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osaemu · 7 months

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GOJO SATORU: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: what do you do when your boyfriend cheats? you go to his house and look for revenge, and you get it by fucking his dad! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. age gap, blowjob, praise, degradation, use of slut, slight dumbification, dirty talk, and possibly more. 2.6K words.

you should've known that dating a rich boy came with more than just the money—it came with a shitty boyfriend too.

as you walk to his house, rain falling in your eyes, you curse every time he had you do his homework, his bills, even his fucking laundry. that's what you get for dating the spoiled heir to the massive gojo fortune.

you step onto the gojo estate's porch, wondering what possessed you to come all the way here in the middle of the night without an umbrella. thank god you still had the key your ex had given you, since he was too stupid to remember to take it back after he dumped you.

hands shaking from the cold, you slip the key into the lock and turn, a small smile dancing across your lips when it opens as easily as your ex's legs. he was probably out fucking another girl right now, if the pictures on his instagram story were any hint of his whereabouts.

you push the door open with your shoulder and dry your feet on the doormat. his parents are never home, and it's late enough for the staff to have all gone back to their quarters. besides, even if one or two were still here, they probably didn't know you weren't their spoiled brat's girlfriend anymore.

humming the post-breakup revenge song you'd been listening to for the past hour, you tie up your hair and look around. the only reason you walked all the way here in the middle of a dark, stormy night was for revenge, and you weren't leaving without it.

on the way to your ex's room, you stop in one of the bathrooms to dry off. rainwater slides off your body as you wring out your hair in the sink, water dripping down your wrist as you do so.

you walk the familiar path to your ex's room, rolling your eyes when you see a bra on the floor that definitely isn't yours. funnily enough, you aren't surprised. there's no hurt, no sadness, just disgust. your suspicions were right—he was fucking other girls while the two of you dated.

a sigh slips through your lips as you look around his room. it's messy, even with the help from the gojo estate's numerous staff. they say bigger rooms naturally look cleaner, and yet your ex's room still manages to mirror his mind—filthy.

you're so immersed in the thousand ideas you have to ruin your ex's life that when a deep, sleep-ridden voice asks you what the fuck you're doing in his house, you nearly jump out of your skin.

you spin around, words caught in your throat when you come face-to-face with satoru gojo, your ex-boyfriend's dad and the infamous head of the gojo family.

it's more than shameful that the first thought you have is that shit, he's hot. you've met before, but it was only in passing. satoru's never around, and the extent of your relationship was a brief nod as he passed you in one of the many passageways in the gojo estate. in fact, you aren't entirely sure if he even knows who you are.

satoru gojo's well-known in japan—not only is he the reason the gojo family has its reputation, but he's made quite a name for himself by being the most affluent and handsome of them all.

you've heard stories about him back in his prime. most sound too far-fetched to be true, but the photos of him in his twenties that resurface from time-to-time make good material for your late-night fantasies.

and satoru's even more intimidating in person. he's easily over six feet tall with well-defined muscles, and he's the definition of a dilf. he's probably twice your age, but the glint in his eyes and casual arrogance in his stance makes him all the more attractive.

it's a shame his son is such a dickhead.

"are you one of my son's whores?" satoru asks dryly, eying the bra on the floor. you scowl and kick it away, a soft huff slipping through your lips.

"no, i'm— wait, he never told you?" you cut yourself off with the question, a hint of incredulous disbelief in your tone.

satoru shrugs, reaching up to ruffle his hair. his shirt slides up just enough to expose his abs, which are really fucking hot by any standards. "if you're asking about my son, he thankfully leaves me out of his sex life," he says amusedly. "so, who are you? and what the hell are you doing in my house this late?"

"i—" well, you couldn't just say you were here to ruin his son's life. "uh, i'm his... girlfriend."

satoru barks out a laugh, looking down at you through his long, white eyelashes. "really? you sure you're dating my son?"

you narrow your eyes and nod. satoru shakes his head, slipping one of his hands in his pocket and gesturing to the bra on the floor with the other. "either you aren't his girlfriend or you just found out he's cheating. which is it?"

well, you tried. "both." satoru raises his eyebrows at that and takes a seat on the chair across from his son's bed, exhaling as he does so.

"so, sweetheart, what's the story?" he asks, a bored expression on his face. he leans back and spreads his legs enough for you to wonder what it'd be like to be in between them.

not sensing that you really have a choice, you sit on the corner of his son's bed and start explaining. at first, you sugarcoat his son's actions, not wanting to sound like a whiny brat, but at one point he interjects with a sigh.

"i know my son," he says dryly, brushing his floppy white hair out of his eyes. "and i also know a liar when i see one."

