In the second you use to inhale before tackling the question, Kennedy takes the liberty of answering: “Fanfiction, duh. That self-insert stuff.”

You can’t help it - a laugh bubbles out, and this is the moment everything begins to spiral.

“Yeah,” you collapse into your desk chair, “Kennedy’s right. Fanfiction.”

Kennedy takes the opportunity - it’s been presented to her on a silver platter, really. “You know about fanfiction, Y/L/N?”

“Sweetheart, my generation invented fanfiction. And I’m a writer. This was my game before you were even born.”

Angel is on his feet, his hands slamming on his desk and his voice rising with excitement, “WHERE CAN WE READ YOUR FANFICTION?”

“Oh, my God, no. You can’t. It’s not on the internet or anything, I’d just, like… send it to my friends, or whatever,” you insist, hands coming to cover your red face as you laugh.

The class, buzzing with chatter and giggles, continues to harass you. “So, what, Ms Schemmenti reads your fanfiction?”

Your hands are still covering your face. “No, Ms Schemmenti most certainly does not!”

“That’s because the fanfiction is about Ms Schemmenti. Y’all see how Y/L/N be looking at her in the halls,” someone says, and several others voice their agreement.

“She’s down bad for real.”

“What?!” your head snaps up, eyes searching for whoever made the comment. The bell rings before you can get your answer. “Get out of my room, you absolute little monsters. Have a good weekend, please read chapter th- oh, okay, you’re gone. Cool. Awesome.”

You look at the camera. It zooms in on your red, deadpan face. You drop your forehead onto the desk.

When you walk into the lounge at the end of the day, you slump into the chair beside Janine, who’s engaged in a conversation about a scrabble tournament (sober scrabble - boring) with Jacob and Gregory. Barbara listens, not contributing, surely stockpiling the information so she can tell Melissa later. Melissa, who is thankfully not in the room at the moment. You think you would burst into flames.

Janine halts her conversation about triple word scores when you throw yourself down into the chair by her.

“Rough day?” Janine asks tentatively.

“Long. The kids were focused on literally anything other than The Outsiders.”

Janine nods. “I get it. Fridays, y’know? It’s always hard to keep them on task.”

“Well, Y/N,” Jacob starts with a smirk, “my students were actually pretty interested in the topics of your class today. It’s all they could talk about when they sat down for seventh period.”

You glare at him hard and warn, “Jacob. Do not.”

Janine looks back and forth between you both and turns to Gregory. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“No,” you say sternly. Your eyes don’t leave Jacob’s shit-eating grin. “Not a thing.”

Jacob, it seems, has exceptionally few survival instincts and carries on giddily, “Y/N’s students found out she writes fanfiction-“

And, oh, good, Barbara is listening now, too. “Fan-fiction?”

“Why is everyone saying that word today? It’s all I’ve been hearing in the halls since, like, fourth period.” Melissa asks, striding into the break room and taking the seat next to you.

“I’m going to have to transfer schools,” you say, closing your eyes.

Melissa pays this no mind. “All the older kids keep looking at me, too. It’s weird.”

You glare daggers at Jacob, whose face must hurt from the width of his smile.

“So weird!” Jacob says innocently.

Melissa narrows her eyes.

“Why are you being weird? And not normal Jacob weird,” she questions, turning to you. “Why is he being weird?”

You slam your boot into Jacob’s shin under the table. “He’s not. No one’s being weird.”

Melissa’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of you suspiciously. “Okay, someone tell me right now - what the hell is a fanfiction, and what does it have to do with me? And, apparently, Y/N?”

“Melissa, I am so glad you’ve asked, allow me to explain-“ Jacob starts, leaning across the table toward Melissa.

“Oh my God,” you cut him off. Time to swallow your pride.

You explain the situation… sort of. You explain in a watered-down way that incriminates you less.

“So, yeah, they found out, and because I said ‘friend’ they connected it to you, and they misconstrued the whole thing, and it’s literally not a big deal-“ you're rambling and she knows it.

“Wait,” Gregory stops you, “so this is why I heard Angel say ‘Y/L/N be writing sonnets about that red hair’ during lunch?”

Janine raises her eyebrows. “‘Sonnet?’ Pretty good vocab word.”

“Thank you, Janine! And thank you for focusing on the important part of the matter at hand: my impeccable teaching skills.”

“So,” Barbara chimes in, “do you or do you not write these little stories about Melissa?”

“Barbara!” You’re mortified. “No! I do not!”

At long last, Melissa speaks. You don’t need to look at her to know there’s a smirk on her lips. “She doesn’t need to. Clearly, the material writes itself.”

“Melissa,” you plead.

Melissa laughs that laugh, the one that makes the corners of your mouth turn up despite your discomfort.

“Maybe that could be your end-of-the-year writing project for the kids - make them write that fanfiction,” Melissa teases.

“You’re just as bad as Angel!” You laugh incredulously and let your hand smack Melissa’s shoulder. The others don’t miss the way Melissa doesn’t break your fingers at the gesture.

In fact, Melissa's eyes soften as she bumps your shoulder with her own. “No, no, I can see it - newbie woos the Philly Eleven. There’s potential there.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I am pretty charming.”

“I’m going home,” Barbara stands up with a polite (if somewhat exasperated) smile, “Very glad we got this out of the way. Have a good weekend, everyone. Y/N… call me later.”

Barbara pats Melissa’s shoulder with a pointed look toward you, and takes her leave rapidly.

“Uh,” you stare after her. “Yep. Bye, Barb.”

Melissa’s eyebrow quirks up. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” you reply. “I’m sure you’ll know everything approximately five minutes after I hang up with her, though, so don’t worry.”

Janine butts in (ah, yeah, the nerds are still here), “You guys call Barbara? Can I have her cell number? I always want to ask her but-“

“No,” you and Melissa say in unison, and Janine sighs heavily.

You heave out a sigh of your own. “I need to go home - moreover I need to be somewhere no one is asking me about my nonexistent fanfiction habits.”

You stand, and Melissa stands with you as you both gather your belongings. “Impossible. I have your phone number.”

You “accidentally” smack Melissa with your purse, and Melissa “mistakenly” shoves her chair into your leg in a way that makes your knee buckle, and the rest of the Abbot crew watch the scene in morbid fascination. Because the cold hard truth is that if anyone else had dared to do… well, any of this, Melissa would be shoving her earrings into her pocket and removing her heels. Fight or fight instinct, y’know?

Instead, though, she just swears at you in Italian as you head for the door, grinning widely when you return the sentiment in plain english.

Ava entering the lounge halts you in your tracks.

“Y’all will never guess what Angel just emailed me,” Ava exclaims, holding up her phone. “Did you know he knows the word ‘sonnet’? Proud of him.”

“Forward me that?”

Another smack from you. “Melissa, stop!”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter

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poopypeepyp · 13 days

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jean-paul and tim fighting in the batcave is what fandom thinks happened between jason and tim

it's so funny to me that fanfiction version of titans tower incident (teen titans 2003 #29) is basically what canonically happened during knightquest the crusade (tec #668 and robin #1)

tim is actually 14 years old so it was a fight between an actual kid and adult instead of two teenagers

tim is beaten up in his safe place by an ally who he used to have positive feelings about (i mean it was tim who broke in and sneaked around the batcave so i don't blame jpv for self-defense!)

tim is annoyed that he worked so hard to become robin only to be shut down by jean-paul and now having to prove himself to him (didn't go well)

(detective comics #668/showcase '93 #11)

tim sasses jean-paul

(detective comics #668/bloodbath special #1)

jean-paul strangles tim lol

(detective comics #668/robin 1993 #1)

jean-paul intends to kill tim? probably? not really? i mean he kind of threatens to later in knightsend but he is in a silly goofy mood

(detective comics #677)

jean-paul immediately regrets attacking tim and is very sorry and sad wet cat (tim is not buying it (angsty))

(robin 1993 #1)

jean-paul is not in full control of himself because of The System

The System is "lazarus pit rage" except it's a religious programming and instead of seeing green jean-paul hallucinates a templar knight telling him to be batman or something

the strangling incident has lasting consequences not only on their relationship but the plot too (tim can't shut up about it)

(batman #506/#507/#508)

(catwoman 1993 #31)

tim and dick become closer after that (also dick hates jp's guts lol)

(showcase '93 #11/#12/detective comics #681)

(batman: gotham knights #14 the issue is called sibling rivalry btw. you know)

also in his azbats era jean-paul thinks he is so much better and effective than bruceman (while he is actually having a mental breakdown) and bruce feels very responsible for how he fucked up jp's psyche and deems him one of his biggest mistakes (jp and batman angst real)

(azrael 1995 #1/#2/#36 look at him he's so sad)

after knightsend jean-paul feels very guilty and becomes a better person while struggling with mental health and The System (and fights evil cult that manipulated him with his new friends)

also i personally believe none of this would have happened if tim didn't give jean-paul a bad haircut

(batman #491)

#people should start writing fanfiction about it and call it “batcave strangling incident” or something lol #anyways i wish tim and az interacted more nowadays it would be funny. please dc i want azrael #they are brothers your honor or whatever #please note that during knightfall saga jpv is in a bad place mentally.. he gets better! he is more than edgy batman(i love him in any way)#by fanfic version i just mean the tropes and misconceptions that people write ok #dc comics #batman #batfam #batfamily #batbros #batboys #titans tower #titans tower au #tim drake #robin #red robin #jason todd #red hood #jean paul valley #azrael #azbats #jpv #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #fanon vs canon #jp doesnt want to endanger children in his own vigilantism and everyone acts like he's the bad guy🙄#where are these people who criticize batman for making robins “child soldiers” they would love this guy #this titans tower incident is whatever i just dont understand why everyone talks about it like it was important or impactful when it wasnt #i thought about including all my screenshots where dick calls jpv names but there were too many

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blog-name-idk · 1 year

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The Plot Twist | 02

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 2: "Ahjussi, go back to MapleStory."

Life is truly unremarkable as a soulmate-less bachelorette.

Thankfully, none of the symptoms Junior Liaison Officer Choi Mijin mentioned to you have occurred – no bodily anomalies, no universal conspirations – and, on the way home from your parents’ place, you chide your anxious self for letting a thirty-minute phone call upturn the joyous revelries of turning twenty-five.

Though of course, even someone like you can see the grandeur behind it. The potential.

Soulmate. Not half of one’s heart, not ‘mi media naranja,’ but soulmate. Someone utmost, born from the same fabric of life – possibly indelicate, and not without flaws – but beautiful, blameless, and immaterially yours.

It’s great. Really great. But it’s daunting, too. There’s unprecedented pressure in that kind of ordeal, and… you like unremarkable. It’s safe. If you were ever going to be remarkable, it would be in ways you can directly control – like getting to the last floor of skull caverns or politely tearing incompetent coworkers to shreds when they challenge you.

But real life? Real personal relationships, with people that matter? That becomes a polynomial. There are too many variables outside of your ability to dictate, too much that could go wrong for you to spend too long mourning the absence of any soulmate symptoms. And anyway, your singularity isn’t your sob story – it’s your defense. Your most effective one.

You get back to your apartment at half past nine the following morning, heavy tupperwares of side dishes prepared by your mother hoisted in tow. At ease, you whistle a cheery tune as you get settled around your kitchenette, arranging each fully packed box amongst refrigerator shelves with care. You help yourself to an enticing pinch of putbaechu and decide to place its tupperware farther down the back.

Yes, that batch probably needed more time to ferment. After all, it’s impossible for napa cabbage kimchi to taste as sweet as cake.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

In his black-and-white checkered pajamas, Jeon Jungkook happily devours the two-tier caramel-frosted cake for breakfast. Furthermore, because he is a considerate maknae, he leaves the vegan, calorie-measured miniature cake for the rest of his hyungs to share when they wake.

