#so very horrible pacing just so everyone knows | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miley1442111 · 26 days

Text

transfer- s.reid

______________________________________________________________

a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how your sudden transfer forces certain feelings to the surface

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

warnings: none

______________________________________________________________

“It’s an executive decision Y/n, they are not asking,” Hotch sighed and you felt bile rise in your throat as the team stared in horror. You were being transferred to the Pentagon. “I know this will be an emotional time for all of us-”

“It’s not emotional, it’s a horrible idea,” Spencer said, his voice calm despite the storm raging in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see you everyday? Bullshit. “She’s a crucial member of this team-”

“Spencer, they aren’t asking. Strauss expects her to be back in DC within the next hour,” he explained and exited the room. Everyone fell silent and Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. You looked terrified and angry, he hadn’t seen you this angry ever.

Not only were you one of the most vital members of the team, you were the thing that made all this shit just that small bit easier to deal with. What would he do now without your teasing jokes? How would he even want to go to work when he knew he wouldn’t see your tired smiles in the mornings? When would he remember to rest if you weren’t reminding him?

And how would he be able to tell you he was in love with you when he didn’t see you everyday?

“I-I’ll… I’ll go get my bag,” You sighed, accepting your fate and leaving the room, Spencer trailing behind you.

“Y/n!” He called after you. “Wait, I-I’ll come with you to grab your things,” He internally kicked himself for not thinking of something better to say. When he caught up with you outside the building, he could see the tears falling from your eyes, even in the darkness of the night.

“I don’t want to leave,” You sniffled. “I told them I didn’t want a new position, I told them that I was h-happy here, that I want to be h-here.”

Spencer took you in his arms, letting you cry into the side of his neck. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve over thought about the fact that you were so close to him. So close that he could smell your hair, so close that he could feel your soft skin on his, so close that he was very much enjoying the way you clung to him.

“I mean… I don’t have any say? T-there’s so much more I wanted to do… I- I had this whole plan-”

“It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’ll do great things at the pentagon-”

“Fuck the pentagon!” You exclaimed, pushing him off of you. “I wanted to… I wanted to tell you for so long, a-and then the moment never seemed right, a-and I just assumed I-I’d lost m-my chance and I’m was sure you were already s-seeing someone so it didn’t even matter but then we g-got even closer a-and-”

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest, were you trying to say what he thought you were? “What are you trying to say?!” He shouted over your rambling, stopping the pacing you were doing in front of him.

“I’m in love with you!” You shouted back. Spencer stood there, stunned, as you anxiously waited for an answer. You got one in the form of the grin on Spencer’s face. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your waist, while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in to kiss him. His lips against yours were electric. You were relieved that he felt the same way and you were ecstatic that he kissed you.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away. Your hands rooted themselves in his hair as he kissed you again, only pulling away when the rest of the team cheered from the door.

You two were met with congratulations and cheers, happy that the two of you had finally told each other how you felt.

You walked onto the airstrip, Spencer’s hand in yours, not even scared for your new role.

You had Spencer, what else did you need?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid

474 notes · View notes

sweetiecutie · 8 months

Note

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

1K notes · View notes

xxchumanixx · 3 months

Note

hiii, could you write a Tim Bradford X Grey!reader? She is sergeant grey’s daughter but adopted, so everyone can imagine themselves as they want 💕!

and they have to sneak around because she is “off limits”, also maybe younger than him??

and one day, while they are at her house and they are doing it (idk if you write smut, if you don’t you don’t have to go into details ofc). Wade goes at her house because she was not answering her phone and finds them while she is literally on top of him ??

Not just any man

Tim Bradford x Grey!reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni!, smut, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), language, fluff, secret relationship, reader is Grey's adoptive daughter

Word count: 1.722

Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! Yes, I do write smut. I hope this fits your expectations! I really appreciate the idea with the reader being adopted, so everyone can imagine the reader as they like!

Enjoy!

There was a lot you had Wade Grey to thank for.

Catching you with your boyfriend wasn't one of those things, though. Especially when your boyfriend was one of his officers and he was older than you.

You were in so much trouble.

It had all began when you met Tim at a charity event hosted at the police station (not the best place for an event like this, as your father later would always like to mention).

It had instantly clicked.

The thrill of doing this behind everyone's back was what excited you the most the first few months - that was, until Tim confessed his feelings to you.

You were deeply in love with each other, and no one would be able to separate you - not even your father, even when he decided to fire Tim, if he ever found out.

When you were a baby, barely a few months old, Wade had adopted you.

Your parents died a few days prior, losing everything, including their lives, when a drug deal went horribly wrong.

You didn't know much about them, but you didn't care. The Grey's were your family, not them.

Family didn't end in blood.

You were a little older than their biological daughter, but you were still your fathers little girl.

Which meant you were off limits - to everyone, including Tim. Not that it would have stopped you, though.

You had to sneak around of course, but someday your parents eventually had to find out - especially if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Tim.

It just wasn't supposed to be that day, especially not like this.

You and Tim had been busy that day, you both had a day off and had been cooking together, went shopping (yes, you did that together, when your parents weren't near), and watched movies.

All that time you didn't look at your phone, though - missing several calls from your father.

Now, you were very busy with Tim, as he placed kisses down your neck, making you shiver in delight.

Your naked body's pressed together, his fingers brushing over the curves of your breasts, wandering further down.

Your fingers touched him wherever they reached - his muscular chest, his back and his arms, brushing through his short hair as his fingers pleasured you.

His lips found yours, muffling a moan, as his fingers went in and out of your tight pussy, his palm brushing your clit in the process, sending shivers up your body.

You loved every second of it.

You loved the way he always took care of you, the way he took his sweet time.

The knot in your stomach tightened, as he quickened the pace of his fingers. Gasping his name your fingers dug into his shoulders, his lips ghosting over your neck, as his thumb drew figure eights on your clit.

With a few last strokes you came, moaning his name, pure bliss pulsing through you, blinding you momentarily. You rode out your high on his fingers, before he removed them, smirking down at you as you gasped for air.

He was breathtakingly beautiful. His eyes that shined like the stars at night, full of love. His face, his lips and his hair - he was perfect the way he was.

And he was all yours.

His lips found yours again and he stroked himself, before he aligned his dick with your entrance.

Slowly, he inched forward, stretching you out in just the right way, the initial pain quickly fading into a feeling that was so much better.

When he was fully settled, he started to move, not giving you much time to adjust.

A throaty moan passed your lips, as his hands gripped your hips to steady himself. You fell into a steady rhythm, the familiar knot in your belly already forming again.

"Fuck." he breathed, one of his hands finding your breast, pinching your nipple. Moaning loudly your legs wrapped around his middle, taking him even deeper.

He thrust into you vigorously, your moans mixing together. But you wanted a change in position.

Pushing him back you sat up, his brows furrowing in confusion. You pushed him onto his back, causing him to chuckle knowingly, as he realized what you were doing.

Smirking, you straddled him, not wasting any time to sink down on him again. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, steadying you.

“Oh fuck…” His moan was like music to your ears, raw and unfiltered, as you started to move, up and down and up and down.

Skin slapped on skin, as he gripped your ass, helping you in your movement, when he suddenly stiffened, pulling you into his arms to cover you up.

"Tim wha-" you wanted to ask what happened, when you heard it.

"You better be kidding me!"

Flinching, your head snapped in the direction of your father's voice, body pressed against Tim, as your eyes widened.

"What the hell?" you yelled, your father's back turned towards you, one hand on his pistol.

"What the fuck?" Tim cut in. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"What the hell am I doing here?" your father bellowed, as you climbed off Tim, frantically searching for your clothes. "What the hell am I doing in my daughter's house? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

He shouted - never a good sign.

Tim searched for the right words, not sure how to explain, as you threw his shirt at him.

When you were both fully clothed your father had already left the bedroom, pacing in your living room.

Walking towards him you tried to come up with an explanation. It would have been useless to lie, so you decided to confront him with the truth.

"We're together." you spoke, swallowing. Fast and painless - just rip the bandaid off in one move.

Your gaze fixed on your father who so suddenly stopped, you thought time had paused for a second.

"You are what?" he yelled, anger clear as day on his face, a vein on his neck popping out. Tim stood somewhere behind you, not daring to say anything.

After all he was still his boss.

"We. Are. Together." you repeated word after word. "We are in a relationship. We love each other."

Your father's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, as he stared at you, mouth agape.

How we're you to explain, if he suddenly had a heart attack?

"You of all people!" he spoke angrily, pointing at Tim and you stood in front of him, blocking his way as your father took a step closer. Giving him a pointed look, he fell silent.

"Dad, I'm not thirteen anymore!" you tried to reason, shaking your head at him. "Im twenty-six! You don't have to protect me from men - and you definitely don't have the right to tell me who I date and who I don't!"

Blinking rapidly he tried to process your words.

"But-" he started, irritation clear on his face. "Y/N, you're my daughter! I told them you're off limits!"

Furrowing your brows you looked at him in disbelieve. "You did what?" you almost shouted. "God, you're so embarrassing!" His eyes were wide. "I am embarrassing? Seeing my daughter naked with a man - that is embarrassing!"

Your cheeks flushed, not wanting to be reminded of that, as you looked away.

Sighing he tried to find the right words, only making unintelligible sounds, though. "I can decide on my own who I want to be with, dad." you explained, brushing away a lose strand of hair.

"But-" he tried again, brows furrowed in sadness, and your heart grew heavy. "You're my daughter, my little girl! I can't just hand you off to any random guy!"

"What?" Tim interrupted, stepping forward. Rolling his eyes your father shook his head, fully knowing he could trust Tim Bradford.

If anyone, it was him.

It grew quiet, as you bit your lip, nervousness washing over you in waves. Would he fire Tim? Destroy his entire career just because he loved his daughter?

He sighed heavily, wiping over his face with his hand.

"Look, you didn't answer your phone all day so I got worried - and then I find you with him!" he explained, briefly pointing at Tim, who grabbed your hand, not letting go even as your father's jaw clenched at the sight.

"I'm not ready to hand you off just yet."

Closing your eyes for a moment you took a deep breath. "Sarge, I love your daughter and I want to be with her." Tim started, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

It would all be good.

"I'm not willing to give her up, just because you can't let go."

Your father's brows rose at the bluntness of his words, but he kept quiet, chewing on his cheek as he thought.

"What if you break her heart?" he wanted to know after a while, tilting his head. "Won't happen." Tim returned without a moment's hesitation.

You couldn't help but smile at his words. You loved him with all your heart and you knew he did the same.

Your father swallowed, nodding after a while, eyes glistening. "If you just so much as look at her in the wrong way, I will make the rest of your life a living hell." he swore Tim, huffing at his emotions taking over.

Letting go of Tim's hand you walked to your father, hugging him in relief. He returned the hug, his arms the same shelter as when you were just a small child.

"Thank you." you whispered, happy tears filling your eyes. "When he hurts you, just tell me and I'll get rid of him." he offered, letting go of you.

Judging by Tim's huff he heard his words, but you were sure he did it intentionally.

"I love you, dad." He smiled down at you, the emotions still clear on his distraught face. "I love you too, kiddo."

Rolling your eyes you hugged him again, before letting go and walking towards Tim.