"s' that so?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring the way satoru's eyes narrow at your side comment. from then on, you list every detail of just how shitty your ex was to you. you tell satoru how his son made you fold his clothes, how he dragged you to parties even when you swore you had homework, how he'd make you fu—

you stop there, not wanting to divulge every detail of your sex life. sure, your ex forced you to fuck him every night in every way he knew existed from watching porn, but that wasn't for his dad to know.

satoru, who's been listening intently for the last five minutes, studies your irritated expression thoughtfully. rather than comment on the way you suddenly stopped ranting, he asks, "so you're here for revenge?"

you nod, crossing your legs. satoru eyes you for another second before placing his hands on his knees and standing up with a soft grunt. "do whatever you want, but i want you out of my house in fifteen minutes. and whatever you do stays in this room. no fire."

satoru looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "is that clear?"

it would be easier to agree if satoru wasn't looking down at you with an expression like that on his face. it's somewhere between mild irritation and disgust—whether it's directed at you or his son, you're not sure, but he probably has better things to do than listen to some girl's breakup story. so you nod, and satoru starts to leave.

just before he steps out the door, you think of a really fucking insane idea—one that would absolutely shatter your ex. and for some reason, you say it out loud.

"you should fuck me."

oh my god.

satoru turns around slowly, hand clenched around his phone. "the fuck?"

you swallow, eyes wide and a stupid grin plastered on your face. "shit, i—" you were ready to apologize for just about every word you've ever said, but satoru holds up his hand before you can start, cutting you off.

he scoffs, blue eyes glimmering with either amusement or annoyance. "you really are a piece of work, aren't ya?" satoru narrows his eyes, surveying you critically. his gaze settles on the way your shaky hands, and you hide them behind your back self consciously.

"you want me to fuck you on my son's bed?" he says dryly, stifling a laugh. when you force yourself to nod, he grins. "not bad, sweetheart. not bad at all."

"i-is that a yes?" you hate yourself for stuttering, but it makes satoru laugh.

"sure, why not?" he says, walking over to where you're still sitting on his son's bed and resting a hand on your shoulder. satoru rubs the side of your neck with his thumb, cerulean eyes fixed on your lips. "might be about time to teach my son a lesson anyways."

satoru's agreement surprises you enough to make your mouth fall open, and soon enough, his dick replaces the empty space between your lips.

"shit, you're takin' me so good, baby," satoru groans, hand tangled in your hair as he pushes his dick deeper into your throat. "yeah, that's it, jus' like tha— fuck," he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh as you nearly choke.

he's big, way bigger than your ex, and you wonder how his dad's big dick gene skipped him. and even better, satoru's skilled too. he knows how to fuck you good, and you can tell that it's from experience, not from watching porn—unlike his lame excuse of a son.

"tell me, sweetheart," satoru drawls, looking down at you with a cheeky smile. "was my son half as good as i am in bed?"

when you shake your head no, satoru clicks his tongue in disapproval. "shit, now y're gonna expect every guy you fuck with to be as good as me. well, sorry 'bout that, because they aren't."

at least you know where his son gets his arrogance from.

it's getting a little hard to breathe, especially since you have ten inches of dick shoved down your throat. despite all satoru's talk, you can tell that he's getting close to cumming down your throat—his eyes are twitching and his breaths are starting to become more and more shaky as you suck him off. soon enough, the coil in his stomach snaps and he cums, cursing and praising you as he does. satoru's grip on your hair tightens, and it's borderline painful as he tugs you deeper by the hair.

"shit, that was the best head i've had in a while," he groans after his breathing starts to go back to normal. satoru grins at you, shaking his head and pinning you on your back on the bed.

"you've already been fucked by a gojo here, haven't you?" satoru cooes, tracing your jawline with one of his fingers. "tch, i'll fuck you better than my shithead son ever could. show ya the reason we gojos have a reputation for our dicks."

and fuck, he does. after quickly making you cum on his fingers with the excuse of loosening you up, he roughly shoves his dick in your already-throbbing pussy with a grin. he's so fucking big that you've convinced he's gonna rip you in half.

"g-gojo, i can't—"

"sure y'can," he cuts you off, jaw tightening as you tighten around him. "fuckin' hell, you're just tight as a virgin. my son must be shit in bed, yeah?"

"mhm," you hum, tilting back your head and gasping for air as you feel your body heat up. "shit— right there—"

satoru grins, dipping his head and meeting your tear-lidded eyes. he's far from gentle—it's barely been a couple minutes and your back is already in the highest arch of your life, and it's hard to form coherent thoughts as satoru continues bullying his cock into your pussy.

you lose track of time easily—fuck, you forget there's even a world outside of whatever this is. at some point your tongue falls out of your mouth, lolling to the side as your eyes roll back—just a dumb slut for satoru; or at least that's what he calls you.

as you approach what must be the hundredth orgasm of the night, satoru asks you to say his name. it's almost embarrassing how much effort it is to say—he's fucked you dumb enough to the point where you're a babbling mess.

