#stay strong skeleton lovers
Text
imagine coming home from work, it has been a really long day, but it immediately brightens once you see your skeleton SO waiting for you. their boney arms wrap around you, and you feel their phalanges massage your tired back, taking the sore out of the muscles. they press their teeth to your cheeks and you can't help but giggle and sigh happily as you melt into their embrace....................
#this would cure me#sorry but im probably gonna be inactive for a little bit longer. and my queue is over too#ill fill it up later#stay strong skeleton lovers#graph says words
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just Friends | Han Jisung
Synopsis: Unrequited love is a bitch. Especially when it's between you and your best friend. Even more so when both of you think it's one sided. So what could possibly happen between you and him during a night of partying? Nothing right? You're just friends after all.
Pairings: au Han Jisung x Female Reader
Content Warning: Underage alcohol and drug use (marijuana only), Heavy smut, Friends to lovers, Public unprotected sex and light fluff at the end.
Author's note: I do not advise any anyone under the legal age to take part in the actions that take place in this work of fiction. Both parties are consenting adults over the age of 18. Please be responsible.
Part II
Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌
"Y/N, you made it! Sweet!” Your best guy friend Jisung bounces up to you when you walk into the party.
His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are slightly glassy. Looks like he got a head start on partying but he makes sure to help you catch up. Pushing a plastic red cup into your hand the liquid sloshes over the top a little and you're hit with a strong whiff of vodka. Shaking your head with a smile, you eye your best friend since middle school. His silly grin makes your heart flutter and wakes up the butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach. Why did I have to fall for him? You think to yourself but quickly shove the thought away. Tonight you're going to have fun. Being a good girl all the time has gotten boring. Besides it's your last year in highschool, better live it up.
“Dude, of course I came. No way in hell was I going to miss watching you make an ass out of yourself.” You say jokingly and force a large gulp of your drink down.
Fuck, it was strong but all the better to get you quickly to the level Jisung was on. He wasn't just tipsy either, a lit rolled joint rested in-between two of his long fingers. The embers softly glowed in the darkened basement of the house the party was held. Some girl you barely knew but her parents were cool. Staying upstairs and even supplying the drinks. As long as no one was driving, the way they saw it, it was better we were safely doing it here rather than out on the streets.
“Oh come on y/n when do I ever make a fool of myself?” Jisung asks, spreading his arms wide and a bit of his drink splashes onto his arm.
Covering your mouth and laughing behind your hand at your high and drunk friend, who you were madly in love with, you pointed your cup in his direction as to prove your point. “I rest my case.”
Stealing the joint from his fingers you put it up to your lips and inhale deeply. His eyes watch the way your lips cover the end of it, the way they tighten around it to inhale the smoke that heats your tongue and throat. He's transfixed, it seems, completely forgetting what you two were talking about. Instead, thoughts of your lips sucking his cock just like that flashes in his mind. His fuzzy mind wanders, imagining scenarios of you down on your knees in front of him while he's giving every drop of him.
When you lean your head back, eyes towards the purple and orange Halloween lights strung up on the ceiling and exhale the smoke, Jisung's eyes find their way to your neck. His gaze travels to your collarbone and down to the black v-neck T-shirt you wore with skeleton hands over where your breast lay nestled away underneath. Lingering eyes notice the way your chest rises and falls with each breath and how delectable your cleavage looks in that shirt. He can't help his thoughts. You've been the cause of all his wet dreams.
Of course you don't notice a thing. In your mind you think he doesn't notice your body, you think he doesn't see the way your tight jeans hug curves. Why would he? You think, taking another puff and another. I'm probably just one of the bros to him.
“Woah, woah, woah. Bro take it easy.” Jisung says chuckling and taking the joint back from you.
His words only confirm your thoughts. Yeah, we're just bros… just friends. You roll your eyes and with an already cloudy brain you chug your drink. It burns going down but the feeling is better than the feeling of unrequited love.
“I need another drink. Where'd you get this?” You wonder with eyes scanning the party.
Bodies pressed close together as they dance. Practically fucking in the middle of the room to the loud music that plays with its heavy bass. But you don't see the drinks. Looking back at your friend he's just staring at you with his lips parted. Raising an eyebrow you silently question his weird behavior only for him to smirk at you before continuing to smoke.
“Follow me lovely.” He says, using the age old nickname he gave you years ago.
Every time he calls you that you swear your panties become instantly drenched and with your head swimming in alcohol and weed, the fantasies of you and him run rampant in that cloudy heavy head of yours. He leads you between the throngs of your classmates who are equally fucked up as you are or more to the kitchen. It becomes hotter the further you move into the basement yet entering the kitchen the breeze through the open window feels great on your already heated skin. Various bottles of alcohol are lined up on the counter in the middle and next to the fridge there's different types of sodas and juice. Reaching a hand out you go straight to the watermelon vodka, smirking when your hand wraps around the glass. Jisung loves watermelon. Watermelon flavored anything really. You often wonder if you were to kiss him would he taste like watermelon? Sweet and juicy like the red flesh of the fruit.
Knocking back a couple of more drinks and even getting a fresh joint all to yourself, courtesy of Felix, a friend of yours and Jisungs, you feel… free. Both light and heavy at the same time. Every beat and every bass of whatever song that plays you swear you can feel. Really feel it in your bones. The feeling is heavenly. Leaning back on your elbows against the counter of the kitchen's island, you listen to Jisung and Hyunjin -another friend- talk about the new Call of Duty game that dropped last week.
“Did you see the tits on that hot redhead in the campaign?” Hyunjin says dramatically, covering his face with both hands and dragging them down.
You just laugh and flick some of the ash off the end of your joint into an abandoned cup of water. Watching it sink to the bottom of the cup you bring your own up to your mouth and drink deeply.
“Oh fuck yeah I saw those babies. Although those tits don't come close to y/n’s.” You hear Jisung say and you almost spit out your drink. Wide eyed and coughing up a lung you look at the two boys as they throw their heads back laughing.
“Shit, you should've seen your face. I thought you were going to pass out for a second there y/n.” Jisung laughs, patting you on your back.
“Well excuse me. I didn't expect my tits to come up in a conversation.”
He chuckles again and his hands begin to rub your back in small circles. His fingers sprawled out wide and you're hyper aware of the heat emitting from his palm as well as his body that's pressed up close to the side of you. Hyunjin isn't paying attention to either of you by now. His phone is his top priority as his fingers fly over the screen texting someone.
“I can't help it if you got nice tits lovely.” Jisung whispers in your ear causing you to shiver.
He takes your joint and holds it out for you to take a drag. Swallowing hard and wetting your lips you lean forward, eyes on him and cover the end with your lips. He watches you inhale deep and when you turn to blow the smoke out he takes a hit as well.
“Dance with me?” he asks you abruptly, taking your hand in his. Dropping the joint into Hyunjin's hand on the way out of the kitchen he guides you to the middle of the makeshift dance floor.
What the fuck? I know I'm pretty shitfaced but am I hallucinating now?
That thought repeats in your head the entire time Jisung dances with you. You're convinced that you imagined the entire conversation in your intoxicated state and start to move your body to the music. Eyes closed, hips swaying left and right, head slowly bobbing to the beat of Chase Atlantic's Slow Down. You're singing along with the sensual and suggestive lyrics when you feel a pair of hot hands on your skin just below the hem of your shirt. Eyes fly open in surprise but when you turn to look at the person who's now pulling you into them your pulse quickens. Jisung's lips are close to your own and you can smell the watermelon vodka you and him drank all night. Fingers pressing into your hips he encourages you to keep dancing, willing you to grind your ass against him.
Too faded in your mind to feel any ounce of nervousness you'd have on a normal day you go all out. Hips swirling in a circular motion you continue to dance pushing your ass against him. He moves with you matching your movements, bodies rolling together. The hardness in his black jeans is unmistakable and it only makes you want him even more than you ever have. For seven years you harbored your secret crush on him and for 3 of those years you lusted after him. Nights in your bedroom alone you'd moan into your pillow crying his name over and over imagining his fingers rubbing your velvety walls instead of your own. The very fingers that tease and caress your skin as they make their way to your belly.
Needing to see his face, because part of you still believes that you're passed out somewhere dreaming, you look back at him and the sight breaks something in you. Maybe it's the walls you kept up in order to not get hurt, maybe it's your sanity, you don't don't really know. All you know is that you need him. You need to feel the stiffness that's clothed and pressed on your ass inside of you.
Jisung's eyes land on your lips before he slowly brings them back up to look at you. Fuck it, you do what you've dreamt about doing and kiss him. It's blissful and for a moment it's sweet. His lips taste exactly like you thought. Watermelon. It's only when the hand that rests on your stomach travels south that the kiss intensifies. It becomes messy, hot and hurried. He cups your sex over your jeans and you moan on his mouth.
As if he wasn't already hard, you feel his cock stiffen more and he groans softly on your lips. The sound carries its way inside of you down to your feet. The bodies around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in a intimate, private bubble. Holding onto you tightly he pushes himself hard into as if he could penetrate you through all the layers of clothing that currently keep you two from actually fucking right there in front of half the senior class. This teasing, it's an excruciating sort of sensation.
“Fuck me Jisung.” You beg, “Fuck me hard.”
“Shit.” He growls.
He doesn't hesitate, doesn't even let go of the hold he has on your waist when he pulls you into the kitchen and out the glass door into the backyard. There's not a lot of people out here but they're just a blur to you while you get dragged into the dimly lit garage through a door on the side of the house. Only thing illuminating the space is a large bug zapper. The soft neon purple light bounces off the two cars and random objects, casting strange shadows on the walls. You're jerked forward into Jisung's arms and his lips are on yours again. His hands palm your ass while his tongue dances with yours.
“Mm baby, fuck why do your lips taste so good?”
His words, dripping with lust, fall from his mouth. You don't get a chance to come up with some witty or stupid reply because he's spinning you around and bending you over the hood of a black mustang. The hood is cool to the touch from the late October night air but your body is scorching. Fumbling, drunk fingers clumsily undo the button on your jeans, making quick work on the zipper next. Doesn't take long for his pants and yours to be a pool of denim around the pair of your ankles.
His hand comes crashing down over your ass smacking it once making you gasp in shock. He moans appreciatively, licking his lower lip watching your skin turn pink. One hand palming where the strike connected he uses his other hand to guide the leaking tip of his cock to your opening.
“Damn you're so wet.” He shuddered, rubbing himself in-between your folds.
“J- just for you, Ji.” You purr.
“Yeah baby? You get this wet for me all the time?”
You nod your head in response. Speech becomes increasingly difficult the more he teases your cunt and rubbing himself over your clit. When he rams into you suddenly the sound that leaves you is so foreign to you that you aren't even sure it came from you. This strangle whimpering cry seems to only make Jisung crazier. He's driving into with so much force that the car rocks underneath you. He's so thick and the feeling of him stretching you wide, has you feeling higher than any strain of weed you've had.
“F- fuck y/n... Why do you feel so good?” He hisses, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside of you.
You can't speak. All you can do is moan and whimper incoherently, watching your breath fog the shiny black surface of the car. His balls slap against your clit each time his length disappears inside of you. He isn't quiet either, he doesn't shy away from moaning your name praising you or telling how good you feel on his dick. Your name is repeated like a mantra.
“Jisung, fuck!” You manage to cry out clawing at the smooth surface below you.
“That's my girl. Keep talking lovely. I wanna hear you. Wanna hear your sexy voice.” Rolling his hip he slams into at such an angle your legs begin to shake.
“Don't- don't stop, shit. I'm so close Sungie. Fuck, your cock feels so good inside of me mmm.” Your words push him closer to the edge and his fingers dig painfully into your hips.
Doesn't matter though, chasing the climax that's building quickly inside of you is what matters. Feeling Jisung's cock slide in and out of you creating this beautiful slippery sound when your bodies connect…. you don't know how you'll ever get enough of this. With a shuddering breath you squeeze your eyes shut so tight that you start seeing specks of white lights flashing behind your lids. Your skin prickles and your walls clench down around him pulling a strained groan from him as your orgasm crashes through you. Burying your face in the crook of your arm you attempt to muffle your anguish moans. Jisung pumps into you at a frenzied pace groaning and grunting and cumming with you at the same time.
“Ah, y/n, y/n! Shit, fuck, baby!
Your pussy pulsates milking his cock for every drop of cum that he gives you, filling you up to the point that some starts to drip down your inner thigh. Your legs feel like jelly and the sound of your shared heavy breathing and panting seems to somehow sync with the rhythm of the muffled music playing from inside the house. Groaning he slides out of and you shiver feeling the cold hit your ass.
“I've wanted to do that for a long time.” Jisung admits softly after your clothes are back in place.
The sudden confession makes you feel suddenly shy as if he wasn't just rearranging your guts one minute ago. With gentle hands he cups your face and places a sweet and tender kiss to your lips. When he pulls back from you his eyes blaze with unspoken words that you feel in your chest. With the high from the weed gone and the buzz slowly wearing off it becomes clear that this wasn't a one time thing. The love you thought was one sided wasn't and he wanted to be clear about that, even if he couldn't put it into words right now.
“Come back to my place? I don't want the night to end yet.” His hands find their way to yours intertwining your fingers together. “My parents aren't home.” He adds with a cocky smirk.
A giggle bubbles up from you and you roll your eyes playfully. “Can't get enough can you Ji?” You tease, finding it easy to still have the best friend vibes between you.
“Lovely, the way you felt on my dick, I don't think I'll ever get enough.” He confesses and picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder carrying out of the garage into the Halloween night air.
#han jisung imagines#han x reader#han jisung#han jisung x you#han jisung x reader#han jisung x y/n#han smut#han jisung fanfic#han jisung fanfiction#han jisung oneshot#han jisung smut#han jisung drabbles#stray kids smut#skz smut#han jisung scenarios#han jisung au
474 notes
·
View notes
Text
LET'S TALK ABOUT THE LOKI SERIES' ROMANTIC TROPES AND JANE AUSTEN
I am going to compare the relationships and romantic undertones of Loki, Sylvie, and Mobius with my all-time favorite Jane Austen adaptation because the character archetypes and plot-points are strikingly similar with Ang Lee and Emma Thompson's 1995 Sense and Sensibility.
This sounds cracked, but stay with me. Tropes are tropes for a reason. They are often repeated in writing subconsciously because they are very old and near-universal story arcs regardless of the literary genre we are discussing.
Please note that this is not a 1-to-1 comparison. This is an analysis of basic archetypes, tropes, and plot-points: the barebones skeleton of story structure. With that said, let's dig in:
Loki = Kate Winslet's Marianne Dashwood
Sylvie = Greg Wise's John Willoughby
Mobius = Alan Rickman's Colonel Brandon
For those of you who have not seen (or read) Sense & Sensibility, the story is about a family of women who are rendered near-destitute when the patriarch passes away and, due to English law at the time, all the family finances fall to the only son. The only hope for the women to escape the edges of poverty is to marry into wealth.
