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hopelesslygaysstuff · 10 months

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Hi 🥰 idk if u remember me but im rainb0wdrafts from ao3! Saw on your bio that ure taking request soooo uhmm can I request a fluffy / smutty wanda x fem reader fic based on a song Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko? 🥺 or if ure not feeling that particular song, any song that would inspire u from her Expectations album.

P. S.

still cant wait for the ending of Sparkling Scarlett. I’m having mixed emotions about it rn JSKSKSLLSLS

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you try to get your mind off of Wanda in a crowded nightclub, and she finds you there and eases your cravings for her.

content warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

A/N: omg hiiii!! i totally hadn't listened to that song before, so i listened to it on repeat while i figured out the vibes and plot line lol. i was basically feeling nightclub vibes with wanda and fem!reader going feral for each other. i hope you like it ◡̈

you literally cured my writers block so thank u 🙏, i really don't want Sparkling Scarlet to end either😭

photo cred: me, i literally made the photo in photoshop lol. anyways.

Craving You

The nightclub reverberated with an electric energy that filled every inch of the air. A symphony of pulsing lights painted the space in vibrant hues, dancing in synchrony with a mesmerizing blend of bass-heavy rhythms. It resonated in the bones of those who stood on the crowded dance floor.

You danced along, your body swaying to the pounding tempo as your feet started to tingle, the vibrations palpable in the stifling air. The atmosphere was a sensory overload, a place where time blurred, and your inhibitions dissolved as your friends brought you yet another shot.

Shooting down the clear liquid, you grimaced at the taste, attempting not to cough it back up as your friend patted you on the back. Looking up, you saw Kate’s already flushed face as she lazily scanned the room.

“Just go and find her already,” You said, feeling your senses starting to dull as the vodka left a pleasant burn in your chest. “I promised you I’d be here as a wingwoman tonight!”

Kate looked over at you, her face giddy with the anticipation of finally talking to her long-time crush, Yelena. You laughed, grabbing the slightly crumpled water bottle from her grasp and uncapping it. Forcing the bottle against her lips, you watch her gulp down the water.

Hastily pulling the bottle away, you take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. “Don’t gulp it all down Kate, you’ll get sick that way.” You chastised, only half joking. You really didn’t want to spend another night holding Kate’s hair as she spewed her guts into a nightclub toilet.

Gently shoving her away, you gave Kate a light pep talk. It mostly consisted of complimenting her outfit, as she’d stressed about it all day. You had helped her pick the dress, a stunning knee length fabric that shimmered with each passing ray of multi-colored light. Kate spun in a small circle as you showered her with compliments, before finally turning away and laughing, her eyes scanning the room for Yelena.

“But wait!” Kate exclaimed, swaying slightly as she gripped your upper arm tightly. She struggled to focus on your face, finally making eye contact. “You haven't had enough alcohol to get your mind properly off of her yet.”

You sighed, letting out a breath into the already warm air. The atmosphere dimmed slightly, the stale air swirling around you as you remembered the true reason you’d let Kate drag you along. In all honesty, you’d never been much of a party girl. You always preferred a night in, sipping tea as you watched a sitcom with your girlfriend.

And there it was, the one thing you’d been trying not to think about.

Shooting Kate a look, you shook your head. “I don’t think alcohol is going to help much.” She gave you an apologetic look, and you gave her a slightly firmer push towards the dance floor. She turned slowly, and upon seeing a flash of dirty blonde hair, quickly left your side in pursuit.

Turning back towards the bar, you squinted against the flashing lights, already feeling a headache coming on as the vibrant mix of reds and blues swirled against the walls. Pushing through a tangle of sweaty, dancing bodies, you snagged a seat towards the end of the bar. You ordered a shirley temple (you really did miss Wanda), and sat back against the wall. Choosing to give your eyes a rest from the mass of bodies dancing in an uncoordinated pattern, you let your eyes unfocus as you stared into the dark red of your drink.

Wanda had unfortunately been called away, her position as head of her company demanding more hours as the summer season hit. She’d left immediately after a late night phone call, grabbing her pre-packed bag and sweeping out of your shared home. She’d promised that it wouldn’t be too long of a trip, and that she’d call you every day. That was three weeks ago.

She did call you every day, but spoken words weren’t enough for you. You wanted to be held by her, falling asleep in her arms as she laughed along quietly to the sitcoms playing in the background. You wanted to kiss her again, like it was the last time you’d ever embrace her lips with yours, frenzied and passionate. The sound of her voice through a phone, knowing she was miles away, couldn’t compare to the way she would hold you close with your breaths intermingling as you pulled each other impossibly closer.

Fuck, you missed her with every fibre of your being.

Shaking off your suddenly melancholic thoughts, you scanned the room for Kate. The mess of brown curls was lost in the sea of moving bodies, and you focused on the first flash of blonde you saw. Upon seeing Yelena, you smiled at the sight of Kate standing mere inches away from her. Your mission was accomplished, and all you had to do was not think about Wanda.

How utterly disappointing it was, when your thoughts wandered back to her. Back to her soft red curls, slightly frizzy as they splayed across her bare back. You always swore you woke up next to an angel everyday, and Wanda would laugh as she showered you with kisses. Her laugh, flowing from her lips with a melodic grace as her lips danced softly across your skin. Back to her freckles, a constellation neatly scattered across her features that you had attempted to count many times. Back to her waist and hips, the slow curve that you dragged your fingertips over, until you finally reached her…

A hand against your waist startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly as you turned in your seat. Setting your drink down on the counter top, not wanting to enter into the range past tipsy, you looked up.

A sea of red curls filled your vision, and your eyes slowly widened as you drank in the sight of Wanda standing before you. She had a hand in her pocket, the other stroking your hip in slow circles as your brain attempted to process. Her vibrant green eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched the multiple emotions you were feeling flit across your face. Her skin was lit with the ever-changing hues of the nightclub, and you started to feel as though you were in a cinematic movie scene.

“Not a movie sweetheart.” Wanda said, her velvety voice wrapping around your head and sinking you further into a trance. You could hear the undercurrent teasing, but elected to ignore it in favor of staring at her. Staring at her ridiculously attractive cheekbones, at her sharp jaw and shining eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Jolting out of your seat, finally processing the fact that she wasn’t a figure of your imagination, you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders as you sunk into a well-known embrace. Your bodies molded together, and you felt her arms tighten securely around your waist. You couldn’t make yourself pull away, letting the hum of the nightclub fade into insignificance as you attempted to convey the depth of your emotions through your embrace. Wanda nestled further into your arms, your breaths synchronizing as you held each other.

Breathing deeply, you buried your nose into her hair as the familiar scent of vanilla filled your senses. For some reason, that gave you enough strength to pull away, but only far enough so you could see Wanda’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was slightly breathy as you eagerly drank in the sight of her. She gazed down at you, her eyes fitting to your parted lips as you exhaled shakily. She smiled, leaning in closer until her lips touched the shell of your ear. You shuddered.

“My trip ended a bit later than expected,” Wanda started, her tongue flicking out against your ear. You felt her smirk against you as a shiver ran down your spine. “And I didn’t want to wait until you got home to finally see you, so I came to you.”

A large smile made its way onto your face. Your girlfriend, who had just flown miles back home and who was probably jetlagged as hell, had made the decision to walk into a grungy nightclub in search of you. At the mere thought of how much effort she’d put into seeing you, you crashed your lips against hers.

Her lips met yours with an equal amount of ferocity, and you felt her dragging you away from the bar as she sucked your bottom lip between her teeth. You followed happily, all of your thoughts invested solely on the woman you were clinging to. She pulled you through a doorway, the security team waving her through as they recognized her well known status.

You could barely think, a certain fuzziness overtaking your mind as it focused solely on Wanda. You focused on your hands against her shoulders, the way your fingertips brushed against the overheated skin of her neck and tangled in the loose curls that fell around her shoulders. After a desperate tug of her hair, Wanda pulled away briefly to push open a door, before shutting it and pushing you harshly against the solid wood.

“Hi sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her lips grazing yours as she caught her breath. Her cheeks held an adorable flush, and her eyes shined as they roamed over your heaving chest and shaky legs. Her hands pressed your hips firmly against the door, and you squirmed slightly as you attempted to pull her closer.

“I missed you.”