They really don't appreciate him enough.

An early riser, also still in pajamas, Kim Seokjin spots him and tuts. “Jungkook, that isn’t healthy.” When Jungkook suddenly spits out the forkful he’d just shoved into his mouth, the eldest grimaces and admonishes, “Yah! I taught you better than that! That is disgusting behavior.”

“You know what’s disgusting?” Jungkook retorts with a revolted scowl, pushing the offensive dessert box far away from his person, lest it insult him yet again. “Surprise vegan cake. I’m going to sleep, hyung. Good night.”

“You mean ‘good morning.’” Seokjin corrects, reaching for the coffee pot with a sigh. “Brat.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

During your afternoon gaming hours, your phone screen lights up with a notification. Your extended arm worms through sofa pillows to swipe and unlock it, and you instantly growl at the e-mail that greets you.

From: [email protected] Recipients: [email protected], [email protected] Subject: Executive Meeting on Tuesday

Dear Associates,

We hope this e-mail finds you well.

In preparation for the upcoming work week, we would like to advise your stations re: the exploratory meeting with CEO Son Hyunsuk scheduled for this Thursday at 15:00 (KST) on external company collaborations.

We appreciate your confirmation upon receipt of this notice and bid you a happy weekend.

Regards, Samsong Executive Scheduling

“Jesus Kim Christ, it is a Sunday. This should be illegal,” you swear, placing down the handheld gaming console on the couch next to you and getting up to refill your glass of water instead. Unfortunately, on your return from your hydration quest, you bang your ankle on the leg of the coffee table.

"MotherFUCKER!" you curse, collapsing onto your sofa and cradling your leg for a full minute. After recovering, you pick your console back up.

Idly hovering on the gaming screen, Tom Nook stares up at you with a deadpan glare. You’d think his heavy-lidded, judgmental look was a reaction to your use of offensive language, but you roll your eyes at the prospect.

Tom Nook, the island racoon? A landlord. He can judge all he wants. He’s as evil as company capitalists come.

With somehow even less of a conscience.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Ah one, ah two, ah five, six, seven, eight!”

Jung Hoseok snaps his fingers as he moves to the beat, flawlessly demonstrating the first few steps of the dance routine. Kim Taehyung watches him, crouched in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors like a religious student, except he’s also thinking, That is not how arithmetics works. This is why we are performers and not math teachers.

Hoseok seems to catch the faraway look in Taehyung’s expression, because his limbs freeze, dropping to a sudden stop, brown gaze slanting sharp and deadly. The other boys, sensing blood in the water, subtly shift away and try to look as focused as possible.

“What? Would you rather practice cartwheels with Jimin again?” Hoseok rumbles, hand on hip.

Yes…Taehyung laughs nervously. “No.”

Jimin shoots him a knowing look.

“You know,” Hoseok says, pointedly, brandishing his left leg, “I woke up with more bruises from you again. I couldn’t pair my tie-dye top with my denim shorts so now I’m stuck here practicing in my joggers with you instead of walking around Yongsan.”

You’re welcome, Yongsan, Taehyung thinks. Personally, he believes Hoseok’s fashion sense is something of a moving target.

Hit or miss. Miss a lot.

Oh well. Time to bring out the puppy eyes. “Hobi-hyung, can we start from the chorus instead?” He pouts, for cuteness excess.

“Fine!” the dance leader snaps, trying to mask the way the irritation ebbs out of his voice.

Taehyung suppresses a satisfied grin.

Yup. Works every time.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

By the middle of the work week, Min Yoongi has barely scraped by to meet a hard production deadline. Gears still turning in his mind, day lapses into night, unnoticed in the dark haven of his studio. He leisurely strums his guitar for an hour, puts it down, and reaches to compose an accompanying melody with the use of the nearest piano.

Eventually, Yoongi turns off all his music equipment. In his mind, there’s an echo of a tune he can’t shake away. He can barely hear it himself – soft, feminine, slumberous – and he lays back with his eyes closed to savor the ghost of it instead.

He wants to commit it to memory. It’s something he’s never heard before.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Miles away, you feel pleasantly adrift. It's been months since you moved in, and you hadn’t been aware that your neighbors played music. In fact, the walls between apartment units are assuredly thick enough for all kinds of noises to filter through – a blessing when you get sniped by yet another rune bear.

You're also not really one to enjoy ambient noise outside of your control, but to your surprise, you don't mind this music at all.

It’s nice.

You tuck your knees to your chest and rest your body against the headboard of your bed, closing your eyes to listen. But it seems that the mysterious musician has gone to sleep for the night. Instead, the old made-up lullaby your mother used to sing to you when you were a child filters into your brain unbidden, and you smile at the memory. Within minutes, lightly humming to yourself, you let the notes overtake your thoughts and fall sound asleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Tonight, your dream plays like an old movie. Most of your dreams are like this, but here you feel like you exist in snippets – that you’re a passenger in someone else's skin. Like you’re standing at a different height, taller than reality. The colors seem to cling to the edges of your vision like haloed light through fogged glass when you move, leaving you half-sentient, fighting to see through the haze of your subconscious mind. Like you’re not you.

You wonder where you are. Who.

I want to do more, you hear yourself think in your dream. I want to be more.

You see your feet take you away from backrooms with white walls. Your heart’s near bursting and telling you how much of this it missed, telling you you're finally back where you belong.

This: before your very eyes, an ocean of twinkling violet.

There’s an overwhelming rush of love in your chest as a chant fills the air, expanding throughout your body until it's spilling from your eyes. You can feel the skin of your lips stretch into a smile.

Everything feels like a dream come true.

“I’m your hope!” you tell the roaring crowd.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jung Hoseok bolts upright at exactly 6:15 AM.

Letting out a groan, he drops his face into his hands and croaks out, “What the fuck.”

“You okay, hyung?” Jungkook asks, getting ready to turn in for bed himself. It’s his fourth nocturnal day in a row.

Hoseok usually admonishes Jungkook for this kind of misbehavior, but right now he can’t muster enough indignation. It’s just–

“I had a dream. I was a MapleStory livestreamer and – I was really into it. But really? In this economy?” Hoseok continues to complain in his rough morning voice, “I don’t even game.”

Jungkook sniggers, hogging the blankets to himself. “That’s true. Maybe you traded dreams with Jin-hyung?”

Hoseok rubs the spot between his brows. Frowns. It's possible, Jin does love MapleStory. Though lately he's been on a weird arcade game kick despite Namjoon scolding him for being careless in public.

Appeased, he finds the spark to be a proper hyung to their precious maknae. “Don’t sleep at this time tomorrow, JK. If I catch you again, you’re dead at practice. Capisce?”

Jungkook nods a hundred times and buries himself under the sheets. Hobi might lack the broadness and mustache of the stereotypical Italian mobster, but he manages to exude a menacing aura all the same.

“Capeesh, hyung.”

Because he is not a MapleStory livestreamer, Jung Hoseok climbs out of bed at 6:30 in the morning. Because he has a bunch of back-breaking schedules to get to. It’s another Thursday.

No matter what, he’s going to survive. In this economy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Thursday meetings are like Monday meetings but from the nine circles of hell combined.

You shuffle into the arcade with a slump in your shoulders but a fire in your heart. The last time you had a day this bad at work was the last time you had come here, to let out your inner rage on tiny dots and cute little ghosts.

You hadn't even realized it was an arcade at first – you had just found your feet moving automatically towards the storefront, as if inexplicably drawn. And as soon as you set foot inside, even before the odd smell of metal tokens that lingers even in arcades with balance cards, an immediate sense of peace washed over you. That this place was safe. That you could enter and put your everyday life and problems on pause for a short, sweet amount of time.

That feeling has remained with each visit, only growing stronger with your increasing familiarity with both the arcade and the elderly owner Lee-ssi, a friendly man who reminds you of your own grandfather.

You're sure that the worn down sight of you in your white blouse and black pencil skirt amidst the backdrop of the rowdy neon arcade is strange, but you figure if your colleagues can release their frustrations by throwing down in public establishments, so can you. In your own way.

The first and last time you went out with your coworkers, the guy from marketing tried to get you to come home with him. So you made up a liver disease to avoid being expected to drink with them again, and are now letting out your frustrations in a much healthier way: against some cocky kid who calls themselves "the Pacman God."

They are pretty good, you will admit.

Just not as good as you.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

There are a few things that never fail to brighten Lee Seungwon's day. Getting to see the half-toothed smile on his baby grandson's face, making his son-in-law uncomfortable when his daughter isn't around, and –

"WHO. DID. THIS?!" Kim Seokjin demands, furiously pointing at the arcade machine standing innocently in the corner, taunting him.

Resisting the urge to laugh, Seungwon only sighs and crosses his arms, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Which is truly a front, because despite all the annoyances that come with running an arcade, he truly loves his job. He loves providing a space where kids can be kids, and the rare adult can relive the worry-free days of their youth.

"We respect the privacy of our clients, sir," he says politely, lips twitching at Seokjin's dramatic shriek of outrage. Seungwon has especially been looking forward to this particular adult's reaction upon finding his high score beaten by one of the newer regulars.

"Don't you remember who I am?!" the handsome man questions, and the storekeeper looks him up and down, once again unimpressed. Seokjin remembers he's ensconced in a bright pink hoodie and pink sweatpants, then gives a mental shrug.

Whatever. He looks good in everything.

"Yes. ‘Jin the Pacman God.’ Currently… number two in that game," the shopkeeper sneers as he insults the most handsome man in Korea – possibly the world. "Second to GoDsLaYeR_69." he adds, for good measure.

Seokjin gapes at the audacity of this mortal, his gamer rage only further activated by the offensive words that come out of Seungwon’s mouth next.

"Maybe you should go back," the shopkeeper suggests, inspecting his cuticles, "to MapleStory." After a pause, he puts the final nail in the coffin currently housing Seokjin's pride: "Ahjussi."

The Kim Seokjin, being called ahjussi by a man who looks older than Yoongi's soul?

That's it. That's fucking it.

With gurgling, unintelligible squawks of indignation, Seokjin pulls out his wallet and slaps his arcade card on the counter, followed by his black credit card.

"Load this up with 2,000,000W. Right now."

Lee Seungwon hides a smirk as he obeys.

It's just too easy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It had been a rare occasion in which all of the boys’ evenings (and following mornings) had been free simultaneously, and Hoseok decided to celebrate this in a way so rarely possible for them to do together anymore: to find a noraebang and get absolutely wasted.

"How did I let you guys persuade me into doing this again?" Namjoon asks, blinking in a mixture of joy and consternation at the freshly inked, slightly inflamed 7 on his skin. He flexes the side of his leg and watches the clear bandage wrinkle and smooth at the motion.

"Friendship!" Taehyung announces happily, eyes alight as he sways ever so slightly in his chair. Jungkook and Jimin are fully knocked out on each of Taehyung’s shoulders, their demonic sides hidden by the angelic expressions on their sleeping faces.

"No," Yoongi corrects, revealing a bottle of Suntory whisky from god-knows-where. "This."

"Ah, yes!” Eyes bright with satisfaction, Namjoon’s dimples deepen, and Seokjin laughs at how childish Namjoon looks in his glee as he receives his prize and cradles it to his chest with utmost and deliberate regard. With his vision blurred from all of the alcohol, it almost looks like it's disappearing into the leader's ample bosom. “Sunny, my frieeeend!"

Yoongi nods at him, ten times too much, then glances at Taehyung as he narrowly avoids falling off his chair for the umpteenth time. “The infants are fading,” he mutters, “Let’s get them home.”