The Loki series’ main storyline is a far cry from that of Sense & Sensibility. It is first and foremost a sci-fi action-adventure, but don’t let that genre fool you. Well-written stories are always character-driven. The setting serves to establish the rules of the world and the tangible challenges the characters must confront to achieve their goal. The end goal for Loki is his ascension to the God of Stories (and time). Therefore, his character arc must follow a trajectory that prepares him for that ascension.
Love, above all else, is essential for Loki’s journey. In order to understand and be capable of love, Loki must experience love in all its forms including but not limited to romantic. I've seen a lot of social media posters mocking shippers with comments saying, "the story is not about romance." I wholeheartedly disagree. While romance is not the main concern of the series, romance does serve Loki's character development.
It is critical that we remember romance does not require physical contact or even blatant declarations of love. If that were true, unrequited love would not be thought of as romantic, which we know is not the case. Further, it is possible for physical intimacy to exist without any romance at all. One does not require the other.
While dismantling HWR’s old regime is the Loki series’ “Plot A” thread, Loki’s emotional experience serves as the series’ “Plot B” thread. Love and romance exist in Plot B.
THE CHARACTERS & THEIR ARCHETYPES
LOKI & MARIANNE
Within Sense & Sensibility’s plot, one of the main heroines, Marianne, has the archetype of the mercurial, passionate, and freewheeling spirit. She is rebellious at heart, chaffing at society’s rigid expectations of emotional repression and polite rather than fiery courtship. Much like Loki with Sylvie, Marianne is drawn to John Willoughby because his temperament, values, interests, and talents very closely mirror her own.
Like Loki, Marianne is emotional. Her emotions drive many of her decisions, some of which are rash and socially unacceptable for her era.
Like Loki, Marianne detests social norms. Refusing to contain her nature for anyone, she is unafraid of the stares and judgment of others.
Like Loki, Marianne is poetic, a lover of words and metaphor.
Like Loki, Marianne is a hedonist. She will follow where her heart takes her regardless of the consequences. Just as Loki runs after Sylvie through the portal door, Marianne chases after Willoughby.
SYLVIE & WILLOUGHBY
Willoughby fulfills the archetype of the ideal lover at first sight. He is young, handsome, strong, deeply romantic, and a lover of poetry, pleasure, and unfettered emotion. I will not go into the deeper details of his character and plot here as I don't find them relevant for the purposes of this analysis. The key point to remember is that Willoughby is meant to be Marianne's perfect match by virtue of similarity.
Like Sylvie, Willoughby is emotional and consequently chaotic in nature. At his worst, Willoughby is unafraid of hurting others in the pursuit of his desires.
Like Sylvie, Willoughby chooses absolute freedom over the genuine love and care he has for Marianne (Loki).
Like Sylvie, Willoughby views institutions with social authority with contempt.
Like Sylvie, Willoughby judges character based on association with institutions rather than the individuals themselves. He holds repugnance for Brandon’s (Mobius’s) association with the military (the TVA). Fair enough, both the TVA and the military (especially the British military) are institutions that have committed horrific global atrocities.
Like Sylvie, Willoughby is unable to separate the institution from the individual people living and working within it, who are capable of goodness.
MOBIUS & COLONEL BRANDON
Colonel Brandon, a decorated military officer, fulfills the trope of the “dark horse” in love. He is Willoughby’s opposite: older, "less physically attractive", reserved, practical, and orderly. The main character (Loki/Marianne) appreciates his friendship yet does not feel any romantic affection for him (Mobius/Brandon) until the primary love interest (Sylvie/Willoughby) abandons the relationship for absolute freedom.
Like Mobius, Brandon is drawn to intelligent, artistic, footloose nonconformists.
Like Mobius, Brandon accepts and loves Marianne exactly as she is, including her faults. He does not want her to change against her will and gently reprimands her older sister, Elinor, at such a suggestion.
Like Mobius, Brandon serves an institution with significant influence on the lives of others.
Like Mobius, Brandon accepts that his love is not returned yet continues to express his love through his support of Marianne’s (Loki's) wishes, including his romantic rival Willoughby (Sylvie).
Like Mobius, Brandon is seen as a dear friend rather than a potential romantic partner in the first 2/3rds of the story.
Like Mobius, Brandon’s personal desires are secondary to Marianne’s (Loki’s) happiness.
THE ROMANTIC PLOT
It is understood by the audience that love is not only a feeling; it is also an action that requires incredible responsibility. In that responsibility, both lovers must choose to take into consideration the feelings, wants, and needs of the other.
The trope of a main character meeting their perfect match and falling quickly in love informs the audience that conflict must lie ahead, and that the third party of the love triangle will be tested for their worthiness as a romantic partner.
Loki & Sylvie and Marianne & Willoughby possess a fast, passionate, and explosive love.
Loki & Mobius and Marianne & Brandon posses a slow, steady, and gently burning love.
These two relationships, which are BOTH valid AND romantic, are set against one another to contrast each suitor's strengths and weaknesses, as well as to shed light on which suitor best meets the feelings, needs, and wants of the main character.
The main character's (Loki/Marianne) love interests inevitably collide in a tense confrontation. Being the Georgian Era, Brandon and Willoughby do not discuss their dislike for one another directly but with Marianne's older sister, Elinor.
Sylvie, on other hand, is not afraid to tear into Mobius, saying exactly what she thinks of him. Both directors of photography frame their shots in a near-identical fashion, demonstrating who are at odds and the individual (present or not) who is between them.
Whether in the realm of fiction or reality, the act of love inherently requires some degree of self-sacrifice.
While Sylvie performs self-sacrifice by pruning herself in hopes of finding and rescuing Loki from the Void, that self-sacrifice does not extend to her personal values and beliefs with respect to free will. She therefore fights Loki, ultimately kissing him farewell before kicking him through a time door to get what she wants.
Likewise, Willoughby, cut-off from his family's estate due to indiscretions he refuses own, prioritizes wealth over his relationship with Marianne in order to continue his lifestyle of luxury and absolute freedom. Willoughby therefore marries the exceptionally wealthy Miss Grey to achieve this end, abandoning Marianne and breaking her heart in the process.
At the midpoint of each storyline (where the narrative turns), both Loki and Marianne have lost the person they felt most strongly about because they were not that's person's priority.
Marianne's quote in the above gif is significant. It is a poem she and Willoughby recited together when they first met. She recites it again, alone, as she looks upon the estate Willoughby has married into in the rain. The poem is as follows:
"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no. It is an ever-fixed mark that looks upon tempests and is never shaken."
This poem defines love as not fickle but persistent in the face of challenges and "never shaken".
THE DARK HORSE IN LOVE
Brandon, who falls for Marianne first, establishes himself as not only a friend of Marianne's but her whole family's. All of his actions throughout the film are performed out of love for Marianne, but these actions are not read as romantic by Marianne because there is no fast-burning fire and (seemingly) little commonality between them.
Marianne's mother cautions her, pointing out that the romances she cites all meet pitiful ends. In return, Marianne describes such love as not pitiful but "glorious."
Brandon and Mobius express their love for Marianne and Loki through practical means. Their actions are predominantly viewed as marks of friendship rather than marks of romantic love. It should be noted that in both cases, no verbal declaration of love, nor any physical declaration of love, such as a kiss, is ever made by either Mobius or Brandon on screen. Brandon's unrequited love, however, is readily apparent to everyone (the characters and the audience) due his presentation of the opposite gender.
Brandon, upon seeing Marianne struggle cutting reeds for weaving, offers her his pocketknife. Mobius, knowing that confrontation with Sylvie at Roxxcart will be dangerous, offers Loki his daggers for protection.
Brandon, recognizing Marianne’s need for artistic pursuits, gifts her a piano. Mobius, recognizing Loki’s need for validation, provides him with words of affirmation, encouraging Loki’s talents in magic and cunning.
Brandon, acknowledging Marianne’s love for Willoughby, invites Willoughby to a picnic at his estate despite his distaste for him. Mobius, acknowledging Loki’s love for Sylvie, frees Loki and is pruned despite his jealousy of her.
Marianne, out in the rain and in distress over her loss of Willoughby, succumbs to a deadly fever. Loki, kicked through a time door and in distress over his loss of Sylvie, succumbs to time-slipping.
Brandon and Mobius actively make themselves available in response to their loved one's individual break-ups with ZERO expectation of having their love returned.
Brandon, concerned that Marianne's illness may kill her, rides nonstop for hours to retrieve her mother during a storm. Mobius, concerned for Loki's wellbeing, risks his life on the loom's gangway, risking exposure to temporal radiation and death.
In the end, both Brandon and Mobius are the triumphant winners of Marianne's and Loki's hearts.
Indeed, Brandon reads poetry to Marianne, and when he announces he must "away", Marianne worriedly asks "where?", demonstrating her desire for him to stay. Brandon teases her, fulfilling Marianne's need for romance and excitement by saying, "it is a secret."
Mobius, meanwhile, begins to open himself up to worldly pleasures, allowing himself to drop the strict, no-nonsense behavior he exhibited in S1. Loki, in turn, begins to provide him with the type of emotional support Mobius has consistently given him since the beginning (yes, he has a jealous meltdown, but he recovers relatively quickly).
The outcome of their successes, however, diverge due to their gender presentation.
Whereas Brandon happily marries Marianne ...
... Loki returns Mobius's selfless love with a sacrifice of his own, and they are separated.
#lokius#loki#mobius#loki series#loki season 2#lgbt representation#lgbtqia#queer representation#lgbtqia representation#loki meta#loki analysis#my meta#my analysis#jane austen#sense and sensibility
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
🖤Breaking baddie🖤: Describing your 'dark feminine' energy. How to channel it?
Hola malacitas 😘 (i hope that actually made sense lol).
First things first, what is "dark feminine" energy?
Yes, this is the **first website that comes up when you google "dark feminine," but it is pretty thorough and comprehensive! I liked it the most out of all the others. The others either repeated the same points or had too many outdated/black-or-white views.
Feel free to do your own research however. There are plenty of videos on YouTube as well.
**One caveat...when you get to the part about tapping into DF energy, I disagree with #8 (specifically).
(We're going to keep this post light and I'll dedicate a separate post to my personal viewpoints.)
So I will be telling you all about your personal DF "archetype." I will also provide guidance on how you channel your DF energy.
I am so so excited for this! Eek 🙊 Okay, options below, left to right. I hope it resonates!
I am using a few different decks. I won't be adding pictures but I will provide what cards I drew.
Pile 1
Off the bat: I am hearing "no fuss" and also "ruthless," which is interesting considering the image you chose. I was also hearing the lyrics "all I do is win, win, win no matter what." So I'm getting some really bad ass energy right away! Come thru mob girlies!
4-Card Spread: 4 of Diamonds, 8 of Diamonds, 7 of Hearts, Joker. Bottom of deck is 6 of Clubs.
It's funny you have the 6 of Clubs (wands) on the bottom of the deck. I was hearing those lyrics about winning. This is a card that signifies victory and public recognition or celebration. I feel like the DF side of you is really bad ass! I'm also getting a pinch of "lover girl" energy. Its kind of like you have perfect formula sugar+sheist+everything nice! lol
This energy isn't afraid to be in the spotlight but is also quite comfortable in the shadows. You may be (or this is what other people think) the type to use underhanded to get ahead. Its not personal but you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm also getting an energy of it is easy for people (I'm hearing "dudes" so maybe some of you talk like that) to get attached and feel led on. But I think you are married to the hustle.
Some of you may not regularly reside in this energy and could be put off by the description. But that is exactly why its dark feminine energy. It pokes and antagonizes the status quo, which is where most of us reside from day to day. Traditionally, feminines are not painted as cunning, street-wise, heartbreakers. Your DF energy pushes back against those constraints placed on feminines that require prioritizing the group over self. Not that anyone asked but I think that's actually kind of amazing.
Of course you don't have to reside in this energy and adopt some toxic alter ego, but there probably are some gems hidden here. People who move like this are usually made, not born. In some way, they learned that survival=competition, so you learn to "stay ready so you don't have to get ready." Your motto as a DF would be "every (wo)man for themselves," making betrayals feel less personal because...well it just isn't, as crazy as that sounds.
Advice: The Devil, Queen of Swords, King of Wands, The Star. Bottom of deck is 7 of Swords + Mute (Oracle)
I'm getting a strong message about speaking up. I am using Tarot de Carlotydes and in this deck the 7 of Swords is depicted as a sword swallower. Which I always interpret as "swallowing" the truth. Then as I was focusing on this group's image, I realized the cabinet behind her is full of skulls, reminding me of "skeletons in the closet." Then finally we have a literal Mute card:
The Mute is told what to hear, say and think and is often suppressed. Sometimes breaking the chains against heeded words may be rewarded.
So you currently may be the complete opposite of your DF energy. One of the keywords for the Mute is "insecurities." I feel like a lot of you are sleeping on yourselves. 🔊AND ITS TIME TO WAKE THE F UP!
Maybe you are trapped in your light feminine energy. I say trapped because it feels like you are forced into that box. Super passive, loss of control. Where your DF energy would insist on speaking up and standing out, you may just keep your head down and avoid any trouble.
I'm hearing specifically that some of you love writing poetry but may have someone who discourages you from pursuing this interest. You may want to present your poetry to an audience and they tell you that no one wants to hear what you have to say. For others, they are saying no one wants to hear from you about something else.
If you are used to toxic and restrictive connections or friendships, you are being called to step out of that. Get used to asserting your boundaries, "do not speak down about my hobbies," "if you cannot allow me to think for myself, then we can not continue our relationship." I think you definitely have it in you.
Another keyword listed is "hope." I think some of you may enjoy singleness and being single-mindedly focused on you and your goals, more fulfilling than you think. It can be healing to finally feel like the star of your show.
TL;DR: Your DF energy definitely has a bit of edge to her. She does what she has to do to move ahead and she prefers to fly solo. Even if that is not where you are right now, this energy already exists within you. Once you drop the dead weight--be it toxic family, toxic friends, or a toxic partner--you will see how quickly you flourish. You have every right to speak your truth and protect your peace. Its time to peel yourself off the wallpaper and start standing out and speaking up!
Pile 2
Off the bat: I wasn't getting anything with this group. I found that strange and wondered if I wasn't "tuned in." I think this represents your mental space when you are in your DF energy. You are clear minded and have a "sober" outlook. Maybe some of you are literally sober or are considering it.
4-Card Spread: 2 of Clubs, Queen of Spades, 8 of Spades (R), Ace of Hearts/7 of diamonds. Bottom of deck is 9 of diamonds.
I am very strongly getting that there is something noteworthy about your DF's decision making abilities. Maybe that sounds "boring," but its actually pretty admirable! The world often sends the message that feminine energy does not possess strong cognitive abilities. When feminines contradict this stereotype, they can be labeled as "cold," "mean," "masculine," or met with hostility.
I'm honestly getting that the DF in you does not care. You may naturally lean more to this side in every day life. Or this is where you could be if you tapped into your DF energy more often.