The words flowed from you desperately, and Wanda smiled at the whimper in your voice. She always loved you like this, when you were soft, pliant and so eager to please. She allowed herself to be pulled closer, until the front of her body was flush with yours. You rolled your hips against her, letting out a choked noise from the back of your throat as you relieved some of the aching pressure that had built between your legs.

Letting her teeth graze your jaw slightly, Wanda focused on marking the soft skin of your neck as you panted beneath her. Her hands stilled your rolling hips, and you whined as she pulled back to look at your desperate form.

“What exactly did you miss?” She asked, raising a single eyebrow as you struggled to get your brain to work.

Catching a glimpse of the soft bed behind you, and realizing that Wanda had pushed you into one of the private backrooms of the nightclub, you pushed gently against her shoulders. Allowing you to walk her backwards, Wanda let out a surprised puff of air when the backs of her knees met the mattress.

Moving to straddle her, you tangled your fingers with her smooth curls once more as you tilted her head back. With your lips against her temple, you breathed in the familiar heady scent that was so wholly Wanda as you murmured, “I’ll show you.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around your waist, keeping you on her lap as you ran your hands over cheeks and jaw, fingers ghosting over her skin as you started speaking. “I missed your annoyingly perfect eyebrows,” She let out a surprised giggle, raising them playfully as you laughed. Bringing a single finger down to her lips, you placed it against her bottom lip. “I missed your lips, so soft and kissable, and the words that drip from them wherever you speak.”

Tilting your head down, you placed a gentle kiss against her lips, pulling back when she attempted to deepen it. Wanda furrowed her brows as you pulled away, but you smiled softly and placed your finger against her lips once more as she tried to speak. “Hush love, I’m not done.”

Sitting back, Wanda watched your face as your eyes followed the path your other hand traced down her neck. As your fingers ghosted over the column of her throat and danced along her collarbone, she gently sucked your finger into her mouth. Your eyes flew back to hers in surprise, but she simply smiled around your finger, her tongue swirling around the heavy pad as you watched with parted lips.

You groaned, finding it hard to concentrate as you watched Wanda suck on your finger like it was the best thing she’d had in her mouth for a while. You placed another finger against her lips, and watched in an almost trancelike state as she sucked that one in as well. Her eyes closed slightly as she sucked, and she let out a low moan as your other hand tightened against her shoulder.

The sound startled you out of your daze, and spurred you on. Reaching down, you removed your fingers from her mouth as you swiftly pulled her expensive blouse over her head. Throwing the article somewhere behind you, you brought your fingers back to her parted lips and sighed as you felt the wet heat of her mouth encircle them once more.

“I missed your skin,” You said breathily, running a hand over her toned arms as they pulled you further onto her lap. You gasped as your core met her pelvis, and tried not to grind your hips down against hers. Unclasping her bra, she helped you take it off as you ran your fingers over her perspiring skin. Leaning down, you let your tongue drag against her, collecting the slightly salty taste as you traced a path from the tops of her breasts all the way to her ear.

“I missed the way you feel against me,” You whispered, and she reached up to pull your fingers out of her mouth. In one smooth motion, she pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra, both items landing somewhere with a soft thump as she maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the bed.

You giggled slightly, feeling her hot breath against your overheated skin as she drank in the sight of you. She leaned closer, her lips parted as her eyes focused on the smooth skin of your neck, but you placed your hands firmly against her shoulders. Pushing back, you ignored the frustrated look she sent you, shushing her as you guided her to lay against the sheets.

Your hips still straddled hers, and after sitting back up, you rolled them slightly as you gazed down on Wanda’s form. She lay beneath you, her chest heaving as her eyes roamed your nude chest, her hair splayed out across the dark sheets.

“I missed your tits.” You said cheekily, reaching out your hands as your fingers pinched her nipples gently. Instead of reprimanding you like she normally would, Wanda let out a soft moan as she squirmed slightly, her hands tightening on your thighs. You felt your breath catch, the heat in your belly flaring at the sight.

Leaning down, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, letting unrestrained moans into her mouth as she kissed you back with equal ferocity. Panting, you parted from her as you trailed your lips down her neck until you reached the soft skin of her breast. Sucking gently, you placed a few hickeys against her skin, sighing when her hand reached up to tug at your hair.

Wanda’s hand clenched tightly, bringing tears to your eyes when you finally let your mouth encircle her tight nipple. Letting out a pained noise, you breathed deeply as she glanced down apologetically, her hand relaxing slightly. Flicking your tongue, you pulled more moans from her as you played with her chest. You could feel your bodies sliding against each other as the heat from your desperation built.

Deciding to give the poor woman some relief, you detached your lips from her chest, admiring her puffy nipples as she groaned. Wanda’s hands became more desperate as you descended her body, tugging your head closer to her overheated skin as your lips grazed the top of her pants. She let out a desperate whine, and your eyebrows shot up at the sound.

“I missed your hips.” You traced your fingers over the faint stretch marks you found there as you pulled her pants down in a quick motion. Your fingers mapped out a path along her skin as you traced the mole near her belly button, and the soft raised scar on her hip from when she’d fallen out of a tree when she was five. Moving further down, you spread her legs as you knelt between them, letting your lips trace a path from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. You sighed softly as the scent of her arousal reached your nose, and you nuzzled your face into the soft skin of her inner thighs as her legs attempted to close around your head.

You shook your head out of the clouds, blinking as Wanda hips frantically raised against your palms. You looked up, watching her heaving chest and admiring her strong jaw as she threw her head back against the mattress. One hand was clenching the dark sheets under her, and your eyes widened at the sight of her white knuckles. The other hand gripped your wrist tightly, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against your sweaty skin as her legs tightened around you.

Placing your hands firmly against her thighs, you spread her legs as she bucked her hips. Letting her hand tangle with your hair, you chuckled as she attempted to press your face against her dripping center. You admired the wet spot forming against her underwear, blowing a stream of cool air against her core as she writhed beneath you.

“Please.”

You let out a moan of your own at her plea, before quickly stripping her of her underwear and leaving her completely bare against the sheets. You barely had a moment to admire her pale form against the dark fabric before her hand was tugging your head closer to her once more.

Placing a gentle kiss against her protruding clit, you smirked as her hips jerked. “I missed your scent,” You murmured, unsure if she could actually hear you over her own desperate moans. “I miss the way you taste against my tongue, and the way you roll your hips when I finally lean in for a taste.”

Wanda’s moans turned into desperate pleas, her hips now uncontrollably rutting against the mattress as she searched for any sort of release. Taking mercy on her, you finally leaned down and swiped your tongue against her core. Moaning at the taste, you circled your lips around her clit as she babbled incoherently while thrusting her hips against your face.

The grip of her hands in your hair caused tears to spring into your eyes once more, but you ignored it. Sucking harder, you urged her hips to buck faster against your face as her moans became more breathy. You felt her jerk unsteadily against you, her hips losing their rhythm as she neared her climax, incoherent words streaming from her lips.

Sucking her clit in between your teeth, you bit down gently while swirling your tongue around it, and Wanda lost what little control she had left. Her legs tensed around your head, squeezing tightly as her body shook. Her clit pulsed on your tongue, and you smirked as a wave of wetness hit your chin. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she let out a throaty moan. Her fingers locked in your hair, her hand firmly pressing you against her spasming core as she rode out the last few waves of her orgasm.

You licked your lips clean after finally coming up for air, her legs relaxing just enough for you to pull away slightly. As soon as you caught your breath, you dived right back in and savored the rich taste of her against your tongue. As you slipped your tongue inside her, you decided that you would do whatever it took to always have Wanda within arms reach. You simply couldn’t fathom being separated from her for an extended period of time again, and you quickly lost yourself in the drug that was Wanda Maximoff.

A trembling breath brought your attention back to the woman still sprawled on the sheets. Her legs trembled around your head as you slipped your tongue in and out of her still-leaking center. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally locked those viridescent green eyes on yours. As soon as you made eye contact, you smiled against her core as you brought your fingers up to circle her clit slowly.

Pulling away, you licked the taste of Wanda from your lips as you slipped two fingers into her without warning. You kept your eyes locked with hers as you slowly started pumping your fingers, and Wanda’s eyes lidded as she attempted to keep her gaze on you.