Twenty minutes later, Hoseok emerges behind a curtain with a brand new tattoo, ready to show it off and receive compliments for being brave and only screaming once.

Except he’s all alone in the waiting room.

He waits a single beat before looking around in confusion.

“Guys?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You stumble through your doorway, confused by your body's decision to stop functioning properly. It had begun at the arcade, your normal precision and flawless execution apparently deciding to take its own mental health day and leaving you with slowing reflexes and sloppy reactions.

Finally, you decided to leave after realizing you'd been growling at the machine for the better part of an hour.

Well actually, Lee-ssi had kindly given you a bottle of water and suggested you take a break because you were scaring the kids. You decided to go home lest your happy place become tainted by the miasma of your god-slaying alter ego.

On the train, you nodded off and almost missed your stop – something that never happens. You tripped on your way off the train, and you had initially blamed it on being drowsy, but the trek from the station to your apartment did nothing to dispel your clumsiness.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you had gone drinking with your coworkers and were now stumbling home in a drunken haze. But you've been at the arcade since you left work, so that's impossible.

Maybe you're getting sick. That would explain the fogginess in your head, the sluggishness of your limbs.

Feeling under the weather, you spend the night in the dark of your bedroom. But then intense, prickling feelings bug you all over. Instead of the rest you hoped for, the hours are filled with tossing and turning, needle-points on your skin that fall just shy of being painful.

When you wake up, you find your skin tattooed seven different times with the number seven in seven different places.

Um.

What the fuck?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

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jonathan-samuel-smith · 4 months

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TW bipolar discussion and nonconsensual kissing, mental health discussion

So about Saturn Girl kissing Jon without his ability to consent to it: I get that she isn't actively deciding to mind control the people around her, but she does have a choice in the matter. Her family wanted her to stay home until she could control her mind control powers, but she didn't want to and left. To me that's like if I noticed I was manic (not hypomanic) and didn't go to the mental hospital... Like I can't control my bipolar but I have the choice to stay away from others when it would harm them. That's not even a good comparison though because my judgement isn't clear enough to consistently do that when I'm manic, whereas she is at baseline and is able to think rationally. I wouldn't blame someone with bipolar because they have no choice, but I'm just saying the obvious choice would be to keep yourself away from others even if it's not fun for you. I feel like I can blame her, because she has a choice.

I do sympathize with her, but I really think she's hurting others disproportionately to the distress she feels stuck at home, and that's not okay.

If you look back on the events with the knowledge that she can't turn off her mind control, you see how manipulative she is, especially to Jon, and she does high-control group tactics: love bombing, isolation, guilt tripping, not letting him have rest alone where he would have time to realize he didn't want this.

I don't like the JonDami narrative that Jon was an asshole for leaving Damian in the past or was running away from his problems, because in my view he was dragged into a cult and I can't blame him for that, especially because he was extremely vulnerable at the time. I also don't believe Jon would have left in the first place if he knew up front that he couldn't bring Damian to at least visit him.

Jon had been in a state of fight or flight for around 6 years (not just talking about the volcano because there was also his verbally abusive grandpa and their deadly adventures and being trapped in space, and then him struggling to survive on the streets and trying to find a way home after he escaped) and the first time he really got a chance to cool down was when he was talking with Damian. He really needs a long break, therapy, and medication because what he went through can't be treated with therapy alone as the stress has chemical effects in the brain that need to be adjusted.

The writers don't care about how Jon should be extremely hypervigilant and defensive and anxious. I guess that's just not brave enough for a superhero, nevermind that leaving the house and getting treatment for these things, learning to trust again, and letting people help you is so much braver than punching guys when you have superpowers. It's natural to fight when your fight or flight is activated in a protective manner, but doing the logical thing when every signal in your body is telling you not to is really damn hard. The only coward is DC for giving Jon trauma and not actually writing a traumatized character.

That all being said, Damian clearly doesn't see how Jon is being manipulated, probably because his head is full of self hatred & doubting & repressed desires to ask Jon to stay, and thinks he needs to go against his abandonment trauma by swinging the pendulum too far in the opposite direction in his speech. With his c-ptsd and abandonment issues I can see him becoming bitter towards Jon for going to the future.

That could make for a really complex fanfiction, don't you think? The conflict coming from their unique life experiences and traumas, and them learning to understand each other like they're always doing. This misunderstanding of intentions born not out of something dumb like hearing the wrong thing or being unclear in language, but from their different points of view.

My jondami au where Jon leaves the legion early is calling me lmao "Isaac we have more problems for you to fix~"

That being said I have no exclusivity to these ideas for writing.

#jondami #fanfic talk #headcanons #dc comics #legion of super heroes #damijon #angst #ok btw im ignorant of tone so i wanna clarify im not angry writing this lol #Jonathan Samuel Kent #jon kent #Jonathan Kent #character study

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fandom-hyperfixation · 10 months

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𝗗 𝗥 𝗘 𝗔 𝗠 𝗜 𝗡 𝗚

Summary: You had a dream but unfortunately there was a misunderstanding.

Characters: Valtor x Reader (she/her) / Bloom

Words: 1091

Warnings: Implied smut/Nsfw, some spice but nothing detailed. Cuddling with a friend. Secret relationship. Enemy to lovers. Kind of betrayal. (Please let me know if I should add anything)

A/n: Hey Ho. Well, this is only the second fandom for which I post fanfiction and I haven’t written for a while. And my native language is not English, so please forgive me for any mistakes and it was more of a spontaneous idea I had. Please just don’t expect a Jane Austen novel. (I'm not nervous, you are xD) Okay, I’ll stop talking now and just hope that at least one person will kind of enjoy this here. Have a great day/evening/night.

"Y/N! Hey, Y/N, wake up. You’re having a nightmare." The voice of bloom breaks through the wonderful dream you just had.

"Y/N, come on, please, you have to wake up, it’s all right, I’m here, it’s just a bad dream."

Confused, you slowely open your eyes but the second after you closed them again, blinded by the bright light of the lid lamp.

"Ugh," escapes your mouth while you press your face into the pillow.

"Y/N, finally! Everything is fine." Bloom’s deliberate calming words only add to your confusion. More carefully this time you turn your head to look at her.

The brightness lets small tears shimmer in your eyes, quickly you try to blink them away.

"What’s the matter?" you ask without really opening your mouth but Bloom understood you anyway.

She carefully puts a hand on your cheek, stroking a tear from your skin with her thumb. "Hey, don’t cry. Everything's okay, it was just a nightmare, don’t worry, Valtor’s not here."

Suddenly your eyes widen, "What? Valtor?" Your voice sounds nervous as you're pushing yourself up to sit, capturing her gaze with your own.

"Hey, I told you everything was okay. It was just a bad dream. You called Valtor’s name in your sleep, I can understand it, I often dream about him. But we’re with you, we protect each other, don’t worry."

The Guardian of the Dragon Flame moved closer to hug you. Still overwhelmed you let it happen, placing your head on her shoulder.

You can’t find the right words to get yourself out of this uncomfortable situation. And the only option you have is to play along and just agree.

You close your eyes, still not accustomed to the brightness and two more small tears roll over your cheeks, your chin and finally land on Bloom’s arm.

Your friend sighs, "Back a little, I can sleep next to you, maybe we’ll both dream better."

In your head you hear the laughing of the lord of evil. He's laughing at you for this situation. Gloatingly, teasingly.

You nod indecisively but at the same time shake your head to banish the magician from your thoughts, which rather ends in a strange circular movement.

The fairy lets you go and crawls behind you on the bed, patting on the mattress next to her and slowly you lie down.

With a snap, the light goes out. Bloom approaches you, wraps an arm around you before snuggling up to you.

You grab her hand to cross your fingers with hers.

"Try to sleep a bit more, I’m here now," she whispered.

Your heart is racing incessantly as you can do nothing but nod again, it has absolutely taken your breath away.

For the next few minutes it is quiet, you do not dare to move. Not until you are aware of the regular breath of the fairy. She fell asleep.

You sigh and are sure that your cheek must be red like a tomato from shame.

Your mind worked at full speed to realize and process the things that have just happened. You must summon all self-control to avoid giggling. At the same time, however, you feel your guilty conscience eating through your body, burying cell by cell.

Your friends were always there for you, they helped you every second without asking questions, they trusted you blindly, just like you trusted them. They made every effort to protect and support you.

You all had nightmares about all the things you had to go through and survive. But since Valtor came into your lives, everything has gotten worse. Hardly anyone can sleep for a whole night. Hardly anyone can dream of anything beautiful.

Hardly anyone can feel something like true joy.

But while all your friends were plagued with nightmares and are not allowed to have a careless second because of the dark wizard, he is the reason that you can sleep well. That you still feel something like satisfaction or happiness and can forget all that terrible things for a moment.

It was pure irony.

While they all suffered because of the wizard, every night you dream of his hands gliding over your entire body when you sneaked out of Alfea to meet him in the cloud tower again. How his lips invade every spot of your body, leading you into another dimension. How his rough voice sounds musically in your ears when he groans your name or tells you how perfect you are for him. How his hot breath flits over your skin when you lie in front of him on the desk. How he makes you feel as good as no other has done before.

What was your dream, was their nightmare.

What became your joy, became their sadness.

What deprived them of all their powers was what made you feel more alive than ever.

Valtor was their curse, but he was your blessing.

The more you thought about it, the more your mind became weary. And as soon as your eyes closed, you were back at the sport you were before Bloom woke you up.

In a storeroom in the cloud tower, without clothes, while the magician knelt in front of you, throwing your head back in pleasure.

***

In the cloud tower, Valtor laughed deeply as he turned his gaze away from the sphere through which he had observed you and your friend.

He could hardly wait to make you blush with the events of today and evoke your shy side the next time you would come to him, your enemy, to wind under him in passion.

He had taken off his coat and pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Sitting in the big desk chair he turned in a semicircle. He looked through the large windows of Miss Griffin’s office into the dark night. Then he leaned back, closing his eyes as well before mentally diving into the same memories you are exploring.

This little fairy had fallen for him, just like he had fallen for her.

Thanks for reading. 💚

#winx club #winx club fanfiction #winx club valtor #valtor fanfiction #valtor smut #valtor x reader #winx club valtor x reader #winx club villains #winx club bloom

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topersevereassentiment · 3 months

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What are the salient features of Asriel, post-canon, that keep us from "saving" him from life alone in the Underground?

He's soulless (a practical problem),

he'll soon return to being a flower (a practical problem) and would prefer that you think of him like this rather than Flowey (a personal and interpersonal problem), and

he's decided to stay and tend the grave of the fallen child (and this is not really a problem at all; rather, a decision, which the boundary conditions of Undertale require us to respect).

There is a lot of UT post-canon fic out there which treats all these as practical problems. Frisk can just get a soul from somewhere, throw Alphys technobabble or soul arcanobabble at the body issue; get Flowey in therapy; and... also get Flowey in therapy for that last one, because his decision isn't really legitimate, in save-the-goat stories. It's self-harm. Which, personally, is both understandable and missing the point of one of the game's core themes: no matter how many times you restart the story, there are things you can't do; you are not getting a 100% Complete Perfect Pacifist where even Asriel is saved, and it's okay to be wistful about it, but you still need to put down the controller eventually. Getting him to the surface happens a lot in fic, because we all want the goldenest ending, but it could never happen in canon and we just have to live with it. It's thematically potent and I'd lose a lot of respect for Undertale's commitment to its story if you could circumvent it.

(Incidentally, this feels to me like it stems from the same ideas as making "* I have places to be" the wrong answer, a giving-in to Frisk's self-sacrificing, self-disregarding nature which must be corrected. Sometimes, you have to let people live and make their own decisions, outside the boundaries of the story's frame. Your perspective only goes so far.)