Smiling up at him you took his hand back in yours. It would all be good. He returned the smile, still a little hesitant because of your father's presence.

Standing on your tip toes you kissed him, causing your father to immediately protest.

"No!"

#tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie x u #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie #tim bradford smut

445 notes · View notes

steddiehyperfixation · 7 months

Text

don't you forget about me (part three)

(part one)(part two)

Everyone’s left to “let him get some rest,” but Eddie doesn’t rest, not really. Although he does drift off the second he closes his eyes, his sleep is not restful and his dreams are plagued:

Chrissy Cunningham stood in his trailer, small blonde girl in her cheerleader uniform. If Eddie hadn’t only just come out of his room with an unopened baggie of ketamine, he might’ve thought she’d already overdosed. Her eyes were rolled back, body frozen stiff like she was having some sort of seizure. Eddie shouted at her, shook her shoulders, waved his hands and snapped his fingers in front of her face, but Chrissy didn’t respond. He feared she might collapse, but then she did something much, much worse: she began to levitate.

Eddie immediately let go of her shoulders and scrambled back as some invisible force slammed the girl into the ceiling. Her bones snapped; one at a time, her arms and legs twisted in unnatural angles. Her jaw unhinged and cracked out of place, her mouth now stuck in a horrible, soundless scream. Her eyes bled, dripping red down her cheeks, and then they exploded, popped with a sickening squelching sound, and her eyelids caved in to empty, bloody sockets.

Eddie wakes up screaming. His heart pounds frantically, the monitor beeping like crazy, and all his muscles are tense like he’s ready to run.

Someone is at his side immediately; a gentle hand slips into his own, a soothing voice asks if he’s alright and tells him it’s okay, he’s safe now, it was just a nightmare. Eddie recognizes that hand, that voice, that shape in the dark. When did Harrington come back?

Eddie’s gasping, struggling to inhale a proper breath into his fear-frozen lungs. His wild eyes dart over the figure sitting beside him before landing on the hand that’s curled around his. Harrington must misread something in his expression then, because he mutters, “Sorry,” and starts to pull his hand away.

“No,” Eddie manages, instantly grabbing the other’s hand again and gripping it tight. “Keep- keep holding onto me.”

“Always,” Harrington whispers, the word an exhale under his breath, so soft Eddie thinks he may have imagined it.

Harrington rubs his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. His touch is calming, grounding. Eddie’s breath begins to even out and his heart returns to a normal pace as his residual panic slowly dissipates.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs heavily once he’s recovered a bit. He presses his free hand to his chest. “That was the most terrifying dream I’ve ever had in my life.”

“It’s over now,” Harrington says, still soft, still tracing circles across Eddie’s skin. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you anymore.”

But it can, because Eddie can still see those horrible images behind his eyelids every time he blinks. He says so, shakily, “Think it's burned into my brain now, though. It was so real, man, I’m not sure I’ll ever get her disfigured face and mangled body out of my head.”

Harrington pauses. “Wait a second, did you dream about Chrissy?”

“Yeah, how did you-?” Eddie starts to ask, then stops as he remembers what Harrington had said yesterday about Chrissy being murdered in his trailer. The realization sets in with a cold chill. He shakes his head in horror, tightening his hold on Harrington’s hand like it's a lifeline. “No. Oh no, please don't tell me that actually happened.”

“It did. I’m sorry, it did.” Harrington clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his now. “That wasn’t just a nightmare, Ed, that was a memory. You’re starting to remember.”

“Well, shit,” Eddie mutters. If that’s what his lost memories are like, he thinks he’d very much rather them stay forgotten. “I’m starting to see why my brain blocked it all out in the first place, then. Was the whole rest of the last 11 months that awful too?”

“No…” Harrington frowns and that kicked puppy look flashes across his face, darkening the spark of hope that had just flickered in it before. “Well, maybe, I don’t know. I hope not.”

“Great,” Eddie sighs, tired and sarcastic. He stares up at the ceiling where the gnarled ghost of Chrissy’s corpse still haunts his vision. “Can’t wait to remember more.”

“I’m sorry,” Harrington says quietly. A heavy sadness runs thick in his voice again, same way he’d spoken when he first learned of Eddie’s amnesia. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once and then lets go.

So much for always, Eddie thinks dimly. His hand feels cold now, naked and untethered without the solid pressure of Steve’s fingers curled around it.

“You should try to go back to sleep,” Harrington tells him. The mattress shifts, the springs creak, as he rises from where he’d been perched at the edge of the bed. In the empty space he leaves behind, Eddie only feels even more untethered.

A sharp rush of panic grips him at the thought of being left here alone in the dark with the twisting shadows and afterimages of his nightmare. “Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls out immediately, before Harrington can even begin to turn away from him. “Will you stay?”

“Yeah.” Harrington nods, murmurs, “I’ll stay.”

So Steve stays. He stays and he sits in the stiff chair by Eddie’s bed, and he spirals. Of course he spirals, in the silence, in the dark. He can’t seem to do anything else in Eddie’s presence lately but let his mind spin around in circles ‘til it breaks.

Was the whole rest of the last 11 months that awful too? Eddie’s previous question is the catalyst of his spiral this time, the words that are currently echoing in the whirlpool of Steve’s consciousness, because he hadn’t thought of that before. He has already wallowed in the idea that he was something so unimportant he was easy to erase, but Steve hadn’t yet considered the possibility that he was something so horrible he needed to be erased. It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? The nurse did say Eddie’s amnesia was in part due to psychological trauma, and his memories do end just before he and Steve properly met. Was being with Steve so awful Eddie’s mind lumped it in with all the other recent traumas and just had to wipe it away?

An ugly guilt twists beneath his skin, like a deep rot running black in his veins. Steve curls his hand into a fist in his lap, digs his fingernails into his palm as if the sharp bites of pain will help release what is dark and decayed inside of him. As if it will choke the voice in the hollow behind his heart that now tells him he deserved to lose Eddie’s love, or that maybe he never truly had it in the first place.

And, see, Steve knows he’s spiraling. He knows his brain has just tripped down some bullshit rabbit hole of self-deprecation and that really his despairing conclusions are not in any way rooted in reality. He knows Eddie loved him. He knows Eddie’s amnesia is not his own fault nor is it a reflection on him. He knows it’s got nothing to fucking do with him. Yet nonetheless, his mind continues to tumble downwards on a quest to prove the opposite. The rot still festers; the hollow still whispers.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie’s soft-spoken words eventually cut through the quiet and shake Steve from his lamenting thoughts.

He sits forward. “Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep,” Eddie says. “Do you, uh- sorry, could you…maybe hold my hand again?” His voice is small like he’s asking for something embarrassing, and his hesitancy kind of breaks Steve’s heart. “Just until I fall back asleep. It just- it makes me feel safer.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve scoots his chair closer to the bed and gently takes hold of Eddie’s hand again.

Eddie sighs, a heavy exhale of relief, his body beginning to relax almost immediately. He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Anytime,” Steve whispers in response. Always, forever, anything; because I love you, want you, need you, miss you. He swallows down the emotion that rises in his chest. Another spiral threatens to drown his mind again and he fights that off too, tries not to think about everything that fucking hurts.

He focuses on the familiar feeling of Eddie’s hand in his (it’s bittersweet; he’s not thinking about it), on watching the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he slips back into a more peaceful sleep (he wants to kiss his forehead, tuck him in like a child; he’s not thinking about it).

Steve leaves first thing in the morning. The second Wayne walks in and Eddie now has someone else there to watch over him, Steve tells the older man briefly about Eddie’s nightmare and then he’s out the door before Eddie even wakes up, and he doesn’t return that day.

He can convince himself, illogically, that it’s better for Eddie if he stays away - that Steve’s spiral was right and he’d only make Eddie uncomfortable in the daylight; the less he’s around, the less the rot inside of him can poison Eddie too. But also it’s selfish. Mostly it’s selfish. Because as much as Steve craves to be near him, it hurts far more to be around him and not be seen, not be known, not be loved. The ache of missing him when they’re apart is so much easier to bear than the ache of missing him when he’s right in front of him.

Still, Steve does come back that night. He doesn’t want Eddie to be alone, and with Wayne working graveyard shifts and everyone else having parents to answer to, Steve is the only one left who’s both willing and able to sit with him through the night. He has a feeling, just a feeling, same as he’d had the night before, that Eddie might need him again. Well- maybe not him specifically, but just someone, anyone, to comfort him in the dark, and Steve can be that someone. And maybe that’s selfish too, because it feels good, eases the ache a bit, to be the one to help Eddie, to take care of him. If Steve cannot be loved then he will settle for being needed.

Good for them both, then, that Eddie does end up needing Steve that night. Eddie jolts awake from another nightmare memory - this one about being chased onto the lake by Jason Carver and watching another body float above the water and be crumpled and killed by Vecna - and Steve is there once more to hold his hand and soothe him back to sleep.

And then, again, Steve is gone the next morning, back the next night. Such is the pattern he’s fallen into, the selfish, stupid pattern: gone when he cannot feel loved, back when he can feel needed.

Tonight is the worst nightmare yet. Steve can tell it’s bad even before Eddie wakes. The heart monitor begins to beep more rapidly, Eddie whimpers and twitches in his sleep. Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and tries to ease the nightmare before it worsens, though to no avail.

Eddie doesn’t wake up screaming this time, but choking and crying, rasping through hyperventilating breaths fragmented nonsense about bats and pain and death. He doesn’t seem to be completely aware or lucid right now, still stuck in his nightmare where he’s dying and he’s scared, so scared.

“Shh, Eddie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Steve can’t stand to see him like this. Holding his hand isn’t enough. “C’mere,” he murmurs. “You’re alright.” He doesn’t even think, just climbs onto the bed with him and very very carefully, very very gently, sits them both up and pulls Eddie onto his chest, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “You’re alright,” Steve continues to whisper softly, lips brushing against Eddie’s hair. “Just breathe, baby, it’s okay.” (The pet name just slips out; neither of them notice.)

Eddie clutches Steve’s arms, leans back against his chest and tucks his face into the curve of Steve’s neck. He’s trembling, breath still rapid and panicked, not yet free of the waking dream he’s trapped in. “I died- I’m dead- I was dead,” Eddie keeps babbling in shaky, sobbing gasps. “It hurts- and I died. I don’t- I don’t wanna die- I don’t-”

“You’re not dying, Eddie, you’re not. You’re okay,” Steve reassures him. “You’re alive.” He gently pries one of Eddie’s hands off his arm and guides it to the boy’s chest, covering his hand with his own as he presses it over Eddie’s heart to give proof to his words. “Do you feel that? You’re alive, you’re so alive.”

Eddie sucks in a deep breath, lets out a tremulous exhale. “I’m alive,” he repeats, his voice wavering like he’s trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t quite believe.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms, still holding his hand over Eddie’s slowly steadying heartbeat. “You’re alive.”

Eddie repeats it again, a little more solidly this time. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Okay, I’m okay.” His hyperventilating has finally begun to ease, his tremors gradually dissipating. He seems to wake up a bit more now, settles back into reality. He rolls his face out of the crook of Steve’s neck and tilts his head up to rest it against his shoulder instead as he looks at him. “Steve,” Eddie says, not like a question or the beginning of a sentence, but more like he’s only just now becoming aware of who’s holding him.