Smirking devilishly, you licked a slow circle around her swollen clit before placing a kiss directly on top of it. Resting your cheek against her inner thigh, you kept your gaze on her as the sounds of your fingers roughly slamming into her filled the room. Her slick juices spilled onto the sheets as your fingernails dug into her hip in an attempt to keep her hips in place.

“I crave you, Wanda.” Your sultry voice tipped her further towards the edge, and Wanda threw her head back against the mattress as she let out a stream of curse words.

You curled your fingers as you stroked that very sensitive spot inside her, pressing firmly into the spongy walls as you sucked her clit between your lips. Wanda’s back arched, and she practically lifted herself off the bed as she reached her climax once again. This time, you hummed against her as she rode out the aftershocks, and her third orgasm snuck up on her and ripped through her body like a wildfire.

Throughout it all, you were relentless. Your fingers kept up their bruising pace as your lips chased her clit. You were starting to get light headed as Wanda’s legs squeezed your head, the hand in your hair not allowing you to escape her grasp. Wanda’s hips jerked against you, and she let out a few whimpers as the hand in your hair started pushing against your head.

“Too much sweetheart, too much.” Wanda choked out, panting in relief when you finally pulled away. She let herself relax fully against the mattress, rolling away from the center of the bed when the damp sheets grew uncomfortable beneath her. You emerged from the small in-suite bathroom with a damp washcloth. Hushing her, you gently brought the warm washcloth to her slick skin as you cleaned her up.

You couldn’t resist one final taste, and after swiping your tongue to collect the juices still flowing from her slit, you finished cleaning your girlfriend and collapsed on the bed beside her.

“Well.” Wanda said, and you laughed at her inability to speak as she rolled into your side and buried her face against your bare shoulder.

Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, you breathed in her familiar vanilla scent as she pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around her as she draped her legs over yours in an attempt to mold her body against you. You let a hand start running through her hair, detangling it slightly as she fully relaxed into you.

“I missed your laugh.” You said, and Wanda hummed against your shoulder. You began speaking again, your words filling the non-existent space between the two of you. “I missed the crinkle of your eyes whenever you smile at me, and I missed cuddling with you and watching sitcoms. I missed the breakfasts that you cook, and I missed putting away the dishes with you afterwards.”

You laughed then, not believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I mean, who misses doing the dishes?” You snorted, burying your face back into Wanda’s hair. “Only a fool in love would miss doing the most mundane task.”

Wanda tilted her face until she was looking at you, her green eyes shining up at you. “You love me?” Her voice was colored in surprise, and her face turned hopeful.

Blinking, you realize the words that had just slipped out. “I mean… yeah.” You began, running your fingers through her hair nervously as you met her wide green eyes. “I hope that’s alright, I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back right now or anything, but yeah.” You trailed off, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks at your accidental admission.

One of Wanda’s hands came up to rest against your cheek, and she tilted your flushed face back towards her. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled brightly up at you. “I love you too sweetheart.”

Your heart started pounding, and a wide smile broke out on your face as you excitedly started peppering Wanda’s face with kisses. “I love you too!” You exclaimed as she laughed, her hands wrapping around the back of your neck as she pulled you in for a proper, searing kiss.

Pulling away after a few long seconds, you rested your forehead against hers as an uncontrollable grin overtook your lips. Time stood still as you both basked in the newfound confessions you’d made. Wanda’s fingers grazed your jaw, her touch gentle and grounding as your mind raced with excitement.

In that moment, as your foreheads remained gently pressed together, you knew that this was the beginning of an exhilarating chapter of your life. One that Wanda would be by your side in, her hand pressed in yours as you faced the world and conquered any obstacles that may come your way. As you lingered in each other's gentle embrace, the world outside faded into insignificance, and you knew that you had finally found true love.

#mommy wanda #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #mcu #marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda marvel #wanda #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x you #bottom wanda maximoff #fanfiction #writing #lesbian

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crow-girl-cock · 3 months

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Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

click this.

now for introduction.

my name is Renée Corbeau

but you can call me ren or crow

I love crows! they feel like family to me and I hope next cycle I get to experience the life of a crow.

I have gone through alot in life and fancy myself some sort of activist by proxy of that pain, am I perfect? fuck no! I am still learning and probably operate under toxic bias still despite all the effort I have put into growth.

I'm adhd, autistic, anxious, depressive, dissacioative, probably some degree of plurality.

I'm a gender non-conforming transwoman, definitely puppy coded, and severely down bad for women, especially butch women!

that being said the human body is beautiful. especially fat bodies, I'm a sucker for meat :3

all my guys, gals, and non binary pals deserve kisses (assuming that they want them)

I love gender fuckery, people who actively blur those lines are doing the lords work.

despite being very friendly and appearing slightly outgoing sometimes, I am very shy and dont have a very large social battery.

if I ever dont repespond dont take it personally there are loads of reasons why this could be.

U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U

I am kind of a red mage when it comes to special interests, I know a little bit about alot.

(all lists are not ordered and not exhaustive)

some examples include;

from gaming~ pokemon, zelda, elderscrolls, darksouls, minecraft, osu!, space sims (elite dangerous, astroneer, dyson sphere project, hardspaceshipbreaker), roguelikes (noita, deadcells, gungeon, vagante, slaythespire)

from other media~ pokemon again, bluey, adventure time, atla, bee and puppycat, studio ghibli (nausicaa is goat), csm, bleach, dragonball, naruto, she-ra, JJK

from *gasps* real life~

space (and metaphysics), nature (it's peculiarities and the many funky adorable little guys born in it) I'm definitely a poser but skateboarding and rollerskating (I really want to get into rollerderby) philosophy (to the extent that any skid is);

History!

(not as well read as I would like becasue there is so much of it, and so much of the truth is buried under misinformation, but I have deconstructed the whole western myth of how things went and painted myself a much clearer picture as to how things got so bad and am learning new things about the world all the time, please feel free to info dump about anything history related I'd love to hear it. anthropology and archaeology too obvs)

Art!

(this is my choosen field for better or worse >⁠.⁠< I am going to college for web and graphic design (2024-2026) I might extend that an extra 2 years to make it a bachelor of design and hope to one day make graphic novels, beautifully illustrated with deep thought prevoking stories)

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

Kink! (definitely subject to change)

petplay, musk, intox, bondage, impact, cnc, degradation, somno, hypno, blood, knives, size difference probably more I haven't thought of

I'm poly and very t4t

I'm a switch but this hellsite has been steadily turning me into a bottom day by day heheh

but no actually

I used to be a hypersexual dom pre-transition

but E has made me alot less uncontrollably horny and far more sensitive and inclined to seek vulnerability, all my drive to dom has dissolved

also I suck at tagging and will sometimes will reblog art/random things from tags without checking bios

if that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable please see the block button for more info ;3c

.♡. .♡. .♡.

anyways since you made it this far

here have some headpats

spread kindness please and thank you ^v^

As above, So below.

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

#crøwø #crøwcaw #crøwscanvas

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clarabowmp3 · 5 days

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here's what I love about loml: the melody and lyrics fit together so well that nothing sounds clunky, but she's still not compromising on artistic value. in fact, i'd say the shorter lyrics enhance the quality as its just sucker punch after sucker punch. the cadence of most of the song (as per the line fragments) sounds like someone taking short breaths, as if debilitatingly encumbered by emotion. or, if we take it further in the context of the funeral motif, like someone taking their last breaths.

there is this 'duality' (opposites) to the song in sooo many ways: first in the lyrics (never before/never since, one kiss/getting married, alive/cemetery, low-down boy/stand-up guy, all time/momentary, "I'll never leave"/"never mind") then in the first chorus she paints a picture of a wedding but its almost unnervingly unclear because of all the funeral diction (cemetery, killing time, (holy) ghost). as the song shifts from 'love' to 'loss,' the wedding image gets juxtaposed by one of a funeral, and YET there are parts where the two blur together (suit and tie, at some point that glow starts to feel like a hole) -> which I feel so perfectly represents the tension in that relationship where there is such a fine line separating the two harsh extremes.

even as the duality starts to dissolve past the first chorus (more emphasis on the 'loss' --> con man, get-love-quick scheme (scam), hole), the tender melody and pleasingly smooth vocals remain which creates this unsettling effect since that quiet peace has been flipped on its head to be turned into this quiet devastation. taking it one step further, the fact that this song is phrased to be written completely in hindsight (past tense throughout) it makes the quiet unassuming joy the speaker gets from their fictional wedding feel even more tragic.