...now, fluffier, more sympathetically-traumatized Asriel, on the other hand...!

Ralsei's woes in Deltarune are very visibly the same kind of isolation as what Asriel's dealing with at the end of Undertale, but a) it's worse (a whole lifetime of waiting in a very deliberately empty, lifeless, three-screen-long kingdom) and b) he's stuck there for purely practical reasons. Darkners can't enter the Light World without becoming objects. He never made a decision to be here.

It's not something we can technobabble our way out of right now, but we're only in Chapter 2, right? We can save him, in a way we can't save Asriel: the deadlock we can't resolve has been removed; we don't really have to think about his preferences any more, because the preferences that kept us from helping him and left him stuck in the Underground I mean Dark World are just gone.

His issues are also much more obvious from the get-go, and seem designed to be something we talk him out of – not Asriel's decision to stay by his lost friend's grave, with a weight of meaning and feeling behind it, but hero worship, subservience, religious dedication to the Prophecy and self-image issues, all clear and visible dysfunctions. Giving Asriel therapy has left the realm of fanfiction and wish fulfillment and become part of canon... and the real disagreements we had with UT!Asriel over what he was and meant and deserved have become simple roadblocks for DR!Asriel whoops I mean Ralsei, things we have to help him through. Practical problems where the solution is friendship speech + therapy.

To make a slightly heavy-handed comparison, Ralsei saying we exist to serve Lightners and gratefully referring to himself as Kris's lackey is Anthy saying I'm the Rose Bride because I like it. It's the kind of reason we're inclined to reflexively overrule without working to deal with it at its root. Ralsei is Asriel, minus the irreconcilable and bittersweet parts, someone whose objections to being helped have either been removed or simplified down until we can feel good about disabusing him of them. He's our wish fulfillment in the way that candy on trees might be Susie's and a city of shining lights might be Noelle's and Giant Arcade Consoles might be Berdly's: an Asriel you can help, who you can make go to therapy and deal with the problems that keep him from caring for himself; who'll shut up, comply and let himself be saved.

...so the fact that Kris – whose personal issues are opaque, complex, and frustrating; who appears to be actively hiding parts of their life and motives from us; who clearly doesn't want our help or an improved social life at the expense of their agency – finds him so distasteful might not just be because he's a parody of their brother or Secretly Evil or whatever. If Ralsei is "the kid they're supposed to be" it's not just his fluff and horns!

#deltarune #undertale #deltarune meta #undertale meta #ralsei #asriel #kris dreemurr

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 8 days

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Thank you so much for sending me this!

I am proud of so many of my fics and I'm not even fully sure how to go about this, so... I guess I will just make one rec from each of the fandoms I have written for?

(Warning for some blood in gifs below - but generally there is blood and violence in this fics anyway, so...)

From DC Titans:

No Place Like Home on AO3 - Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Disabled!Reader x Jason Todd. Friends to Lovers. (Poly Soulmates). Smut, Angst, Hurt and Comfort with a Happy Ending. 90k across 7 chapters. When Jason leaves the Titans broken and battered, he gets set on a dangerous path. It's up to you and Gar, the two people who care about him the most, to bring him home.

Oh, another day on the assembly line, everybody better march in time,

Cause the factory don't care why, you been sayin' coulda, shoulda, woulda.

(There's no place like home. There's no place like home.)

If I could recommend one singular fic and say 'this fic encapsulates my style and summarises everything I am proud of when it comes to writing fanfiction' - this would be it.

I have so much to say about this fic and a lot of it I probably have already said it - but basically, this fic is the reason I started writing. I started writing long before I actually wrote this fic, but everything I have ever sought in terms of creative satisfaction came from this fic. This feels like my orgasmic climax in terms of creating things.

And if this fic is something I could be buried with, I would be proud. If this fic is something that people remember me for, I would be so fucking proud. (Which is not likely, because it's from a very small fandom and I know people are gonna remember me for fics from bigger fandoms that are way more popular, and I wish I could shove this fic in the faces of people who read my other popular fics and make them read it lmao.)

If for some reason I had to quit writing right now - I would be most proud of this singular piece. Especially because so much of this fic, the characters, and the dynamics has been inspired by my real life relationship with my lovers, and the reader character was inspired by my struggle with disability and coping with the loss of control as I became more disabled over time - but having my lovers there for me made that loss of control easier to swallow. It's about how trauma can ruin you and letting someone love you when you are broken is one of the hardest things you can do, but one of the most radical and most rewarding. If you ever liked my writing and my style, even if you don't like Titans - please go and read this.

From The Walking Dead:

(I know this gif is sad but it fits the fic so well.)

Hold Me Tight Or Don't on AO3 - Glenn Rhee x Fem!Reader x Maggie Greene. Established Poly Relationship. Smut and Heavy Angst (No Happy Ending). Set during Season 3, Episode 4. 7k (Oneshot). You are bitten by a Walker while trying to help get Glenn and Maggie to safety, and you are facing your last hours of life. And in those last hours, you only have one wish - to have sex with your partners one last time. Luckily for you, they would do anything for you, and they can’t help but to oblige.

Oh no this isn't how our story ends,

So hold me tight, hold me tight. (Or don't.)

This fic has had some more attention lately, since I have been wanting to write for The Walking Dead again, and I just really want to re-state - I fucking love this fic. This idea came to me so randomly and struck me like lighting and I am so happy that this fic came to fruition. This fic represents so many things that I am excited about writing - poly relationships, relating the themes of sex and death, sad endings (I weirdly prefer writing sad or melancholic endings instead of traditional happy ones).

I am really proud of this fic. If you can handle angst, you should go read it.

From Criminal Minds:

From Your Lips on Tumblr - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 15. 3k (Oneshot). After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankel farm, you take the time to check on her and distract her flustered mind with a loving touch.

So, most of my Criminal Minds fics have done really well and don't need to be recommended just because it's a really popular fandom, but JJ fics don't really do well? Idk why she's not a popular character?

But I love this fic. I had so much fun working on this fic, and working in the religious references and imagery from the show - this fic was just so much fun for me. And I think it needs more love.

From The Last of Us:

IFHY (I Fucking Hate You) on AO3 - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Enemies with Benefits. Smut and Angst. Set during the main events of Part II. 8k (Oneshot). You and Abby truly hate each other. So when you find Abby handcuffed inside an elevator, instead of being kind and just letting her out, you make her pay a certain price for the key.

I fucking hate you - but I love you.

I'm bad at keeping my emotions bubbled.

You're good at being perfect, we're good at being troubled.

There are so many fics from TLOU that I loved writing and that I'm really proud of, but this one really caught my eye on the list. I love writing about conflict, and I really love writing reader characters who are so bitchy and just cause conflict. (Maybe it's because I'm so nice irl and I never cause conflict, I get out all my internal chaos in writing characters who shit disturb and cause chaos all the time.)

I loved writing this because it's so non-traditional. It's not sappy, it's not romantic - again, it has a really melancholic ending. The characters are so toxic for each other (which is also something I love writing - because it's horrible for relationships irl, but for fiction it's so interesting to explore and observe).

I think this is one of my best, most interesting fics and I really loved doing it.

From Harry Potter:

King For A Day on Tumblr - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader. (Fem!Reader x Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with slight Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows. 22k (Oneshot). While Horcrux Hunting with your closest friends, the dangerous influence of Slytherin’s Locket causes Ron to snap. And it turns out - he brings on something that everyone in the tent really needed.

You told me think about it - well I did.

Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore.

I'm tired of beggin' for the things that I want.

I'm over sleepin' like a dog on the floor.

Imagine living like a King someday - a single night without a ghost in the walls.

I have spoken about this fic at length, and how this was a spirtual awaken for me - if No Place Like Home was a culmination of everything I am as an artist, then this fic is an echo of those things. Again, I fucking love writing about poly relationships - and I think this fic has one thing that was missing from No Place Like Home. And that is exploring each individual thread of a poly relationship and how someone interacts with each person in the relationship outside of the poly group functioning as a whole. That is definitely a strong suit of this fic.

Also it's amazing filthy nasty smut, which is something I love writing, and something I am really talented at.

From Stranger Things:

I'm Still Standing on AO3 - Nancy Wheeler x Fem Disabled/Chronically Ill Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Angst, Smut, (slight Fluff). Hurt and Comfort. Happy Ending. Set during Season 4. 37k across 3 chapters. You start having horrible waking nightmares, but you don’t want to worry your best friend Nancy by telling her. She’s already occupied trying to chase down a trans-dimensional killer wizard, and you are convinced that the two problems aren’t possibly related.

There's a cold and lonely light that shines from you,

And you wind up like the wreck you hide, behind that mask you use.

This fic is so interesting.

I wrote this fic shortly after Season 4 came out - and even though I had a few fics for Stranger Things that were pretty popular, everyone just collectively ignored this one? And I know for a fact that it is because Nancy is the love interest. I know that if I had picked Steve or Eddie as the love interest for this fic, then this fic would be just as popular as my other ST fics - but because the subject matter is so deeply personal, I connected with the scenes of Nancy kicking ass at the hospital and worked from there.

(And tbh, if I had to choose a male love interest for this concept, I probably would have chosen Billy, because I relate to him on so many deep personal levels.)

Literally everything in this fic is very personal to me - this is all about my own raw traumas. From the abusive father to the extreme medical trauma to the strained caretaker mother, to the older sister who distances herself from it all - even though this is set in the universe of Stranger Things - this is the story of my life. And idk if I would have wanted it to be a more popular fic, because it is so personal? But I am upset that I worked so hard on it and so many parts of it are so raw, and nobody really saw it. I am upset that I had the bravery to post something so personal and it was just - crickets.

There are so many parts of this fic that I am so insanely proud of. The horror sequences are something that I worked so hard on - not just with the emotion of translating my own trauma, but I wanted to make something honestly scary and I wanted to pay tribute to the tension and emotion and visuals of all my favourite horror media - including Stranger Things and the beautifully tense horror aspects of Season 4. And this is another fic that I feel truly, absolutely represents me as a person to my core. And I feel like it's worth reading if you wanna know more about me and who I am.

(And lastly)

From misc. horror fandoms:

No Brainer on AO3 - Derek Cho (Steven Yeun) x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Samara Weaving). Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut. Based on the film Mayhem from 2017. 7k (Oneshot). When you are the last person alive with an elevator key that Derek and Melanie desperately need, you agree to make a trade. Turns out, when what you're asking for is a threesome - you don't drive too hard of a bargain.

This is one of my favourite fics of all time. This is proof that I do not write for popularity - this fic is written for a fandom on AO3 with a total of five fics FIVE (including mine) and 2 of them are about characters from other media experiencing the plot of this movie as an AU, and mine is the only fic that is x reader. So I didn't just fill a niche - I looked where there was no niche and I dug a hole.

But like - Steven Yeun. Yes, I fell in love with Glenn from TWD, but this is a movie where he is also covered in blood, and rather than being Glenn's meek, reserved self (which I love) - he is outraged and swearing and killing and it makes me foam at the mouth. And I am already in love with Samara Weaving from The Babysitter - so this is literally a killer combination.

My bisexual ass did not even finish the film before I was typing out this fic on my phone.

And I am so happy that I wrote it - because sometimes you just need a self indulgent, blood covered smut.