Steve gives a small hum of confirmation in response. He doesn’t know if Eddie is going to want him to move now, if the way they’re situated is uncomfortable for him or if Eddie is even okay with this situation at all. Steve can’t tell. He should’ve thought of that first. Holding his hand is one thing, but pulling Eddie half on top of him and holding him there is another thing entirely. And Eddie doesn’t know him anymore. Steve wouldn’t blame the guy if he freaked out at coming out of a panic attack to find himself in some strange man’s arms.

But Eddie just closes his eyes, goes quiet and still for a few long moments, and so Steve stays where he is, assumes Eddie’s trying to go back to sleep. Steve will keep holding him until then.

“Why are you always here at night?” Eddie asks suddenly, opening his eyes again. So he’s not trying to go back to sleep.

The question catches Steve off guard, and not just because he hadn’t expected Eddie to speak again. “I, uh, I don’t want you to be alone- you know, with your nightmares.”

“No, yeah, I know, and I-I’m grateful for that, but,” Eddie clarifies, “I meant, why are you always only here at night? I know you’re around during the day, dropping off one of the kids or Robin or whatever, you just don’t come in. Like- you’ll hold me through a nightmare, but you won’t actually hang out with me and just, like, eat shitty hospital food and watch shitty hospital TV with me. What’s up with that?” Eddie looks up at him. His tone is light enough, but there’s a genuine curiosity in his eyes, and a confusion that borders on hurt. “Thought we were supposed to be friends, Harrington.”

“We are,” Steve says immediately. “We are friends. I just- I didn’t want to force that on you or-or make you uncomfortable or awkward or anything. I know you don’t know me anymore.”

“Well, you haven’t given me much of a chance to get to know you again,” Eddie states plainly, and that catches Steve off guard too.

“I didn’t know you wanted to.”

“Of course I want to,” Eddie mutters. “You’re a decent guy, Stevie. Not how I thought you’d be. Maybe I want you to keep surprising me.”

The way one corner of his mouth quirks up then, popping a dimple in his cheek, makes Steve’s heart stutter, chest warm with a rush of affection. He can’t help but smile a little too. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Eddie echoes, smirk stretching into a proper grin now. He taps his fingers where they rest on Steve’s arm. “You better hang out with me tomorrow.”

“I will,” Steve agrees, because how can he say no to a smile like that? “Promise.”

Satisfied, Eddie closes his eyes and settles back to try and fall asleep again. A lingering fear still runs like an undercurrent beneath his veins though, scared of sleep and dreading the possibility of another nightmare, another memory. He shifts, pulls Steve’s arms a little tighter around him. Eddie never seems to have bad dreams once Steve is holding onto him.

(part four) taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (i have hit my limit on amount of people i can tag in one post; taglist will be continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. no longer accepting any more additions atm!! also, thank you guys so much for all the support on this so far omg??? this is insane for me and i'm so glad y'all are enjoying my writing <3)

#progress progress progress #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic #<- specific tag for this fic

928 notes · View notes

modmad · 2 months

Note

Hey Mod, I don't know what's going on that hurt you, I feel like I missed something that's happened, but I can tell from what I did see that it didn't just hurt you, but scared you and made you feel a Lot of doubt. I've also seen a lot of messages pouring in with support, and I want to share mine.

I have hypermobile type EDS, fibromyalgia, and a whole bucket's worth of faulty wiring in my brain. And I've always had stories to tell but I never felt I was good enough to share them. If it's because I can't focus enough to get through nanowrimo, or because I can't manage the focus and time towards drawing as a hobby, or the fact that an excessive amount of either for me leads to my hands wanting to shut down. But you? You *inspire* me. Your stories, all the ones I've seen, read, experienced in some way or another, they're so good. And you're open and honest with your fans about your own health, and of course, we support you and always would rather you rest and feel as best you can, instead of pushing out something and working yourself too hard. But all of this is to say that. I think I would have given up on my own stories if I hadn't found you and yours.

I hope whatever is going on sorts itself out, I hope you're able to keep telling your stories. At your own pace, in your own way. I think you deserve to be happy. If there's anything we (your fans, especially those of us too awkward to come off anon, whoops,) can do, to help in some way? Even if it's silly videos or cute cat pictures or whatever it is that could just help you smile. We're here. We love you.

woof. I woke up to so many messages I can't even read them all in one go I'm getting too emotional- I do feel I owe an explanation so I'll explain what happened under the cut but all you guys need to know is I'm okay, I got through it, I love you, and you're so important to me and I'm so grateful for all the messages that have asked me to stay.

tw for suicidal thoughts and all that

yeah so I have the bad morning of all mornings: was introduced to the fact there's this one character (Mr Puzzles) on a very popular youtube that. resembles RGB. incredibly strongly. like. I don't want to link to it just look if you want to. Anyway at the time I thought it had just dropped (seems to have been around for 6 months actually), and having commented on it I immediately got an inbox full of hate mail.

My website, meanwhile, had locked both me and my web designer out of it, and- already in a bad state of mind- I went into full on panic/paranoid spiral of 'they have hacked it, and they are going to delete any proof that I was here before them.' This of course wasn't true, and we have since recalimed control of the site (don't know what happened there but hey. it's fine???? haha. ha.)

On top of this my father has terminal cancer of the pancreas, which is horrible for everyone already but it means that- at some point this year- I am going to be the only person with an active income in my house. I am disabled, do not make a lot of money, and the cost of living is skyrocketing. Combine that with months of Despair at the world right now, with the multiple wars, genocide, corruption and AI and the loss of control any of us have over our IP or lives and I just decided it was time to end it all.

I somehow remembered this was a bad idea to act on immediately (hard during a period of entirely irrational thought) and instead went for a very long walk, crossed the bridge I could have jumped off and during that I came out of the worst of it. I then came back home to so much love online I felt deeply ashamed for ever contemplating it, and I cried a lot. My nose is still puffy and now my feet hurt! lmao

Anyway. Yeah. There's your context. I am not going to stop hoping, making, or living. I am prone to moments of weakness and this was one of the worst of them and I am still here, thanks in a large part to all of you. I might need you in the future to defend me against this, or people who take our ideas, but I hope you know that I will do the same for you. We need each other, and to be there for you I need to be here at all.

also fuck Mr Puzzles

#context for mod's little (massive) mental breakdown yesterday #you don't need to read it but I felt folks are due an explanation #tw suicide #ask to tag #mental health is wow!!!! a thing

267 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Three for One 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Let's go!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Two days before Christmas. The store is left in tatters. Shelves strewn with sparse lefftovers and aisles hastily paced by those who left their shopping a bit too late. The frantic shoppers searching for a diamond among the sand grains of untouched product.

You work at arranging the remnants of the season’s beauty advent calendars on a table draped in a bright red cloth. There’s a large tag in a metal stand that marks them as ten percent off. On the other side of the holidays, they will drop to a full eighty percent off. You always believed giftcards were a better prize, not that you got many gifts.

That year, Luanne gave you a new journal and a specialty hot chocolate bomb in the department’s secret santa. You go Michelle and gifted her a copy of your favourite novel and some nail polishes. That is the extent of your shopping and gift exchanges. Except for your puppy, Ernie, who will get a bone and one of those special gourmet dog meals.

You finish your arrangement and step back, admiring your work. It’s close to close and so close to the end of the race that the shop isn’t as busy as usual. The only customers you do see are in a rush and horribly disappointed when that very specific thing isn’t in stock.

“Excuse me,” you’re drawn around the deep voice. A man strolls up the center aisle of the beauty section, the tails of his coat flicking behind him, “hi,” he uses your name as he approaches, “I’m so sorry to bother you again but can you point me to, erm,” he looks down at his phone, “a ring light?”

You hesitate. He seems to know you and you admit, he looks familiar. You’re at that point where the faces all blur together. Your one innate flaw is that you really don’t have a good memory for that, bt you definitely recognise his voice.

“Hello, sir,” you fall short of his name. You want to say Alan but you also don’t want to be wrong. “The ring lights are actually with the cellphone.” You gesture back at electronics, “I know it makes more sense to put them with cameras.”

“Ah, oh, thanks,” he nods but doesn’t move to find his quarry, he lowers his phone, “how’s your holiday going? Thing’s slowing down,” he looks around and you can’t help but do the same.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, most people are all done,” you shrug.

“Ha, wish I could say the same,” he sighs, “I thought we were done but the wife just sent me on a wild goose chase.”

“Hm, oh, well, I’m not very busy, did you need help finding anything else?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my manager’s done for the day so doesn’t really matter if I leave my zone,” you say, “kinda boring around here.”

“You’re too sweet,” he smiles, his blue eyes deep and swirling, “and that sweater is adorable.”

You look down at your dark blue sweater with the white crochet peter pan collar. You wiggle your shoulders and grin back at him, thanking him. You know he bought some perfume for his wife but you’re still blanking on his name.

“Here’s my list,” he tilts his phone towards you and looks down, shifting closer to you as he shows you a text bubble.

“Oh my, right. I’m not sure we’ll have everything,” you teethe your lip as you go through the items, “but we’ll see.”

A message pops up over the top and you try not to read, putting your head up as you try to act like you didn’t see it. It’s not that you meant to decipher the words but your brain quickly skimmed that ‘tomorrow night?’ Not much but just feels a bit personal.

“Alright, we’ll go to electronics first, then work our way forward,” you suggest.

“Good idea,” he agrees.

You set off and he follows at just a step. You have to remember to slow down as often you’re so determined you find yourself leaving your customers far behind you. You bring him to the mobile accessories and point to the ring lights.

He considers them and rubs his chin. He points between two; “what’s the difference?”

“Oh, this one comes with a tripod extension and this one is a full kit with a mic,” you point from one to the other.

“What do you think is better for, uh, streaming?” He sounds unsure of that last word.

“I think that kit would have more to it, especially if whoever it’s for is just starting out. But I’m don’t know too much about these things.”

“I’ll take the kit,” he scoops it off the shelf, “the kid can never have enough.”

“Oh? You have kids?”

“One,” he sounds less than excited, “teenager now so he really can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” he forces away the shadow across his features, “you know how they can be. What about you? You going to see your parents? Spending the day with someone special?”

“Um, just Ernie,” you answer, “my puppy.”

“Cute,” he remarks, “are you guys open tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, yeah, ‘til five,” you try to remember the next thing on his list.

He seems less concerned with the items than before, instead turn to examine a pop socket, “you have to work on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, closing, but I don’t mind.”

“What’s this?” He holds up a pop socket.

“It goes on your phone,” you pull out your phone and show him your daisy one, “see?” You hook your fingers around it, “it’s a grip to help you hold on.”

“Ah, makes sense,” he turns the thin package over, “kid’s always breaking his screen…”

You wait patiently as he makes up the mind to add the grip to his haul.

“What’s next?” You prompt as gently as you can.

“Oh, uh,” he looks at his phone, “video games…” he squints, “V-bucks?”

“Ah, yes, that would be a gift card,” you say, “I can show you the rack.”