by the time we get to the second chorus there is minimal ambiguity in her tone, it is 100% fully one of mourning and bordering on anger (as seen in the bridge). even in her contemptuous 'Mr. Steal Your Girl,' she follows it up with how hurt she feels over him calling her the love of his life as if she can't even be properly/fully angry at this person. in fact, that line is at the end of the chorus, almost symbolising how she can feel as angry as she wants at him, but despite all that there's this underlying grief and despair over his inability to follow through with his love-of-his-life promises. as the message gets clearer, the message/feeling of the song hits harder as there is less confusion or ambiguity.

in the bridge, there's this fantastical image of 'dancing phantoms' which reignites that confusion in the song with the added instability from the sinister image of the phantoms, plus the cadence of the song increases, she's talking faster now and there's less 'empty room,' indicating more pointed/stronger emotion. with the song's tone of this bone-deep grief, the 'terrace' might be a very very subtle nod to suicidal ideation, emphasis on the might. throughout the song she rattles btw love and loss, so this sudden suggestion that it was 'counterfeit' casts doubt on the validity of her emotions in the first place.

here we also start to move past from the duality as indicated by the three tiers of legendary -> momentary -> unnecessary, as if she is washing her hands of the whole affair ('should've let it STAY BURIED'). this lyric also indicates her moving past the duality as letting something stay buried implies that it has already been buried, ie its 'funeral' has passed, and the funeral motif was used as part of the duality representation from earlier.

anyways all this to say for most of the reasons above ^^ this song also gives me STRONG corpse bride vibes of which i made an edit here if anyone's interested :)

#this has been a loml appreciation postTM #this analysis is my baby i'll be pinning it for a while #loml #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department #lyric analysis

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themadknightuniverse · 1 year

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Love of Fate

Summary:

What happens when you are a cartel boss and you die in a lab in construction? What happens to your soul?

Warnings: Death, blood, injuries. Word count: 885 words, One Shot.

READ ON AO3

When Lalo dies he laughs. The metallic taste fills his mouth as a gargling sound escapes his throat, warm blood pouring around his neck.

He laughs because he lost. He failed. He dies hidden in the shadows, somewhere he’ll never be found. And it's so pathetic. He wasn’t hoping to live for much longer, it was already exceptional to still be alive after so many years in the cartel. Yet, now that the moment has come, a foreign feeling is crawling under his skin. Fear. What happens to your soul when you die in a place like this?

His fear melts away as Death finally takes his last breath from him. His vision darken and the little he could see vanishes.

When he opens his eyes again, the fear strikes back into him like a lightning bolt, so powerful it shakes his body. Pain radiates from his throat again, excruciating, and his hand flies to it but the blood stopped flowing. He struggles to breathe, still lying on the ground. Everything is so dark around him. Is it what his existence will be from now on? Is it what happens to the souls who dies, put down by hatred, in the den of another wolf?

« Don’t fight it. »

Lalo stills. He blinks at the black expanse filling the space where the ceiling must be.

« The pain will disappear if you stop fighting it. »

Lalo conveys all his strength to turn his head to the side a little. Just enough to see the shape of a man standing not so far, his silhouette cut by the dusty ray of light. He can barely see him with the way his vision blurs, but there is no mistaking the softness of this voice.

« Don’t try to breathe. You don’t need to anymore. »

Ignacio steps closer, in his slow and cautious way. Soon enough he’s standing right beside Lalo, towering over him, and now Lalo can discern his face. A mask made of stone, as always. Only Ignacio's eyes shines with something alive, something incandescent. Lalo blinks, and a tear runs along his temple.

You think I forgot what you did? Lalo tries to say. But he can't speak.

"No."

Lalo looks at Ignacio, bewilderment painting his features.

"I can hear your thoughts." And you can hear mines.

Ignacio's voice resonate in his mind, so soft and close. It never felt this close, even when Ignacio's mouth whispered words in the shell of his ear, mind fogged by the bliss of their embrace. And in this moment, it calms him.

Lalo recovers his usual self-control. He stops his desperate attempts at breathing. It's weird not to breathe, yet he realizes Ignacio isn't lying. He doesn't need air anymore. Slowly, the shaking stops, the contractions of his body almost disappear. As he keeps his eyes in Ignacio's burning ones, the pain in his throat dissolves.

"Com' on, get up."

His body still jerks a little as he moves to sit, his hands unsteady on the dirt as he goes to his knees. Ignacio stays still beside him as he finally manages to stand, never helping him. Their eyes meet again, and everything is so silent. Yet it's not. Lalo can hear the little voice of Ignacio's mind muffled behind a curtain, his inner monologue unintelligible. Their private thoughts are still their own property, it seems.

Now that he is standing and the panic stopped, his focus is better. His eyes roam over Ignacio.

It's eerie to see Ignacio in a white shirt. The pattern of black dots and lines creating crosses, the material stained with dark red smears near the point where it opens over his chest. The absence of gold chains there is bizarre. Ignacio's skin is covered in a mix of dust and dried blood, his cheekbones and nose ridge dusted with a myriad of tiny red spots. On each sides of his head are two bigger wounds. Dark lines of dried blood run along the side of his face and down his neck.

Lalo tries to speak again, but no sound comes out. His hand flies to where he knows the bullet wound lies. Even with the pain gone, his voice is still lost.

But he doesn't need to ask. Because deep down he already knows. He knew since he first heard his voice down here. He knew since he woke up in this after life.

Because he knows everything, he realizes. He sees it all in Ignacio's memories. All the lies, all the manipulation, all the hesitations, all the regrets, all the fondness, all the love. And it shines so bright, like a fire, alluring yet screaming danger. Fire always made Lalo's mind go into a peaceful place.

It makes the rising anger fade as quickly as it materialized. Because it doesn't make sense anymore. Because they are in a reality where they are immortal beings. Because they have each other. Because it's only the two of them left here. Because they are soulmates.

Ever so slowly, Ignacio's fingers barely touch his hand covered in blood, still around his throat. Lalo's fingers twitch, a last tremor from his awakening, and he releases his grip. Their hands find each other, fingers squeezing, caressing softly.

Lalo smiles. And Ignacio smiles back.

#soulmates AU my beloved #lacho #lacho fanfic #love of fate #it's actually the title of a music from the album “Elpis” composed by Christen Lien #if you ever wonder #text post #fanfic #lalo salamanca #nacho varga

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abellinthecupboard · 10 months

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Monet Refuses the Operation

Doctor, you say there are no haloes around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction. I tell you it has taken me all my life to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels, to soften and blur and finally banish the edges you regret I don’t see, to learn that the line I called the horizon does not exist and sky and water, so long apart, are the same state of being. Fifty-four years before I could see Rouen cathedral is built of parallel shafts of sun, and now you want to restore my youthful errors: fixed notions of top and bottom, the illusion of three-dimensional space, wisteria separate from the bridge it covers. What can I say to convince you the Houses of Parliament dissolve night after night to become the fluid dream of the Thames? I will not return to a universe of objects that don’t know each other, as if islands were not the lost children of one great continent. The world is flux, and light becomes what it touches, becomes water, lilies on water, above and below water, becomes lilac and mauve and yellow and white and cerulean lamps, small fists passing sunlight so quickly to one another that it would take long, streaming hair inside my brush to catch it. To paint the speed of light! Our weighted shapes, these verticals, burn to mix with air and change our bones, skin, clothes to gases. Doctor, if only you could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms and how infinitely the heart expands to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

— Lisel Mueller

#Monet Refuses the Operation #Lisel Mueller #poetry #Claude Monet #Monet #literature

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leopardcoffee · 3 months

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I've got the bull by the horns (2/5)

Captain Solok/Captain!Reader

🫧Warnings: emotional distress, arguments

🫧Notes: femme aligned reader, this is an AO3 reupload! The finished story can be found there :)

Part 1

But tomorrow never fails to come, because it is always today. And today, he arrives.