"shit, you can't even talk," satoru says with a grin, flicking your forehead playfully. "cute." he rests his elbow by your head and shoves his hand over your mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. "you talk too much anyways, princess. take a break."

you whine against his hand and satoru shakes his head, a faux pout on his face. "c'mon, it's not like you can talk anyways," he tsks. his next thrust is particularly rough, and you can't seem to remember who the name of the dickhead who got you in this situation—what was your ex's name again? does it matter?

"yeah i can" you mumble, voice muffled by satoru's hand. when his pout deepens, you can't help but giggle, a sound that soon turns to a squeal when he pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"what's so funny?" satoru grumbles, dipping his head and pressing his lips against the hand seperating your mouth from his. satoru's glimmering eyes are fixed on yours as a cheeky smile spreads across his face. "fine then."

he pulls out, cursing under his breath as he presses his back to the headboard. satoru ignores the hm? that slips out of your lips and removes his hand from your mouth, resting it on his dick instead and stroking it with a smirk. "what is it, princess?"

"wha— why'd you stop?"

satoru lifts his other wrist, studying the watch on it and turning his hand so you can see too. your vision is still so fucked up that the numbers look like swimming otters, but you can vaguely make out the time.

"it's been fifteen minutes, kid. time to go."

your mouth falls open and you sit up, still breathing heavily. one second you're having the best sex of your life, and the next your ex's dad is calling you kid and telling you it's time to go?

"not fair," you mumble, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your head on your knees. "that was a stupid time limit," you huff, chest heaving. "i couldn't have done anything to him in fifteen minutes anyways."

satoru snorts, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. "i'd say we did something in those fifteen minutes," he says dryly, white hair falling into his eyes.

"hmph."

satoru raises his eyebrows, biting the inside of his lip as he continues stroking himself. you notice the way his abs flex and tense the closer he gets; something that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

"can't believe my dumbass son fucked up so badly with a girl like you," he groans after a minute, back resting against the headboard as he continues stroking his dick. "won't be seein' you around here again, huh?"

you blink, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as satoru eyes you intently. "what d'you mean?"

before satoru can answer, the two of you hear footsteps, and before either of you can do anything, standing in the doorway to his own room is your ex, a giggling girl on his arm. the faint scent of alcohol floods through your nose as they stumble in, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from laughing when your ex sees that his bed is already occupied.

"why the hell is my dad in bed with my ex-girlfriend?!"

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underdark-dreams · 7 months

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[Poll results]

A smut piece for Rolan that became a 7k word fic. I don't know what it is about him--I just need him to be happy. 🖤 For anyone else who feels the same!

In Amber

Rolan can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He only knows he wants things with her to be different. A series of encounters between Rolan and the person who is teaching his black heart how to hope.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 7,033 [Read on AO3]

The beloved hero of the Grove has saved them all from the Shadow Curse, apparently.

Word spreads fast, and it's all Rolan hears the Harpers talking about in their rush to take final leave of Last Light Inn. Nearly all had gone to Moonrise Towers with the Druid, but a small group stayed behind with Isobel in case the fight turned to the worst.

Rolan was the first one packed. With the shadows lifting, all he wants to do is travel the road to Baldur's Gate and finally reach his destiny. Leave this hollow place behind him.

At last they are finally moving in the right direction again--the three of them along with Lakrissa and Alfira, led by the Harper rangers.

He glances at Cal and Lia walking beside him. They're in the middle of chatting about the first things they want to do when they reach the lower city. Rolan can't seem to stop checking that they’re still there–as if he might look to find them gone once more.

He hasn't seen their savior since the night she brought his siblings back to him. That made twice now that she'd saved all three of their lives. Few things bristled against his nature more than owing a debt that couldn't be repaid. Rolan didn't like the feeling of being under anyone's thumb.

She wouldn't even accept a reward for saving his brother and sister's lives, just waved him away with a smile on her lips. The memory frustrated him endlessly. He couldn't understand why she took such an interest in helping him and his family. He was even beginning to consider that goodness of heart might really exist…at least when it came to hers.

Half of his mind felt tormented by her inscrutable kindness. The other half thought he'd very much like to kiss her.

Before he could brush away the alarming idea, the Harpers in front threw up a cheer. Rolan looked around to see the commotion.

She and her companions were covered in more blood than he'd seen on them yet, but they were still standing as they led their small army down the path from Moonrise Towers.

His eyes light automatically to her face–it shines with a radiant smile, but Rolan recognizes the way her shoulders slump under her armor. He is flooded with relief. At least she's alive.

Their groups converge on the road outside the tower. Everything is a jumble of cheers and shouts as the Harpers jostle forward to reunite with their comrades; a man he's never met claps Rolan’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"Go on, then," says Lia beside him. She's following his gaze knowingly. "While you've got a chance."