He lets you lead him to the large rack of subscription cards. You point out the various currency amounts available and he rubs his brow. His forehead lines as you see the stress needling in his cheek. He’s struck with the late shopper syndrome. He’s start to feel the crush of time.

“So, just your dog?” He wonders as he picks up a $75 card.

“Yeah,” you answer softly.

“No boyfriend? Siblings?”

“Just me,” you assure him, “I don’t mind. I get to choose the dessert!”

He chuckles, “that’s a good way to look at it. Did you buy yourself something special?”

“Not really, I’ve been saving for a vacation so I put most of my overtime into that,” you explain. “You having a big dinner?”

“Last minute change, wife’s parents want to host. Had to figure out travel plans.” He looks at the giftcards again and your eyes fall to the large back curled up in his arm and the card and phone grip balanced between his fingers. He slides free a Netflix card and reads the fine print.

“Do you want a basket, sir?” You offer.

“Oh, well, sure,” he accepts as he looks down, “that’s very considerate.”

“Don’t want you to drop anything,” you smile and turn on your heel.

You go to the stack of rolling baskets beside the electronics desk. Tyler doesn’t acknowledge you as he sorts through game shells to put back on the shelf. You pull the basket behind you, rattling on its wheels as you approach the shopper by the gift cards.

“Here,” you veer it around towards him.

He bends to lower the ringlight inside and drops the smaller items into next to it; he adds the Netflix subscription along with it and holds onto the Kindle card in his hand.

“You got any of these around?” He holds up the card, “the reader?”

“Hmm, we should,” you rub your neck, “I suppose if we didn’t, you can get a tablet and download the app.”

“I guess,” he nods, “can you check?”

“Of course, sir.”

You turn away and call over your headset. Regan tells you there’s a kindle up in return they can sell. You ask them to put it aside.

“There’s one left at checkout. They’re going to have it waiting for you,” you announce proudly.

“That’s great. You like to read?” He asks.

“Oh, sure, my one vice is my book addiction,” you giggle, “how about you?”

“Well, I don’t get much of a chance with work. I’m usually burnt out from all the legal documents,” he drones grimly, “then the kid has extracurriculars or there’s a PTA meeting or the wife needs something done.”

“Sounds busy,” you say empathetically, “I hope you get some time to relax this holiday.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “I almost envy you. I’m sure your dog’s good company.”

“He’s so sweet,” you can’t help but beam at the mention of your boy.

“Big cuddler?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah,” the question is a bit unexpected, “you like dogs?”

“Never really had one. Don’t need the extra work,” he says, “but I don’t mind them.”

“That’s fair. He can be a bit needy.”

He flinches and looks down at his hand. His screen flashes and he gives an apologetic look as he raises his palm, “I’m so sorry. I need to take this.”

“Take your time, sir, I’ll wander,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb.

He mouths a thanks before he answers, “Barber.”

You back up and turn to distract yourself with the shelf of controllers and switch cases. His deep voice carries but you focus on the Sinatra carol playing overhead to drown him out. Still you can’t help but catch a few words.

“Five, yeah…no, she won’t…it’s fine…” He’s quiet for a moment before he raises his voice, “figure it out.”

His stern tone sends a chill through you. It’s a sharp contrast to his previously friendly demeanour. Well, he mentioned he’s a lawyer, you assume he has a lawyer voice, akin to your customer service one.

“Sorry,” he comes back to you, “my wife…” he takes a breath, “you don’t happen to sell wine here?”

You smile. The way he answered, it didn’t sound very affectionate but maybe he hadn’t expected his wife.

“No, sorry, sir.”

“Kidding,” he chuckles, “well, I guess I should get my butt in gear,” he flicks through his phone, “um, I assume toiletries? Face masks?”

“Oh, that’s near me,” you point back towards beauty, “there’s a special for the sheet masks.”

“Great,” he grabs the extended handle of the basket, “thanks so much for this. I’m so lost.”

“That’s fine,” you go ahead of him, “it’s the job.”

🎀

You groan as you put the last empty bin in the stack. You stand and rub your shoulders, traps sore from all the lifting and moving. The night crew will set up for the day after Christmas but in the last hour of work, you and the few others in the store scrambled to get the old displays torn down.

Luanne walks with you to the employee break room. She’s in more of a hurry as she has her three children waiting for her at their grandparents. She goes ahead of you and punches out as you wait and stretch out your arms.

“Have a good Christmas,” she says breathily as she opens her locker and pulls out her purse and jacket, folding the latter over her arm, “I’ll see you after. You’re opening, right?”

“Sure thing,” you say as you punch in your employee number. “Merry Christmas.”

“Give Ernie some pets for me,” she trills as she goes to the door. “Thanks again. You saved my ass today.”

“No problem, “ you shake your head, “Christmas Eve brings out the best.”

“Does it ever. Bye, sweetie,” she waves over her shoulder as he sweeps through the door.

You go to your locket and take out your fluffy pink sherpa coat and purse. You loop your scarf around your neck and slip your earmuffs around your head. You sit to pull on your boots and stand with an ache in your calves. You feel the fatigue finally setting in. It’s not over yet; one day off and you’re right back to the furor.

You yawn as you leave the breakroom and drag your feet across the store. You take out your phone as you pop your earbuds in and choose your holiday mix. You wave goodbye to a few other stragglers and go out the front door, Spencer locking it behind you.

It’s bitterly cold out. You’re surprised by the fresh fall of snow swirling in the air. It gives an extra sparkle to the time of year.

You scroll through your phone. The buses are on holiday hours already. The next one is in an hour. Great. You can just walk, at least until you get to the next stop. More buses stop there and you can get at least ten minutes within your building.

You trod along, kicking through the powder of snow as headlights gleam ahead of you. You walk along the narrow walk beside the hotel on the other side of the intersection and a pair of flashing tail lights blink ahead of you. A dark figure stands beside the white SUV but you can’t make out much more than their silhouette.

You keep going, peeking up curiously as you near. The boot of the car pops up and the stranded driver searches. As you pass, you trip over an unseen shape, the metal clank painfully against your toe. You look down at the small foot jack.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” the man stands straight and turns to you, “I didn’t see you coming. I was just grabbing the iron–”

“That’s okay,” you pick out your earbuds, “I wasn’t looking.”

“Wait,” he stops short and points a gloved finger in your direction, “it’s you. You work at the store just down the way, right?”

You know the man. He’s the one who was in the store just yesterday. There’s a flutter in your chest at the coincidence of your encounter. It happens, especially in the shopping district. Half the city at least passes through her during the holidays.

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. You finish your shopping?”

“Just about,” he tuts and shakes his head, “blew a tire. So, happy holidays to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you look down at the snowy walk.

“Mhmm,” he grumbles, “all this snow, I can’t get the jack to work either.”

“Dang, unfortunately, I’m not help. I don’t know much about cars.”

“That’s fine, I called roadside assistance but they’re taking their damn time,” he checks his watch.

“Oh…” you utter.

“Don’t let me rain on your holiday, honey,” he says, “your toe okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you look down.

“Wait, are you walking home?” He asks.

You nod.

“Wish I could offer you a ride. This weather’s only getting worse,” he bemoans. He slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out his phone, “they should be here shortly so if–”

A set of headlights pull onto the apron and roll towards you. You look over as the man beside you does the same. You stand, somewhat dumbfounded at the unexpected run-in.

“That’s them,” he declares, “hey, guys.”

He waves as the white van pulls up. You were expecting a tow truck. Oh, well. Not your problem.

“Great, I guess I should get going,” you excuse yourself, “have a happy holi–”

As you step back, your heel catches on something. You don’t realise until your plummeting onto your ass that the man stuck his leg out behind you. You hit the ground with an oomph, barely missing the metal jack half-buried in the snow.

You hear the van door sliding open and a clatter of heavy treads. You can barely catch your breath as the world moves fast around you. The man bends over you as another rushes over, grabbing you off the ground as the two vehicles block out the street from view.

“Be nice,” the first man warns as your arms are seized. “Don’t hurt her.”

You suck in a deep breath. What is happening? You go to let out the shriek as you’re struck by the situation. This can’t be real but you’re being half-carried towards an open vehicle. A hand comes up and stifles your scream, smothering you as you’re yanked harshly forward.

“Careful,” the man girds again.

“Shut the fuck up,” the other grits and pulls you away from the other, spinning you around as he hooks an arm around your neck and covers your mouth, forcing you towards the van. He bends backwards, lifting your feet as you kick and squirm.

“Honey, calm down,” the friendly customer coaxes, “it’s okay.”

You don’t understand. Why are they doing this? Why you?

The man’s hand slips as you grab at his arms and your teeth come over the vee between thumb and index. You bite down and he yowls. Even through his leather glove, you give him a viscous pinch.

“Fuck!” He tosses you forward so your knees hit the side of the van and fall half-inside.

“Hurry the fuck up,” another voice calls from inside the van.

“Trying,” the second man snarls as you stand and let out a shrill note, only for a second before you’re caught from behind and muted again. This time the leather glove seals over your nose. “Fucking bitch.”

You’re lifted into the van, writhing and kicking as the door slides shut from the outside. You’re pinned on the floor in the seatless rear of the vehicle. You whimper as your eyes glisten with a sudden spring of tears.

That question rings in your head again; why you? You have no one to look for you, no one to care. It’s only you against them.

403 notes · View notes

coulsart · 3 months

Text

About the Unknown

I have a theory. A game theory. And we're going to ignore the fact that delving into this would put me on the Unknown's shit list IMMEDIATELY. It’s fine.

Disclaimer: I do not know what’s canon, and they kept it intentionally vague. Everyone’s valid to have their head canons and this is just the explanation my brain conjured up.

"The Unknown was believed to be a mysterious evil so heinous that investigating it almost immediately invited death. At least that was how the story went. And there were many stories. One story was of a woman in Greenville who disappeared without a trace on stage in front of a room full of witnesses. Her friend disappeared weeks later while trying to investigate what happened. The police were stumped. They had no clues or leads, and that mystery created the perfect storm for amplifying and spreading an urban legend." An excerpt from the very beginning of the official lore page

I want to focus on a few key words here. It was believed to be heinously evil. There were stories about disappearances. Said mysterious stories spread and amplified the urban legend.

The Unknown gains power from people's beliefs and thoughts about it. Not too unlike Pennywise from 'IT'. But there's a catch.

People theorize that it might be an alien, a curse, a cult-created abomination, or just a really elusive serial killer... but it is all of those things. Because people believe that it is.

It doesn't have control over what it is. It's a horrible hodge-podge monstrosity of many things, seemingly mashed and twisted together violently. It likely started as something completely different, or nothing at all. Maybe a vague presence that only observed. But people could feel the presence. And while neither good nor evil, the peoples' minds conjured up visions, explanations of what it might be. Some imagined it to be a man lurking in the shadows. Watching and stalking them. And so the Unknown's body began to form. First as a man. Even still, with this new body, it was inherently off. Uncanny from the start. The Unknown was at its core so far removed from humanity that it still could not pass as one of us. So it would linger in the forest, only venturing to the threshold between town and woods.

Maybe an unfortunate camper happened upon it at night. This shadow in the dark, distinctly the shape of a man. But what does one think first, encountering a strange man in the dead of night? All alone and isolated in the deep woods?