The T’kumbra was due to dock ahead of schedule, leave it to Solok to be early, you mused. Sitting tight at your station was consuming all your mental discipline. You were certain Dax could tell you weren’t working, but Kira had presumably filled her in as to why you were so distressed, and didn’t say anything. Why bother to hide that kind of information anyway, you thought, the more people who knew and could steer him away from you, the better.

Despite waking up this morning repeating the mantra that you hated him, you knew you had given your all into your appearance today, Your uniform was pressed, nails freshly painted, hair adequately tamed. Surveying Opps, it was clear that no one besides yourself seemed to care about the momentous occasion that was set to occur today. It was just you who was tearing their hair out over Solok’s impending arrival. Everything was going well, yet you still worried. Kira had made sure to pack your schedule for the rest of the week, keeping you preoccupied and way out of his way. Even so, you just couldn’t focus on the task at hand. All it was was some sensor readings from the wormhole, but even that was undoable for the present moment.

“Captain, the T’kumbra requests permission to dock.” Miles disturbed your peace with his announcement. Whatever fragile measure of composure you had been hanging onto dissolved, and your anxiety overwhelmed you. It took a great deal of effort to hide the fact that you were shaking from everyone else in Opps, and if anyone noticed they stayed quiet.

“Permission granted.” Sisko sounded less on edge than you were hoping. If the two of you could commiserate together, then maybe he would sympathize with your plight and confine you to quarters. Seemingly, whatever feud between them had been put to rest. You were happy for him, but unhappy for yourself.

For the next few minutes, you poured over your schedule and tried to ignore the chill of uncertainty that was busy seeping into your bones. Opps was quiet, moments ago someone had given word that the T’kumbra had docked successfully and repairs would begin at once. Relaxing ever so slightly, you allowed yourself to slump back in your chair. Running your hands over your face, you groaned. All that worrying for nothing, he wasn’t coming to Opps because he was too busy overseeing his ship’s repairs. A sense of security flooded you, but it was short lived.

“Captain Sisko, it is agreeable to see you.”

You froze mid action, completely and wholly petrified. Not daring to glance at him, you shrunk further into your seat. Dax noticed your despair and walked in front of you, effectively shielding you from his line of vision. He followed Sisko into his office, clearly still unaware of your presence, and it wasn’t until he got to the steps that you finally got a good look at him.

The last time you had seen him, the two of you had been tangled up together in his bed. His glossy black hair was exactly as you remembered it. Everything about him screamed success, down to his polished boots. He wore the mark of his years just as you did, but where he had aged gracefully, time had turned you sour. While his expression was carefree, yours was forever drawn into a sneer.

Breathing shakily, you were grateful for Dax’s comforting hand on your shoulder. On unsteady legs, you rose and prepared to make your escape. The ground blurred beneath your feet as you navigated Opps, stumbling and tripping as you made your way to the turbolift. In the last few feet, just when you thought you were in the clear, you heard his voice.

“Commander, it has been a long time.”

In your peripheral vision, you could see him walking towards you, straight back and hands clasped. Fumbling to contain yourself, you slumped over onto the nearest console, not even bothering to respond to him. You felt sick to your stomach, the whole room was spinning violently. Panic had you in its hold and squeezed at your throat until you gasped for air.

“What do you want?” You spat.

“I would be remiss if I did not attempt to speak with you during my stay. Captain Sisko informed me you requested shore leave on Bajor last time I was on the station.” Solok quipped, stopping at your side. His eyes were piercing and his gaze unrelenting. Anxiety had rendered you utterly helpless. At least the other Opps personnel had the decency to look away.

“Leave me alone.” You said through gritted teeth. Somehow, you managed to stand up and look him in the eye. “Don’t speak to me, don’t come near me, I don’t want anything to do with you, understand?”

Solok’s reaction had not been what you were expecting. He recoiled from you and took a step back. “I am sorry Commander, it was not my intention to upset you. I merely wished to talk.”

“Well, you did. You had all the chances in the world to talk to me, and you wasted every single one. I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I have many things to say to you. Please, k’diwa, allow me to speak with you when you are feeling up to it.”

You were dimly aware of the gasp that Dax was unable to contain at the Vulcan term he had used. It was unfamiliar to your untrained ear, but it must have meant something to her. Not that it mattered to you, he could spare you his Vulcan insults.

“Maybe. Just leave me be for now, we’ll talk later.” You said, walking away from him as quickly as you could manage and hoping he wouldn’t have the audacity to follow you.

“I will not give up k’diwa, I must speak with you before I leave!” Solok called after you. Not bothering to respond, you leaned heavily against the wall of the turbolift and called for the habitat ring.

That was nothing short of a complete and total disaster. You had nearly passed out, disrespected a superior officer, and left Opps during your shift. All of that was not how you saw your morning going, but you couldn’t deal with the consequences of your actions right now, that was a problem for later.

#star trek #star trek ds9 #st ds9 #ds9 #captain solok #solok/reader #solok

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jellydishes · 10 months

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gonna post a big chunk of my vampire oc's bsckstory from my video game in progress just to remind myself that i write gud

1: What about yours, then?"

Fowler's entire stance stiffened, his hands twitching closed before deliberately opening again. "You've already asked about my story before. How vain do you believe me to be, that asking for second time will achieve a different answer?"

2: Very.

2A: For a moment, Fowler could only blink at you. Then he unexpectedly broke out into a chuckle, followed by a rich, rolling peal of laughter that bore little resemblance to the nervous giggle he displayed when close to hunger. "I suppose I deserved that, if not quite a bit more. Fine. Ask your questions. But I promise no answers… at least, none you will enjoy."

1: Let's start out with something easy. Where did you grow up?

1A: Fowler rolled his next words around his mouth as if he were tasting a fine wine. "I suppose this answer, at least, can be doled out. But it is not so easy as all that, if one moved as often as I did in my youth. But… Serbia, largely. Ukraine. Poland, for a time. If it can be affectionately called the old country by those who leave it, I have been there." Here he paused briefly. "My childhood was not nostalgic. There is nothing more to say. Next question."

1: Are you sure? What about it defied the definition?

1: Fowler's mouth twisted in an expression that was half smile, half a sneer that stretched the rarely seen tears in his skin up towards his ears, exposing more and more shark-like teeth. "Keep following that line of questioning, and I may show you."

1: Tell me. I'm not afraid to hear it.

2: I'm sorry that happened to you.

2A: Fowler actually took a step back, then another. His sneer dropped away entirely, exchanged for a look of utter bewilderment. "You-" He shook his head, and as he did, the confusion hardened into an anger so intense as to bare his teeth and flare his nostrils in search of air he no longer needed. "You're sorry? You hear that my childhood was ravaged by concepts you couldn't even begin to understand, and you are sorry?"

You opened your mouth to grasp for something, anything to say, but before you could, Fowler had moved with that strange, unnatural swiftness that looked almost like a mirage. Turning the air where he had been standing into a blur that was more of a smear of color an impressionist may have painted than where a person had been standing shortly before, and then he was standing before you, close enough to back you up on your heels.

"Tell me," Fowler snarled, "have you ever watched your entire family die from disease? Be stricken one by one from something that is laughed about today, ignored? Pitied? Dysentery. It took them all. Mother, father, brothers, twin. It should have taken me as well, except-"

"Except?" You asked with a gentleness that surprised even yourself.

"Except that as it did, someone arrived who decided that they knew better than God. And perhaps they did."

Fowler's strange, curious eyes were no longer looking quite at you. "Clarion. Their name was Clarion, and they took me by the hand and raised me from what should have been my grave. What I wanted to be. I should have died there with my family, and instead this- this unholy monster, beautiful in ways no one could possibly have been any longer in that place of death, perfect and untouched and clean-"

That look of confusion was back, or… something like it. Almost but not quite. Lost, perhaps would have been a better word for the expression that made his look of fury dissolve away as if it had never existed at all. "They wore white," he said, and his voice contained a memory of horror that made your skin crawl. "Do you understand? Everything I knew then had been tainted by death and disease and rot, and they wore white."

He made a strange, small, repetitive noise that you only slowly realized was either a sob or an attempt to gasp for breath that would never come. "I tried to escape. To crawl away. But they simply- plucked me up and out of the cart for the dead and the dying, and tucked me against their breast." He looked up at you wildly, and the lingering horror in his gaze fixed you to where you stood. "I was covered in rotting flesh and filth, and none of it touched them… Everywhere we touched, it- it burned-"

Fowler extended a grey-ish skinned hand that looked otherwise unblemished, and he stared at it with that same intensity he had just fixed upon you. "Right here. They burned me, right here. Do you see?" He thrust it in front of your face, close enough to almost touch, and shook it. "They took all of the proof that I belonged to the Earth and the dust with my family, and they burned it away, with nothing but a smile and a touch."