You make clear decisions and keep it moving. You do not allow your thoughts to keep you tangled up in a web of confusion and indecision. Some of you could be really good at chess. I am getting that kind of energy. Calculated, self-assured, and making decisions with no intentions of taking it back.
You are quite comfortable standing on your own, and pouring into your own little world. I get the image of a woman who lives on a quiet estate, walking through her garden, with birds chirping and flying above. Have any of you watched the movie Men (2022)? I loved the imagery in that film and that's kind of the vibe I am getting now. A lot of horse girlies may have picked this pile.
I feel you being very unbothered, above drama. Your DF energy would love to find a masculine that can match your energy. You are good on your own so you won't allow anyone disruptive into your peaceful little domain. You do not make impulsive decisions in love and you are willing to wait for a new opportunity that is worth the investment. With the king of diamonds two cards under the 9 of diamonds, I do feel like this DF energy could pull the kind of masculine you desire.
Your DF energy really shines in STEM related jobs, corporate spaces, or any position that requires a sharp mind.
Advice: Ace of Swords, 10 of Swords, 4 of Wands, Knight of Cups. Bottom of deck is 10 of Wands + Spider (Oracle)
As soon as I pulled the ace of swords, I heard "get used to speaking your truth." I also heard stop entertaining "little boys." I don't think this is in terms of age, I think this referring to the maturity level of masculine energies you may usually deal with. I am in no way encouraging that you pursue anyone older. (Honestly, that does not guarantee emotional maturity or respect. But that's another convo).
I think this message is about the expectations you set for your partners. There is nothing wrong with expecting them to match you. They can either rise to the occasion or be left behind. If you hold this potential inside of you to be a queen of swords, queen of pentacles, and 9 of pentacles. Then I'm sure that energy exists out there in a suitable counterpart. The ten of wands is encouraging you to keep forging forward. I don't like preaching to be "strong" and "endure," but this is different. You are being strong for yourself. If you have to walk alone right now, it gets tough at times, but you are doing it with purpose. It will pay off.
For some this may literally require you to live alone. Its interesting that I keep getting messages about homes. I got a lot of diamonds/pentacles in the last spread, which also can deal with the home and related practical matters. "Home" is one of the keywords for Spider. The Moon is on the bottom of the deck, I think it is also relevant. This is what the guidebook has to say about each:
The Spider traps those who wander into her web. Keywords: Control, Home, Familiarity, Comfort, Trapped, Security.
The Moon is not always as she seems. Her delicate glow seeks for hidden truths while blinding others to her own. Keywords: Confusion, Apprehension, Suspicion, Feelings.
You may need to be more discerning when it comes to who you let into your home and/or your heart. You might need to create a little confusion when it comes to what your next move is. Everyone does not deserve your energy or to be held on to.
Spiders can also be associated with anxiety. In regular tarot, I do consider the moon to be a card that can speak about mental health. So some of you may need to make these changes for your own sanity, literally.
TL;DR: Your DF energy is a very strong and self-sufficient queen of swords type. She thinks clearly, can make decisions without questioning herself, and always stands on business. She has high standards for those who come around her because she has built a beautiful life for herself and will vet anyone who wants to join. This self-respect and authenticity helps to attract a suitable mate. One who can match this go-getter, no bs energy. The key to channeling this energy is to start living in it now. Trust your decision making abilities, don't announce or seek validation before you make a necessary personal decision. Staying true to yourself and becoming more independent will pay off.
Pile 3
Off the bat: When I looked at the image for your pile, I immediately heard "I'm not one of those/your little girls." So whew! We are coming in hot! Also hearing "I wish a b---- would."
4-Card Spread: 7 of Hearts, Jack of Clubs, 2 of Clubs, Joker. Bottom of deck is 5 of Hearts.
I am getting more light-hearted energy in this pile than the previous two. Maybe a lot of young, or young-at-heart, people have chosen this pile. This DF energy could easily pull many suitors but she views lovers as more of a "fun time," not so much a "long time." You could also be a little toxic toward lovers. Makeup to breakup, or honestly sometimes its just breakup lol.
This energy is quite fiery and uninhibited. Some of you could be fire signs, specifically Sagittarius. Or I am getting that because of what Sag represents: free spiritedness, adventure, luck. No wonder this DF energy resists being tied down. The world is literally your oyster and you knows it!
This DF energy is also a little scrappy. Have any of you watched the Bad Girls Club? You know how there would be that one person who has a temper, then gets a little too messed up when they go clubbing and ends up wanting to fight everyone... When you see red, people need to clear your path! I do get a bit of a party girl energy which is not surprising considering I was picking up on Sag.
This DF does not have a problem fulfilling her emotional needs. You will always make sure your cup is full. You will always make sure you are having a good time. You realizes that you have this amazing, fortunate energy and unapologetically harnesses it to get the most out of life. I think your DF self is also likely to be single and happy that way. Picking yourself up after disappointments in love is no problem because there are plenty more where they came from. You have an abundant mindset when it comes to love and life.
Advice: Queen of Wands, The Hanged Man, Ace of Swords, 5 of Cups. Bottom of deck is 5 of Swords + Ghost (Oracle)
In order to channel this DF energy, some of you may literally have to ghost someone. I am not surprised the energy of having to cut people off has been coming up. Sometimes the company we keep can really hinder our growth and self-expression. The hanged man is about surrender and next to the ace of swords, I sometimes see this combo as maintaining no contact. Ghost could also be taken literally.
But I think Ghost is also talking about a tendency toward self sabotaging and shrinking yourself. This is the total opposite of the DF energy that I just channeled. Its like the past and your insecurities have a tendency to haunt you and keep you stuck. You may also try to make yourself invisible. In the guidebook, the word forgotten repeats itself twice for this card:
The Ghost lingers, forlorn and forgotten. Keywords: Hidden, Mystery, Forgotten, Spiritual Matters, Fears, Faith
You will need to work on your self-confidence. When you are more confident in yourself, you will be more confident in your decision making abilities. You will be more authentic with the way you present yourself to the world because it won't matter whether people approve or disapprove. You know who you are. With the 5 of cups, there could be something that you are still grieving or regretting but you can bounce back from this! Channel your inner phoenix and allow yourself to blossom. Its time to reinvent yourself!
Be open to all the great things life has to offer you. Guided meditations for gratitude and self-confidence/self-love could be very beneficial. Trust that the flow of life is always leading you to something wonderful. Trust that you are allowed to call the shots in your reality. Do your part then trust and let go.
TL;DR: Your DF energy is very spicy! She is popular and free-spirited. She knows that life has so many different adventures to offer and she does not let anything stop her from exploring them. This DF is likely to be single or somewhat noncommittal. She does not mind flying solo and knows she can always find another mate. She is also quite lucky and manifests fortunate events with ease. To channel this energy you will need to drop any dead weight and increase your confidence in yourself and your decision making abilities. You could benefit from some form of self-help resources like books and guided meditations. And if it is accessible to you, therapy, support groups, or other resources that will help your create a stronger you.
Pile 4
Off the bat: I am getting a pretty serious energy. Some domme energy or you could just be a pretty dominant woman. This could be describing you or your DF energy. I keep hearing strawberries and champagne. Is that even a real thing? I've never met anyone who enjoyed that combo.
4-Card Spread: 4 of Clubs, Jack of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, and Ace of Spades. Bottom of deck is Queen of Spades
I am still getting some of that super assertive and stern feminine energy. I could see your DF self working being a principal. I am also hearing headmaster/headmistress. I think she would love working with children but not in the traditional, mushy-gushy light feminine way. Its more of a "I have/enforce rules because I love you" type of energy . You believe in structure and order. If this isn't working with children, this could also apply to raising children. I could also see this DF running an orphanage. I did hear "rule the roost" while I was shuffling, so no matter how this resonates, you definitely are not afraid to lead.
You are generous and wise. Beneath the stern exterior is a lot of love and compassion. Your soft spots are not visible until you take a closer look at what you invest your time and energy into. This kind of energy could also attract less mature suitors, because it intimidates them yet they are so infatuated. You carry yourself with grace and probably won't entertain them. You are much more suited to be their mentor than anything.
Going back to the original domme energy I was getting. You may actually prefer partnerships that allow you to wear the pants. You don't really want a masculine energy coming in and dictating to you. You can run your own life just fine and would rather partner up with someone who can understand that. I don't think you want someone that is "weak" either, its more like you desire the cliche of the masculine that calls the shots in the board room but is more submissive/passive at home. They are secure enough to be with a feminine energy as strong as them.
Some of you as DF would be comfortable living a "nontraditional" life. Nontraditional as far as feminine energy is concerned anyway. You may prefer live-in partners, or life partners, over traditional marriage. You could identify with being poly or something similar. You would love to travel and always seek to broaden your horizons. This is the type of person you would expect to have "summer homes." You could also decide to not have children or you would want to wait on having/adopting children. You love living authentically because of how freeing it is to just be you. You don't care what outsiders think of your life because you know you are doing what works best for you.
Advice: 3 of Swords, 5 of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, Queen of Wands (R). Bottom of deck is The Devil + Soil (Oracle)
To channel this DF energy more, you will need to master the art of not giving a shit. Some of you could be currently suppressing this energy. I really don't think its that far out of reach for all of you. Its just your fear that is keeping you trapped.
For some of you this trapped feeling is because you are in the closet. I am not telling you to come out because I don't know how that would impact your life. I want you to stay safe! However, maybe you can seek out queer friendly spaces. Or spaces that are supportive of whatever group you identify with.
There could also be a heartbreak that has left you questioning yourself. In the Tarot de Carlotydes, the 9 of swords is depicted as a woman chained in a dark room, with a flower in her hand and broken heart drawn on a piece of paper. I always see this card as being tortured over a disappointment. In this particular deck, I see as a mental prison that you feel trapped in because you are clinging to and rehashing an event. Holding onto this event keeps the pain fresh or recurring. It is time to release it.
Do not internalize other people's actions and shortcomings. It is not a reflection of you. You are who you decide to be. Do not dim your shine for anyone. Do not stunt your growth either. I'm not sure what it is that is holding you back but you have the potential to be the brightest star! You can be strong, and confident, and assertive. There is this little ball of power inside of you, that can grow if you allow it. Soil echoes the same message I am seeing in tarot. You must let yourself bloom:
The soil is a conduit of both growth and decay. Eyes forward, rooted to the past and reaching to the skies, she'll grow. Keywords: Balance, Forward, Growth, Duty, Building.
Some of you may use less than healthy tactics to cope. Maybe you should think of yourself like a plant. What are you fertilizing your soil with? What are you using for watering? Put the best in, get the best out.
TL;DR: Your DF energy is a L-E-A-D-E-R, okay?! She calls the shots in every area of her life. Some suitors are attracted to her because their immaturity is infatuated with her self-assured, mature energy. However, she prefers an equally strong partner at her side but this does not mean she wants to be led. No, she wants someone that respects her as an equal but allows her to take the lead. She lives life on her terms, loves on her terms, and does not care what anyone else thinks of that. She does have a soft spot but that is not for everyone. This nurturing energy could be channeled into working with children in some capacity. In order to step into this energy, you will have to untether yourself from insecurity and heartbreak. You already have this power inside of you, its only a matter of letting it grow. You don't have to deny what you have been through or the way it impacts you, but it also does not have to hold you back. Replace your unhealthy coping mechanisms with healthy ones.
As previously stated, I have a planned post that will expand on my views about feminine energy and other spiritual topics. I am really looking forward to sharing my thoughts and hope you all will chime in! I would love to start a discussion.
Until then ❤
~ K
#pick a card#intuitive readings#spirituality#tarot reading#oracle reading#pick a pile#tarot#oracle cards#tarot community#hecate#goddess lilith#dark feminine energy#spiritual awakening#shadow work#divine feminine#feminine energy
164 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi uhm sorry if I bother you: could you please write Percy x daughter of Disciplina (minor Roman goddess of discipline) who’s very uhm well rules-oriented, similar to Jason and cold and military though secretly loves cute and chaotic things (though doesn’t partake) so it’s kind of a rival to lovers situation please? And they meet when Percy arrives at the camp Jupiter? Thank you so much and feel free to decline ofc! Bye bye! Ps: loved your Nike series and I can’t wait for the Hypnos piece too! Take your time though, ofc!
This was a cute idea <3 and I liked writing about Camp Jupiter I haven't had any roman demigod requests before! sorry it took so long I'm multitasking so much haha but this ended up as 2.1k words lol <3
rules orders kisses instructions---Percy Jackson x roman child of Disciplina
»»————- ★ ————-««
-First of all, it wasn’t your fault that you managed to bring the most chaotic, rule breaking, cute, carefree, demigod into Camp Jupiter.
-You were posted just inside the borders, watching for monsters and the like, and though you’d never admit it, it was one of the quietest and therefore dullest spots for patrol. Nothing ever came through, and you spent most of your time sharpening your weapon and spotting cloud animals. Until something did come through, namely, the bane of your entire existence.
-He came running over the hills with a panda pillow pet and a bronze sword, followed by a hoard of screeching monsters, telling ‘Perseus Jackson’ that today was the day he would die. At the time, rescuing this random demigod was the right thing to do, but looking back, if you had just let him be trampled by the contents of Tartarus, it would have fixed a lot of your problems. Instead you opened the gates to Camp Jupiter and let him in.
-Both of you stood beyond the gates, which were made out of some solid metal that the Trivia kids had installed. They had never disclosed what it was that vaporized the monsters the second they touched it. You should probably check in with that, now that you think about it.
-Perseus had made quite the fuss when the first cohort and the praetors showed up, making giant hands out of one of the rivers that ran along the edge of the city and then being introduced by a god. He took it all in his stride, and even had the nerve to back-talk Octavian [something you’d never admit to wanting to do yourself].
-You hated him immediately.
-Well, maybe not hate, hate was a strong word for simple feelings. You would just rather if Percy [he had corrected the use of his name immediately. You were grateful. Perseus was a stupid name.] had a bit more respect for the way Camp Jupiter worked, and stopped teaching the younger soldiers swear words during meal times.
-A few days into his stay, he approached you in one of the large canvas tents set up. You’d been mapping out which of the hills you were going to use as a base in the next war game with Dakota, when he tripped on his shoelaces and righted himself, grinning at both you and Dakota.
-Apparently he wanted to thank you for not leaving him out the border to fight off the army of monsters on his tail, and volunteered to help out on your team during the war games in return.
-You told him you would consider once he learnt to tie his shoelaces properly.
-You’d then assumed that would be the last of it, thankfully, [although for some reason you’d scan the fifth cohorts section sometimes for a mess of black hair, but you were just trying to keep the younger soldiers vocabulary appropriate. Obviously.] and spent the rest of the day taking poisonous bows and quivers off the children of Mercury, and explaining to the daughter of Pluto that she wasn’t allowed to ‘have a go at summoning a horse skeleton for funsies’.
-Reyna marched between the canvas tents with her metal dogs, barking instructions and sending out a few Helios kids and legacies as medics.