"He's going to kill me with a knife, or an ax!"

And so it did. Because they believed it would.

It only snowballed from there, after the body was found, only a few paces away from their untouched tent. There was no evidence left. No DNA, no footprints to follow. Just a bloodied body, with a skull cloven almost completely in twain; by what was suspected to be an ax. So the theories began.

No one could explain the lack of evidence left behind. It was too perfect, too efficient. And what were the chances of a normal man doing such damage in only a single swing?

More murders followed. At first, people started disappearing, their bodies later being found in the woods, not far from the first victim. They grew increasingly more mangled, to the point that authorities began to question whether it was done by a man, or an animal.

The people became afraid. Paranoid that this insane ax murderer would tire of the woods and enter their homes at night, while they were resting peacefully in bed. The fears were beginning to surpass that of just a serial killer. The Unknown was beginning to become more of a boogeyman figure to them. No human man could have committed such gruesome killings.

People began to disappear from their homes at night. Then the streets. Then the cafe and theater. Then... sometimes in broad daylight. Its territory only grew. Its abilities more and more vast and unpredictable. The theories only escalated... and throughout its rampage, the Unknown grew increasingly monstrous. Its humanoid body twisted and contorted to fit the peoples' beliefs. But nothing was erased - only added on. Which is why it existed in the horrific state that it did.

A body can only fit so much substance inside without tearing itself apart. Without becoming an deformed, unstable, and agonizing vessel to pilot and exist in.

Human beings did this to it. Human beings made what it was. They assumed the worst of it, and it became that.

So naturally, it became hateful and bitter. It loathes humans. They did this. It lives in constant agony and isolation because of them... only for the crime of observing and existing in their vicinity. That's why it killed the ones who dive deeper into its existence and theorize about what it is. They kept making it worse. Inflicting more pain upon it and twisting its body further and further.

It mirrors humans' own words to them. Snippets of conversation, pleas for help. It does not truly have its own voice. It only has what others have spoken about it, and around it.

But its feelings towards human beings are clear, based on its words. Especially in its memento mori. "The terror. The horror. Terribly frightening, isn't it." The way it parrots their words in this case almost seems vindictive and sarcastic. These are all things that human beings have said about it.

Thought outside of what it's been made into became increasingly difficult. Yet, somehow, the Unknown is vaguely aware of this fact: it could have been spared this horrific existence, had human beings chosen differently.

And for the Unknown, it only got worse when the Entity stole it away. It begged and pleaded for help - ironically, seeking it from that which it loathed most. A human being. It was torn from our world and plunged into the never ending loop that are Her trials. All for the sake of feeding Her appetite for suffering and torment. And it isn't only at the survivors' expense. It is at the expense of the Unknown as well. It suffers just as much as they... if not more. They at least have companions to rely on - with varying results, of course. It has nobody.

All hope for it healing is lost. The survivors have no reason not to think it a ruthless, horrific monster. And in turn, it has no reason not to hate and slaughter them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#couls art #theory #dbd #dead by daylight #the unknown #the unknown dbd #body horror #horror #gore #death mention #death #tw #long post #TRAGIC MONSTER IS MY SAUCE OK #IM REALLY PROUD OF THIS #also the pics are glazed and nightshaded so i hope they dont look too weird #itd be kewl if the devs saw this

309 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 3 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away.

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening.

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.”

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly.

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested.

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least.

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch.

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on”

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer.

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips.

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within.

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.”

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright.

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!”

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

Join my taglist here | See my fic masterlist here

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

196 notes · View notes

amortentiainmyfirewhiskey · 1 year

Text

|hide-n-seek| imagine

draco malfoy x hufflepuff reader

Description: Hi! I love your works! Can I request a fic of Draco x female hufflepuff reader where she is super outgoing and always nice to everyone? she’s also super smart! she is bullied by most of the slytherins (but not draco). draco and her don’t talk a lot, but they sometimes partner up for school projects and he’s nice to her. he is ignoring her bc he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he likes her, and she is super upset and is sad and self conscious and he notices and realizes that’s it’s his fault and fixes it?

Word Count: +1.2k

For: @spencerreidisbootiful

Draco perked up when he saw a head of (y/h/c) and a black and yellow tie enter the charms classroom, she was late. She was never late. You apologized profusely to Flitwick who waved his hand at you, telling you it was fine and that you could take your seat.

You plopped down beside Draco and put your head down on the dark oak table, “ Ugh,” you groaned.

Draco raised a neat pale brow but didn’t say anything until everyone began practicing the charm ,” Why were you late?” he asked pulling his wand out of his robes, “ You weren’t in the bathroom were you?”

You scoffed at his rude implication, “ No, Draco,” you said reprovingly, “ I was just late, that’s all,”

Draco looked you over and said nothing more about it.

---

It was two days later and once again you were late. Draco felt his heart sink the slightest bit, sensing something was wrong he interrogated you as soon as you entered the classroom, “ Where the hell were you this time?” he hissed quietly as they were supposed to be reading.

Your (e/c) eyes hardend and you pursed your lips, “ I was just late again, that’s all,”

“ Oh, horseshite, “ he snapped back.

You said nothing more and carried on with your assignment.

---

It was after class now and Draco watched you leave your last class, silently admiring how your hair glittered in the afternoon rays of the sun. You laughed at something a friend said and a small but genuine smile graced Draco’s face, maybe there wasn’t anything wrong.

He didn’t know (y/n) very well, they only sat by each other in Charms but he had grown quite fond of her. Draco had known who you were, you were rather popular and outgoing so most people did.

You used to annoy him horribly just because of how nice you were. He had concluded it was all fake but now he knew it to be genuine, which freaked him out more.

You didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

Later at dinner, Draco sat beside Blaise Zabini who was taking sips of pumpkin juice while reading the evening prophet, “ Zabini?” he asked.

The handsome boy merely hummed in acknowledgement without so much as turning to look at him.

“ What do you know about (y/n) (y/l/n?”

Zabini’s focus wavered and he set down the prophet and sent Draco a confused look , “ You meaning that overly peppy girl? What you trying to shag her?”

The image of being intimate with (y/n) made Draco’s pale face turn pink, “ No you idiot, Merlin never mind!” Draco shot up and practically ran from the dining hall and back to the Slytherin dorms.

He went into his down and flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling of his canopy bed, why the hell did he feel like this? Why was his stomach bubbling and why were his cheeks burning. His heart was racing and his palms sweating. Why did what Blaise said embarrass him that much-?

Oh.

Oh no.

Draco jumped out of bed and began pacing around his dorm, what was he going to do? He had to do something, right? He couldn’t fancy her, he was Draco bloody Malfoy, and she was just some half-blood in Hufflepuff!

That night Draco lay wide awake contemplating his plan for the next day and how he would get rid of this unwanted crush. He decided to just ignore it, that seemed simple enough, right?

---

You came in late once again and you looked to Draco, waiting for his questions but they never came. The Slytherin stared straight ahead, not even looking in your direction.

You sent him a questioning look but ignored it.

Later in class you asked him how his day was going and there was no response, you figured he didn’t hear you so you said it louder, and again there was nothing.

You expected this from the other Slytherins, but not Draco. You felt a dull pain in your heart and swallowed the lump rising in your throat. You weren’t sure wahy you were on the brink of tears. People had done worse than this to you, they practically still do torment you.

But their taunts felt like nothing compared to this silent treatment.

“ What did I do?” you asked at last.

No response.

When the bell rang you flew past Draco who hadn’t even left his seat. You were out the door before he could blink. He felt the unfamiliar sensation of guilt coil in his stomach and the next thing he knew, he was following you.

Draco made it just in time to see the tail end of you turn down a corridor. He pursued you, trying to think of what he was going to say, or how he was going to explain. He just knew he couldn’t tell you the truth, he couldn’t even believe it himself.

His shoes slapped against the flagstone floors as he tried to find you, but after a little over fifteen minutes he gave up. At least he knew he’d see you when you left Transfiguration in a few hours.

It was his study hall so he headed toward the library when he heard a group of boys roaring with laughter. He didn’t pay it much mind, it wasn’t uncommon to hear students horsing around in the halls.

When he rounded the corner his stomach dropped through the floor.

It was you, surrounded by five of his housemates.

“ Aw, did we make you cry, Puff?” sneered Anthony Stone.

Your fists clenched beside you and you stood tall, “ Shove off! I can only stand you lot once a day, why break the routine now, huh?”

The boys laughed once again, “ You think you’re so big and bad? Show us what you can do, bitch!” said one of them shoving your shoulder.

He noticed the way you tensed up but nevertheless you shoved his hand off you. He recognized your wand in Avery’s hand and he took that split second to admire your courage. Five creepy ass blokes against one tough, but practically defenseless girl.

Draco managed to awake from his stupor and in an instant he felt blood rush to his ears and his heart hammer against his chest, “ Oy!” he hollered.

The boys looked up just as Draco sent a flurry of hexes their way, not giving a rat ass they would run off and tell their other housemates about him defending a half-blood. Merlin he could already hear the howler.

The group of Slytherins screamed as sharp pins poked them on the bum as they ran down the corridor, eventually fading from view.

You blinked with a dumbfounded but horrified look, “ I-,”

“ Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” snapped Draco, “ I could have done something about-,”

“ Why would you?” you asked incredulously.

“ Because I-!” he stopped himself, he couldn’t finish the sentence. They stayed in awkward silence for a moment, barely a foot apart and staring at one another.

“ Because?” you asked softly, a (y/s/t) hand reaching out to touch his forearm. Your (y/e/c) had his insides melting and your hopeful face obliterated him, what did he do?

“ Because... that’s what friends are for?” he said like he was unsure himself.

You couldn’t help but giggle and step a little bit closer, “ Draco?” you hummed.

“ Er yeah?”

You smiled, “ For once in your life shut the hell up,”

That was all it took for the blond to swoop down and kiss you.