"And then they bit you?" You found yourself asking, and Fowler finally looked you in the eyes.

"Again, you ask the questions that don't matter. Of course they bit me. But it wasn't the bite that stays with me, or the pain of it, and oh, the pain, little bird… It was the fact that I couldn't taste my own blood anymore, or the tang of death that had infiltrated every atom, every iota of my being up until that point. I couldn't taste then or since, could barely feel my burns as they faded, my hands, my clothes… Everything was as clean as if newly created upon the spot, born again. Only there was no blood, do you see?"

He started to laugh, that high, nervous giggle that marked his moments of fear and hunger. "The most unholy of births… the taking of blood, of any proof you had ever been chosen to walk the Earth and then to die. I screamed," he tittered, "out of fear and pain and all in between. Clarion smiled at me, pitied me, the way you would at a puppy performing a trick incorrectly, and they said…" He blinked, rapidly. "Stand, and walk with me."

1: "You didn't though, right? Why would you?"

1A: You'd been thinking of everything you knew about Fowler before and even during this conversation, his resistance to both kindness and cruelty, his stubbornness and pride. But again he surprised you with another strained laugh, one that gave out before he was finished. "Of course I followed them," he gasped. "What else was left for me, in a world that had rejected the most human thing I had left? My death? I was become lost in a land of spirits and demons, and my only guide was the one who had stolen me from my cradle."

You grappled with what you could possibly say in response to that, and came up with…

1: "Was my turning anywhere near as bad as that?"

2: "I'll say it again: I'm sorry that happened to you."

3: "What do you need right now?"

4: "You should have stayed dead."

1A: Fowler's face went slack with some unidentifiable emotion before it tightened into a grimace. "Worse. Be grateful you don't remember it."

"But-"

"What do you want to hear?" He snapped. "That I stole you? That I burned away all trace of who you were until you don't even remember that you properly ought to despise me? I did, all that and more. Forget it, or the asking and the yearning for some sort of- of closure will consume you," Fowler bit out in a sneer that nonetheless ended with him dropping back a few steps. "Forget it. It is better left in the past."

1: "For who?" You demanded. "You or me?"

1A: "No one!" Fowler thundered in a shout that tumbled throughout the mausoleum and made dust and bits of plaster rain down from above. As you watched, you realized as if for the first time that none of the grit clung to him, to either of you. "...For no one," he repeated more quietly. "The asking will destroy us both if we allow it to, as it did me."

#fowler's game #vampire #vampire oc

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saltyinternetflower · 1 year

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Unlapped / Maxiel Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Daniel stood in front of the big glass window, looking at his blurred reflection mingled with the cityscape like a surreal painting.

Fifteen minutes back, he signed on the dotted line of his contract. The deal is done!

He tried to imagine the F1 headlines that'd be on every news portal soon enough.

Red Bull Gambles on Ricciardo

Ricciardo Risk Might Backfire on RBR

Red Bull's New Number Two Is No Match For Verstappen

Daniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was probably overthinking, but the idea to face the media for the first time after the news came out felt overwhelming.

Maybe he wasn't ready for it yet!

"Coffee?" Someone asked, breaking Daniel's train of thought.

It was Michael.

Daniel was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear him coming! Now he was standing behind him, a little knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"I thought the occasion calls for something stronger, like a beer, or a dozen Red Bulls maybe?" Daniel slapped Michael's shoulder a little too hard... Payback for startling him!

"Occasion? What occasion?" Michael feigned innocence, "I thought I'd have another nice year off, but look at me, back to the traveling circus already, would you believe that!" He huffed.

"Besides, it's only 11 in the morning. A little early for booze, if you ask me." Michael said with a smug smile on his face.

"Well, it's 5 pm somewhere, so enchante, mate...", Daniel argued, flashing his trademark toothy grin, which earned a mumbled "Cunt!" and a petulant eye roll from Michael.

"Alrighty! Coffee it is, gangsta", Daniel shrugged, following Michael to the ground floor pantry.

*****************************************

As Daniel was pouring himself a cup of espresso from the coffee-maker, he noticed a familiar face sitting across the hall. It was Will Paxton, the popular F1 journalist who had recently become a household name post his stint in Netflix's Drive To Survive.

Daniel nearly burnt his fingertips at the edge of the coffee cup when he finally saw who Will was interviewing!

The guy was wearing a plain grey t-shirt, a pair of fitted navy blue shorts, and a flat Red Bull cap. His back was turned towards Daniel, but the shape of him was all too familiar to Daniel.

Max!

Will's eyes flickered towards him, but Daniel gestured him to keep quiet. He can't let this opportunity to surprise Max pass. It was too good!

Daniel tiptoed behind Max with a naughty twinkle in his eyes and a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Hey mom, look, I'm on TV!" Daniel yelled excitedly, making Max almost jump out of his chair and Will dissolve into a feat of laughter.

Max turned sharply, and Daniel's loud cackle died in his throat! They were suddenly too close, and Daniel was stunned by how Max has matured. The built of his shoulders, the facial hair, and the sharp lines of his face showed he was no longer the awkward gangly teenager Daniel's used to know. The freckle on his lip could still send Daniel's dreams into a frenzy, and his eyes, blue as the ocean ...

Someone cleared their throat loudly, cutting through Daniel's trance. It was Will, who was now looking between Max and Daniel like he's smelling a scoop.

Max's face breaks into a breathtaking smile that made Daniel's knees go weak. He pulled the chair next to Max and plopped down on it.

"Daniel!" Max said in his thick accent, wrapping his hand around Daniel's shoulder and pulling him closer. Daniel let out a shakey breathe, a sudden warmth rising in his cheeks.

"Thanks for joining us, mate!" Will smiles, warm and welcoming. "How does it feel to be back?"

"Feels like home", Daniel exhaled deeply, feeling Max's hand giving his shoulder a little squeeze.

"Max, how do you plan to celebrate this reunion... Between you and Daniel?" Will turned towards Max.

"With a beer, of course! But first, I need to kick you out, cause three is a crowd", Max shrugged.

"Ouch! Guess I'm not invited to the party then..." Will clutched his chest in mock hurt.

"Sorry, it's a private party" Max bit his lower lip as he tried to suppress a smile at Will's theatrics.

"Come, Daniel, let's go..." Max tugged hard at Daniel's sleeves. He dragged him out of the pantry, as Will looked on, fond and amused. Michael, who was making himself a sandwich, rolled his eyes at their entwined fingers, making Daniel blush even harder.

**************************************

Daniel watched Max popping the cap off two beer bottles, sitting on the enormous gray couch of his motorhome. To his left, a giant TV screen displayed a paused Netflix show titled "Designated Survivor".

Max offered him a beer, but before Daniel could take the bottle, he playfully pulled it away from him.

"What? I don't even get a hug?" Max's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. Once again, Daniel was surprised by how bold and brazen he sounded! Two times World Champion Max Verstappen surely was a different beast, and Daniel wasn't complaining.

Daniel probably looked smitten out of his mind, but he didn't try to curb the big smile tugging at his lips as he went ahead and fitted himself into Max's open, welcoming arms.

Daniel felt Max's arms wrapping tightly around him. He closed his eyes and breathed in Max's scent. Max smelled faintly of cologne and shampoo, and... something distinctly like Max. He was as tall as Daniel now, and probably a tad bit stronger than him.

When they finally pulled apart, Max's cheeks were painted with a fierce red hue. He looked at Daniel with wide, dreamy eyes, as if he couldn't believe how close they were. His thumb traced tiny circles on Daniel's cheekbone.

Daniel's lips tingled with anticipation. His head swam a little, his chest filled with an unspoken longing. If he could just lean in a little and pressed his lips...

It was Max who leaned in first, and pressed a chaste kiss on Daniel's cheek.

Then he hurriedly stepped back, his downcast eyed fixated on the floor.

Daniel inhaled sharply and touched the spot where Max's lips left a trail of fire.