He only manages to throw his sister a scowl before she trots away. Is it that obvious?

He decides to take her advice after all. She was right that this could very well be the final time their paths converged. Baldur's Gate was a large city, and whatever grand adventures their savior would face next, he doubted they would involve spending much time browsing magical emporiums.

She gave him a little wave as he approached, the kind one might give an old friend. It pricked his conscience. He'd thanked her for saving Cal and Lia, true, but his mind tossed up all the countless other times he'd been needlessly unpleasant toward her.

"Seems we owe you thanks yet again," he said, hoping it came off sincere.

She shook her head wryly. "I've never done any of it alone, you know that. Every one of these people fought like hells in there."

Standing close, his nose was hit by the thick tang of blood that coated on her armor. How much of it was hers?

"You should go to see Isobel," Rolan insisted. He'd drag her straight to the cleric himself, if she'd let him.

"Do I look that bad?" She was teasing, but there was a strain to it. "As long as I make it to my bedroll in the next hour, I'll be fine. You're sweet to worry, though."

"Stop saying things like that," Rolan snapped, unable to contain himself. "You're so nice, and I'm just a bastard."

Her eyes widened at him, taken aback. "I don't think you're a bastard."

Rolan looked down at his hands. "That's what makes you so nice," he said. He had to get to the point. "Look…I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with. I've been rude and awful, ever since the Grove, and you didn't deserve it. So." He straightened up properly. "I'm sorry for that."

It's far less eloquent than he'd rehearsed, but she seems to understand the sentiment.

"Don’t worry about it," she tells him. "You feel responsibility for the people you love. That can make anyone forget themselves for a while."

"I suppose," is all he can manage to say. How well she seems to speak what's in his mind.

Her Githyanki companion approaches with a clear intention to speak with her, and Rolan turns away, not wanting to intrude on the company of her true friends.

"Rolan, wait–"

The flutter in his stomach humiliates him. Will he ever get used to her saying his name?

She rummages in the pack at her waist. "Almost forgot. I found something–well, stole, but it doesn't matter now."

A fist is held out to him, closed around something.

Uncertain what to expect, Rolan offers his hand. Her fingers graze softly against his as they deposit something small and hard. He looks down at his palm.

"A rock," he says, deadpan.

"Not just any rock, it's a topaz."

Rolan blinks at her. "And…what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Keep it, or don't. It just made me think of you. Matches your eyes." The admission brought a flush of pink to her cheeks.

He felt his heart skip at the sight, followed by a jolt of fear–as if she might be able to see the hope blooming inside his chest.

He turns away with a tut. "Absurd."

She gave only a satisfied laugh before taking her leave. Once she'd retreated out of sight, he tucked the gem securely into the folds of his robe.

Rolan has long abandoned the fantasy that he is his master's apprentice.

Whipping boy would be a more accurate job description. Perhaps test subject. He is trapped in an impossible game that he can never win, and his highest purpose is to be the canvas where Lorroakan paints his next magical experiment.

His mind shudders at the way the red wizard's eyes rest on him during "lessons": casually devoid of all concern or care. No matter how hard Rolan concentrates, no matter what he answers, it won't be good enough. And then the pain will follow.

The mindless Constructs are worth far more to his master than he is.

There was a time when someone made Rolan feel like he could deserve more, but that time is gone now. All he can hope is to learn enough, train hard enough, and one day claw his way through to something better.

Today, however, will offer the chance of a reprieve. He's been sent to deliver a message on foot across the lower city. Weeks ago he would've seen the task as an insult. Now he wonders whether it might take all morning, if he's lucky.

If he often feels like a drowning man, these moments of escape are like a sweet gasp of air. He walks with his face tilted up to soak in the sun's warmth.

The marks of abuse that paint his features have long stopped troubling him. An occasional passerby might stare at the bruises, but since the Absolute army's march, most Baldurians give Tieflings a wide enough berth not to notice. One wearing fine robes is no different to them.

As he passes the bridge to the Counting House, his eyes land on her figure. He stops short in surprise, earning himself a rude remark about clumsy devils from the woman behind him.

Rolan would recognize her face in any crowd. She stood on the bridge in the middle of some kind of confrontation between two women; one of them a beggar, by the state of her, the other finely dressed.

As he watches he very clearly sees her invite the rich one to "piss off", to the woman's indignation.

An affectionate chuckle escapes him. Then he winces, hand rising to the cracked skin on his lip. He tastes a drop of blood.

Swift panic grips his chest. She can't fucking see him like this, not once–more broken and pathetic than ever. Not after how many times she's already played rescuer to him. He cringes in shame at the thought.

At least she hasn't found him trapped behind his desk, there's a chance he can slip away unnoticed yet–

"Rolan?"