#draco x reader #draco x reader fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco fluff #draco malfoy fluff

1K notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

WIBTA if i cut off someone reaching out for help on tumblr? i am a very anxious person. ive been on tumblr a very long time because most all other social media terrifies me as someone who grew up with the wild west internet a decade past (im in my late 20s) so i feel sometimes with how reckless and spurractic people can be online in chatroom and especially clearly public platforms where any stranger, malicious or otherwise can just archive your digital presence for personal use.

more recently as someone who has been here during the pornban and as an asexual really enjoyed the quiet with no drama farming and a slow pace to talk about more unique political topics in a measured way it is something im strangely nostalgic for and a great example of my sensibilities to people when they insist that i use other platforms like discord or twitter or whatever clone for these services comes out of the old guard introducing feature creep to copy everyone else or any other indi "were the anti corporate version" of the endless scroll apps. i just dont want it. tumblr is special because im desktop only, been here for years, and i have kept track of every single change made so i have manually adjusted the change through hacks to evade every bad decision on here and make my set up look identical to how it was in 2010. so let it be understood that i tend to be a loney person because of this stubbornness. web 3.0 is too dangerous to people with addictive tendencies that my adhd brings out and my need to wear my heart on my sleeve. so i hope i defended my personality type enough to show why someone like me would see a post about some horrible abuses they have fell victim to who also share alot of the marginalized status as me and writing depressive things in the replys of others posts as to attention seek about it.

i directly interact with this person, not only to check if they are real (but wow, modern chat bots make this part horrifying for me. we really cant ever know for sure what is real anymore. trying to find warmth on the internet feels impossible now a days) i have multiple conversations at this point both venting and just casually shooting the shit. but the begging for me to constantly repost their paypal makes me so nervous in a way that i feel so guilty for because it reminds me of all the scams that get associated with this kind of ebegging and the reminder that capitalism takes away all warmth from human interaction to make them purely transnational and conditional. but then it just has been escalating where im so scared that now its not enough that im reposing on my 8 follower, all mutual blog, they are asking me to share it on other socials. accounts i do not have i have a flip phone and a laptop and i am tinkering with a windows 7 tower that will never be connected to the internet so i can always have software sit perfectly in its time capsule for when i need it. i do not have a way to help this person outside of what i learned from collage psyche classes. a part of me is so scared to just abruptly cut them off and just delete my entire account like i tend to do often on tumblr for a multitude of reasons, its a part of what lets people survive being here this long but i worry that would crush them if i did that, i dont want to make them feel more hopeless and unwanted then they already talk about. but i am text on the internet through a screen. i can only do so much. so would i be the asshole if i just deleted my account with a "i hope you hang in there, the world is a harsh place but keep moving" to cut someone so similar to me who is struggling out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

96 notes · View notes

l1tw1ck · 1 year

Text

Xiao on Dragonspine

Xiao chose the wrong day to visit Dragonspine with you

Bottom!FTM!Omega Xiao x Top!Masc!Alpha Reader

[Event] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Rut, Knotting, Nipple Play, Victim Blaming, Belly Bulge, Breeding, Choking, Squirting, Spanking

📝 W.C 896 | Reader Discretion is Advised

"Focus." Xiao snaps his fingers, his other hand on his waist and an annoyed expression on his face. "Don't get distracted."

You grunt in response, staring at Xiao's chest. His nipples are poking through the fabric of his sheer tank top, making you incredibly horny. It was about time for your rut to start and Xiao wasn't going to make it very easy to deal with.

He luckily doesn't notice your lustful stares, he's only upset with how spaced out you are.

"Xiao.." You mumble, spreading your pheromones unconsciously.

Xiao quickly reacts to them and starts to feel weaker. "Wh- what?" His voice is softer than normal.

You push him to the ground and pounce on top of him, breathing heavily. Xiao tries to push you off of him but to no avail.

"Get off!" He yells. "Why are you doing this?!"

You twist his nipples and make him whimper in pleasure. "You keep teasing me with these, showing off your tits like a fucking slut."

"I wa- wasn't~!" Xiao hits your arms desperately.

"You know exactly what you're doing, you're practically begging to be fucked with the way you're dressed out here. Just a tank top and nothing underneath so you can show everyone your perky little tits." You rip his shirt apart. Xiao may not be affected by the cold, but his body is. His nipples are so hard, it's impossible not to want to touch them.

"No! That's not-" Xiao gets interrupted with a sharp slap to his chest, bringing out a debauched moan from him. His skin reddens from the hit.

You pull your pants down and reveal your hard-on, filling Xiao with even more fear. You rip his pants off then tear his underwear apart, completely exposing his cunt to the cold air. He's already wet from basking in your pheromones.

"Please- please don't!"

"Shut up." You push into him forcefully, stretching open his unwilling pussy.

He cries out in pain, writhing around and trying to get away. He screams your name in hopes of getting through to you and of course his efforts are useless.

"Fuck yes-" You groan, pushing into him. "So goddamn tight."

Xiao sobs, hating (loving) how uncomfortably large you are.

"Gonna knock you up, breed you till you can't fucking move." You lift his hips up, admiring the bump in his stomach.

Xiao looks at you in horror while his cunt clenches around you and drips more slick, his body's reaction contradicting his mind.

"You like that, huh? You wanna get stuffed full of cum, Xiao?." You grab his waist and fuck him at a slow but pleasurable pace. "It's all you're good for, a good little slut should lay down and take the cock that's given to them.”

Xiao whines, feeling unwanted enjoyment from it all.

"You're not even denying it." You laugh, slapping his chest again. "At least you know your place."

Xiao digs his nails into your arms, unsure of if he wants you to stop or go faster.

You suck on one of the red buds, occasionally biting it. Xiao squirms around, trying to run away from the pleasure. "It hurts!"

You pull your mouth off him. "Either be honest or shut the fuck up and take it." You grip his neck tightly.

Xiao rolls his eyes back and comes, squirting on your cock.

"You're a horrible liar. Look at you, coming so hard from being choked." You fuck him harder and faster, giving him zero time to process his orgasm.

He throws his head back and moans, his sore red tits bouncing with each thrust.

"It's good, isn't it, Xiao?"

He only moans in response, all his sane thoughts start to fuzz out and turn into impure thoughts of lust and the need to be bred.

"Dumb little slut." You slap his tits again, eliciting a whorish whine from the smaller male.

Xiao manages to say a few words despite his current state. "Breed me, ple- please~!"

You flip him over and force him on all floors. You slip back into him, his cunt basically molded to your shape, and return to your previously hard and merciless pace.

Xiao cries out in pleasure, gasping whenever you spank him, his ass turning red thanks to that.

“Do you know how whorish you look right now?” You laugh, spanking his ass again. “I wonder what Rex Lapis would think of you right now.”

Xiao rolls his eyes back, too focused on how good he feels to even remember who his Archon is. “Coming~!” He exclaims, squirting all over the ground.

You force him onto the ground, his sore and sensitive tits and clit coming into contact with the cold snow.

Xiao turns his head to the side, a fucked out look on his face as you resume your thrusts. He drools into the ground and moans like a stupid slut.

You lean into the back of his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. You thrust into him a few times before stopping, knotting him while spilling your seed inside him and biting him hard enough to draw blood.

You calm down, finally getting a clear head. You look at his messed up, tear stained face in awe. You feel a little bit of guilt for doing this to him. "Xiao?"

He mumbles something, a stupid smile on his face. "mmm..so full..."

771 notes · View notes

seafoamreadings · 24 days

Text

week of may 12th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: you may experience some struggles with your reputation this week, or perhaps a clash between how people see you in person compared to how your reputation appears publicly as its own entity. it is worth doing a little intentional cultivation of your public image.

taurus: what a good week to be a taurean. unexpected gifts, opportunities, and new ideas arise for you. people may accuse you of moving slowly or thinking too stubbornly but you know what you're about and the benefits of taking your time.

gemini: the ingress of mercury from aries to taurus is unlikely to be your favorite vibe. you tend to prefer flitting from one thing to the next, taking in a bit of everything; taurus is stolid and not fast-paced enough for everyone. just try to be patient and appreciate a job well done, which sometimes takes time.

cancerians: it can be tempting to seek all your support in life from a significant other, a desired life partner. but this is not always possible or even truly desirable. this week likely reminds you of the importance of the larger social support system. see also if you can provide some of that same type of social support to someone who needs you.

leo: try not to take it too personally if people don't treat you quite as you want to be treated this week, or if you aren't seen quite as you wish or try to be seen. these influences are fleeting. living authentically is the key.

virgo: earth vibes are up right now and it suits you and helps you maintain your balance. the start of mercury in taurus is particularly good for you intellectually and mentally. on the other hand ceres going retrograde in capricorn might conceivably throw you off a bit, but only temporarily. let any unforeseen hiccups bring you into your inner world and see where you need to do a bit of inner work.

libra: although you may feel a bit weighed down and fatigued, the astrology does actually support you in that - it's a healing process and it demands rest, so where you are tired, you are still needing to hold still for a while. if you are bursting with energy, much has already been done.

scorpio: taurean energy continues - sun, jupiter, uranus, venus, mercury all hyped up. your relationships are therefore likely abuzz. any enemies you have, or simply people without your best interests at heart who might cause you to stumble, are revealed and, hopefully without too much effort due to much benefic presence, they are also largely disarmed.

sagittarius: while taurus season is lovely and pleasurable for many, perhaps including yourself, it's likely you've been itching to speed something up or get something going. this is the last week before the sun moves into gemini to light up your seventh house!

capricorn: ceres going retrograde in your sign may have you feeling a bit undernourished or hesitant to nourish yourself, but do not hesitate. it's more important than ever. meanwhile a bunch of fun things happen in taurus and your 5th house, so embrace nourishing your inner child as well. (and any actual children you have, please).

aquarius: on their journeys through taurus, the sun and venus both conjoin your ruling planet uranus this week. these are good times to intentionally beautify your home in dramatic ways. maybe nothing horribly permanent though - try a temporary wall paper or stick on tiles or something. this fresh energy invites new wonderful things in - especially do something nice for your door and entryway.

pisces: if you have any siblings it is very auspicious this week to bond with them. and if not, or if you are much too estranged, cousins or neighbors or your nearby community will also do well. finding likeminded thinkers online is also favorable in such a time.

#horoscopes #horoscope #weekly horoscope #weekly horoscopes #astrology #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

89 notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 4 months

Text

WOLF AT YOUR DOOR: CAN'T LOSE YOU SO SOON

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #3 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — Babbies okay, I was tearing up when writing this piece, I just have this weird love for writing shit like this. I hope you enjoy it, maybe get yourselves some tissues, and let the story come... full circle.

WORD COUNT — 2.5k

READER DISCRETION — A lot of angst — hurt and hurt/comfort — bit of a backstory filler mostly — pregnant Wanda gets very emotional — depictions of trauma, grief, loss and structure destruction — usage of mates and mention of the bond's ability I think that's it?

PREVIOUS COLUMNS WOLF AT YOUR DOOR WOLF AT YOUR DOOR Pt. 2

SUMMARY — You've always been a fighter. It's familiar to you, you know how to handle it. Because you had nothing to lose. Until recently. With Wanda due any moment now, it's put your fighting on the edge. So when a mission goes horribly wrong, it's decided what must be done next...

She knew it would be dangerous. But that never once stopped you from facing the threat head on. Stupidly brave, and insanely headstrong. Yearning for the fight, for the chance to do the thing you always believed you were only good at.

She had pulled you aside after the briefing for the emergency meeting, hand anxiously running over her swollen belly and eyes tearfully full.

“Don’t.” Her one worded plea is only met with a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll be back soon enough.”

So stupidly brave. Ignorant and brave. Rugged in your feverish itch to join the fight. Fury amongst everyone else knew she is due any day now. And still, they send you away into the arms of danger, as if you have nothing to lose.

As if she has nothing to lose.

She watches as you turn your back to her - on her - and storm down the corridor, joining your assigned comrades to prepare for combat. She sees you join them on the quinjet and take off at lightning speed, towards the reported chaos. A threat that devastates New York, with many civilians, innocent in their parts to play, are in need of you.

But Wanda needs you too.

She paces around the briefing room, the projector casting the events at this current time. Her hands cup her swell, the looming pressure of anxiety claws at her insides, troubling her and her pups that have become riled in the womb.

She does her best to soothe them to no avail. They’re able to feel the way her body is constricted in her worry.