-Ten minutes before the game officially started, when the opposite side were posted up too far away to see their silhouettes on the mountain ridge, and the children of Mars were untying the war elephant from its posts and readying it for battle, Percy burst back into the tent. One of the leopards getting a spiked collar attached to its neck growled, but settled back down when Dakota spoke sharply to it. Lavinia went to shoo Percy out, but something about the easy grin on his lips made you wave a hand, and Lavinia went back to instructing the Vulcan children.
-Percy ran to you, and in quite the untimely fashion, kicked one of his feet up onto the battle plans, mud and dirt smearing across the maps and charts. Before you could yell at him, you spotted his shoes.
-“How’s that for being allowed to fight?” Somehow, in the few hours he’d had spare, Percy had acquired a pair of purple velcro sneakers.
-You stood there for a moment, and then narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms as well, just to make your point. “If you left Camp Jupiter I will have to report you, you know that, right?”
-He just smirked. “You like me too much. And don’t worry, I traded Octavian's diary for them, some Venus legacy guy had a spare pair. Purple isn’t really my color, but watch!”
-Thankfully, he took his feet off the table, but a moment later he was running across the cramped tent, and threw his arms out for balance as small wheels popped out of the soles of his shoes. A coat of shields crashed to the floor, and the leopard in the corner jumped to its feet and scampered out. Someone yelled and Percy proceeded to spin in a circle and then slip and fall.
-For the first time, you became annoyed that your reflexes were so good, because Percy was sprawled out in your arms, which were under his, keeping him from becoming impaled by a stray electric spear. You held your breath for as long as you could, pulling your expression into one blank of emotions, but then you couldn’t hold it any longer.
-You laughed.
-Pery turned around, pulling his shirt down and skidding a little on the floor. His green eyes you only just noticed were the same shade as the lake near the stables were wide, and he was slack jawed.
-Your stomach started to hurt as you giggled, “what?”
-“You can laugh!”
-“Of course I can laugh, Perseus, I am a person.”
-“I didn’t know you could laugh. And it’s Percy, don’t make fun of me.”
-You went back to glaring at him quickly, and he visibly dulled. You just rolled your eyes and began brushing mud dewy grass of the battle plans. He peeked over your shoulder, hair tickling your neck, so you planted one of the little markers Dakota liked to use to show where people would be patrolling.
-Percy pouted, and you quickly looked away from his mouth [why were you even looking at his mouth?], “can’t I be the horse?”
-“The Pluto girl is the horse, she’s making sinkholes along the tracks to our base, trying to dilute the flow of soldiers. You can be the dog, it’s cute.”
-“You think I’m cute?”
-His smile when he said that was in fact, cute, but you didn’t tell him that. Instead you picked up another of the little coloured markers, and moved it to where you’d initially put the dog. “Fine, you can be the toucan, because you’re an imbecile.”
-“No wait, I wanna be the dog now... And what did toucans ever do to you?”
»»————- ★ ————-««
-You became quite accustomed to the sound of smooth clicking, a scrape, and then Percy yelping and bumping into the back of you over the next few days.
To the north, beyond the gods, lies the legion's crown.
Falling from ice, the son of Neptune shall drown.
-You didn’t see him off.
-You knew it wasn’t polite, the entirety of the army stood on the shore as Percy, the Pluto girl, and the boy who cared for the war elephant waved them off. But you stayed at your post by the border instead, watching cloud animals and pretending not to see someone sinking to their death in each one.
-But the army didn’t sit with him at every meal because technically, you were a superior and didn’t have an assigned legion, you had just usually sat with Reyna or Jason. You’d eat the breads and nuts and fruits the satyrs and harpies brought while Percy ate everything in sight that was even slightly blue.
-The army wasn’t given a daisy chain as a crown when you showed Percy through the gardens, the trees and flowers acting as borders to the paths leading across the city in the direction of the universities and shops. The army didn’t find an old basketball in the weapons shed and learn to play with Percy, because he couldn’t remember playing before, but he was good.
-The army didn’t sneak him into the stables because really you weren’t allowed but somehow the rearing black stallions calmed him when his breathing got too fast and uneven.
-The army didn’t sit at the edge of the river bed while he ducked under and splashed around like a happy duckling. That stopped when the prophecy was first spoken. Percy skirted around puddles on the last day.
»»————- ★ ————-««
-There was blood. Lots of it. Smoke wafting from the scattered fires and screams piercing the muggy air.
-You held your weapon tightly in your hand, back to back with Dakota as he brandished a baseball bat wound tight with thorny vines that curled and writhed like snakes.
-Monsters crawled over the mountain ridge in waves, at least half of them squashed by the giant stomping in circles and roaring, creating miniature earthquakes with each step. Alcyoneus was forty feet tall, his skin a metallic sort of color that shone like the sun Helios was bringing into the middle of the stormy sky.
-The fifth legion ran into places, maps and diagrams you’d drilled into them, finally being put to use as they worked effortlessly. The war elephant had doubled, somehow, and both charged at the violent giant currently ripping the roof off the stables, knocking him sideways.
-For a short moment, you assumed maybe a finger had been cut off from the monster, as a bronze sort of color streaked across the horizon, but then it came to a stop in front of Lavinia, who was dragging an unconscious demigod across the battlefield in the direction of the hidden medic base by the university.
-Hazel, the Pluto girl [you’d finally learnt her name] sat atop a stallion, her cavalry helmet over her curly hair. You made eye contact, and her shoulder sunk, but you weren’t sure if it was with relief or disappointment. You couldn’t see her expression from across the bloodstained distance, but you could see the blue harpy foaming at the mouth behind her, talons outstretched.
-You turned to Dakota, but he was already kneeling a little, bracing himself as you stepped on one of his hands, and then he launched you forwards and up, up into the smokey air filled with screams and wails.
-Time slowed a little as you positioned yourself, wind whipping your eyes and making them sting. Hazel ducked as you flipped over her and landed on the Harpies back, rolling it away and further down the hill. Talons raked your cheek, and you whacked it over the head, hard.
-The bronze streak was gone already. Somehow the horse was running vertically up the side of the giant, and then began circling its neck.
-The sleeve of your purple shirt was ripped free and you held it to your face, the deep cuts dripping down your neck and already staining your skin in dark red blotches. Pain prickled, but you felt a chill down your spine, and by the time you had turned, the horned snake’s jaw was already unhinged, fangs dripping with something dark and oily and ready to bite.
-Your heart slowed, or maybe it sped up, all you knew was that it was the only thing you could hear.
-You held your arms in front of your scratched up face and tried to roll, but the snake's tail was already heavy across you, pining you to the blood stained cobblestone ground. You reached for where your weapon had been lost in the wrestle a moment before, but then there was a dragged out squelching sound and a ‘shing’.
-The snake froze, and then its head slipped off its body, landing by Percy’s feet.
-He launched forwards as quickly as the snake had, only he pulled you from the cocoon of scales, panting. Your hands shook, and Percy’s eyes widened when he spotted the splatter of blood on your neck, his face going pale.
-You shook your head weakly, “just my cheek, it’s not bad.”
-He nodded, and then you were once again wrapped up tightly, this time by Percy’s arms. You noticed vaguely that he was actually pretty buff, but then you felt your eyes prickle with emotion.
-He stepped back quickly, ducking his head, “sorry, I..”
-“You didn’t drown.”
- “I technically did but it’s all good now-”
-You cut him off with another hug, your face buried in his shoulder, probably covering him in your own blood as well, but Percy didn’t seem to mind when he hugged you back, chest heaving. You sniffed, trying not to cry, hands tight around his hoodie, “you smell like incense and hay.”
-“That, yeah that explains a lot of it actually.”
-“You don’t get to go on another quest without me, that’s an order.”
-“Yes please.”
»»————- ★ ————-««
#pjo fandom#pjo#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percyjackson#Percy Jackson x reader#Percy Jackson x you#percy jackson x y/n#Percy Jackson fandom#roman reader#Percy Jackson x roman reader
194 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 3 of winter fluff! A bit more sappy than fluffy but hey, sometimes they need some sap.
Prompt: Gifts
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Part of Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Premise: Astarion and you love stealing gifts for each other all the time, so when it comes to a Winter Solstice present, you’re stumped on what to give him. You’re not particularly talented at things that aren’t killing, so you ask your good friend Shadowheart for advice. It turns out Astarion had much the same issue.
Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon
Word count: 1.5k
“Shadowheart, I need your help!” you say to the cleric, who’s currently sitting at your dining table. She'd come over for drinks and stayed the night, providing you with the perfect opportunity to get her opinion.
She looks up from her morning meal to your sudden, panicked appearance. “Good morning to you too.”
“Good morning,” you say with a huff. “Now, would you please help me?”
“That depends,” she says, lolling her head to the side pensively. “Are you here for the exact same reason Astarion ambushed me this morning?”
You give her a confused look, as if to say, ‘how-the-hells-am-I-supposed-to-know-that’ and respond with a pleading, “Shadowheart.”
"You're both so predictable," she says with a sigh. "Very well, what do you need help with?"
"It's almost the Winter Solstice and I don't know what to get Astarion." It's the first Winter Solstice you'll spend together, and while you were looking forward to having some company over for a Midwinter celebration in a few weeks, this holiday would just be for the two of you.
Shadowheart purses her lips knowingly, and you belatedly realize what she'd meant.
"He asked you too, didn't he?"
"He did," she says, taking an excruciatingly long sip from her goblet of what you strongly suspect is more wine. "And I'm going to tell you the exact same thing I told him: you're the only one who knows what would be meaningful."
"What kind of advice is that?" you ask with a scoff, before you start to walk off.
"Funny, he said the same thing."
__
Despite your complaints, Shadowheart's advice does prove useful. When you finally sit down to think, you come up with a few strong candidates for presents.
A new dagger– he keeps talking about how one of his current ones has a hilt that cuts into his thumb.
A new pomade for his curls– he’s noted a few times that the kind he uses doesn't take well to the cold.
A skeleton key – you're not sure how difficult it would be to obtain, but he's mentioned one more than enough times that you're certain he would make good use of it.
But all of these things are so… normal. After all of the adventures you've lived though together in such a short amount of time, none of these items feel like enough.
What can I get him? You pace, you yell, you assure the man in question that you're perfectly fine, thanks for asking.
It's not until Astarion's distracted by his meditation that an idea finally clicks. Aha!
__
"Well darling, I know we said nothing too much this year– after all we found each other, the greatest gift of all," Astarion says with an exaggerated hair toss, to which you give an amused snort. "But I couldn't help myself."
He hands you an ornate metal box, atop which a large red ribbon is expertly tied. "Astarion," you say with a gasp. "This looks too nice!"
"If you think the wrapping is nice, wait until you open it," he says with a cheeky, fanged grin.
"Wait– before I open it!"
You're both seated before your fireplace, cuddled up on a couch. So when you suddenly jolt up, ruining Astarion's cozy lean into you, you just hear a disgruntled, 'really, darling!'
Paying no mind to his complaint, you go to where you hid your present for him. You have a quick moment of concern, is it enough? Will he like it? But your excitement to give him the gift overrides all others, so you scoop it up and return to your lover.
"Here, let’s open them together,” you say, depositing your far-less-impressive gift box on his lap. It’s still a nice wooden box with a gold ribbon tying it together, which Astarion gladly takes.
“Oh darling, you shouldn’t have,” he says, with unabashed joy on his face.
You sit facing one another and open your gifts on the count of three. 1… 2… 3!
A moment later you have the ribbon off and the box opened in front of you to see a set of three items, each more beautifully embroidered than the last: a silken black scarf, a pair of delicate black lambskin leather gloves, and a black hooded cloak.
On the first, you see a pattern of red azaleas along the edges, a flower with nectar often used in poisons. Your knowledge of toxins was one of the things you’d first bonded over– you remember entering a vivid conversation with him over the merits of various poisonous plants and which venoms were worth using in combat.
On the second, you see a gold pattern of thieves’ cant symbols along the rim of the gloves. You take a moment to read the text, easily slipping into the written language of rogues. The left glove says, ‘together we fight’ and the right glove says, ‘together we stay.’ How appropriate for a matching set of gloves, you think.
On the third, the cloak, the embroidery is done in a dark gray thread, likely to keep it practical for hiding in the shadows. The effect is subtle but beautiful, as you see that Astarion has detailed out two sections of the cloak. On one side is a deadly looking dagger, a snake wrapped around it. Next to that is a matching dagger with a bat hanging from it. You smile at it, a deep affection gripping your heart– it’s the two of you.
“Oh Astarion,” you say, looking back to him with a lump in your throat.
The man in question is still absorbed with one of your gifts, and you realize he’s likely unable to hear you right now.
Before him lay your own presents: a new dagger, like you’d planned for, a new pommade which it appears he’s already opened, and the object he’s currently using. In his hands is a smooth, fist-sized orb, glassy in appearance but clouded over now as Astarion uses it. With some assistance from Gale, you’d managed to procure a memory orb, an object that allows you to store up to ten minutes of memories and relive those memories by concentrating on the object.
You’d filled it with memories of the two of you, including hugs, kisses, moments of love and excitement. It was a cacophonous melody of your time together so far, and one that seems to be a tune to Astarion’s liking, judging from the smile on his face as he concentrates on the object.
After the ten minutes elapses, he emerges from the memory to find you already wearing the gifts he’s made you. “Astarion, I can’t believe you made these in such a short amount of time,” you say, as soon as he’s back. “They’re amazing.”
He laughs breathlessly, head still swimming with memories. “I’m glad you like them, dear. It certainly helps that I can embroider while you sleep.”
“Well, you outdid yourself,” you say, showing off your gloved hands to him. “Every little detail is just so perfect. Thank you, love.”
“Of course,” he says and his smile overwhelms you with its brilliance. “And your gifts, especially the orb... darling, that was…” He trails off, looking at you with glassy eyes.
“It wasn’t too sappy?” you ask him, knowing how uncomfortable he gets when things get too mushy.
He shakes his head at you, and grabs your gloved hands in his. “Not at all. It was fantastic. Seeing myself through your memories… I guess I see why you fell for me.” His fanged grin is wicked, but the love behind his eyes is unmistakable.
“You were annoying easily to fall for, love,” you say with a wistful sigh. You pause a moment and tug on his arms. “I confess, I also wanted to get you a skeleton key, but I’m starting to think those are a myth.”
Astarion laughs, placing the rest of the presents on a side table and pulling you closer. “Isn’t that sweet of you? No need dear, there’s nothing behind a lock that I need that badly, not when I have you.” He presses a soft peck on your lips as he drags you onto him.
“Wintertime has done something to you, love,” you say, curling into his lap. “I’ve never seen you so sappy.”
The man grimaces, but holds you close all the same. “Please don’t say that near Shadowheart, she’s already accused me of something heinous.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“She said I was ‘getting into the holiday spirit’,” he answers, all but gagging on his own words. “Ridiculous. I just enjoy lavishing you with gifts.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and say, “You are quite good at that.”