And you guys can read it too if you want <3

#sundrop answers #fanfiction #mickisnotclever #my lovely moots #jason todd x reader #gar logan x reader #glenn rhee x reader #maggie greene x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #abby anderson x reader #ron weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #hermione granger x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #mayhem 2017

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 2 months

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FourRaccoonsInACoat Masterlist

Thanks for stopping by my masterlist, I am thrilled there are people who are interested in my writing! You may be asking, did I really create a logo for a nonexistent book series that only exists in the BG3 universe and features Malta the crime-fighting cat, all for the sake of a gag?

Yes. Yes I did. I will speak no more on the matter.

My fanfiction is centered around Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge. The Durge MC in my works is based on my first BG3 Durge, a female half-drow warlock named Eli. I currently have one ongoing chapter fic, as well as a few one shots that all take place in the same universe.

I write fanfiction for myself as a way to decompress from life and because I enjoy sharing my stories with others. It legitimately makes my day when someone is entertained by my writing, so thank you for every comment, like, message and kudo. Much love and appreciation to you all!

Also, if you're here for BG3 Incorrect Quotes, follow that link for the masterlist.

____________________

AO3 Account - All of my works are crossposted to AO3.

Ongoing Work

Head Full of Ghosts:

Current Rating: M

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Eli has spent a lot of time combing through her fractured psyche, trying to piece together any semblance of facts about who she was before she awoke on a mind flayer nautiloid. In all that self-reflection, she has concluded there are two things she is very good at. Killing people and drinking.

Neither of which is proving very useful as she tries to navigate interpersonal pitfalls after being appointed leader of a ragtag group of maladjusted misfits who are trying to source a cure for the illithid tadpoles in their heads. As if that isn't problematic enough, she's also having to contend with the growing affections between herself and the group's resident vampire spawn, Astarion.

Between fanatic cultists, goblin raids, murderous urges and cryptic memory loss, Eli figures a relationship is the last thing she ought to get herself wrapped up in. And from what she's seen of Astarion, the cavalier rogue seems to have his own breeds of specters haunting his steps.

Neither one of them has any business mucking about with romance. But, neither one of them is particularly good at staying away from things that entice.

____________________

One Shots

In chronological order:

Fall for Me ---> Faint of Heart ---> Midnight Prayer

Fall for Me

Rating: E NSFW18+

Astarion wakes from a nightmare and goes to Eli, seeking reassurance as he struggles with the denial of his feelings. The last thing he wants to do is give someone else control over him, not after he’s so recently regained a taste of freedom. Over the past 200 years, every relationship Astarion was involved in had been nothing more than a means to an end, with Astarion either playing the role of manipulator or the one being manipulated. Attachments were leverage, giving someone a hook they were able to dig their claws into in order to gain ground. Isolating himself from connecting with others was how he had survived.

This, however…this was different.

Rating: M

Faint of Heart

Somewhere along the way, more and more truth has begun to slip into the words Astarion has been using to charm Eli into his bed. He's not sure when it started, but sometime between their passionate nights and hard fought days, genuine feelings began to stir.

It all comes to a head after the crew stages a prison break out of Moonrise Towers. Now, during a rare evening of respite, Astarion is determined to make a confession, regardless of his fears over the fallout.

Rating: M

Midnight Prayer

Neither Eli nor Astarion knows what they're doing when it comes to romance. Their combined histories with healthy relationships adds up to an unsurprising total of zero. Astarion once admitted to Eli that he couldn’t remember ever bedding the same person twice. And Eli…well, she can't remember anything, frankly. Her memories of past lovers are nonexistent…at least…

At least until today. Today, when they’d finally met the infamous Enver Gortash.

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years

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༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: after a case involving an old childhood bully, you began to question everything you've ever worked for, but that's nothing a little reassurance from the good doctor can't fix.

― warnings: oral sex (fem rec.), vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, head in the jet bathrooms (lord), spencer has long hair, man ponytail spence, quiet "sex." hurt/comfort, mentions of kidnapping, murder, violence, bullying, hostage situations, and weapons.

― wc: 2403

⋆ a/n: this is the first ever fanfiction i wrote and uploaded to ao3. i don't know why i made it so long lmfao. yeah, i googled the term whiplash, sue me. this has already been posted to ao3.

masterlist | AO3

You wish what you wanted wasn't inappropriate. That it didn't totally go against everything that you stood for as a person. Morally, you were always correct, but in this certain situation, the lines began to get blurred between your self-control and your burning desire for the genius on your team.

Your body bursts into flames whenever you saw him; when he had his glasses perched onto his nose, a file in his hand as his long and delicate fingers skimmed over the words, lighting grazing them. Even when the others thought his constant spewing of facts were annoying, you actually found it endearing, and quite the turn on. It was embarrassing really, how this man could simply just exist and you were ready to jump his bones.

Of course you doubted that he had held any sort of attraction for you. He's probably the most oblivious person you've ever met dispite his IQ of 187.

It was another case that was just as exhausting as the other, and not only that, it took place in your hometown. What made it worse was that you actually knew the person that was the murderer, which made you vital to the case. You could sense that everyone besides the team was side eyeing you, and you couldn't help but feel like an outcast. You were frustrated and tense, wanting nothing more than to have sleep swallow you whole.

The jet was quiet, almost everyone still asleep as you counted the stars in the dark sky that you could see from your window. The whole situation was overwhelming, no matter how many sympathetic words and tight hugs you had received, you were still bothered to no end. Eric was a part of your close friend group in highschool, but after a falling out, you were the only one that left. You had no idea that he and the others stayed close until you were called down to solve a double homicide and stalking situation.

You figured out that he still harbored feelings for your long time friend, Stacy. Of course as fate would have it —and highschool cliches— she got with the jock of your friend group, Ryan. They got married, but Eric was still as jealous and bitter as he was when he was seventeen. He chose to kill the couple and be on his way to kill the others that were left. You couldn't help but think about what if you were still friends with them, would he be after you too? You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, throwing the blanket that you had draped over you onto it as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you had gotten inside, you shut the door behind you, pressing your hands onto the cool counter in an attempt to ground yourself. You stared into the mirror to take in your disheveled form.

You watched as your highschool self formed right in front of your very eyes; your frizzy hair, pimpled face and braced teeth had all of a sudden reappeared, like a dream like fog. You still looked as tired as you did then, your eyes clouding with tears. Not only were you devastated about your old friends deaths, but it was also what Eric had said when he held another friend, Amanda, at gun point.

"Just because you got a fancy badge and gun doesn't mean you're still not the same brace face that nobody wanted."

You were embarrassed in front of your team, the media, as well as the other police officers at the scene.

As Eric was brought down to his knees and handcuffed, he walked past your glaring gaze with a smirk. You could've sworn that your finger that was pressed against the trigger twitched. You were the first one to have left, your skin burning in shame and your gut twisting in the most painful way possible. It hurt really, and now the after effects were sticking to you like glue. As if the insults that you get for being a bigger FBI was enough as it is, this was just the icing on the cake. You had worked so hard to move on from your past, but alas, it would always seem to find you.

Tears dripped down your face as a silent sob ripped through you. You just wanted to disappear. As your self wallowing continued, the bathroom door was opened scaring you and the person on the other side.

"Sorry!" Spencer squeaked, closing the door back up. "It's fine," You chuckled, "I wasn't doing anything anyway." You wiped your tears hastily before the man re-entered.

His faced quickly crumpled in concern, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your saddened facial features. "Why are you crying?" You waved your hand in an attempt to dismiss his question. He hesitated before speaking."Is this— is this about what happened earlier?" You let out a sigh. "Shut the door." And he did, closing it quietly behind him as he looked at you worriedly.

"It wasn't about the "brace face" comment. It was the fact that I had allowed myself to let him make me feel small. I worked so hard to get where I am, and it was like one word from him and all of it just came crumbling down." You ranted, tears threatening to come down once more.

In all of your years as an FBI agent, you had learned to not let such crude words get to you knowing that it was a part of your job that wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Everyone on your team has heard their fair share of insults from bitter UnSubs, and they're always just ignored and not thought twice about until it included someone close to them.

"You know that everything he said wasn't true, right?" Spencer asked, his tone soft and reassuring. Even though he phrased it like a question, it was more like he was telling you, causing your stomach to twist around with butterflies. "I know, I just—" You groaned, your back against the counter where the sink was at, your face held in your hands. You felt him step in front of you, soft but skinny hands placing themselves on your wrist to stop them from covering your face.

"If it's it uh—" He cleared his throat, "If it's any consolation, I think you're absolutely gorgeous." He said bravely, his voice holding unforseen confidence. You blinked rapidly, swallowing your spit nervously as he leaned closer to you. You could see it in his eyes that he was afraid that he read the room wrong, but you didn't hesitate, grabbing him by his orange tie and pulling him closer against you.

He was now gripping the counter, his head tilted to the side as his lips barely brushed again yours.

"You mean it?" You asked, staring up at him. It was his turn to be rendered speechless, but he nodded his head. You smiled sweetly, raising a hand up to tuck some of his long hair behind his ear. He trembled slightly at your touch, the skin of his ears and the back of his neck flushing a deep red. You held him in a strong gaze as you made your demand.

"Lock the door."

All he had to do was lean over and the locked snapped, signaling that you were both now in here together. You locked your fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss, Spencer cradling your face. He was an excellent kisser even though he was slightly hesitant, being a gentleman as always. His hands were respectful even though you can tell they wanted to explore more of your curvaceous body that were filled in all the right places.

You took his hands off of your face and placed them on your ass, your hands giving him an encouraging squeeze around the fat. He groaned in surprise, but opting to throw all caution to the wind once you had took the initiative to show him that it was okay. Your threaded your digits through his luscious locks until he bent downward a bit, his lips separating from yours for only a split second to haul you onto the marble. You let out a quiet squeak that he only chuckled at.

He kissed down your neck, hands touching all over you until they reached your spread thighs, opening them wider so he could step in between them. He wrapped them around his tiny waist, his lips continuing their assault.

"Spence. . ." You breathed. "Yeah?" He mumbled, lips kissing down to your breast. His voice was muffled by the fabric of your shirt but he was still alert. "Are you sure you want to do this here?" You asked. With the way his needy hands were going and the fact that the belt on your dress pants were undone , it was looking like he was about to finger you at the least. He looked up at you, holding your face in his hands again.

"I want to show you how beautiful you are to me, but if you'd rather wait, maybe until I take you on a date—" You cut off his rambling with a peck, "No need, just make sure to be quiet." You winked at him. He smiled sheepishly shrugging off his grey vest before falling to his knees so that he was faced with your clothed crotch. Your body was keening at the sight of the tall man in front of you, the supposed genius now reduced to nothing more than a mouth. It was hot how he looked at you with so much admiration, like you were his goddess to worship.

You stared down at him, running your fingers through his long hair, biting your lip.

"Can you—" He gulped. "Can you please lift your hips?" His shaky fingers were tucked into the band of your pants, pupils blown out and and pleading. You did as he asked to make the process of him stripping you of your lower half easier. You were now bare and open to him, legs spread with your glistening sex clenching around nothing. He gulped at the sight of your drenched cunt, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before leaned forward, his tongue licking a bold stripe up your folds that caused you to bite your lip.

"Wait." You paused. "What?" He asked, his voice gravelly as he watched you reach up into your hair to pull out your hair tie. Even though your locks fell around your face, you gestured for him to lean up a bit. "C'mere," You beckoned. You then went around his head, collecting his hair gently before tying it back so that none of it got in his way.

"There you go." You said, sounding pleased with yourself. "Thank you." He blushed. His gratitude was short lived as he leaned forward once more, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders so that he was suffocated by your large thighs. You held onto his ponytail, trying your best not to tug on the thing too hard. As he suckled on your clit, he watched as you slapped a hand over your mouth, harsh breaths coming out of you as your legs tightened around his head.