He missed his moment by a hair. It's unfortunate that hearing her voice after all this time freezes him straight to the cobblestones, or he might consider dashing away like a coward.

"I thought that was you! I'd recognize those horns anywhere."

Resigned, he turns back toward her. But he keeps his face cast down toward the pavement.

"What do you want?" He asks stiffly.

"Hello to you too," she laughs, and he stifles the impulse to watch her do so. "It's been a while. Cal and Lia, they're good?"

"Thanks to you," he concedes. No thanks to me.

"I'm glad to hear it." He watches her boots step closer, tentative. "Everything okay with you?"

She can never just leave him alone, can she. Why does she insist on caring when so many others don't bother?

"Fine, busy with my studies," Rolan deflects. "I've got to get back to the Sundries."

There's a tight pause, and then her voice grows firm. "Look at me."

He curses himself for being unable to disregard her, and for his eyes wanting to take her in despite everything. Slowly, he raises his head to meet her gaze.

Her face is somehow lovelier than he remembered. As he watches, it shatters in shock. He can see her eyes flit from mark to mark as if taking inventory.

"Who did this to you?" She whispers, aghast.

He turns away, unable to hold her gaze. "Believe me, it's nothing that can be helped."

"Rolan–" Her hand extends toward his jaw.

If the thought of her touch thrills him, the thought of being touched by her with pity is unbearable.

"I don't need your help," he spits, slapping the hand away with his own. "And I certainly don't need your damned sympathy!"

The shock and hurt on her face are the last things Rolan sees before he turns on his heel.

The archwizard was not pleased with his late return. That night, Rolan comes home with a large fresh bloom of purple over his left eye.

Lia's already limited patience snaps. She flies into his face with angry tears and threats that she'll march straight into Lorroakan's tower herself with shortsword in hand. Cal stands between them, pleading for peace, eyes wide and sad.

"Enough," Rolan orders them both. "Don't you see we're nothing but hellspawn refugees to these people? My position is the only thing keeping us under this roof, the only thing."

He doesn't stop Lia as she storms out–she didn’t take her sword with her. The door rattles on its hinges as it slams behind her. He pushes wordlessly past Cal to his room, and collapses in a heap against his bed pillows.

His face aches enough that he knows sleep won’t come easy tonight. One hand reaches into the robe at his chest, and he slowly pulls out the small amber stone. His fingers turn it over and over as he closes his eyes once more to escape into imagining.

In some other world, he could've been the one powerful enough to save and protect her. Even be the person who makes her smile.

He would not be the pathetic, broken man that he is. He could feel worthy to return her tender touches with his own, drawing her close to him instead of pushing her away. Feel her lips on his own…her hands circling his shoulders…

Rolan rouses himself to stare down at the topaz shining in his palm. He feels his rotten heart crumple.

He can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He doesn't like the man he is. He wants to be different–he wants things with her to be different.

The stone grows warm in his fist as he clenches it. She crept deep into his heart a long, long time ago. He'll probably never get the chance to tell her, so he might as well admit it to himself.

And even if he did see her again–what chance did he have that she might feel the same? None. She single-handedly managed to improve every part of his life that she touched. What could he possibly offer her?

In this world, precious little.

Lorroakan of Ramazith lay dead on the ground.

Rolan felt a numb hatred as he stood over his former master, eyes frozen wide in the final shock of death. Months from now the expression might have given him cause to laugh. Today, Rolan can only stare mutely.

One more sick megalomaniac who possessed more power than Rolan could have dreamed of wielding…brought down by his insane, insatiable lust for more. Always always more. For what? In the end, he was just another corpse.

It was she who dispatched him, of course. Why wouldn't it be?

After all this time, it was perfectly inevitable that she and her friends would be the ones to fly in and deliver him from yet another tragic end. He felt like he was stuck on a wheel going around and around. He couldn't escape her, either in reality or in his own mind.

Rolan comes to himself and looks down at his robes. Blood splatters his front and soaks up to his elbows; a crust of frost coats his boots, from whose spell he can't remember. All at once an overwhelming tiredness soaks into his bones.

The dream of destiny that had carried him here…had it ever existed, really?

He decides to slip away while she's distracted, speaking urgently to one of her companions. Her plans probably extend far outside this room and beyond, but this is where his path reaches a bloody dead end.

He allows himself one last look at her profile before stepping quietly to the portal. He wants only a bath and the release of sleep.

His feet drag along the streets of the lower city as they carry his body home, ignoring any frightened stares at the state of his clothes. Silent as he can, he slips through the front door and down the hall to his room. Cal and Lia's voices carry from the kitchen. He'll face their questions when he wakes.

In the end, exhaustion and relief overtake him. There will be no more lessons. He falls to bed in a heap and drifts off, still wearing his master's blood on his hands.