“Mmhm,” he murmurs happily at your praise. Carefully unwrapping your new scarf from your neck, he begins peppering you with kisses. Each sends a jolt of electricity down your spine and you only hold him tighter. “You know, some of those memories were quite… well, memorable. Would you care to recreate any?”
The only response you can manage under his fervent kisses is a pleased hum. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you make a note to thank Shadowheart for her sage gift-giving advice.
97 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello!
Can I request something the Horror Group and both sets of dance bros?
My request is this, when S/O was younger they were a professional dancer but after an accident to their legs s/o could never dance again without strong pain.
S/O told there skeleton lover but it’s obvious they miss dancing
Thank you!
Horrortale Sans - He understands. There are a lot of things he used to do he can't do now, all because one person he thought was a friend turned out was not. That's ok though. With time, you learn to cope even if it's still bitter. Oak is nice to you all day after that, just making sure you feel like you're not alone.
Horrortale Papyrus - Welp. Same. He tells you he used to jog every morning before Undyne fucked up his back so bad he almost stayed paralyzed. He missed being able to be his energetic self like before and running around to annoy people. Now he just feels nostalgic and sad :( But that's ok, you can be sad with him, it will probably reverse the sadness around.
Horrorswap Sans - He stays strangely silent, just staring at his missing arm Then he suddenly leaves the room. Sorry, he doesn't like to talk about his disability. It's still too recent and he struggles a lot with accepting he can't do things the way he did anymore.
Horrorswap Papyrus - He gently hugs you to comfort you. Or to comfort himself, he's not sure anymore. It just feels like a situation where you hug people. Honey tells you that with how science evolves, he hopes someone will find a way for you to dance again.
Horrorfell Sans - That's fine. You can't move your booty like before, but he assures you that you don't need to dance to have the best booty in the whole world. You don't even know what to say to this. Sorry, Copper is not the best at comforting people, he doesn't have the social skills to do so. Forgive him, he tried.
Horrorfell Papyrus - He's sorry for you, he knows the feeling. But that's ok, there are many ways you can practice without hurting too much, like underwater. He has therapy sessions to help him with his legs every week in a pool, he could take you one time to see if you like it. He's sure you can find some way to have fun. He also wants someone so badly to have fun with him. It feels lonely sometimes facing his disability all alone.
Dancetale Sans - Welp, he's your man for this. What if he has some ways to help you with this? He's a dance instructor and he actually has a specialization for people with disabilities. He will gladly help you to have your moves back and with caution so you don't overdo yourself.
Dancetale Papyrus - He's very encouraging and tries to push you so you can know his brother a little better. He wants you to join Rambo special classes, he's sure 100% that you will find what you need there. Unfortunately, he's a bit too energetic to join. He's too scared he might accidentally hurt you if he goes a little too far. But Rambo knows the tricks and he's sure you'll dance again eventually, trust him.
Dancefell Sans - He completely stops to dance because he loves you and he knows it might hurt you to see him practicing. He doesn't miss it that much, he just doesn't want to hurt you more. You two can find another sports activity that you can do, and he'll gladly join. He's not difficult, as long as he's with you, he's very fine!
Dancefell Papyrus - Tango is probably not the best match as he's way too energetic and has a hard time to focus on things. He often accidentally outpasses your boundaries, even if he means well, and he might hurt you eventually, despite having the best intentions. He would try to be better, but he can't really change how energic he is and he would just feel guilty and frustrated looking at you gets sad because he has to dance to feel better sometimes, which he really doesn't want. He want the best for you, he's just too clumsy to really be helpful.
#horrortale#horrorfell#horrorswap#dancetale#dancefell#undertale ask blog#undertale asks#undertale imagines#undertale headcanons#sans#papyrus
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲 . . . #.𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
⇘ #.𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; you've been lied to by scaramouche, he's kept his identity and the crime and atrocities he's commited a secret. you felt foolish, dumb. and decided to confront a very vulnerable (unbeknownst to you however) wanderer about it.
⇘ #.𝐜𝐰𝐬 ; ; breakdowns ˏˏ mentions of past manipulation / lying / gaslighting (scaramouche to the reader) ˏˏ description of self-harm ˏˏ mentions of past betryals ˏˏ scaramouche lore / backstory spoilers ˏˏ reliving trauma
⇘ #.𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; ; firstly goodluck on your wanderer pulls !! and secondly, i had the strong urge to write something angsty (i need to vent and write so i wrote)
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
scaramouche, no, kunikuzushi trembles at the thought you walking out on him like the rest of the people he thought to care for in his life. he can handle the way you stare into the vessel he's made of, with the burning disappointment that lit his skin alight as though he were anything but real. nothing. he can manage to soften the fear you cradle in your hands ever gently like the caresses you once held his face with, fear that pulls at his throat and suffocates his person.
he wants to dig his blunt, dirty nails in his porcelain skin and pull it from his prosthetic skeleton. he wants to rip the skin of his throat and cry.
"please... please! don't- please stay! don't leave me-! i-!" the puppet gags on his words and the rot in his throat chokes him, knees buckle and he falls to the ground hard. he trembles, the shaking of his body violent as though he was an unremarkable and plain leaf in storm winds. the first tears he bothers not to shed since his boyhood days fall delicately, before his choked cries echo against stone and person.
"please-! pl- don't go.. i can't— can't lose you too–.." he pleads helplessly, his vision blurry and you so distant. he feels disgusted at the fact someone as worthless (despite dedicating his every breathe to seeing you happy and safe, and thought you are priceless when he saw your true worth) you managed to bring out the emotions he's kept locked away since the start of his existence.
it pains to see him in a state of such dismay, angst and fear, almost as though he were just a boy. you didn't know what the best move was.. to help him grow or leave him because of the manipulation, lies, damage he's brought upon you.
"teach him." was what the jest of the faithful advice nahida lent you when she confronted your worried state about your lover and partner's abrupt revaluations. you prayed to buer that the words she gave you was true to the right path. but the severity of the situation laid heavy than the mountains of liyue.
"[name]... i love you, so much–..."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
⇘ : : 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ≫ // @spoopy-fish-writes // @spoops-inliyue ˏˏ @decaffeinatedcloudkryptonite // @shaantiofher
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙚𝙩𝙘. 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙧. 𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙝𝙖𝙨 2022
#genshin#genshin impact#angst#genshin impact angst#genshin angst#gi#gi angst#gi x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact scaramouche#scaramouche#genshin wanderer#wanderer#genshin impact wanderer#kunikuzushi#kunikuzushi genshin#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche angst#wanderer angst#kunikuzushi angst#cw breakdowns#cw manipulation#cw self harm mentions#cw betrayal#cw trauma#⇢ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠
326 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here is some Killer/Cross.
I've been meaning to post this for forever. I asked @unknownarmageddon a long time ago if they wanted more fics, and what would they prefer. Annnnd this is what I've come up with, some Killer/Cross and I thought this was a good combo of sad and cute <3 Enjoy~
Wind rushing past his face, the fluff of his hood is soaked from the waterfall he “fell” into. His stupid teammate, friend, lover, whatever they were, decided to play around when they were on a mission, which shouldn't be as surprising as it was anymore. Killer had been acting strange all day and it all led to Killer deciding that “they should play a game”. He said it was a simple game of tag, but nothing was ever simple when it came to Killer.
If Cross could catch him the game would end, but if Killer tagged Cross, they would go to another AU of Killers choosing and the roud would go until Cross or Killer tagged one another. They had been running around a Fell AU and when Killer and gently tapped a finger to the tops of his skull, he could see his next request would be a big one. He asked for Cross to bring him to his home AU and he hesitated. He didnt want to bring him anywhere near that hellhole anymore, but with Killers sharp tounge and quick talking skills, it made him irrational. He never did have the best impulse control.
So when the portal opened, he ended up in a echo flower field in Waterfall. The next thing he knew was being shoved into the nearest waterfall, but when he went to look for Killer, there was no “playful banter” to follow. Instead Killer had vanished. He searched the whole area, no sign f him or any of the residents of the world. It was so quiet, he can only imagine how Killer had felt when he was stuck here.
Eventually he made his way to Snowdin, an empty skeleton brother home, door wide open yet no turned on lights or footprints to be seen. As he made it into the town, instead of silence and darkness, he saw Grilby’s with the lights all on and music so loud he could hear it from several buildings away. It was some kind of swing or jazz music. He didnt know for sure, as he had never been musically inclined. He sighed as he opened the door, a strong warmth hits hom and takes the edge off the harsh chill that set in his bones.
At the bar he saw Killer sitting at a stool with one empty bottle at his right and he was nursing a tumbler with a copper liquid in it. His bones were fish with magic and his grip on the glass was strong. He was already past his limit. As he took his first step inside and the door closed loudly.
“Killer…”
“Heya Criss Cross!”
“Why are we here Killer?” He said walking to the bar.
“Today…” He took a large drink from his glass. “Today is the day I said yes to Chara.”
Cross stood dumbfounded. Killer wasnt one to dwell on the past if he could help it and he really hated talking about what happened in his timeline. Cross started at Killer twirl the ice in his glass with the tip of his finger. He could see the thick tar dripping from his chin to the bar counter and even with the loud music playing he could hear the steady PLOP that the tar made as it fell. Cross was never great with helping with emotional problems, he could barely stay stable with his own. Yet Killer… Killer was different. Someone who he wanted to help, no matter what. So he grabbed a stood and sat right next to him.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It aint a nice story.” Cross showed him a gentle smile.
“Most of our stories arent.” He placed his left hand over Killers right and all he could think to do was gently rub the knuckles. It made Killer huff.
“I thought it was the right choice at the time.”
“At the time its all you could do.”
“That monster thought it was the coolest to have my abilities… but in the end I won. I got my body and I got their powers for a little while. Course I got all their baggage and torment, a fucked up soul that taunts everyone by being visible. Almost fees like it wasn’t worth it.”
“But…” Cross got Killer to glance his way. “You got us in the end, so you already feel much more love than LOVE than Charac did.”
Killer set down his glass and smacked the counter, letting out loud barking laughter. The tar falling from his eyes slowed and the tar seemed to thin as there were tears falling from his eyes. Between laughter there were sobs. But he took a deep breath and squeezed his sockets tight. When he opened them again, Cross saw the small white eye light looking his way.
“Oh boy, Crossy. That was corny.”
“You know you love it.” He chuckled as Killer put his glass to his teeth again, yet now there was no air of sadness, in fact is was happy. So to keep that mood going Cross asked for Killer to tell him stories. Funny stories from his world, about his brother, about anything at all. Killer happily obliged. One drink, slowly turned to two, then to six and Killer giggled as he sloppily sang to the music playing and when Cross decided it was time to go home Killer hoisted himself up as if he hadn’t drank a drop. Cross opened a portal and once inside the familiar walls of the castle he noticed the stagger in Killer’s steps.
“Heya Criss Cross, take me to my room.”
“You can walk on your own. Ive seen it.”
“But I’m having a bad day.” He leaned into Cross’s side as he let out some soft laughter.
“You’ll live Mr. Giggles.”
“But woe is me!” Killer dramatically thrusted his arms into the air and began to fall. But ever the gentleman Cross was, he caught him in his arms.
“Woe is not you! Get up and get to bed!” he laughed the whole time he could see Killer getting comfortable in his arms. He could barely keep his eyes open and with some failed attempts at flirting towards Cross, he finally fell silent. Crss could only laugh as he gave in to Killers' demand. He tightened his grip and leaned Killer's head against his chest, Killer holding tight to his jacket.
“We will go to my room tonight.” With a gentle clank to the top of Killers skull he felt Killer nuzzle into his chest more. He mumbled a bit yet Cross heard something very clearly.
“Mmm I love you.” Killers sleep filled voice made Cross stop walking and his grip on him tightened.
Love.
It was a word that he hadnt said with anyone since their relationship started. He could eel his soul pund in his ribs and heat rise to his face. Love was a word Killer threw around all the time, but as Cross heard his gentle breathing, the word felt different. Did he love Killer?
He slowly got his feet moving and he found his way to his room. The door was open and there stood Dust, Horror, and Nightmare. All he could do was give them a tired smile. Horror took Killer from his arms and Dut pulled Cross towards his bed. He barely got to kick off his boots and jacket before he was lying with Dust on his chest, Horror to his left with Killer in his arms, and Nightmare to his right, his tentacles gently wrapping his way around them all. He could feel a gentle movement coming from Dust's scar, telling him Gwah was there with them. His family. His loves.
#killercross#killer!sans#xtale sans#kross ship#criller#background bad sans poly#gwahverse#undertale fanfiction
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
back on my riptide hanahaki au arc. had these thoughts on discord months ago. spoilers for episode 109 and beyond !! (these will probably be messy cause they're copy-pasted from discord sjdklfjs) - also maybe body horror warning? it is hanahaki yesyes
i am back on my hanahaki au arc so i'm thinking about chip with roses growing in his lungs. something something he's had them his entire life and just kinda deals with it but sometimes it's more obvious.
he's so full of love and doesn't want to admit it and doesn't know what to do with it. so. gestures. flowers.
when he dies and becomes a skeleton, whenever he isn't using the bandana they can see the flowers wrapping around his ribs.
jay and gill knew about the hanahaki before that- they've seen him cough up flowers before, (in places like the block, or situations like when gillion was released from the dungeon), and they've tried to keep it from getting too bad but now they can see it and it's a lot,
because it's exposed, jay goes in and de-thorns it. chip tells her it's fine, it doesn't hurt anymore, but she still goes through and cuts off thorns and some of the leaves, and there are tears in her eyes and leaking down her cheeks but she still does it and when she's finished she pulls him into her arms and they stay like that for a while.
forever autistic about chips favorite color being yellow (he's me fr)
did u know yellow roses mean friendship. that's why i put them in his lungs.
i am a lover of hanahaki disease but not in a "if you don't love me back i'll die about it" kind of way but instead in a "my feelings are so strong they literally came to life and are trying to kill me" kind of way. "i love you so much. i should have said something before roses destroyed my lungs."
"i love you. i won't admit it. oh god oh fuck i love you so much i'm going to die about it i didn't mean to,"
#jrwi riptide#chip jrwi#hanahaki au#aerie chatter#DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY VISION.#if i knew how to write. it would be over for u /silly#he wouldn't be in this mess if he just talked about his feelings like a normal person sjdflkjsd
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
WHERE THE WILD ROSES GROW 🥀
«When the night comes, the stars begin to shine and the greatest crimes begin to come into life»
part 2 of multiply
°•○ warnings: age gap, slow burn, original character, cursing, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of abduction, manipulation, abuse, national hate, politics mention, discrimination
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
II. Too Far Gone?
Moscow, Russia
Leah sat in the dark room, watching her boss playing with papers. What was interesting in lots of documents? She always thought it was pretty boring, like bureaucracy at all. Why do they need to make everything way more complicated than it actually was? Instead of just giving an answer, your application should’ve been passed through at least three different departments. She stared at the grey-haired man signing some papers, stamping others - and giving not a single word about what he wanted from her.