Your chest was heaving as Spencer's nails dug into the skin of your thighs in an attempt to keep himself grounded. You were barely holding on, his inexperienced tongue searching desperately to see what you liked, what got you off, his dough eye's peering up at you to study your reactions. He mentally took notes of what made you twitch and gasp, what made you tremble and tighten as your hand clamped harder around your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself from being too loud.

You almost screamed when one of his fingers joined his attack, his middle finger curling against the spongy padding of your g-spot. You began to shake, your juices dripping down his chin, almost soaking the collar of his dress shirt as he brought you closer to a mind blowing orgasm. It didn't take long for you to cum once his ring finger breached you as well.

Your jaw went slack, your back arching and your hand slipped from off of your mouth. He pulled away from your now weeping opening, his chest heaving and strands of his hair sticking out from under the elastic of the band. He looked more destroyed than you in a humorous way.

"Wow..." You giggled, sitting up in order to stretch your back. He shakily got up, his knees slightly aching from sitting on them for so long. You pulled him into you, releasing his hair from the band and massaging his scalp. His hands placed themselves onto your naked and splayed out thighs, hands warming at the feeling of your soft skin.

"Did I— did I do good?" Even though he whispered it, it still made you smile endearingly. "You did great, Doctor." You teased as he smiled softly. Embarrassingly enough, he reached over a bit to grab some toilet paper in order to wipe his mouth from your release. Your face flushed as he dropped the soiled paper into the toilet next to the both of you.

"We should get out of here, don't you think?" You brought up, which prompted him to grab your pants and underwear in a hurry. "Right, right." He agreed, helping you off the counter and assisting you in getting your clothes on.

Before you two left, he pulled you into him by your waist.

"Would like to go on a date?" There was that same confidence again. "Of course, Spence. And what's with you and this duality? It's giving me whiplash." You chuckled, throwing your arms around his neck. "Actually, whiplash is an injury caused by a severe jerk to the head, typically in a motor-vehicle accident—" You cut him off with a peck, "I know, I was being sarcastic." You sighed, but there was no irritation behind it. He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

He made sure to sneak you out first, flushing the toilet to ensure his ruse. You found yourself chuckling at his extremities, but nonetheless was satisfied as he took a seat next to you. He pulled the blanket over the both of you as his hand met yours, interlacing your fingers together before dozing off on your shoulder.

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cgsf · 2 months

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Teen Wolf fanfiction recs — Scott/Stiles

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"A Little Hot Mess (The Best of Bad Ideas Remix)" (M) by angelgazing | 1,438 | He doesn't know what makes him do it, probably whatever is making his blood edge closer to boiling. He slides a hand up the outside of Stiles' leg, soothing, holds on to his hip as tight as he dares. Says, "I never have, but I can start," with his mouth wetter; hot and wanting.

"i've woken up on one too many floors (but my favorite was yours)" (E) by turnpikedarling | 4,888 | “Come on, dude,” Stiles tells him, planting his hands on the back of the couch and vaulting over it into the hallway of the apartment they’re currently trying to move into. It’s their first apartment together, some shitty little thing Stiles found on Craigslist and sent to Scott in a frantic email. It took Scott less than a second to realize he’d follow Stiles anywhere, and then all of a sudden: a month later they were roping Isaac and Erica and Boyd into helping them move hand-me-down furniture across town, and now here they are, trying to figure out what to do with this disgusting couch that neither of them really wants, anyway.

"Love Me Right" (E) by alexenglish | 6,004 | Generally, people are attractive, all their bits and pieces. Stiles has always seemed to be attracted to everyone, which is why it isn’t a surprise when Stiles leans forward, eyes on Scott’s face as he passes the joint back to him, and says: “Why haven’t we made out yet?” in a very serious voice. It takes all of Scott’s self control not to burst out laughing. The look on Stiles’ face is so so so intent, eyes wide and wet and blinking slowly. It's only a surprise that it takes until they're 17 for him to ask.

"A Little More 'Touch Me'" (E) by alexenglish | 4,215 | “I will blow you for half that pizza,” Stiles says. It’s an accident, really, he definitely didn’t mean to say that. It’s true, but he didn’t mean to, fuck – “I mean, I would blow you not for pizza, but at this point, mostly for pizza.”

"Find new ways to fall apart" (E) by queerly_it_is | 5,997 | Stiles confesses his feelings to Scott when he thinks they're about to die, but has to deal with the consequences when they don't.

"Like real people do" (E) by queerly_it_is | 15,361 | Stiles waits until Scott’s focused on the game, eyes narrowed and his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth, fingers tapping at the controller, before he says, “So I think we should kiss.”

"Apparent Lack of Ceremony" (E) by Loz | 3,104 | Scott keeps climbing into Stiles' bed at night to cuddle. They don't talk about it in the morning.

"more power than anything waiting in the dark" (G) wangler | 2,082 | When Scott jogs back inside, his mom stands against wall, watching Stiles, eyeing the tangle of bandages and dusty old clothes. "Get them off," Stiles is saying, dazed and soft. "Get it off."

"I Want Your Love" (E) by BootsnBlossoms | 7,229 | During high school, he’d ‘jokingly’ teased Scott about wanting to make out with him, about wanting to try new experiences out with him. He loved his best friend literally more than life itself, and once Scott starting dating women, Stiles had taken his attraction and want and shoved it in a little box. Friendship, saving each other from the trauma of their supernatural coming of age, protecting each other from the horrors of their senior year… well, putting the lid on his feelings was easy to do. But now? Now he’d come to terms with his infatuation enough that his buddies were sending him porn videos featuring people who looked like Scott.

"A Place to Belong" 🔒 (E) by blacktofade | 10,086 | Stiles doesn’t know what to expect after they complete the ritual, after his father’s checked over at the hospital and released a few hours later, after Stiles is back at home, sitting on the end of his bed with a heaviness in his chest that’s never been there before.

"Instructions for Dancing" (T) by calrissian18, cybermanolo | 19,247 | If Scott was asked to start from the beginning, his mind would place him right at the center of Beacon Hills, looking up at the black and white Hale house, clamped down on his mom's hand and trying not to feel fear. If Stiles was asked to start from the beginning, he would talk about a boy named Scott who walked into his kindergarten classroom, stuck to him like a barnacle and became the most important thing Stiles would ever do with his life.

"Roadside Assistance" (E) by autoschediastic | 3,741 | Scott shoves his shoulder. "Shut up or I'll let you freeze." "Great, now you're starting to sound like Derek," Stiles says, grinning harder at the look of shocked horror that skitters across Scott's face. He lowers his voice to gravely rumble. "Shut up or I'll rip your throat out, Stiles. I'm gonna kill you myself if you don't shut it, Stiles. Stop talking, Stiles, or I'm gonna--"

"Coal Calling the Kettle Black" (T) by calrissian18 | 1,024 | “You okay?” Stiles scratched at his eyebrow with his opposite thumbnail, turned around. He squinted, licked his lip. “You?” he asked rather than answered. Stiles 101 there.

"Or What" (M) by calrissian18 | 2,043 | Stiles nearly died. Scott's still trying to figure out what the hell that means.

"This is Totally a 'the World is Ending Unless We Sleep Together' Scenario, Right?" (E) calrissian18 | 4,854 | Scott steeled himself and said tightly, “I think we should have sex.” There was no amount of practicing the words that could have prepared him for actually saying them. The way they hung there itched at his skin. Stiles’ head whipped around. He blinked, eyes widening. “Charlie what now?”

"The Killer in Me is the Killer in You" (E) by Loz | 21,327 | Nothing has ever felt as horrific as seeing the look of betrayal in Stiles’ eyes as Scott sinks his teeth into his wrist.

"Let's Think of Each Other and Hesitate" (M) by Loz | 4,944 | Perhaps it was a mistake to try to surprise Stiles like this. He doesn’t know what his reaction will be. He’s always happy to FaceTime, but there’s still distance between them, metaphorical as well as physical. Maybe Stiles has been enjoying this separation from his old life, and seeing Scott in person again will bring all the old horrors back.

"Trying Hard to Keep This Warmth In" (T) by Loz | 1,646 | The thing about them being best friends is that they’re always touching.

"Sensitivity to Scent" (T) by RarePairFairy | 2,392 | Scott is used to Stiles being a werewolf. He's used to Stiles being tactile. But he's not used to Stiles being a tactile werewolf, and somehow, that's different.

"Into Me (See?)" (T) by deathgetsusall & mrsvc | 7,735 | "We still on for this Friday? Sleepover at my place?" Scott almost crashes the cart into Stiles' heels. Scott's not ready, though, to face spending so much uninterrupted time with Stiles, not yet. He's got too many thoughts running around his head, and he'll either embarrass himself, or do something stupid. Like tell him everything.

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"scott/stiles twitter fic" (M) mrsvc & rospeaks | 1,725 | series of short bits where scott and stiles make out (and more!) before the series starts.

"Whatever the mess you are (you're mine, okay?)" (E) by queerly_it_is | 4,478 | Scott has no idea what they’re doing. Well, okay he knows what they’re doing, it’s just… how do you wrap the right definition around ‘I’m screwing around with the guy who’s my brother except we aren’t really related’?

More to be added.

#fanfiction #teen wolf #fan fiction #fanfic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fics #fic recs #scott mccall #sciles #stiles x scott #scott x stiles

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xr0tt3nxfl3shx · 3 months

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👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.

#overdose #vomiting #tw overdose #tw vomit #unnamed twomp au #twomp #ashur gharavi #argos twomp #the world of mr plant #twomrp #twomp fanfic #plargos #eye love you #I'm so sorry regular twomp enjoyerd #YOU JUST GOT [COMICALLY ANGSTY TWOMP AU]'D #Spotify

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sapphire-weapon · 16 days

Text

>open Twitter >open DMs to send a message to a buddy I haven't spoken to in a while >there's a shitton of messages that I never got notifications for that I just straight-up missed over the course of A YEAR >goddamn it Twitter >this is all Elon Musk's fault >anyway >one of them is from the Project Umbrella guys >remember the big stupid bitchfight I got into with them last year >oh Jesus what the fuck did they want back then that I missed >open DM >HE'S DEFENDING THE RE ARCHIVES >NO FUCKING WAY LOL

THAT'S NOT WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS

THIS IS WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS:

And that's NOT what happens in Leon's RE3 epilogue. THIS is Leon's RE3 epilogue:

Oh but wait!

There's more!

This guy then tries to go on to defend the "Adam Benford kidnapped Leon" argument. Let's see how well his argument holds up.

So let's check his facts. Let's do a search for Jun Takeuchi.

Interesting. So Takeuchi became an executive around 2017. RE6 came out in 2012. So Takeuchi wasn't an executive at the time RE6 was written or released.

In fact

looking at this

Takeuchi didn't work on Resident Evil 6 at all. So... if he didn't work on RE6, then that would make anything he writes about it... fanfiction... wouldn't it? Otherwise, what gives him word of god for RE6's story? The fact that he was employed at the company at the time? Does this mean that any random environmental artist has word of god over the story? Do the Monster Hunter guys have word of god over RE6, too?

And what about Tsukasa Takenaka? Well, he's not even a big enough name to have a Wikipedia page to begin with. In fact, looking him up, it seems like he had a minor hand in writing RE5, produced Revelations 1, and worked on RE: The Mercenaries 3D.

yikes.

Okay, well what about this dude's other claims?

Adam Benford was director of the CIA in 2002 (according ONLY TO that airsoft ad written by the guy who did not work on RE6; this is NOT stated in RE6 itself), and his position in 1998 is unknown -- implying that he was not actually the director of the CIA in 1998. But Leon was kidnapped in 1998 by the CIA. So if he wasn't the director... then I guess he wasn't behind the kidnapping, was he?