"Max?" He rasped, his voice shaking.

"I missed you", Max said, biting his lips and still refusing to meet Daniel's eyes.

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #maxiel fanfic #max verstappen #max / daniel #fanfiction #f1 rpf #formula one fanfiction #red bull racing #red bull f1

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manwalksintobar · 1 year

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Monet Refuses the Operation // Lisel Mueller

Doctor, you say there are no haloes around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction. I tell you it has taken me all my life to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels, to soften and blur and finally banish the edges you regret I don’t see, to learn that the line I called the horizon does not exist and sky and water, so long apart, are the same state of being. Fifty-four years before I could see Rouen cathedral is built of parallel shafts of sun, and now you want to restore my youthful errors: fixed notions of top and bottom, the illusion of three-dimensional space, wisteria separate from the bridge it covers. What can I say to convince you the Houses of Parliament dissolve night after night to become the fluid dream of the Thames? I will not return to a universe of objects that don’t know each other, as if islands were not the lost children of one great continent. The world is flux, and light becomes what it touches, becomes water, lilies on water, above and below water, becomes lilac and mauve and yellow and white and cerulean lamps, small fists passing sunlight so quickly to one another that I despair, my brush not being long, streaming hair. To paint the speed of light! Doctor, our weighted shapes, these verticals, burn to mix with air and change our clothes, skin, bones to gases. If only you could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms and how infinitely the heart expands to claim the world, blue vapor without end.

#poetry #Lisel Mueller #1982 #Paris Review #Monet #impressionism #blue #flux #Rouen Cathedral #doctor #lilies #waterlilies #light

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futuristic-coffinnails-x · 18 days

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The silo loomed against the bruised-magenta sky, a rusty giant's fist clenched against the dying sun. Dust devils danced a macabre waltz around its steel legs, whispering secrets stolen from forgotten graveyards. Silas wasn't here for a picnic amongst the ruins. No, vengeance simmered in his blood, a stew of grief and fury hotter than Dracula's breath after a garlic binge. Years ago, the Great Cataclysm had ripped the world apart, leaving behind a desolate playground for nightmares. The Entity, a creature born from radioactive shadows, had snatched his Amara, leaving a void in his soul deeper than the Mariana Trench.

His map, a dog-eared page ripped from a pre-apocalypse pulp magazine, fluttered in his calloused hand. It led him here, to a concrete tomb where echoes of screams hung heavy in the air. Murals adorned the silo's belly, painted in blood and desperation, depicting landscapes of fractured beauty and chilling terror. They were testaments to the battles fought not just against the Entity, but against the gnawing fear that threatened to consume them all.

Then, silence screamed. Eyes, embers ripped from a fallen angel's wings, materialized, locking onto him. The Entity coalesced, not a grotesque beast, but a shimmering shroud woven from stolen dreams and twisted memories. It spoke, a chorus of voices, each a mournful wail from a tormented soul, twisted into a weapon of spectral despair. Amara's whisper, laced with the Entity's chilling cackle, echoed in his ears like a banshee's lament.

The fight wasn't a fisticuffs brawl, but a waltz on the precipice of madness. Silas, his face etched with the lines of a tormented hero, wielded a blade forged from starlight, each parry a desperate attempt to reclaim a stolen memory. The Entity danced back, a reflection of his own fractured self, mirroring the battle within him. Was he vanquishing the darkness, or becoming consumed by it?

He plunged deeper, not with brute force, but with a raw vulnerability that would make even a vampire weep bloody tears. With a surge of stolen energy, he activated the silo, bathing the chamber in a blinding holy light, not of judgment, but of searing revelation. The Entity recoiled, not from pain, but from the truth laid bare, stark and unforgiving.

He pressed his attack, not with a roar, but with a choked whisper, "Remember Amara," his voice heavy with the weight of a thousand tombstones. "Remember the light she held." It wasn't a battle cry, but a plea, a desperate attempt to reach the flicker of humanity buried within the Entity's darkness.

And in that shared dance of vulnerability, a fragile connection sparked. The Entity faltered, its form shimmering, unsure. In that suspended moment, the lines blurred. Was he the hero, the monster, or something more, born from the ashes of both?

With a final, ear-splitting shriek, the Entity dissolved, leaving behind only a faint echo of its malice. Silas collapsed, the weight of the battle and the burden of understanding crushing him like a crypt door. He had won, but the victory tasted like ashes and regret.

He emerged from the silo, the dying sun painting the wasteland in hues of bruised hope. The megacity sprawled before him, a canvas waiting to be painted anew. He could almost hear Amara's voice, not on the wind, but within him, a melody of resilience urging him forward.

The Entity was gone, but its shadow lingered, not just in the ruins, but within him. He had danced with the darkness, and a part of him had changed forever. But so had the world, forever marked by the battle.

He would walk its scarred landscape, not as a conqueror, but as a storyteller, carrying the weight of the past and the flickering hope for a future yet unwritten. He would remember the darkness, but he would choose to paint with the light, honoring Amara's memory, not through vengeance, but by weaving a new narrative, a story of resilience and fragile beauty born from the ashes. And who knows, perhaps in the telling, he might even find a way to mend the pieces of his own shattered soul, one terrifying tale at a time. After all, in a world teetering on the edge of oblivion, what else was there to do but embrace the shadows and dance with the darkness, hoping for a sliver of light to break through?

PLOT GENERATED BY AI

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divtanver · 1 month

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Chapter Three: New Menu

Knocked out from under the space by a strong blow against a wooden structure, a yellow fox moaned softly. Flow of time turned into a thick jelly, dragging the mind into the depths of the subconscious. He had lost the track of time spent on the surface drenched in his own sweat for a long ago, constantly writhing in attempts to escape from his body, which took it's owner hostage. Short and intermittent dreams blurred the line with reality, promised long-awaited peace for completing a task unknown to himself. But that was just a lie created by an inflamed mind to deceive and repeat this endless cycle of madness.

Which had no end.

From these incessant torments, Tails unconsciously bit his lower lip. Sharp fangs pierced the pale surface of the skin, along which soon a thin streamlet of scarlet trickled. Once on the rough tongue, it slowly dissolved, its particles bypassing the stomach, spread throughout the body. Last of all, they reached the brain and gently drifting along the nerves finally settled on its cells, beginning their hidden effect.

Burning pain reluctantly receded, giving a short-term, but so long-awaited peace in which the exhausted fox mind dissolved.

Slowly returning to reality, grunting and puffing, Tails put his palm on his forehead, which had begun to heat up again, which was prevented by some dry cloth. A repeated thud on the glass made his ears prick up, his reddened eyes finally left the shelter of the eyelids and now listlessly studied their surroundings. Blurred vision forced Miles to blink constantly in order to finally let his visual receptors finish painting it's oil painting.

Some time later, he was finally able to look around properly.

Yellow fox, half-covered with a blanket, lay in his bed with an already dried rag on his head, dim daylight barely made its way through the closed curtains, gently lying on all surfaces of the room, including the communicator carefully placed on the bedside table. Despite the incomplete awakening, mind that had once scattered to it immediately noticed discrepancies with the last memories, but the course of relevant reflections was interrupted by a cloudy figure that entered the room and soon took the form of hedgehog. Noticing movement in the area of the bed, Sonic put down the bucket of water and hurried to put Tails back in a horizontal position.

"Calm down, buddy, I'll take care of you" said the hedgehog, lowering the fox's head back onto the pillow, "You have a fever and a nasty bruise on your forehead, I have already called the doctor, so try not to move and rest for now."

"How... How long have I been out?" Tails shifted his faint gaze from the ceiling to the hedgehog standing next to him.

"I don't know, maybe a few hours. It took me about that long to get here after you didn't answer my call," Sonic said, wetting the rag and putting it back on the fox's heated forehead. "No one has seen you for a month, so I started to worry if everything was okay. As it turned out, it was not in vain…"

He said without finishing. Tails soon broke the silence.

"A month? But..." a knock on the door interrupted him in mid—sentence, preventing him from finishing what he had said.

Hedgehog retreated in the direction of the front door, from where a little later he heard the ringing of bells and the approaching trampling of a pair of feet. As it turned out, source who entered the room was someone in a white medical coat with small rounded glasses on his nose and a stethoscope around his neck. Standing in the doorway, he said something to Sonic and he cast a last friendly glance and closed the door behind him, slowly leaving the house.