In retrospect: letting Lia discover him face-down in his bed covered in dried blood was not the smartest decision Rolan had ever made.

After he'd groggily yelled himself hoarse enough to stop her screams, a sharp pang of conscience drove through him like ice. During the time he thought the two of them were lost to the Shadowlands, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to an early death.

He never wanted either of them to feel that emptiness. For once, he let Lia hold him tight without protest.

With a few days' rest, and some of Cal's better efforts in the kitchen to date, Rolan's spirits had rallied sufficiently that he felt well enough to leave the house. Even to attempt a cautious return to his place of employment.

To his surprise and distinct confusion, no one at Sorcerous Sundries had a thing to say about Lorroakan's disappearance, or about any possible employee involvement.

If anything, the mood around the shop was noticeably lighter. He even caught Tolna humming a soft little tune to her bookshelves. “The tomes never respected him, you know,” she whispered to Rolan.

And once he got over the bizarre sight of Lorroakan's projection, hovering with a vacant smile behind his former desk, he found a perverse humor in it. Who was the fucking errand boy now?

Most of all, Rolan found himself free to finally do what he came to this place for: study magic. He had no archmage master, but he was intelligent, and he now had free access to all of the tomes in the tower library that Lorroakan had enjoyed dangling under his nose.

These days he preferred to spend his days alone in the upstairs, absorbed in theory and practice. His skills grew, and so did his confidence in himself.

If he also felt drawn to the spot because it was the last place he'd seen her…well, he was far too late on that score. He could've finally confessed the feelings that had long been bursting through his chest.

Instead he had slunk away in silence, too scared to stand in front of her and admit how misguided he'd been all this time. She must think very little of him. She probably didn't think of him at all.

Who knew if she was even still in Baldur's Gate? He searched every face he encountered on the streets, hoping for an answer. It had become a reflex.

At the end of another day, he trudged alone across the twilight square. His hands ached from practicing the gestures for elemental conjurement over and over. One of the Steel Watchers clomped mindlessly past, looking about like Rolan felt.

The thought of going home filled him with weariness. Cal and Lia's cheerful bickering always annoyed him, in an affectionate way. But tonight, he truly felt he might not be up to it.

He felt sad. Lonely.

Glancing up, he found that his legs had carried him to the steps of the Elfsong. A drink…that would soothe his sorrows for an hour or two, at least.

The doors swung open to usher a wave of stimulation over his senses. Warm firelight, the smell of roasting venison, tables packed with conversation and clinking glasses.

He was grateful that many others seemed to have had the same idea this particular night. It made it easier to slip through the crowded taproom unnoticed, catching meaningless slices of gossip and flirtatious banter on his way to the bar.

The surly bartender didn't look overjoyed to be serving a Tiefling. He took Rolan's gold without comment, however, and left him alone with his wine.

As the alcohol spread a welcome relaxation through his limbs, Rolan passed the time by idly watching the groups around him.

A halfling sat alone with shoulders slumped, staring down his tankard as if he wished to drown in it. Across the way, a large bearded man was leaning across the table in open pursuit of his female companion. Clearly getting nowhere, from her expression. But he looked far too drunk to notice.

In front of the great hall fireplace, a pale elf sat in conversation with a pretty dark-haired young woman.

Rolan's brow furrowed; he knew those two. His eyes quickly scanned over the room's faces until he found her.

She was removed a ways from her usual traveling companions, seated at a small table in the far corner. He watched her swirl the cup in her hand idly. Her eyes followed the liquid’s pattern, but the look behind them was leagues away.

For the first time in days, Rolan felt his heavy heart lift. She was exactly the person he wanted to be with tonight. Even if it was just sharing a drink.

This was it, he told himself. He had to speak with her or he'd regret it the rest of his life.

But first–he knocked back a very large mouthful.

His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer to her. With each step he expected she might look up, piercing him with those eyes that visited most of his dreams. But she remained transfixed by the wine even when he drew up beside her table.

Improvising, he cleared his throat. "Hello."

She glanced up at him in pleasant surprise. "Oh!"

They stared at each other for an awkward silence. Then, somehow, he found himself laughing with her.

"Sorry, it's so strange. I was just thinking about you," she said, her face brightening.

The fact that he occupied any space in her brain would consume him later, but he shoved it aside for the moment.

"Mind if I join you?"

She patted the chair next to her. As he sat, he wondered if the spot had been a tactical choice on her part. Their table had a view of the whole room and both exits, yet the wall behind offered a sense of privacy.

"You're not drinking with your friends tonight," Rolan observed.

"Just taking a little break. We're celebrating another family reunion," she explained, gesturing her glass toward the group around the blazing hearth.

Rolan looked back over his shoulder. He recognized the one-eyed young man with curling horns, but not the older one whose hand was clasped on his shoulder. Quite clearly father and son to anyone with eyes.