Our friend from Project Umbrella then goes on to make a bunch of other claims right in a row, so let's go down them one by one.

>"Leon and Adam working together for a decade is only an approximation" Okay, but if you're approximating, the number would be closer to 15, not 10. Benford died in 2011. 2011 - 1998 = 13. So the rounded number would be 15.

>it's okay if RE6 gets the date wrong because supplementary material gets it wrong >implying that the game does not have more people working on it to ensure accuracy than random supplemental material. You're telling me that no one on the team of hundreds that worked on this game remembered that Raccoon City happened in 1998?

>RE6 is off by a year re: Chris killing Wesker

Is that true?

No, actually. That's not true at all. RE6 says it happened in 2009. And, wouldn't you know it. RE5 takes place in 2009.

So, what do you think, Mr. Project Umbrella?

Is that enough research that I've done for you?

Maybe the next time you want to go into a woman's DMs to mansplain at her and call her hysterical, you might want to get your fucking facts right first, you self-important misogynistic piece of human fucking garbage.

So.

In conclusion.

DO NOT LISTEN TO THE FUCKERS WHO CONTROL THE WIKI

THEY JUST FUCKING GO ON THE INTERNET AND TELL LIES

and talk down to women, apparently

#resident evil #resident evil 6 #leon kennedy #i suppose i'll have to add this to the 'leon's wiki is filled with lies and bullshit' page #but holy shit this was not what i expected to encounter today #this is your 'authority' on the canon #THIS is the fucker who's telling you that all supplemental material is canon and all devs have word of god #THIS fucking idiot #the wiki actively makes RE fandom worse #this is why this series's story doesn't make any fucking sense to people #because they're learning the story from this complete fucking dipshit moron #who puts every contradictory fact he can find together in one big pot and says 'THAT'S THE STORY'#no #the story is ONLY in the games and the movies AND NOTHING ELSE #IF IT'S NOT IN THE GAMES OR THE MOVIES IT'S NOT CANON #IF #IT'S #NOT #IN #THE #GAMES #OR #MOVIES #IT'S NOT CANON #DON'T EVER QUESTION ME #NEVER EVER QUESTION ME

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cutegirlmayra · 5 months

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Prompt: The latest battle with eggman send Amy and Sonic deep into the wilderness. Communicators broken, trackers busted, and Sonic breaks a leg leaving Amy to find them food, shelter and protect Sonic. While they rest Amy asks Sonic questions about their relationship that she's always wanted to know but too scared to ask. They talk but are discovered and Amy has to fend off the robot until Tails finds them. After they're saved Sonic has a new appreciation for Amy and is happy she's in his life.

Prompts are on shutdown EVERYWHERE, posting on my other writing sites DOES NOT mean you get your prompt done XD It’s only through here, on Tumblr, when the GRAND REOPENING is announced, which it is NOT. Thank you, lovely Cuties~ I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I’m trying to finish Fanfiction TAT

Prompt:

A spinning, spiky blue ball revs itself up in the air at a high-pitched frequency, dropping down almost with an intense sense of gracefulness as it tears seamlessly through Eggman’s latest doom’s day device.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!” Eggman grips his head with both his massive, puffy gloves and reels his head back, “I won’t let you get away with this! Not this time, Hedgehog!” Stomping around his large ship, he slams his hand on a button which triggers a lever he pulls down, thus activating a flipping panel on the ground that looks like a car’s gas pedal which he stomps on, and in turn lowers a dangling line above his head with a triangular grip that is meant to be tugged.

Still fuming, grinding his teeth against each other, he growls and reaches up like a train conductor and pulls it, “Take this! You spiny little cretiiiinnn!!!”

With a howling roar, spit flying from his agape mouth, Eggman’s ship lowered the tip of its nose, making the haul of its stomach ‘chin-dip’ and slam down to the ground.

Sonic, still well-within the confines shredding through the ship’s interior, suddenly found his once-smooth aerial dive now wonkily swerving before turning horizontal.

As Eggman laughed, Sonic’s spin ball started creating heat and pressure… Sonic didn’t stop the rotation, but soon was slowly breaking through the hard metal one more and popped out of a hallway, moving now like a spinning-top on his side.

Eggman’s face dropped, “WHHHAATT???!!!” He slammed his hands down, looking with horror and shock at the cameras and following the image as he sweated in fear.

The Cameras zoomed in, and it showed Sonic using a single toe, perfectly placed on the tip of his foot, to keep himself spinning at such high speeds while turned on his side.

“Curse that infernal-!” Eggman smushed his face with gripping fingers, before a robot tugged on his coat and made him look down, “Hmm?” He saw the robot pull out a crowbar, and point to it.

Eggman blinked twice… before smirking wickedly to him…

When Sonic burst through the doors of the control room, balancing out his spinning top self and wobbling to try and locate what to shred into next, the tiny robot by the side of the doors, hiding from sight, swung and hit his spinning leg.

There was a crack and Sonic unspun with a dramatic pose of spiraling in the air, his eyes squinted shut in pain before Tails’s X-Tornado dived and shot through the window, making air burst into the space and–as most vacuums do–thrust Sonic out of the room and be dragged by the sky out into the open space.

“Grr… Trying to get away that easily, eh?” Thinking he had the upper hand now, even though he was kneeling on the ground and having a hand bring down his goggles from the rushing wind, Eggman still tried to sound cocky and confident.

“You there!” He pointed to the robot who was on the ground now, his hands under him, surprised that plan actually worked and jolted with a spark at being addressed, turning to his commander and sovereign Eggman. “Don’t just lay about!” He swiped his arm out, “Do something!!!”

Realizing the Doctor was putting everything onto his tiny computerized brain’s hand to hatch another genius but simple idea, the robot waddled over a bit awkwardly to the cabinet.

Delicately, he opened it and flinched at the door swinging open, then pulled tenderly out a bazooka.

“Oh, I forgot we had one of those…” Eggman’s face looked a little like a man having forgotten where he put his keys.

Cocking it, the little metal and cylinder soldier began to try and walk towards the window before the wind began to pull him out as well.

His tiny little tin legs wiggled vigorously, but his firm grip on the large firepower he was wielding didn’t budge while he spun slowly during the drop into the air.

“TINY TIMMM!!!!” Eggman cried out, holding a hand out to him, “YOU BETTER BLAST HIM WHILE YOU’RE OUT THEEERREEE!!! This isn’t a vacation, you know! You’re still on duty!!!” He gripped that hand into a fist, showing that he was giving an order, not a moment of compassion.

The Robot, having oily tears in their eyes, realized that Eggman just gave him a name.

Even though the irony of breaking Sonic’s leg, and the christmas season didn’t quite register with the robotic soldier, he took that as a sign of promotion into Eggman’s steely, black heart and was determined to not fail him.

He turned his body toward looking to the earth, and watching to see where Sonic landed…

“Soooniiiccc!!!” Tails cried out, turning around the plane but Eggman was sure to grab at the controls and fire at him, making Tails unable to pursue Sonic’s descent. “Err..!” He squinted an eye, having to pull up. “I can’t reach him!”

“What?” Knuckles, on his communicator, looked down at it as Amy covered her mouth in alarm. “What do you mean..?” His eyes shook a second and looked up with Amy, as they each scanned the skies…

Amy then gasped, “Look!” She pointed one hand out towards the flaming blue speck in the sky, falling towards the jungle-like forest, and another on Knuckles’s shoulder to gain his attention to the detail.

“Grr..!!! That lousy-!” Knuckles shook a fist, but pulled Amy up over his head.

“W-Wah-Whaaa!!!” Amy shook out her arms, “K-Knuckles!” She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but suddenly feeling like he was going to throw her, she summoned her Piko-Piko Hammer.

“Grrr… I can’t fly to him in time! You’ll have to reach him on your owwwnnnn…!!!” Just as her instincts had foretold, he launched her through the air and she curled, her little red and white-trimmed dressing making it look like a badminton ball flapped wildly as she spun while still keeping her dress on.

Her hammer rotated so profusely, that as her own spinball hit against the trees, bounced off the ground, or slammed against rock, it kept her momentum moving and propelling her ever closer to the falling Sonic.

Finally, soaring up with one final, hard hit to the ground, she unspun and reached for Sonic… noticing the pain in his face and braving through the flames of his burning body to catch him before a deadly fate.

She landed on a tree’s branch, but it fell and they both started to fall painfully through scratching twigs and leaves.

When Amy woke up… snow had begun to fall in the forest, and her little nose wiggled a second before her mouth wound-up twice and sneezed, pushing the small flake off.

“Emm… S-Sonic?” She rubbed her head, slowly getting herself onto her rear and sitting somewhat more upright. “That was a rough landing…” She groaned through the aches, but then gasped when she remembered, “Sonic!!!” She started to grip and throw up the leaves below her, searching frantically for him.

A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face, gritting her teeth as her eyes shook in loving worry, ‘His leg was just dangling kinda weirdly in the air, just then… Was it injured?’ She kept calling his name… to no avail.

Her chest fell and rose with cold air quickly icing her resolve, stinging at her heart already pumping with the warm adrenaline to save the man she called hero… whom she loved, dearly.

“SOOONIIICC!!!” She finally let out a single, elongated note of his familiar name…

Silence… the snowy forest…

Her breaths clung to the air like hot mist, pocketing that space before disappearing as quickly as blowing a bubble to pop. Scrambling, she got up to locate her communicator.

Pieces of the broken device were pulled out and held up to her face, making her look down as though her heart had sucken to that cold ground as well…

“No… Did I not…” Her shoulders bounced, tears unable to remain corralled in the pools of her lower eyelids. “Did I not make it in time..?”

Her hand shook with that open thought, as the pieces of metal slipped through her fingers, falling to the light snowy patches below her feet.

“Sonic…” she gripped her fists and felt herself faltering in being able to remain upright, hunching over. “Sonic…” She felt she was at blame, and slunk to her knees, freezing her even further to what could be the harsh reality of the situation…

“No… I won’t believe it.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. “I… I gotta keep looking for Sonic..!” She bit her words as though to hold them fast to her heart, “Sonic…” She muttered once more, “Soooniiiccc!!” She reared herself up and began to charge about the area, searching everywhere, leaving no square foot unmarked by her own shoe’s print.

She could hear the sky battle above her head, and looked to see that Tails was still engaged with the now, downwards angle of the Eggman fleet’s main air-cruiser.

Her eyes couldn’t help but tremble, her body leaning away before her hands flung up and tightened around each arm. “I can’t… I gotta keep looking for him.” Her lips felt chapped and the cold only reminded her of the drying of her tears… before she quickly aboutfaced to keep looking for him.

Walking up a hill, treading through its piles of snow, she looked up to see the sky was now blanketed in the smoke of Eggman’s senseless war. “Guess I can’t rely on Tails or Eggman as a point-marker now.” She blinked through the chill of the wind, and sighed as she tried to figure out where she hadn’t looked.

“Could he have really been tossed from me so far..? OFFPH!” Tripping over some blue grass, she had scraped her knee and got up, shaking her head from having snow blanket it for a moment-

Blue… Grass?

Her eyes widened and she lifted her leg to see the gentle sway of the blue quills, just the tip sticking out from beneath the snow.

“SOONIICC!!!” Her heart about leaped out through her flailing to get back up, tugging on the quill and realizing it was fully stuck under the snow. She began to dig like her life depended on it, and… to a degree, he was.

“Sonic, breath! Speak! Wiggle! Do… something!” She tried to speak out before finally getting an arm and exclaiming loudly in surprised triumphant that she had gotten to him.

She tugged and began to pull him out, but he felt like dead weight.