Left alone with his patient, doctor picked up a medical instrument and asked Tails to take a sitting position, which was given to the latter with a certain amount of effort. While the inspection was being carried out over him, fox had already begun to feel fatigue rolling in like a snowball, each passing second only increased its volume and speed. Strength he had to resist it was quickly running out, Miles could barely cling to reality, trying to focus on the raindrops hitting the glass. And yet, despite his efforts, sooner rather than later he began to fall over on his side, as the doctor constantly informed him. But Tails hardly heard these remarks. His brain was malfunctioning and shutting down in between heartbeats in order to somehow continue to function. Nerves were periodically shortened and only at the last second managed to give the right signal.

At one of these endless moments, everything stopped at once, the nervous system stopped its routine work, the body went limp and Tails's head flew down like a stone.

However, instead of a short flight, she only met a blow with her jaw on something soft. From this touch, an energy discharge spread throughout his body. And yet this sudden burst of cheerfulness dried up as quickly as it had appeared, and Miles had to fight the descent into darkness again.

But something has changed.

It took a split second to realize this, which two-tailed had lost count of a long time ago.

Somewhere there was the crunch of a window frame and the whistling of air rushing inside. Miles didn't knew nor care how it happened, the only thing that could attract his faint attention was the raindrops that began to penetrate the room.

Warm

Invigorating

Unexpected, but so desirable, they seemed to wash away all accumulated fatigue and drive away the fog from the mind lost in it.

From the growing pleasure, Tails even opened his mouth slightly, wanting to absorb this moisture inside himself.

Something was wrong.

Drops of this water had a strangely familiar taste...

Metallic

Brain, which was in a misunderstanding, demanded clarification from the optic nerves, which in response raised the curtain of the eyelids.

What Miles saw at that moment was a black spot in his memory.

Clutching at his throat, the doctor unsuccessfully tried to stop the flow of pulsating fluid. Scarlet color quickly covered his hitherto white medical coat, his rapidly paling face expressed unbearable pain and horror, instead of words, only a whistle came out of his mouth, mistaken by the fox for the sound of the wind.

Coming out of his stupor, Tails tried to help by covering the bleeding wound with a cloth from his forehead.

But it was too late. Too late.

With a final shudder, doctor quieted down, chest stopped its frantic movement, his hands relaxed their pressure and fingers slowly parted to the sides.

Unable to believe what had happened, terrified fox moved further and further away from the bed with small steps until he ran into the wall along which he slid to the floor. Sitting on the cold surface, he froze, unable to take his eyes off the now lifeless body. Something nasty was sliding down his forehead and gluing his eyelids. After wiping his face, Tails looked at his now bloody hands. From their appearance, a lump formed in his throat, attempts to swallow it caused discomfort in the oral cavity, tongue felt something dense and slimy.

It turned out to be a piece of wet white cloth.

'Am I...?' Thought the fox, examining the find. 'No, it can't be!'

Rising with a jerk, he looked at the corpse. Teeth marks were clearly visible on it's neck through the torn collar.

Realization of what had happened hit harder than the streams of scarlet liquid.

For several hours, Tails had been sitting against the wall with his head in his hands and not knowing what to do next. Confess? But how can you admit to such a thing? Just to say that for no reason at all he got his teeth into someone's throat?

Perhaps he would have sat there all day thinking about possible solutions if it hadn't been for the ringing of the doorbell followed by approaching footsteps.

It was necessary to act quickly.

After wiping himself on the blanket, Tails wrapped the cold body in it and pushed it under the bed with all possible speed for himself a second before the blue hedgehog entered the room.

"Are you feeling better already?" sight of a friend moving independently made Sonic smile involuntarily.

However, moments later, his expression changed to one of incomprehension. Looking around, he did not find anyone who had been present earlier.

"Where's the doctor?" Sonic asked, looking around.

It was only now that Tails noticed a few red drops on the floor. After taking a couple of steps in their direction, he imperceptibly wiped the footprints with his sock.

"Oh, he's gone! He gave me some medicine and left!"

'Gone to the next world' rang in his head.

Miles's memory flashed with torn weaves of muscle tissue and a bright scarlet trace of a terrible deed, from which he slightly twisted his expression, closed his eyes in an attempt to escape from reality and forget what he had seen earlier as soon as possible.

Noticing a sharp change in the fox's physiognomy, Sonic approached and put his hand on the shoulder that trembled from his touch.

"What's wrong?" he was crouching slightly, looking at the lowered red muzzle with the faintly shaking whiskers.

"I'm fine. I'm just still a little sick," Tails replied without looking up.

Suddenly wrapped in a warm blanket, a strong embrace took him by surprise.

"I really hope so, buddy. I don't want to find you lying unconscious on the floor again," Sonic said softly, almost in a whisper. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Two-Tailed one felt the arms around him tighten even more. Hesitating, he reluctantly reciprocated the sudden action against himself. Slowly and carefully, he lowered his trembling fingers to the surface of the blue furr, as if was afraid to stain it with the drops of the deed that remained on him.

And yet, such an impact from a non-native, but much-needed brother helped Tails calm down a little and slightly clear his mind of the panic that clung to him with its incisors. Excitement faded into the background, giving moments of blissful peace. Measured pulse of the loving hedgehog equalized the frantic pounding of the fox's heart. For the first in a long time, he could finally feel like himself again, throwing the frustration and anxiety he had experienced into the back drawer of bad memories that disappear with the first rays of a new day.

Relief he received only made Miles cling tighter to the blue comforter.

But. Besides that, he felt... Something else, something from the outside. A pleasant fragrance emanating from a friend. He didn't remember ever noticing anything like this about Sonic, but now... It gradually enveloped Tails, penetrating through his nostrils, spreading in consciousness through receptors and clouding his mind with such pleasant sensations. But that wasn't enough for him.

Wanting more, Miles slowly opened a mouth full of sharpened teeth. Droplets of thick saliva were already forming on their edges. A little more and he will get a new portion of pleasure, taste this euphoria again. Just one small piece. And then one more. More and more.

His jaws had almost closed on the soft surface of the skin when the surging pleasure was dispersed by a distant, muffled sound.

"Tails, did you fall asleep?" echo of those words brought the fox back to the real world, releasing him from his trance state.

"What? I don't..." Tails was about to say something when he noticed translucent drops on the hedgehog's shoulder. From the realization of what he was going to do, the yellow one jumped slightly on the spot.

"N-no! I... I'm just a little tired" for the sake of verisimilitude, two-tail rubbed his eyes.

'What's gotten into me?! Miles thought.

For a few seconds, blue hedgehog just stared at Tails, as if trying to catch him in a lie. At least that's how fox were thinking. But in the end, prickly attributed yellow one strange behavior to simple malaise and poor health condition.

Okay, rest up, buddy," Sonic carefully put the fox back in bed "You need to gain strength and recover."

"Y-yes, I guess you're right." Two—tailed one did not argue and lay down in a relaxed manner despite his wildly beating heart.

"So..." blue hedgehog said thoughtfully "Where is your blanket?"

Unexpected question made Tails tense up even more.

"I-I took it away! It's too hot with it," yellow fox answered, trying to keep a calm voice "Besides, it was a little soaked with sweat."

"Apparently satisfied with the answer, Sonic exhaled sympathetically and kissed Tails on the forehead and headed for the exit.

"Get well, buddy," he said before leaving the room.

Tails continued to lie motionless until the sound of the front door closing reached his ears. Only when he heard it he could get out of bed thinking about what to do next. And although Miles almost gave himself away, appearance of the blue hedgehog convinced him that confessing to the deed was not an option. But then what is it? Now he knew the answer to that question.

A week has passed.

Everything gradually returned to normal, city continued its measured life, Sonic and his friends went about their own business, mustachioed villain, like those like him, did not declare themselves, giving many hope that everything would remain that way.

And Tails himself was no exception. His health quickly recovered, floors of his house became cleaner, blanket regained its white hue, red stains on the steps leading to the workshop were erased and more invisible. It was only in the cold warehouse located there now hadoo a little less space.

#sth #sth fanfic #sth au #sth tails #sth sonic #tails exe #sonic the hungry hero #hungryhero.exe #canibalism #sth forbidden fruit au

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