Worry that becomes sheer terror in the blank of an eye. The damage reminds her of Sokovia. Destruction leaves many in a state of grief and uncertainty. Her heart goes out to them, truly it does. But the tears she sheds aren’t for them.

They're for you.

You’d become separated from your team in the midst of the chaos. The fight in which gets your blood pumping hard and a vent for the pent up rage. Cameras catch it all, your shifted form pelted from the rooftop of an eighty story building like nothing, your body flies far until your back collides into the neighbouring tower.

However, your opponent doesn’t leave you to fall to your demise below. Not that you’d give yourself that chance, your body falling a few stories before your claws find purchase on a lucky ridge that catches you.

Your opponent launches forward and with a cloud of dust and debris, you’re sent falling through the wall and downwards, the building collapsing in around you.

Fury stands beside Wanda, hands pressed firm behind his back and shoulders stiff. Natasha reaches Wanda who cries out, she cries your name, prayers and pleas to not lose you so soon.

Pain blooms in her body and she fears the stress has induced her labour. The catastrophe not only claiming you but also the life of her pups.

The building still crumbles in, thick and towering clouds darken out the sun.

“We’re on our way, Y/N. Hold tight. Y/N? Y/N, do you copy?” The dispatched team’s frequency seems to echo throughout the briefing room. Natasha holds Wanda tightly in her arms, cradling her sobbing body that shivers with peach painful wave consuming her body, mind and mated soul.

“Please! Please, someone, help them!” she screams until her voice is shredded and strained by grief. “Don’t leave me, Y/N! Please! Don’t leave us!”

Your teammates work hard to sift through the wreckage. People are screaming, their voices cutting through the feed. Tony, Thor and Peter begin to pull chunks of debris aside, shoving, pushing deeper into the fallen building.

Steve comes into view next to aid in the recovery; the daunting realisation that it may very well be for your body.

Wanda’s eyes cloud with her tears, she wipes them clear only for more to blur her vision. She can’t see the feed. She doesn’t want to. But she needs to. She knew something would go awry. She felt it. Something in the bond told her to warn you, to keep you out of danger’s way, but your headstrong attitude wouldn’t allow you.

Did you think yourself invincible? She always found you had such a complex. That you can shake whatever it is off without a hitch. All she can do is pray that they retrieve you. She cannot bear the thought of—

“We need immediate medical attention. Y/N is down, and bad. We… shit, hold on, Kid. Hang in there. Fury, send an emergency medic!” Tony’s voice is sharpened by panic.

After another moment, Steve, Peter and Tony drag you out from the clouds of dust, your body brings a shrill cry from Wanda’s throat. She can taste the blood on her tongue.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all Fury says. All he could say. Scarlet red glares at his turned back, shrouding over the cool green of Wanda’s hues. Natasha’s own eyes mist over with tears. Her hand presses onto Wanda’s, the panicked kicking doesn’t cease for a moment.

Banner and Helen work in record time. The moment you were carted back to the compound, medical attention was on you. Natasha, Bucky and Loki had to hold her back, her body moving to run to you.

Nobody answered her questions which only fuel her more with dreaded doubt of your survival.

You can’t leave her so soon. You just can’t… you were mates, you and her. She needs you.

Your body is torn between human and wolf as the cells of your body try to recuperate from the inflicted trauma and heal your wounds.

With gloved hands, Banner plucks the remnants of your shock collar off, a low whine escapes you. The smell of burnt flesh stings their noses.

“This is…”

It’s been a few hours now before anyone could see you. All huddled together outside the room, Banner and Helen finally come out. Immediately they’re pounced on with questions regarding your health.

Banner, however much he wanted to address their concerns, his eyes turn to Wanda. She was the priority right now.

“Are they dead?” The ring of her Sokovian tongue is prominent in her question that quivers unevenly.

Banner’s head bows down, bottom teeth pulling over his top lip, he pushes the door open.

“No. They’ve asked to see you. There were a few… complications during the procedure. Helen and I believe it may be for the best to prepare for the worst.”

Wanda would not hear anymore of it. She pushes past Banner, ignoring the tearful eyes that follow her in pity. She shuts the door behind herself, leaving you both to the near silence devices of your intertwining presences. The faint beep of the machine monitoring sounds slow with each high pitched mark of your heartbeat.

Wanda approaches your side, your body now complacent in its human skin. A vast majority of your body is patched up with bandages and bruised skin, your face mostly stitched and also bruised.

What concerns her amongst all these things is the thick layer of gauze wrapped around your neck.

Your eyes pry open to catch a glimpse of your visitor, your expectations confirmed when your fingers curl Wanda’s hand into your hold.

“Mate,” you sigh softly. It’s a dead giveaway that your breath is at a near loss with how little your chest rises.

“How could you?” she seethes, streaks of tears lining her cheeks, “you fucking— you almost left us behind!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry. Be safe. Be loyal!” She pauses in the middle of her coiling anger. She uses her sleeve to wipe her stuffy nose and eyes. “Be with us. Stop… please, stop fighting like this. You’re not alone anymore. You have something to lose now.”

Her words take their sweet time to sink in. The fight is all you know. From a young age, you were trained to kill, to fight. To put away so many years of battle isn’t easy. Years of field trauma tend to stay well over their welcome. It becomes a dark piece in the puzzle of your soul, your identity. But she is right. You never had anything to lose before her. You could go running into a blaze of silver gunfire and not give a single thought to the outcome that was your survival.

There once was a time that nothing had you bound to keep living. But now you do. You have a family. Your family.

“I agree.” Wanda’s eyes find yours, a short gasp in her next breath. Your hand curls tighter. “I’m scared, Y/N…”

Your brows screw into a confused pinch. “Why?”

“Because Banner says that I have to expect the worst. That because of complications— y-you may…”

“Oh, Banner is full of shit. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you - any of you - alone.” Your hand flattens over her bump that instantly comes to life upon your touch. Wanda offers a smile, saddened by the thought that this may very well be the last time your hand graces her pregnant belly. The last time you may have on this earth with her and your pups. The lives you both created together from a night of pent up attraction. Of once denied love.

She sidles up beside you and her arms carefully move to hold you. Perhaps for the final time. “You were so sure before the mission. I’m sorry, my love, but you can’t be so sure now either.”

You growl lowly under your breath, pulling her tight against you, disregarding the rapid climb of the monitor, the ache of your wounds and the traumatic burning ring around your neck. None of that means shit to you.

All that matters to you is Wanda and your pups. Your family.

“Yes I can.”

The day is lifeless without sunlight. Only grey clouds form the sky with a sprinkling of rain. Her eyes are drowned by tears, she’s been crying for days now, the decision clear and made. The pup curled to her breast, adorned in a bright yellow suit, coos in protest when her tiny nose is dotted by light droplets of rain.

Wanda breathes through her nose, uttering a quiet apology as she then wipes her pup’s nose.

Her eyes stare down towards the grassy plot at her feet. The stone tablet is brand new, the gilded, reflective plate etched with the honourable title and name of one who was lost. Those of the team, the Avengers, gathered together in a dark palette of mourning.

Natasha is held tightly to Steve’s chest as she weeps. Each to their own shed their tears, their condolences for her. Wanda has grown tired of the tears.

“Y…” She cannot even bring herself to say the name. To bring any sense of comfort. To say a few words of gratitude for the buried.

In her weakening resolve, she feels a hand on the small of her back. Your hand. Her eyes move from the headstone to your eyes, also brimmed red with tears.

You were stupidly strong. Not a single tear would ever leave a watery streak down the contours of your visage. Until today.

You turn to those who you work alongside with. Your own arms cradling the other three pups.

“Yelena Belova was an integral member of the Avengers team. She was never afraid of anything. Many times, she’s thrown herself in the fray for our sake. In fact, I believe some of us wouldn’t be here today, if not for her…”

Your eyes fall to the faces of your pups, their eyes slowly blinking up at you. You sigh heavily with the burden of your sincere words, hardened by the loss, hardened by the resolve that Natasha lost someone dear to her.

Yelena had saved you countless times. Watched your back when you couldn’t watch it yourself. You doubt yourself among the living had she’d never done so. She’s the reason you’re still alive. The reason you have a family.

“We will honour Yelena’s legacy and memory. She will always be a part of this team. A part of us. Forever.”

The final pup whines, kicking her little legs about as you lower her into the makeshift nest. You’d been kept busy, using what materials you could to create a crib big enough for your four pups, then padding it beyond the realm of comfort. She snuggles into her siblings, each of them looping their legs or arms around one another.

You huff quietly, nose nuzzling each of them in a bid of good night, their soft coos assuring you they are safe and well in their slumber. “We can’t stay here anymore. I cannot bear the thought of burying you too soon.”

“I know, Mate,” you agree, tone heavy in your post-grief. You walk to her and sit alongside the edge of the bed. After the funeral and tending to the pups, Wanda showered quickly and dressed down into one of your large shirts, even being clean, it smelt of you.

A comfort she thought would be the only thing she’d have left of you.

“You mean far too much to me. The thought of losing you, I just— I can’t—”

“I know.”

You pull yourself towards her now and pull her into your front. Still her eyes are glassy. Truly, you’ve pushed her beyond her breaking point and it saddens you deeply that you allowed your bravery and hotheadedness to blind you to the bond.

You felt it too. The remnants of Mother Nature yourself, a connection you’d long forgotten, tugged at you with staggering might. A warning that you were in great danger. You had blatantly ignored it.

You threatened the tie of the bond with your stupidity. And now you have to pay the price for it. That’s why you decided together what was best for your family.

“It’s a place called Sanctuary. An… old reserve. Deep in a valley far away from all this. We can settle there, build there. Together.”

Her hand is delicate against the line of your jaw, her plump lips meet yours in a soft kiss. You purr softly and cradle the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss.

When you finally pull away from her lips, you grace her with a tender smile, eyes filled with love. Pure adoration and love. A sight she never thought she’d see grace your haunted gaze.

“And… this can be our first step.”

Your hand fumbles around for a moment until you finally succeed in retrieving whatever it was you’re searching for. Wanda’s eyes shift down as gold slides over the slender bend of her finger. Her mouth falls agape and she turns her eyes back to you.

“Marry me?”

Your fingers run over the scarring. The ring of skin around your neck is still marred in its process to heal. For how much longer is undetermined but the pain tied to it left you no choice but to resign yourself to the wilds of home.

Your reflection in the picture frame casts a glaring glimpse of the fight you’ve now retired from. You’ve far too much to lose now. Loneliness once allowed you to be so reckless. But not anymore.

In that picture frame is the reflection of someone who did the right thing for their family. Someone who resigned from the fight they once danced so well before it claimed their life. Before it robbed you and Wanda of being an ‘us’.