Panic lit up her senses and now, she couldn’t feel the cold, but hoisted him up onto her back and began to run down the hill, hurrying to where they had last been, finding an open tree’s roots there and finding it a good, hollow den to at least try and wake Sonic up in.

Using the fallen leaves, she constructed a small bed for him, laying him down as saw that one of his legs fully detached from the bone.

She covered her mouth, “Oh no…” The pain must have knocked him out… he was probably passed out from the wind blasting by him on his fall anyway…

She gently touched the burnt ends of his quills and fur… Her eyes bunching up as though unable to see him in such a state.

“Oh, Sonic…” She brought his head up and tried to warm him, blowing lightly warm air out of her throat to his face.

“Please, Sonic… You have to at least show me you’ll be alright…”

After a while, Sonic woke up to find his leg was perfectly straightened by two twigs, and someone had put it back in it’s socket… “Ah… Glad I was asleep for that.” He twitched at the pain but tried to move to turn around. However, it was too much for the poor hedgehog, having endured firepower beyond normal mortal means, he couldn’t possibly stand for the fiery pain of a severely broken leg.

“Gahh…” He tried to lean up, “Who… Where am I?” He noticed a fire was burning, and looked strangely at the comforting glow, realizing he wasn’t alone.

“Tails?” He first questioned the thought, ‘But then… he’d just take me back in the X-Tornado… I’d be having warm soup by now…’ He squinted one eye down and finally was sitting upright, being careful to not move the lame leg, “Knuckles?” It was reasonable, but that echidna wouldn’t be foraging for berries or anything. He’d imagine Knuckles would have sat by the fire, the earth too hard to dig through during the winter seasons…

So that meant…

“Amy?” He raised an eyebrow, as though second-guessing that before hearing a bright voice exclaim in joy at hearing her name being called.

“Oh! Sonic! You’re awake!”

Waiting a moment, he smiled as Amy came rushing in, holding more firewood that she quickly just dumped to the side, some catching fire but she didn’t care at the moment. “SOONIICC!!! I was so worried about you!” she hugged him which made him have to hold back a cry, his banded leg with two sticks keeping it from twisting and turning further only moved slightly from Amy’s tackling hug.

She was warm, though… and her voice filled him with ease.

He hugged her back, “Thank you.” He calmly stated, “But what happened?” He looked to her face, then outside to the rain of explosions that sounded in the blurry, clouded sky… “Is that… smoke?”

“Em.” Amy nodded, letting him go and tilting her body in the same direction as the sounds, “The communicator broke on our fall, I don’t know how long Tails has been fighting in the air, but I’m pretty sure Eggman and our friends have lost sight of where he landed.” She lowered her shoulders a bit, then rotated one around to stretch it. “Hoo…”

“Amy? You okay?” He noticed she looked a little worse for wear as well, “You’re stone cold to the touch.” He placed a glove to her arm before reflexing off of it, then placing it there again. “How long were you out there..?”

She smiled, glad he couldn’t recollect how close to death he was while in the cold of the soggy snow he was buried under moments before.

“It’s nothing~” She chimed, “I’m a tough girl, as well as cute, after all!” She put her hands to the sides of her cheeks, trying to get him to not worry about her so much.

“I think we should probably move when the smoke rolls out… or when the gunfire finally stops.” She admitted, looking to the skies again and dropping her hands to her knees.

Sonic later asked her about how she got to him, and she explained the whole story… eeexcept the part about him almost suffocating under snow.

They talked and ate some of the wild onion grass she had collected, finding not a scrap left on the trees or bushes, figuring the other little critters had stored up for the coming winter anyway.

Not really liking the taste of it, Sonic just tried to see if he could hop on one leg, but Amy refused to let him go out to fight again.

Reluctantly, Sonic decided it was only polite to thank his brave rescuer by waiting it out.

But all the while… they worried about their friends well-beings… as the canons kept going off relentlessly.

“... You think they’re winning?” Amy asked, “Or… Eggman is at least… missing?” She flinched as a large blast seemed to hit the ground a couple long miles away from them.

Sonic, with his hands behind his head, and a blade of onion grass sticking out of his mouth, took a frustrated breath in and sighed out just as quickly. “We can’t hide out here forever, Amy… My leg isn’t gonna heal that quickly.” He tried to reason with her, and she knew that was probably right… but…

“Just… a little longer… let’s believe in Tails and Knuckles… to solve this on their own, okay?” She looked back with a forced smile, her hand gripping her heart. “Seeing you like this… it makes me… unable to let you go… right now.” She admitted, lowering her head and not having the courage to look at him in shame.

He eyed her with a turn of his gaze, not moving his head, before closing his eyes and not saying anything more about it.

The wind howled… before a foot fall was heard and Amy perked up, her ears twitched and she rushed out from the intertwined roots, “Knuckles!?” She exclaimed, more than expecting to see he had found them… before…

“... Sonic! Roll! Now!” She threw herself back to him as he looked to see a large missile fired into the hole.

Crying out in pain, he rolled as the blast sent the two flying to the back of the hollow tree.

Amy picked up Sonic’s spiky spinball, “Don’t uncurl! Whatever you do!” She cried out, as Sonic also–through immense pain–called her name but she was already grabbing a stick from the fire, the rest of the roots on fire from the blast anyway, and charged out of the large space.

She gasped as she noticed a small Eggman Robot, cocking the bazooka which had smoke slithering out of its mouth.

“You…” Amy’s eyes narrowed, her anger giving her the needed heat throughout her body, ready to fight.

“He’s already injured! Leave us alone!” She shouted out, but Sonic couldn’t help and voice his concerns as well.

“Amy! Your back!” She could feel something cool drip down in different areas from her exposed back… but it was already frostbitten and she didn’t dare think about what he was referring to.

“I’m fine. You just stay put and in your ball, Sonic.” She breathed through the pain that was now burning from her back.

However… this sting was like when she first lost Sonic, it moved her forward, adrenaline coursing through her like Sonic moving through a winding course.

Amy set Sonic down, “Amy!” he cried out again, moving in wobbly attempts to ‘roll’ after her as she stepped up to bat.

“It’s okay, I’m your strength too, Sonic!” She pulled the hammer up behind her shoulders, “Ready…” she narrowed her eyes, skidding a foot forward as though truly a baseball pro up for bat.

Sonic tilted his rolled body against her other, back leg, “Amy…” He couldn’t argue with that.

“... Aren’t I..?”

Uncurling, Sonic groaned out as the leg–the wooden beams now snapped and bent–was forced back into a straight position. His own problems meant nothing to him right now, though.

He looked up at Amy, seeing the wavering belief in her eyes, remembering that for a moment… she may have been the ultimate end for Sonic The Hedgehog…

Her memory went back to having no sign of him… and that haunted her… Was she really able to be there for Sonic… the way he was always there for her?

A shadow rose to meet her own on the ground, lightly shaded, as the clouds of smog were starting to clear out.

She gasped, looking down to see Sonic’s silhouette was on one leg, his arms then trailing up to her own around her hammer.

She could feel the warm and comforting breath he spoke by her cheek, telling her to wait on his signal.

The robot fumbled a little getting the bazooka back in order, but then went to fire.

“... Now.” Sonic’s voice was light, but his grip held stronger around her hand.

She swung with everything she had while Sonic fell back to the ground, unable to hold himself up much longer due to the crippling pain.

The missile fired but Amy heard Sonic say, “Now let go!!!!” In a ripping sound that shredded through her heartstrings… realizing how much he was suffering, but how that simple act showed her that he did trust in his friends–especially her in this moment–to get through it.

She let the hammer go and balanced herself, her dress spinning to one side of her body before the hammer’s top plugged and jammed itself into the firing bazooka.

The Robot made computerized noises of horror before exploding along with the gun.

Sonic and Amy fell by each other’s side in the blast, and Amy gripped onto Sonic.

In the cold of falling snow… the two breathed through great pain…

Shared pain… as Sonic’s and Amy’s eyes looked up to each other’s… and a smile greater than pain emerged upon both their faces.

“We… erk… did it.” Amy’s back jerked from the tortuous mix of frost and burn mingling upon its bare skin…

“No, Amy.” Sonic also couldn’t keep both eyes opened, but squinted one. His charming smile never faded though, “You did it… You’ve always got my back.” He gritted his teeth, but tried to make it look like a bright smile. “Thank you… again… A-Amy…”

Knuckles soon found them, Tails flew them home, and they ended up resting on opposite couches from each other.

While she read the insisted book about King Arther, the one Sonic kept trying to convince her had happened to him being pulled into it, making him miss one of their planned dates, he also reached over and held her hand, pretending to fall asleep.

She smiled as she read more of the book… wondering all the while…

“... Sonic?”

She knew he wouldn’t answer.

“If I am your strength… why do I feel like… I’m not?” She put the book down over her chest, turning to the couch’s spine to avoid looking over to him. “If I was your strength… I wouldn’t have shut you into that tree hole den… I would have trusted that I could get you out of there… carry you to safety, and reunite with Tails and Knuckles again to save the day.”

While she spoke, Sonic pretended to be asleep, but listened closely.

“... Then… When you braved the pain of your leg to stand beside me..? I knew then… that while you were down, so was my strength.” She teared up, “But when you got up…” Her voice began to wane and take on a higher tune, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her glove. Her lips trembled, but she continued, “I… I need you more than I think you need me, Sonic… And that… That worries me.” She sniffled, “Cause… Cause what if I’m needy? What if… without you… I’m nothing short of a useless girl?”

Sonic made a loud snore, then. It cut her off as she said ‘useless’.

She turned to see his head straight up at the ceiling, his mouth open wide,... “Ammmy…” He lightly spoke, as though asleep. “Ammmyyy…” His hand acted as though reaching for her hand, but it was already there…

That’s when she noticed, her grip on his hand had slipped somewhat, and she held it tightly but gently once more.

Sonic’s breathing went back to normal… and Amy smiled till her cheeks hurt.

“Oh, Sonic…” She giggled through her light tears and wiped them all away this time. “Even if I don’t understand what strength I give you… Just knowing… that together, we’re stronger? That’s enough for me… Cause right now, you getting better is all I care about.” She sighed and went back to the book.

She gasped when she looked at her hand and saw Sonic had tugged it closer.

“A-ah… Ow, ow, Sonic!” He was dragging her off the other couch. “Sonic! Ow! I’ll fall!”

He started to turn, as though in his sleep, snoring again and making Amy stumble out of the couch as he wrapped her arm around his waist.

She pouted a cute blush, but then sighed, “I know you’re not asleep, silly… Your actual snore is totally different.” She gave in, moving her bandaged self to lift up his head and place him on her lap, patting his shoulder and humming a tune.

Sonic closed his mouth, the jig was up, and he just smiled as she tried to actually lull him to sleep.

Though he had to let go of her hand for her to do that, he reached under his body to get at the hand that was resting just by his neck… and she smiled at how sweet that was…

“... You are my strength, Sonic.” She leaned down, continuing to hum.

When she had actually fallen to sleep, Sonic placed her laying on the couch he was momentarily on, replacing her, and before hopping to the other one, placed a hand on her head and lightly whispered, “You’re more than my strength, Amy… You're my whole heart, entirely.”

In the morning, Amy woke up to find Tails in a tissy, worried sick as Sonic had somehow miraculous snuck out of his workshop home and was nowhere to be found.

A moment of panic did course through Amy, before thinking to herself, ‘... If he’s strong again, then I’ll be strong too.’ and went back to not worrying about him… resting… as she smiled at feeling secure again in that–as long as Sonic was up and about, she’d be pretty soon as well!

#sonamy #sonicxamy #sonic fanfic #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #cutegirlmayra #me writing

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