"I'm glad for them," Rolan said. To his surprise, he found he truly meant it. The Absolute had ripped apart so many families in so many ways, including his, leaving the lower streets flooded with the hopeless and broken and displaced. He counted himself and his siblings incredibly lucky, and it heartened him to see another happy scene among so much misery.

“You know–” She eyed him curiously. "I was hoping I’d see you. You ran off before we could talk that day."

He looked down at his drink. "I know. I've regretted it since then. At the time, it was just…a lot to take in."

Her eyes narrowed, but not at him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that man can burn in Avernus for all I care. For what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Aylin."

Rolan recalled the runic circle in Lorroakan's library, the one whose mysterious power had at first awed and enthralled him. And then he'd seen the aasimar with the shining wings, and watched the demented hunger in Lorroakan's eyes, and the horrible realization had run through him like a sickness.

"Lorroakan was a monster," he agreed. "I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Or even found the strength to open my own eyes."

He felt a hand rest on his forearm.

"I saw what you went through to get here,” she said. “It’s natural that you thought you had to see it all through, no matter what.”

Rolan said nothing for a while, just let her kindness soothe into his chest like a balm.

“On the bright side,” he added suddenly, “He did keep an excellent library. I’ve learned more from one of his books than I ever did from him.”

“That’s because you’re a proper talented wizard,” she laughed. “And he was an idiot.”

“A dead idiot.”

“To that,” she said with a lift of her cup, and they both drank. He noticed she used her free hand, not moving the one that laid on his arm.

When he caught her eye after, she was watching him with a smile. "You look so well, Rolan."

He knew what she meant. The last time she saw him, his face had been dappled in marks and bruises from Lorroakan's brutal instruction, with more that she couldn't see under his robes.

Now, the last mark across his cheekbone had faded almost to nothing. He hoped it would take the memories of the meaningless pain he'd endured along with it.

"Thank you," he said simply. "So do you."

He meant it; he realized now that he'd only ever seen her dressed for combat. Tonight she wore soft hide pants tucked into her hunting boots, a linen shirt half unlaced at her collarbones. It softened her. Close beside him and bathed in firelight, she set his heart racing again.

Perhaps it was her closeness or her touch that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was just the wine. He shifted his arm slightly to capture her hand in his.

"No one else has ever shown me the kindness you have. Not even Cal and Lia, though I do love them."

She watched him speak in silence, and he gazed back at her, as if the answers to everything might be found in her face.

"I don't understand you,” he said earnestly. “Why you've kept giving me chances. You've been so much more generous with me than I deserve. I've insulted you, yelled at you, I've been an absolute unbearable prick–"

Before he could think, she leaned in to silence him with her lips.

The kiss lasted forever and only a second all at once. Rolan closed his eyes, breathing in the faint smell of lavender on her skin.

Before he was anywhere near ready, she gently pulled away.

"Because," she murmured, "you're a good man, Rolan. And I like you." Her words, the lingering taste of her on his lips, they made his head spin. He felt like he was watching the door to a new world swing open before his eyes.

Before anything else, Rolan had to kiss her again. He released her hand to smooth the hair back from her face, watching the way she tilted into his touch, and gently guided her toward him.

It was deeper this time; he tasted the heady wine on her mouth, her breath a soft tickle against his cheek. As his fingers tangled her hair, he felt her hand wind sweetly over his shoulder, holding on to him.

A wet stripe flashed across his lips. His mouth gasped open in surprise, allowing her tongue to softly meet his, then draw slowly over his pointed teeth.

The unexpected sensations brought his mind back to reality, and to the fact that they were in a public place. With effort, he wrenched himself out of the kiss. They breathed against each other for a moment.

"I've got a room upstairs," she murmured. "If you want to?" Her cheeks were flushed from firelight and wine, and possibly even from him.

Whether or not he wanted to was no question: her words sent a fervent rush of blood to his groin. But first, he mustered enough control to hold her back from him for a moment. Her lips were parted in question.

"I adore you," he said. "I think I have for a long time. It's–very important to me that you know that. Before anything else." Even if the anything else was a dream that had kept him awake more nights than he could count.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek; he thought he might combust if she didn't say something. "Thank Gods," she laughed breathily. "I swore you hated me for a while there."

"I had no idea what to do with my feelings for you, I was a fucking idiot." It was all tumbling out of him now. He opened his mouth to continue, but her fingertips went to his lips.

"Rolan–" Her voice was full of relief, and he was charmed to see the blush across her face deepen. "I feel the same way. I really, really like you."

His rotten heart could have flipped with joy.

“Now.” She cocked her head askance, and he felt her fingers twine with his. "Make it up to me?"