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST

@alexawynters @alyciaddict

89 notes · View notes

thegreatyin · 1 month

Note

Your posts about Fallen London are slowly tempting me into playing it- do you have any tips to start or is it best to play it completely blind?

i have a few tips and tricks! mind you im far from a veteran and i basically got my hand held by tumblr for most of the game so take everything with a grain of salt. you can and should do whatever you want always. i don't personally play it blind, but you may get more enjoyment out of it if you do, and that's awesome and im super happy for you. this is what i can say from experience:

take your time with it. this is like. the numero uno fallen london tip. it's not a game where you rush to the end in a week. it's a game where you do 10-minute-intervals of a marathon to the end in maybe a few months if you know what you're doing. spending money on action refills usually isn't worth it when you can just mosey on through neathly life one storylet at a time. a vast majority of the game's content is completely free to everyone, and while the monthly subscription options are pretty neat and let you play some exclusive story stuff (that can be pretty fire- cricket anyone basically defined the scoundrel's entire character) none of it is required and 99% of the time you aren't missing out on anything by just taking your time and exploring the neath at your own pace.

you need to raise all of your skills eventually! this is, uh. something im horribly guilty of not following myself. you can (and probably should) pick at least two stats to focus on for your character (most of the time these will be your main ambition stats, aka the closest thing FL has to a main story questline) but eventually you Will be expected to have them all at around the 100 range, minimum. for certain Super Late-game Story Content, watchful 200 is mandatory to start it, so if you have trouble choosing i'd recommend leveling that bad boy first. don't neglect your other stats though!!! don't be like me. don't be like my poor poor neglected shadowy and dangerous. it's too late for me. save yourself.

friends are fun and free and you are legally mandated to exploit them for fun and profit. okay you really aren't mandated to exploit your FL friends list but you totally should anyway just for goofy sillies. to be less jokey about it, while fallen london is primarily a single-player gaming experience, the playerbase is super friendly and super open to helping each other out (especially new players!). go on reddit, ask around on tumblr, get yourself a few buddies and use them as resources to gain items and stats and menace reduction i mean. valued companions that im sure you will treasure forever and definitely not backstab to publish that inflammatory newspaper article you've been cooking up.

on a very loosely similar note, the fallen london wiki is your best friend. yes, we're following stardew rules with this one. this is the kind of game best optimally played with a wiki article or three open in the neighboring tabs so you can follow along and know what is what. there's tons of guides on basically every part of FL, and it's no shame at all to reach out to either it or the wider community if you get stuck or feel lost at something.

if an in-game storylet has bold text, it will never lie to you! except for when it does. but that's very very very rare. you can always trust the bold text. it is always your friend. i prommy. which brings us neatly into our next bulletpoint,

seeking the name is ill-advised because it's the only storyline that can permanently brick your account at its conclusion. don't worry, the ease at which you can avoid this is practically comical, and the game will Always give you multiple chances to opt-out if you somehow accidentally start it anyway. most people make a dedicated alt character entirely for the purpose of sacrificing them to the well of doom. unless you're playing with your eyes closed for multiple months straight, you'll never run into SMEN without deliberately chasing it, and if you somehow get to that point honestly man just ignore this entire bulletpoint and see how far the rabbithole goes. go on. it's friendly :)

batfucking is always the right answer to any problem ever

echoes/the game's standard currency should always be thought of as a method of gaining items rather than a strict hoard of video game dollars. money-making can be super difficult in the earlygame, but it gets exponentially easier as you go further on. you shouldn't be afraid to sell anything you don't need, though personally i'd recommend keeping an "insurance stock" of the most basic items just in case. this includes rostygold, moon-pearls, honey droplets, etc. by-and-large, these are the easiest items to get in a pinch, and it usually isn't worth buying them from the bazaar when you can otherwise get them naturally through other methods around london. once you've got a good lodgings setup and feel decently familiar with the earlygame zones and their options, you should aim to have at minimum 1,000 of these bad boys on hand at any given time, then feel free to sell any excess you make for some quick cash in a pinch.

menaces aren't as bad as you may think, but be wary of specifically suspicion! the four main menace qualities you'll encounter in the earlygame are nightmares, wounds, scandal, and suspicion. when one of these menace stacks reach 8, you'll automatically be trapped in a unique location corresponding to whatever menace you raised too high and will have to spend time working your way out. some (nightmares and wounds) tend to fly-by rather quickly, while others (scandal and suspicion) tend to take a bit longer to get out of. none of these mean the end of your playthrough or your character, and some quests even require you to visit certain menace-exclusive locations! there are tons of items and ways to reduce menaces and keep yourself out of Situations such as these, but suspicion in particular is probably the only menace you should avoid maxing At All Costs. when your suspicion gets too high and you get sent to its special menace zone too often, you build up a criminal record that makes it harder to reduce suspicion in the future. fortunately, suspicion is the only menace with this gimmick, and before this record gets too high it's just as easy to keep row as the rest of the lot. TLDR, death from wounds is easy to escape from, but avoiding the strongarm of the law is substantially more annoying and inconvenient.

or you could be like tumblr user @with-bells-upon, who's apparently avoided death at all costs and apparently hasn't died once in the entire several months they've been playing. i don't even know how they've gotten this far without doing that. it's kind of impressive, kind of funny. especially since their ambition is one the few requiring you to die to proceed. this isn't a piece of advice i just wanted to affectionately call them out because what the heck

speaking of ambitions, pick the ambition that's right for you! ambitions are the biggest overarching questline in the game, and their requirements and rewards span the entire neath and occasionally even beyond. all four ambitions are meant to be started early and last well into the mid and late game. outside of a certain special situation regarding the light fingers ambition (the only ambition that explicitly lies to you in-game when describing its premise) you can't change your ambition without spending money, so choose carefully and choose well. they're all (mostly) equally rewarding and equally fulfilling adventures that will define your player character and your journey through the neath. there's tons of advice and spoiler-free summaries of each ambition online, so i won't cover it all here. just do your research (or don't, if you prefer) and follow your heart. maybe playing the world's most high-stake poker game ever speaks to you. maybe you want to commit a murder. maybe you want to commit a murder in the name of justice and/or revenge. maybe you just want a really really big really really shiny rock. all can be found in the neath, and all shall (eventually) be well.

if you buy 400 lucky weasels you get a special achievement. i don't need to say more.

make up a guy. this is another legal mandate if you're a fallen london player. you have to make up your own little sicko victorian london guy and roleplay them while you play. trust me. it's fun. it's free. they're going to haunt you forever. the scoundrel got a nickname like 4 months ago and ever since my mind has never known peace.

and probably most important of all, fallen london might not be the game for you, and that's okay. it includes a lot of reading. and grinding. and i do mean a lot of reading and grinding. particularly the latter, which tends to throw people off the most out of anything. it's a very niche game for a very niche audience and getting into it can be an acquired taste at the best of times. but when you do get into it, it's some Really good writing and Really in-depth worldbuilding and the most fun you'll ever have imagining sicko victorian guys running around building train stations and railway tracks directly to hell. take your time, have fun, and most important of all, always look to love.

anyway yeah that's my fallen london tips and tricks list isn't it really short and comprehendible

#im not really good at writing advice. hope this helps u out regardless #ask #fallen london #long post

70 notes · View notes

kalegreeneyes · 4 months

Text

Feb 1 - Chocolate - 971 words - @wolfstarmicrofic

“I don’t think you understand how important this is,” Sirius stresses, hands fisting in his own hair and pulling at it in his frustration.

“Why does Moony’s birthday present matter so much this year?” James asks, flopping back on his bed in their dorm while he watches Sirius pace.

“Because it just does okay? It does,” Sirius groans, spinning in place to continue pacing in the opposite direction.

It matters so much to Sirius this year because he finally cast his patronus about a month ago and hasn’t told anyone about it. It matters because he’s finally realized why Moony is different to him than Prongs and Wormtail. When he holed himself up in the room of requirement and ran through his happiest memories until he managed to finally, finally land on one that worked, it just so happened to be the one of Remus's face when they told him about having become animagi for him. He had looked right at Sirius like he just knew it was his idea, and the look of sheer awe on his face had made Sirius feel more important than he ever had in his entire life. So, Sirius had focused on that look in his mind’s eye until the feeling it gave him filled his entire body and burst from the tip of his wand. Sirius had watched with amazement as what he initially thought was a dog, namely Padfoot, started running in the air around the room. Then, it got a bit closer, and Sirius’s heart had nearly given out when he realized that it wasn’t Padfoot at all. It was Moony.

Sirius’s entire world shifted on its axis in that moment. He knew there was something different; something that kept him up at night more frequently than not, something that had him staring at Remus whenever he got the chance–but he just hadn’t put it together. He hadn’t even considered that he could like other blokes until then, but as the light of the patronus faded and left Sirius cast in dim candlelight, it was glaringly obvious that not only could he, he did. So, naturally, he’s spent the entire past month panicking and trying desperately to figure out if there’s any chance at all that Remus could feel the same. It’s made things weird. Very weird. He’s come to the conclusion that he has to rip the bandaid off and show Remus his patronus, but he’s absolutely terrified that it might ruin their friendship.

“I have something…special for him,” Sirius explains, keeping it vague, “but I’m worried that it might ruin his birthday. And everything else, so. I don’t know what to get him as a back-up present just in case the first thing goes horribly wrong, and it’s tomorrow, and I’m freaking the fuck out!”

“I’ve noticed,” James chuckles unhelpfully. “I don’t really know how to help if you won’t tell me what you’re giving him that might ruin his birthday? But, I mean, you could give it to him on another day?”

“NO! I can’t! It’s kind of a big deal, so it obviously has to be on his birthday!”

“Alright, well. I can’t help you there, but I do have a solid solution for his back-up present,” James smirks, holding up the invisibility cloak in one hand and the Marauders’ Map in the other.

*****

Remus follows Sirius through the doorway into the room of requirement long after everyone else has gone to bed on the night of his birthday, feeling a bit nervous and a lot confused. Sirius has been treating him strangely for the entire past month, and Remus hasn’t been able to get any sense of why. It isn’t like he can become an illegal animagus for him a second time.

They walk into the center of the open space the room created for them, a few couches and flickering candelabras around the outside of the inner circle where Sirius stops to stand across from him. Sirius just stands there biting his lip and wringing his hands until Remus can’t take it anymore.

“Sirius, why did you bring me here?” he asks, frustration slipping into his tone. It’s been a hard month of not knowing what’s going on.

“I just- I wanted to give you your present, but it had to be in private,” Sirius starts. He swallows harshly, uncertainty apparent in his gaze. “Before I show you, I just want you to know that this doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Okay?” Remus says cautiously.

“Okay. Okay, here goes,” Sirius says on a deep breath, then holds his wand out and closes his eyes. After a few moments, the stunning blue light of a patronus pours out of his wand and fills the room. Remus blinks a few times to adjust, watching dumbfoundedly as the unmistakable form of a wolf sprints over his head. His heart starts hammering in his chest as he brings his gaze back down to Sirius, standing there across from him, looking small and scared.

“Is that–?” Remus asks. Sirius bites his lip and nods with a thick swallow.

Remus is across the room in a split second, hands on either side of Sirius’s face to pull him into a kiss that was a long time coming. Time stands still for them both, and they’re breathless when they pull away.

“I never could have guessed,” Remus laughs against his mouth. “I thought your present was going to be something normal, like-”

“Chocolate?” Sirius asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and pulling out two full handfuls of chocolate frogs.

Remus laughs and laughs, taking them out of his hands. The next time they kiss, sprawled out on one of the couches five minutes later, Remus could swear that the taste of chocolate has never been sweeter.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar microfic

99 notes · View notes