“Konstantin”, Leah finally went out of her patience, kicking his table with her boot to make him pay attention to her. “Ya zhe znayu, zachem ya zdes'. Zachem ty tyanesh vremya? (I know why I'm here. Why are you wasting time?)”, she asked him with a cold tone, looking under her brows. She was a beast in a cage and he knew it. He always made her wait. Konstantin Vasiliev was too much into his friends and money than in the people who did the dirty work. Especially that stubborn American that thought she was special. Pathetic little bitch that was getting too good and too dangerous. Konstantin looked at Leah under his brows and sighed loudly, his facial expression showing all the contempt he had for her. Even if she would support everything russian and speak their language - they would still treat her like an American - an enemy, Pentagon’s spy and obviously connected to LGBTQ+.
He left one more sign on the papers and leaned on his chair, crossing his arms and looking at Leah. “Ya ne obyazan otchytivatsya pered toboy, Leah. Tvoya zadacha - ubivat', a ne vmeshivatsya v dela tvoey kormyashchey ruki (I don't have to answer to you, Leah. Your task is to kill, not to interfere with the affairs of your feeding hand.)”, he said with a husky voice and reached for his table to take a pack of surprisingly cheap cigarettes for such a rich man - old-fashioned Soviet “Prima” in a red box. He lit it up with a way more expensive lighter - probably a gift - and leaned back on his squeaky chair, smirking to his guest. Leah hated him… she should have been obedient to a man with Soviet standards and a heavy hand.
“The Wild Rose..”, Konstantin chuckled. He did this all the time he saw Leah in his cabinet. She didn’t understand what was so funny about her nickname. Truthfully, she loved it - it perfectly described her. Bennett was loved by her soft appearance but she has thorns that could kill someone who will reach too close. That’s why she never had a real lover. She was afraid that she would hurt her loved one with skeletons in her closet and preferred to stay alone, never letting her feelings be victorious. “It’s time”, Konstantin continued, placing a Los Angeles postcard on his desk.
Leah gasped, looking at the colourful postcard of the west coast view. She can finally go home.. Breathe the salty air and see smiling people everywhere. She sighed in relief, pulling the postcard closer with her finger and turned it, looking for hints. In the right corner she saw a logo which made her hum. “Blackened LTD..”, she hummed, thinking what it could mean for her. Would the victim be some big boss or she’d need to destroy this business?
“My bosses want you to kill the president of this company”, Konstantin said with a strong russian accent, lazily smoking his cigarette. He didn’t care how she would do it at all. “His name is James Hetfield and he decided to play some tricks with us. But you will show him that he better not mess with russians”, Konstantin continued, getting up from his seat. He slowly walked around Leah, watching her looking at the postcard and grabbed her neck, slightly choking her. “And it affects you too. If you’ll try to do something against the plan you will be dead with him, american bitch”, he said with a harsh voice, letting Leah’s neck off.
Bennett coughed, rubbing her neck and stared at Konstantin with contempt. He’s not even her main boss and he hated her so much, then what The chain thought about her? If only she could’ve done something against them.. But what could she do? They stole everything from her to use her like a puppet - her documents, her life, her whole personality and they didn’t plan to stop. Leah travelled on her missions with a fake ID, each time it was different, but she couldn’t live like that. She didn’t want to have someone’s name or life, she wanted to be herself, she needed to be herself.
Konstantin hummed in her silence, exhaling a big cloud of smoke with a smell of cheap tobacco before he sat back on his seat. “You won’t even say a word?”, he asked curiously, staring at Leah. She sighed, turning the postcard in her hands and looked at her boss with a cold look. “How much?”, she asked, laying the postcard back on Konstantine’s desk. He smirked and nodded, definitely liking Leah’s cheeky question. “Five. If you will do everything quietly and clearly they are ready to double the price. Your main task is to kill him quickly-”, “..and make everything to make tabloids think it was an accident and there is no Russia’s hand”, Bennett ended quickly instead of Vasiliev, making him chuckle. “Yes, you know everything, Leah. Do the job - and money is yours. They are believing in you, better not lose such big support on your side”, he advised her, relaxing on his chair.
Deep inside Leah knew that Konstantin didn’t care. She was just pretty useful for him and his friends, and his “advice” is nothing more than a cheap lie. After years of working under his guidance Leah learned that man. All he ever cared about was his dog, a german shepherd named Rem. He had his photo on his desk, told about his achievements and how he would kill his enemies using them. Somehow Leah found it pretty cute. “Khorosho (Alright)”, she said, taking the postcard in her bag. “When is my flight?”, she asked, watching Konstantine throwing his cigarette in the ashtray. He exhaled the smoke and sighed, coughing from the nicotine in his lungs. “Tomorrow at 4AM. You’ll get your ID in your post box”, he said emotionlessly, watching Leah get up. “You have three days for your flights and the kill, The Wild Rose”, Konstantin said with a chuckle. Bennett kept her face; Will this ever end? She sighed and nodded. “Not a big deal”, she said, walking to the door. Vasiliev held the door closed for a moment, looking at Marie with a warning look. “And don’t forget, Leah.. you’re working on Russia. Every American deserves to die, every one of them. But you’re not like this. I can guarantee Russian citizenship after this kill if you’re gonna be an obedient girl”, he said seriously, taking his hand off the door. “Do vstrechy cherez tri dnya (See you in three days)”, Leah said reluctantly, leaving her boss’ office.
She took a deep breath and sighed in relief, a short smile appearing on her face. It was her chance.. One last chance to break her chains and escape this russian nightmare she spent years in. She will kill that stupid businessman and disappear from Russian radar, once and forever. She had enough money to buy herself a villa somewhere on the quiet island, far away from criminal’s eyes and start to live her life like she always wanted to. She would probably change her name, appearance and body to make everyone forget about her existence. She will never be Leah Bennett anymore.. Leah Bennett will die as a stray dog in three days and someone new will be born instead.
She walked out of the office that was hidden in the mall and sighed. Leah was so excited.. Definitely not an option that she will miss.. She put on her headphones, turned on her favourite heavy metal album and hid her smile, walking out from the building. Russians didn’t like your smile. If you’re smiling it means that you’re most likely a psychopath or under the drugs, and society will bully you easily. Bennett switched her looks with an attractive guy in the crowd and put on her hood, making herself invisible in the crowd.
Who knows what all these people think of her.. Leah was curious - was at least one suggestion right? Probably they thought she was some hipster girl from the block or some shy girl walking from her workout? Maybe a hopeless romantic or a geek? If only they would know who Leah Bennett was.. a heartless killer who murdered her parents, hid from police, had some serious net connection with the government and was a slave for some big russian men.. Leah sighed from the thought but kept her head up. It will end in a few days.. She might not end the national hate but she will save herself from being the victim of russian nationalism. She walked down to the underground tunnel and leaned onto the wall, waiting for her train to come. Life has given her an opportunity to change something and Leah wanted to squeeze everything out of it. She was too far gone and she needed to be saved.
***
Los Angeles, California
James felt himself on cloud nine when he saw all his friends celebrating him. He was so confident after his little victory when he fooled everyone in the Russian monopoly, giving free access to their people secretly. Some promotion from russian bloggers, advertisements in the popular social networks and voila - his music platform got almost ten million new followers! And thankfully, most of them bought a premium subscription.
Of course he would’ve made it that far! Why would he do this one clean? It was obvious that he’d go another way. Business was all about the audience and this move made James get a confident and powerful position on the Russian market. He was so damn proud and he threw a party to celebrate his success. Whilst his partners read the contract - James already made money behind their backs, smiling them to their faces and shaking their hands.
And what surprised him the most - there was no reaction! His actions were rough and fast, so they most likely were caught by surprise. Was it bad? James didn’t think so. Instead, it was his chance to show them that Americans aren’t that dumb as they thought they were. Turns out, the real losers here were Russians who missed such a big hit in their balls. Scary Russians aren’t that scary anymore. They are dumb. Grumpy, dumb and have no critical mind to prevent such attacks on his industry. Maybe their president had, but not the ones that were responsible for the music market.
“Congratulations, buddy, it’s a big hit! Blackened rules the whole world now!”, Lars, his fellow buddy said. He was all the way there back in time. If it wasn’t Lars James might never make it in the business. They met each other in their teenage days, when James just tried his luck in music, teaching guitar playing and just thought about having a music market. Truthfully, it was Lars who pushed him to act. James smiled, hugging him and nodded. “It is. Ten million followers from Russia, this is incredible!”, he said, being visibly surprised by the results of his cheeky campaign. He looked around, looking for his wife and sighed, watching her flirting with some guy in the crowd. And who needs love when you have money? James made his choice and for now - he wasn’t too needy in being loved. Why would he? A couple of Benjamin’s can always solve this problem.
Lars sipped his drink, looking in the same way James did. He didn’t say a word about what he saw, giving James some space for his personal life. “And what if they will react?”, Lars asked him, watching James’ wife sitting on the lap of the guy. Hetfield hummed with a smirk. “They better think about how to get back their audience. Our conditions are too comfortable for such a poor country as Russia. We have every big star’s music catalogues, and what do they have? Some stolen songs and demos? It’s they who have problems, not us”, James said with a sassy tone, finishing his drink in one shot. Lars hummed, watching him with a judging look. Lars might be younger than James and he wasn’t such a big man like James (in all meanings), but there was something in this man that always surprised him - and that’s his ability to think two steps earlier.
“You’re too calm”, he said seriously, asking the waiter for another shot of whiskey. James looked at him with a questionable look whilst watching for the amber-coloured drink to be poured in the glass, covering the crystal clean ice cube. Lars grabbed his glass and turned to James, staring at him. “You might think that they are fools, but look at the political situation. They don’t hesitate to kill their own people, so you think they will stop because of a wealthy man from America?”, he asked, looking at Hetfield. “No money will save you if they will decide to have their revenge, James. Think about it”,
James hummed, looking at his buddy. Truthfully, his words made sense at some point. He sipped his drink, gently spinning it in his glass and sighed, watching his wife coming closer to them. She took off her wedding ring from her fingers and placed it in James’ glass. “Can you keep it for me please? Thank you”, she smiled, walking back to the guy she definitely enjoyed more than James’ company. He chuckled, looking at the shiny ring in his glass, taking it away and looked at Lars. “If they would have wanted to kill me, they would’ve done it ages ago. But as you see - I’m still alive, still with you all and still the owner of the biggest music heist in history”, he said with a grin, taking a cigar from his pocket to enjoy.
“But now - it makes zero sense”, James said confidently, lighting up his cigar. “First of all, this is gonna be too suspicious for them, don’t you think so? We will announce the increase of price on our stocks and then the next day they will do something with me? They are dumb, but even Russians are clever enough to avoid such suspicious actions”, James assured his buddy with a relaxing tone, enjoying how nicotine poisoned his lungs. “It’s gonna be a big scandal if they do it. We are all approaching the third World War.. and my neutralisation is gonna be one more step to the start. I bet my wife that they won’t do anything about it”, James said with a grin, watching his significant other being caressed by the guy in the crowd.
Lars frowned, definitely disliking his friend’s point of view. He shook his head, sipping his whiskey and tapped on the glass, thinking. He was sure that James wouldn't listen to him or even won’t take his words as advice, so he needed a plan B. Just in case he will be right and James’ ass will need some protection. It happened pretty rare but sometimes he needed help, though he never admitted it. James was from that type of man that would never admit their mistakes - just like it was happening with his wife on his own eyes. He watched her cheating with a stone cold look and joked that she looked better from the side. Lars didn’t understand why he acted so light-headed with important decisions, but he knew that deep inside, under this shell of a successful man James hid his feelings from the world.
Soon James took him back to reality with his sweet chuckle, making Lars look up at him and at the direction he looked at. “What’s up?”, he asked him with a confused tone, though he definitely was curious what could make a rich man laugh. Was he drunk? Did he meet a nice chick to spend his night with? His wife wasn’t made for this anyway..
“Have you seen how much Blackened raised in price after a new wave of customers?”, he said with a grin, pointing into the screen of his phone, on the little graph with a green line that rises up incredibly high. Lars whistled, looking at the price. “Wow. Is it after Russia?”, he questioned, making James nod. “I think we need to celebrate it. Remind me to call my assistant and organise a meeting in honour of our success. Maybe in three days? Gonna be nice”, James thought with a corporate grin he used for his diplomatic meetings. He was so damn proud of himself.. Finally, after years of hard work it took a big risky step to reach the top of this monopoly game. Was he too far gone? Oh damn he was, but how good it felt to watch everyone fail in their attempts to get as high as he was. “We need to announce the new Russian department and increase the salary of that SMM guy. He did his job really well”, James said with a happy smirk, texting his assistant.
If only he knew how wrong he was.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
No-Bunny Compares To You
AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there
After "Stay" (both versions), I wasn't quite done expressing how much I adore my Horrorswapfell Papyrus, Rabbit, so here's one more attempt to show what a good boy he is. And this time, with help from my first Undertale love, classic Papyrus!
I confess, I'm not completely satisfied with this, but I don't want to stress myself out over what's meant to be a fun hobby, so I'm tossing this out there to be done with it and stop agonising over every little detail. Cute fluff should never stress anyone out!
@a-snowpoff I blame you for the puns. The terrible, terrible puns. Because they came from your ideas. You know the ones.
Pairing: Classic Papyrus x Reader x Horrorswapfell Papyrus (aka Rabbit)
Reader is left as ambiguous as possible
Words: 3,144
_______________________________________
As you push open the front door to the home you share with your two boyfriends, box of baked goods tucked safely under your arm, you’re immediately assailed by the smell of burnt pasta and a very loud and very annoyed voice, yelling in the distance. With a resigned sigh, you make your way to the kitchen, already anticipating the scene you know awaits you.
As expected, when you reach the source of the foul odour and angry yelling, you’re greeted by the, sadly familiar, sight of Papyrus using a fire extinguisher on a large, metal cooking pot on the stove, containing what you can only assume once used to be food of some kind, but is now burnt to a crisp and is steadily emitting thick, black smoke.
Papyrus himself is covered in soot from skull to phalanx, although bizarrely, the ‘kiss the cook’ apron you’d gotten him for his birthday is miraculously spotless. As the skeleton monster is putting out whatever fire he’d evidently started, his loud voice echoes throughout the room in an irritated, chastising tirade.
“-NO SELF-CONTROL! NO RESTRAINT! NO PATIENCE!” He then tosses his skull back to yell over his shoulder, “BUT I WON’T GIVE UP!! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL TEACH YOU PROPER CHEF-ING MANNERS!! FOR YOUR (AND MY SPAGHETTI’S) OWN GOOD!! NYEH HEH HEH!!”
You cast your eyes to the object of your boyfriend’s scolding to see your other lover, another version of Papyrus from an alternate universe, whom you’d nicknamed ‘Rabbit’, both for his affectionate, yet gluttonous nature, and for how fluffy his outfit is. Others might question how suitable a nickname it is for such a large and dangerous monster, but you think it’s at least better than the moniker ‘Rabid Beast’ that the other monsters of Rabbit’s original universe had given him.
The other skeleton monster is sitting at a counter a safe distance away from the disaster, completely slumped forward over the smooth surface of the countertop, skull resting on his crossed arms. His face is set in an almighty pout, purple eyelights glaring at nothing, as he sulks like a child who’s been told off for bad behaviour.
Already able to guess what had transpired while you were gone, you can’t help the exasperated sigh you exhale, even as your lips tug up into a fond smile.
Immediately, two eerily similar skulls shoot up in your direction. Rabbit is the first to react, as his entire being brightens at your presence, his face lighting up with excitement. In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of you, sweeping you off your feet and into the air in a powerful hug, purrs beginning to rumble in his rib cage.
You barely have time to process what's happened, before another pair of arms is thrown around the two of you, and Papyrus lifts both you and Rabbit into the air as well, with an exclamation of delight.
The laugh that escapes you is unrestrained and full of joy, even as you find it difficult to breath from within the confines of two strong pairs of arms. It feels good to receive such a warm and enthusiastic welcome from the two people you love most.
“Hi boys, I missed you.” You squirm in their hold as you try to give them both a kiss.
Rabbit’s purrs intensify and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, squeezing you tighter.
Papyrus lets out a jubilant laugh, accepting your kiss with a wide smile and returning it just as eagerly, before placing you and Rabbit back on the ground, although his arms remain around you.
“WELCOME HOME, BELOVED! WE MISSED YOU TOO!” Then his face falls a little, eye sockets narrowing in frustration and shoulders slumping. “I APPOLOGISE FOR THE SHAMEFUL MESS YOU WITNESSED IN THE KITCHEN. BEING THE THOUGHTFUL AND GENEROUS SKELETON I AM, I WAS TRYING TO TEACH MY LESS COOL SELF HOW TO COOK MY SPECIAL SPAGHETTI SURPRISE.” Crossing his arms, he turns an admonishing glare on Rabbit, who’s too engrossed in your presence to notice. “BUT HE KEPT DEVOURING THE INGREDIENTS WHILE I WASN’T LOOKING! AND WHILE I WAS EXPLAINING TO HIM THE ERROR OF HIS WAYS, THE PASTA CAUGHT FIRE!”
Papyrus stamps his foot angrily, which finally manages to tear Rabbit’s attention away from you. The latter monster quirks an unimpressed browbone at his alternate self and sticks his tongue out at him defiantly. Papyrus lets out an offended “NYEH!”, bristling like an angry cat. You can see him gearing up for another lecture, so you rush to intervene.
With decisive steps, you finally move out of Rabbit’s embrace, ignoring his small whine of protest, and place yourself in between your two boyfriends.
“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty, don’t fight.” You offer them both a bright smile and reach into your pocket for a tissue, which you use to wipe away the last of the soot still lingering on Papyrus’s skull.
Both skeletons are instantly mollified. Rabbit lets out a huff and looks away, his hands drifting to your hips and tugging you closer to him. Papyrus leans down to allow you better access to his skull, all while gracing you with a truly dazzling smile.
“NYEH HEH HEH HEH! WELL NATURALLY, MY LOOKS ARE AS IMPRESSIVE AS THE REST OF ME! AND YOU’RE RIGHT, I SHOULDN’T LET MY MORE... UNFORTUNATE SELF GET UNDER MY SKIN.”
You bite your lip to stifle your laugh at that last comment. Your heart swells with affection for your boys. You’re truly blessed to have them both in your life like this; you don’t know what you’d do without them. Although, there are times where you can’t help but wonder what they would do without you. A quick glance to the pot still continuously emanating dark fumes gives you your answer. Right, you think with a wry smile, burn down our kitchen, that’s what.
Meanwhile, Rabbit has taken notice of the box you’re still carrying and starts sniffing at it, bright violet eyelights glittering with interest. Unable to suppress your smile, you raise the box in front of your boyfriends, noting with relief that it has come out relatively unscathed from the manhandling you’d been subjected to.
“Hey guys, look what I got you!”
Two sets of eye sockets zero in on the item you’re presenting, indicating that you have their full attention. Feeling anticipation bubble in your gut, you open the lid with an excited “ta-da!”.
Inside the box are three golden loaves of bread, each shaped like a puppy, with short, stubby legs, round, twisted bun ears, and a spiral cinnamon tail.
You hold your breath, as the two skeleton monsters take in the sight of your adorable bread puppies, keen interest shining in their faces and awed sounds escaping their throats (along with a gushing "WOWIE!" from Papyrus). Rabbit looks particularly enthralled, his eye sockets wide, eyelights dilated and twinkling like the most brilliant of diamonds. You even spy drool beginning to leak out of the corner of his mouth.
When you’re satisfied that your boys have gotten a good look at your dough dogs, you clear your throat to capture their attention once more. Once you’re sure they’re focused on you, you give them your widest smile.
“These little cuties are called Fi-dough!”
Instantly the mood shifts dramatically. Rabbit’s face lights up, and the look he gives you is so full of awe and adoration, you can feel your cheeks flush and your heart flutter in your chest. Papyrus, on the contrary, rears back, an appalled expression on his skull.
“NOOOO!! BELOVED!! HOW COULD YOU MAKE SUCH A TERRIBLE PUN?!?!?”
Papyrus sounds so disgusted, so betrayed, that you almost feel bad, if his reaction wasn’t so comically excessive. As it is, you can barely restrain yourself from bursting into laughter. Rabbit, however, doesn’t bother to hold back his own snickers. The sound spurs you on to tease Papyrus some more.
“Aw, c’mon Pap, don’t you like them? They’re all pure-bread puppies!”
Papyrus looks, if possible, even more aghast.
“HORRIBLE!! ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE!! I FEEL NOTHING BUT PURE DREAD AT THE HEADACHE YOU’RE GIVING ME!!”
You can’t help the little chuckle that escapes you. The playful smile that’s plastered across your face widens, as mischief sparks in your soul.
“What, you’re not a fan of pup pastry?”
By this point, Rabbit is doubled over with laughter, holding his middle as his entire form shakes. Your heart warms at how loud the sound is, much louder than you're used to hearing from him. He’s still nowhere near as loud as Papyrus, though.
"I’M NOT A FAN OF YOUR DEPLORABLE SENSE OF HUMOUR!”
“But you’re smiling,” you point out, with no small amount of smug satisfaction.
And indeed, Papyrus is smiling, despite the put-upon air he’s affecting.
"I AM AND I HATE IT,” he lies, very unconvincingly. Your own smile softens at this.
“No you don’t. Admit it, you love my jokes.” You lean in close to him and bump his hip lightly with yours.
Papyrus crosses his arms and makes a show of turning his nasal bone up at you, all while his broad grin betrays his true feelings.
“I WILL ADMIT TO NOTHING! I DON’T FIND YOUR JOKES TO BE THE YEAST BIT HUMERUS!!”
That manages to wrench a surprised giggle out of you. Papyrus’s puns always manage to catch you off guard, and you can only stare up at your boyfriend in admiration.
“Pap you’re so cool!”
Papyrus puffs up with pride, as a light blush decorates his cheekbones.
“NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE I AM! YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO RISE TO THE OCCASION!!”
As you dissolve into helpless laughter alongside Rabbit, you find yourself agreeing with Papyrus. He never fails to impress you. Despite his boisterous complaining about the pun-inspired food you frequently bring home, you know deep down that it was all for show. Papyrus loves puns just as much as his older brother and Rabbit do. He just refuses to admit it when confronted with that fact; it’s the one thing he still can’t bring himself to be honest about. You suspect it has something to do with his brother frequently practising his stand-up routine on him.
Regardless, never was his appreciation for mixing clever wordplay into cooking more apparent, than the time he’d painstakingly recreated a scene from a Spaghetti Western you’d all watched, entirely out of actual spaghetti. While the taste might have left much to be desired, no one could deny that it was truly a work of art. Even Rabbit had hesitated to eat it. Papyrus had been so proud of his literal Spaghetti Western dish. He’d ridden the high from your exuberant praise for weeks.
A tug at the box of bread pups you carry brings you out of your musings. Rabbit gazes down at you, a plea for the delicious baked goods you hold written all across his face. However, before you can give in to the skeleton monster’s unspoken request, Papyrus intervenes to voice his objections.
“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU CAN’T EAT NOW! IT’S ALMOST DINNER TIME! YOU’LL RUIN YOUR APPETITE!”
The disbelieving snort Rabbit gives him, coupled with his dismissive eye roll, make it abundantly clear what he thinks of his alternate self’s words. Your own thoughts aren’t much different in that regard. You know all too well that Rabbit’s appetite is insatiable; his stomach (or what passes for one in a skeleton monster) is bottomless, and may as well be a black hole for all the food he can consume.
Nevertheless, you’re unwilling to argue with Papyrus on this matter, knowing how strongly he feels about your family mealtime, so you shoot Rabbit an apologetic glance.
Realising that the odds aren’t in his favour, Rabbit resorts to using his special attack – his pleading stance, which he directs straight at you.
His eye sockets go round and wide, as do his eyelights, which start wobbling, their bright glow illuminating his sad, prominent pout, further accented by his golden fang. His posture, normally slouched, straightens slightly, taking on a pathetic, beseeching air as his shoulders hunch inwards. He brings his hands up in front of him, and they come together, fingers interlaced, in a begging gesture.
His puppy dog look brings to mind his namesake – an adorable, innocent bunny rabbit.
A complete lie, your brain reminds you, there is NOTHING innocent about this guy.
But it’s too late, you feel your resolve crumble in the face of your boyfriend’s imploring facade. The manipulative monster knows exactly how to tug at your heartstrings to get his way. And so, you can only turn your own entreating look on Papyrus.
“C’mon, Paps... Just one won’t hurt! You know how much food Rabbit can eat and not feel full.” When Papyrus still appears unconvinced by your words, you change tack. “Besides, if it’s your cooking, he’ll gobble it all up, no matter how much he’s eaten beforehand. Rabbit loves your cooking!” Not technically a lie – Rabbit loves ALL food, period. He would devour any meal put in front of him with the same boundless enthusiasm, regardless of quality. Or edibility. Rabbit remains quiet, staring at the both of you with a hopeful expression. Papyrus looks to be on the verge of giving in, so you launch one final, well-placed attack. “And I’ll help you in the kitchen! If the both of us work together, then I know there’s no way anyone could resist our culinary combo!”
That does it.
Papyrus fairly explodes with excitement, his whole countenance lighting up and his bones beginning to rattle faintly, as he beams at you.
“YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY, DAPSOLUTELY RIGHT!! WE ARE THE ULTIMATE DREAM TEAM IN OUR CUISINE!! NO MERE PASTRY POOCH CAN MEASURE UP TO OUR COMBINED CULINARY TALENTS!!” He points a finger at Rabbit, almost shoving the digit in the other monster’s face. “EAT AS MUCH AS YOU WANT, MY NOT-AS-GREAT SELF! IF! YOU! DARE! BECAUSE YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SAY NO TO THE FOOD OF LOVE OUR WONDERFUL DATEMATE AND I WILL COOK UP WITH THE FLAMES OF PASSION!!”
At the mention of flames, you subtly twist your head to see if the pot on the stove is still smoking. It isn’t, thankfully. You vow to yourself to keep a sharp eye out while you and your boyfriend cook, to make sure that your ‘passion’ is the only thing burning in the kitchen from now on.
Rabbit looks downright giddy at being granted permission to eat his snack. However, before he can take one of the buns, Papyrus shoos the both of you out of the kitchen, loudly proclaiming that he needs to clean the place up and make it fit for his and your “cooking date”. You and Rabbit leave Papyrus to his cleaning, and make your way to the living room, where you take a seat next to each other on the couch.
The moment you offer your box to Rabbit, he darts a hand inside and snatches up one of the canine bread loaves. But rather than immediately shoving it into his watering mouth, as one might reasonably expect of him, Rabbit instead takes his phone out and starts snapping pictures of his ‘Fidough’, from various angles.
You’re unsurprised by his actions. Your quieter boyfriend has a habit of taking photos of things he deems precious enough to preserve. This includes you and Papyrus, his own older brother, small flowers growing in inhospitable places, and all the joke foods you bring home. On days when you can tell that he’s being especially haunted by memories of his dark and dismal past in his starving Underground, you catch Rabbit gazing at all the photos he’s saved on his phone or framed around the house. It only encourages you to make more good memories for him to cherish.
Once Rabbit is satisfied with the pictures he’s taken, he puts his phone away and brings the bread dog to his nasal bone. He closes his eye sockets and inhales deeply, seeming to savour the fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread. And then, without warning, he opens his jaws and takes a huge bite, practically ripping the puppy’s head off.
You wince, giving the poor, decapitated pup a pitying glance. The sight is a little bit morbid, but you can’t look away from Rabbit’s blissful expression, as he chews on his snack, making cute, appreciative noises.
Noticing your stare, Rabbit pauses, and then proceeds to tear the dough dog’s tail off. He lifts it up to your lips, clearly intending to feed it to you, and you oblige him by opening your mouth. Rabbit slips the bread chunk in between your parted lips, and you close your mouth. As you chew, gentle sweetness floods your taste buds, the delicate cinnamon flavour making you release a faint moan of pleasure.
Rabbit’s fingers linger on your bottom lip, his thumb gently stroking the flesh. You almost let out another moan, when you feel his sharp claw graze your skin, the motion teetering on suggestive. At the almost predatory glint in your lover’s eyelights, you begin to wonder if Rabbit intends to take this any further.
But the call of tasty food is too enticing for him to resist. With one last heated look in your eyes, a promise of ‘tonight’ in his gaze, Rabbit returns to his baked treat, devouring little ‘Fidough’ with gusto.
Despite his enthusiasm, though, Rabbit still takes care not to get even a single crumb onto the tattered, purple scarf draped around his shoulders. His scarf used to belong to his older brother, before it was given to Rabbit both as a token of brotherly love and as a vow of protection, for the only family that version of Sans had left. The scarf is Rabbit’s greatest treasure, and he always takes great pains to keep it clean and safe. It never fails to warm your heart to know that, in spite of the harsh misery of Rabbit’s life in his Underground, his bond with his brother was his one bright light in that dark world.
As you gaze at Rabbit now, you feel warmth bloom in your chest at the sight of his peaceful, happy smile. You’d do anything to keep that smile on his face. You love your boyfriends, chaotic and demanding though they may be, and want nothing more than to give them the same joy they give you, each and every day.
It’s the work of a lifetime, you know, but one you’re more than willing to undertake. For starters, though, you’ll settle with going back to that bakery where you bought the ‘Fidoughs’, and purchasing the ‘ Croc-ssants’ you saw in the window. You can already picture your lovers’ reactions, and the thought brings an excited grin to your face.
__________________________________________
Fidough is based on the Pokémon of the same name from the Scarlet and Violet games, although the ones here are obviously not alive and are just bread buns. Very cute bread buns.
I'm so sorry for the awful puns. I have no excuse, I just suck at them :(
#JMB writes#undertale fanfiction#papyrus x self insert#papyrus x reader#papyrus x reader x papyrus#papyrus x reader x hsf papyrus#papyrus#papyrus my beloved#horrorswapfell papyrus#rabbit papyrus#this is just pure fluff#food puns#I'm so sorry#(are you proud sans?! look what you've done to me!!)#this is the last time I'm writing in present tense#because I hate it#past tense all the way bby!
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fallout ocs pt.5
🔮Esmeray Sullen
Age: 412
D.O.B: 1876, 14th of October
Sexuality: Queer and Demisexual
Gender: Demigirl, She/They
Height: 5,1ft and 8,1ft (in bloodlust)
Weight: 115lbs, 328lbs (bloodlust)
Species/Race: Abhartach, Irish
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Brown
Faction (main): The Children of Atom
Alliances: The Children of the Unseen, The Strip, The Railroad, Goodneighbor, Bunker Hill and The Combat Zone
Karma/Alignment: Evil Karma, Neutral Evil
S.P.E.C.I.A.L-
Strength: 7 (N/A - Abhartach)
Perception: 7 (+3 - Abhartach)
Endurance: 9 (+2 - Abhartach)
Charisma: 5 (1 - Abhartach)
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 10 (N/A - Abhartach)
Luck: 3 (1 - Abhartach)
SKILLS/PERKS-
Skills: Unarmed, Melee, Guns, Energy Weapons, Rad Weapons, Plasma Guns, Hacking, Repair, Sneak and Alchemy
Perks:
Iron Fist(5), Big Leagues(2), Armourer(2), Blacksmith(2), Heavy Gunner(4), Strong Back(2), Steady Aim(1), Pickpocket(2), Rifleman(4), Awareness, Locksmith(2), Demolition(2), Night Person(2), Toughness(4), Life Giver(3), Chem Resistant(2), Rad Resistance(2), Adamantium Skeleton (3), Cannibal(3), Ghoulish(2), Cap Collector(2); Black Widow(3), Lone Wanderer(3), Attack Dog(2), Animal Friend(2), V.A.N.S, Medic(4), Gun Nut(4), Hacker(2), Scrapper(1), Science(4), Chemist(2), Nuclear Physicist (3), Gunslinger(4), Commando(3), Sneak(4), Mister Sandman(2), Moving Target(2), Ninja(2), Quick Hands(2), Blitz(1), Gun-Fu(3), Fortune Finder(2), Scrounger(3), Bloody Mess(2)
RELATIONSHIPS:
Friends: Circe
Family: Xania Sullen(Adoptive Father), Siobhan Sullen (Adoptive Mother) and Salus Sullen (Adoptive Brother)
Enemies: Salus
Lovers: Cordeila & Circe
—————————————-
Lived in Ireland
Moved around prewar due to fear from others.
Outcasted from villages and towns once known about her species
When outcasted she massacred a town and decided to run rampant into a forest killing those who enter it
People heard of missing people and took pitchforks and Rifles to thr forest to kill her
Burned down the hut and she escaped with bad injury
Wandered the streets at 18 and struggled to survive
The police found her after she assulted a man and arrested her until she was 22
She became feral due to lack of blood and escaped
Taken by animal control and the workers sold her off to a circus
The Circus abused her behind the scenes and she was much like the lion act - poking her with a hot metal rod and dodging her
A woman named Victoria hated the act and entered back stage
Once she did she fed Esmeray blood and took her home which helped her from being feral
She was then raised with Salus
She grew well with salus but Victoria often had terrible husbands
One of husbands sexually abused esmeray and salus until the two killed him and Esmeray ate him
The two stayed close even after the man's death until Salus's mental condition got worse and he killed Esmerays cat, causing them to hate one another.
Then Victoria had a new husband that Salus scared away by saying esmeray was a monster
The husband left due to this
Later Victoria developed cancer and in her late years Esmeray looked after Victoria until her death
At the time of the bombs Esmeray lost salus when he was put into a vault
When wandering the wasteland she was attacked by raiders until she found the institute
There she learned medicine and about synths and met Salus again
Salus left to become part of the children of atom and esmeray followed
He often used esmeray for his experiments and personal gain, abusing and manipulating her
She did have a relationship with a girl named Alex who was dating her previous lab partner Michael
Alex used esmeray for sex while with Michael until esmeray met Circe who killed Alex
Experiments done by Salus-
Open Spine
Missing wing Pieces
Rad Experiments
Barbed wire crown for her disobedience to him
#art#digital art#speedpaint#monster#monster oc#abhartach#fallout character#fallout oc#fallout 76#fallout 4#fallout 3#fallout 2#fallout#fallout new vegas#fallout fan creation#fallout fanart
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Subject to Change Sentence Starters
The right and the hard thing are sometimes the same
Thank God he broke my heart in my hometown
Thank God I got a strong gut feeling leading me to somewhere new
I guess, haven't decided if I'm gonna stay brunette
If I'm honest growing up, it kind of hurts like hell
Just leave a daisy on the dashboard
Back to the basics 'cause they're bigger than they seem
Give me that typical, simple love, it's the little things
Just pull me in and kiss me slow
I could go to bed before 11:30
I could go read a book that tells me not to worry
I could do a load of laundry that's just been sitting dirty
I could show up on time and maybe even early
All my inhibitions are gone by a quarter to twelve
I could go for a walk and maybe eat a salad
I could pick up my guitar and write another ballad
I could even meditate to live with less distraction
We go back like Pontiac seats
If I got an aisle with a mess I gotta clean up, I know you'll be showing up with bleach
Got a couple nights that have slipped my mind
Proof and photographs have been deleted
We both know our hands ain't clean
If you go down, I'm going down too
It's a good thing we're each other's kind of crazy
If you rob a bank, I'm your getaway Mercedes
God knows that's what friends are for
I keep all your secrets by the dozen
You know where my skeletons sleep
Hypothetically, if you ever kill your husband, hand on the Bible, I'd be lying through my teeth
Even if I wanted to I can't snitch
Thirty to life would go quicker with you
Wrecks you in the worst way
Your hair's a little longer
How long will you be back in town?
Are you still drinking that Jack and water?
Why don't you let me buy you this next round?
I can pick you out of a line up, even with my eyes closed
My hands know just where to be
My body won't forget our history
For old time's sake let's take a ride
Let's ride the long way home tonight
Every little thing coming out of your mouth, I like how it sounds
I guess they call it falling 'cause you end up on the ground
You can't live forever with your head up in the clouds
That night you told me I hung your moon
Did you only get me high to let me down?
I’m sleeping by myself in a bed I didn't make
Did I wake you up on the wrong side of the bed?
Is there someone's body that you'd rather be laying with instead?
How did we go from summer to cold as ice?
Are we really lovers if you're changing your mind?
I'm not asking for much, just a little reliability
Baby, talk to me
Tell me what you need
Don't leave me hanging anymore
Maybe it's just dumb luck or somewhere in God's plan
Whatever got you here to hold my hand is some kind of magic
You make me believe in something bigger than just me
Baby, you make the impossible feel like it's all logical
Lying in your arms, could be Jupiter or Mars
You say I hang the stars in your eyes but you put the universe in mine
Who I was before you, I forget
I don't get how you broke into my mind and opened it
Maybe someone up there lost a bet
'Cause now I'm saying all the things I never say
If you want consistency, then that's something different than me
Loving me is no easy breeze
I already know I'm no walk in the park
That voice in my head says to slow down
That's just the kind of risk that we take
My head is yelling that I could get hurt
I ain't looking for a one-night rodeo
You're drunk, go home
Yeah, I know you're a Virgo, that's the third time you told me
2020 was a weird year
Ain't the homecoming queen, but better believe I cried
Therapy for one turned into therapy for two
When you get married that young, you got a lotta shit you gotta get through
If I said I had it all together, I'd be lying
But I'll die trying
I'm doing my best
I'm letting the rest roll off my shoulders
I don't always get it right
I think that showing up is good enough for me
Wish I could take it back, I would have never asked if I knew we wouldn't talk anymore
Sometimes I try to say the right thing and it comes out wrong
I live in my head till the sun's up
Even I can admit that it's fucked up
Must be nice to be so nice and beautiful
Were you still alone at the party?
Everybody wanted to see you
Everybody wanted to be you
Was it worth it to seem so perfect?
Did you think you'd feel more fulfilled?
I bought the shoes where the bottom is red
Who the hell am I trying to impress?
I got what they call a dream job
I'm happy with what I have
Even the bad days ain't all that bad
I'm doing alright right where I'm at
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ink x Error
Geno x Cross
Red x Blueberry
Ink x Error
I can definitely see the appeal of this ship, don't get me wrong - I used to like it! But over time I kinda fell out of this ship. For one: It's very hard for me to ship anyone with Ink, having the knowledge that they're canonically aro ace. Two: Ink strikes me as the kind of person to not get close to people romantically or sexually, but in a platonic way. So if they were to settle down with anyone, it would be queer platonic. Error on the other hand... I feel like in order for him to even consider being in relationships, he would need to do a lot of self growth and personal evaluation. It's always a case by case basis. For this case, Error needs to go solo - or perhaps he prefers it that way. So, overall - I see the appeal of an "enemies to lovers" type dynamic, as well as the "grouch and sunshine" dynamic, but it's not my favorite.
Geno x Cross
I was unaware this was a ship, but okay. Geno and Cross... eh. It's a meh ship, that's pretty much all I have on this one, to be honest... no strong feelings... yeah.
Red x Blueberry (Fell x Swap)
I'm picking up on theme that the Undertale community likes "hot n' cold" dynamics when it comes to shipping small skeleton men. Personally? I don't like Fell and Swap together. I think due to trauma Fell would be extremely clingy and difficult to tolerate in a relationship, and Swap wouldn't be much help. I have a feeling Swap would radiate toxic positivity, making Fell pissed off and leading to more arguments. I think these two should stay frenemies who tolerate each other's presence. This is another one of those ships where I can totally see the appeal. But I see way too many red flags for me to support it.
#undertale#undertale au#underverse#shipping#shipping commentary#ink x error#geno x cross#fell x swap#ask box
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
wholesome RZ Michael because i need it
Pairing: RZ! Michael Myers x reader
Summary: Just three short imagines I've come up with.
Warnings: Michael is weird, nothing new.
********************************************************************************
𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂
The air was warm and lively. People enjoyed themselves. Laughter and distant music could be heard from the opened window in your bedroom. It was a typical summer night, filled with reckless teenagers and adults who relived their younger years.
You smiled tiredly as you placed your cup in the sink. Your hands felt weak as you carried the porcelain. Today had been a rough day, filled with too many social interactions to even count. You liked the people you worked with, you really did. Yet today, the constant chatting had tired you. All you wanted to do was sleep.
Therefore you finished your daily evening routine quickly today.
The window in the bathroom was opened as well. Michael liked to open all the windows during the night-time so throughout the days, the house would be colder.
Your feet carried you to your shared bedroom. Peeking through the door, you smiled to yourself. Your giant boyfriend was already in bed, blanket tossed off his giant frame due to the warmth.
You snuck inside the room, careful to not make any sound. As you found out seconds later, that action was useless since your lover wasn't sleeping. Michael's eyes were widen open, staring at the ceiling. You could tell that he was deep in thoughts.
Frowning, you climbed in next to him.
"Can't sleep?", you asked quietly and he slowly turned to look at you.
His piercing gaze still sparked a bit of anxiety inside your stomach. You know he'd only hurt you if absolutely necessary but that didn't decrease your intimidation.
Michael nodded slowly, the bags underneath his eyes only accentuated his current problem.
Carefully, you leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. Your lips stayed there for a few seconds, savoring the warmth of his skin.
The man next to you closed his eyes and you swore you heard him hum.
"Try to get some sleep, okay?", you insisted and got ready to lean back into the soft pillows.
Michael's eyes shot open and he grabbed your hip before you even had the chance to move. A shriek escaped your lips and fear bubbled in your stomach.
His strong hands placed you on his chest and his arms wrapped around you. Humming in appreciation, he closed his eyes again.
You chuckled as relief washed over you. Slowly, your muscles relaxed too and your fingers curled into Michael's shirt. The last thing you felt were his comforting hands steadily rubbing your back before sleep took you.
𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽
Cheerfully, you removed your shoes in the old foyer. The keys landed on the stairs, as well as your small bag.
"Michael?", you called out ecstatically, "Michael, I got the job!"
Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen and your grin faded. Searching for his huge frame, you strutted through the house.
As you entered the kitchen, the giant man sitting on the table nearly made you scream. You press a hand against your loudly thumping heart and laugh breathlessly.
"Jesus, Michael.", you scold, still out of breath from the earlier shock. Only now you saw the small box standing in front of him.
Michael, being the observant little shit he is, saw your eyes flick towards it and pushed it towards you.
"For me?", you ask and your lover nods.
You eagerly skip forwards and start carefully opening the box. Inside is a mouse skeleton, a few flowers and a handful of lemon candy he knows you love. The flowers look fresh even if a little dry.
You questioningly stare up at Michael. Said man just nods multiple times as if he'd just finished an important mission and trudges into the living room. Seconds later, you hear the TV turn on.
Quietly laughing to yourself, your eyes flicker over the box one more time until you close it and leave the kitchen to join Michael on the couch.
Can I just say that I can really see him nod like that after he gave his S/O a present. He'd be like "Yes. I have done it." and then just leave.
𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓵𝓮
You wake up to the sound of something breaking. Something made out of glass.
Groaning, you swing your legs out of bed and rub your eyes. Moments later you're on your way downstairs, dressed in nothing more than one of Michael's shirts.
The sight that greets you is quite a peculiar one.
Your boyfriend is standing in front of the kitchen counter. He's equipped with a bowl and a whisk. The bowl contains some sort of dough. A big, white puddle on the floor indicates that he dropped the milk.
However, the mess doesn't seem to bother Michael as he's currently trying to outstare the dough. It's so thick that his whisk got stuck in it and is now unmovable.
You snort at his stubbornness and walk towards him. Michael just whips around, childish anger visible in the azure eyes.
"Need some help big boy?", you ask and grin. Michael huffs and steps back from his experiment.
Giggling you try to fix his mistake just to find out that whatever he's done, that dough would never soften up again.
"I think you killed it.", you state blankly and chuckle once more.
Another annoyed huff is heard in the kitchen and Michael stubbornly marches out of the room. Amused, you try to get him back by calling his name but Michael continues to ignore you. You give up, trying to talk to the statue in front of the TV and start mixing another dough.
Michael's sudden catatonia is like blown away when you approach him with a plate of pancakes half an hour later.
#rz michael myers x reader#slashers x reader#horror slasher x reader#slashers#michael myers x reader#michael myers#rz michael myers#halloween#michael oneshot
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
babylonblindsandscreens-blog
Babylon Blinds and Screens
veriitasu
Veri
atamaii
Atamaii.tv
hessellund41thompson
The Love of Lambertsen 000
thirtythousandstellarcycles-blog
Welcome to Iacon Central, Punks