Yes. Please, please, yes. He nodded in a daze, reeling like he'd sustained a blow to the head. All he could feel was the elation and anxiety swirling around and around in his stomach as he followed her toward the staircase, let her lead him by the hand like a lovesick idiot.

As they passed her companions he pointedly averted his eyes; he couldn't afford to lose any of the nerve building inside him. He'd need every bit of it in a moment.

The dark staircase seemed to ascend forever. Part of him wanted it to–he was no virgin, but the hand she held tight was shaking with anxiety. He wanted to make this perfect.

Overthinking proved pointless. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, he found himself pinned against it with a thud by the length of her body.

His involuntary groan was lost in their kiss. She was everywhere around him at once: hands pinning his shoulders back against the wood, hips grinding into his thigh with no pretense, her tongue pressing against his lips and slipping past his teeth to taste him. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound reverberated from his head to his feet.

His erection was practically instantaneous. He hooked his thumbs over her hip bones, sharp nails finding purchase in her pants, and rolled himself against the yielding softness between her legs.

Whatever release the pressure provided multiplied it tenfold. Desire coursed through him, burning in his veins hotter than he thought possible.

The maneuver brought an approving hum from her throat, however. Encouraged, he ground her into him again, and again, as slowly as his body could be convinced to go.

Her hands released his shoulders to rake upward through his hair, pulling his face toward her.

Pulling him deeper into the room, he realized. He stumbled slightly against something; tasting her lips was infinitely more important than breaking the kiss to look where he was going. He trusted her lead, impatient to reach whatever destination she had in mind so he could freely explore her.

Their connected bodies bumped up against the edge of something soft. She pulled away, and his immediate disappointment rapidly turned around as he felt her fingers fumbling with the clasps of his robe. He guided her hands, struggling at the same time to kick off one boot and then the other.

As his robes pooled on the floor, her palms pressed him away for a moment.

Rolan stood frozen and panting in his trousers. She licked her kiss-swollen lips as she looked over his bare shoulders, his chest. When her eyes reached the obvious hardness straining in his pants, she let out a delicious sound.

Rolan's hands grabbed for her of their own volition. They slipped under the hem of her shirt, against the bare skin of her waist, and wrenched the garment up over her head in one motion.

To look at her directly was almost too much–he felt love and desire churning together inside of him. "Beautiful," was all he could say.

He buried his face in her shoulder instead, fang-like teeth brushing over her skin as he left a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She let out a gasp when his hand gently stroked her breast.

"You're so warm," she murmured into his hair. To him, she was pleasantly cool; he shivered when her fingers traced the small set of ridges that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.

But he needed more of her. He hooked both thumbs over her waistband and tugged ineffectually. She quickly took over, shucking them off with a shimmying motion.

The sight of her bare, for him, was almost enough to make Rolan come then and there. He reached out to her hips to steady himself. She was so much more divine than anything his paltry imagination could have conjured.

Through his blazing arousal, he was barely aware of the hands unlacing his pants until she tugged them down to finally let his cock spring free.

A sigh of relief escaped him. He watched her take him in, her eyes half-lidded with arousal.

"You're incredible," she whispered. Then her arms slid around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

He tried to concentrate on her mouth, but the way his cock brushed and nudged against her skin every time she moved was taking over his brain.

With a motion of her hips, she captured his length between her thighs and rocked forward and back, sliding her dripping wet center over his cock. The revelation of her own state of desire sent his mind spiraling with want.

Rolan let out what could only be called a whimper. He clutched her to him, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth as firmly as he dared, as if she might suddenly disappear and leave him in an aching pile.

She made a pleased sound, then gave his shoulders a push. With his pants still around his thighs, he lost his balance–knees buckled as he fell backwards onto the mattress behind them.

He propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see her kneel on the floor in front of him. Her two hands pushed his knees apart, as far as the straining fabric would allow–

Rolan tried and failed to breathe normally, heart pounding in his ears. It felt like time was slowing to a crawl. Her eyes glanced from his face to the stiff erection between them. A droplet of moisture shone at its tip.

"Can I–?" She was asking him for permission, hands poised on his thighs, her expression heady with arousal.

"Anything," Rolan swore, and he meant it. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to him right now. Before he could prepare himself, her mouth closed wetly around his tip.

Truly, nothing could have readied him. He let out a gasp–his head dropped back as his hips rose involuntarily to seek more of her soft, cool mouth.

He had scarcely adjusted before she took him in further, sliding her tongue down along his length to his very base–then slowly, achingly slowly, back up again.

He heard the rip of fabric as his nails gripped the bedding. He gathered the will to raise his head up to look.

Rolan was mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapped around taught red skin, his length disappearing into her mouth and returning wet with saliva. She was working him over almost reverently slow, eyes closed as if tasting him.

Tasting herself on him. His cock twitched inside her mouth at the realization. She glanced up at him, releasing him from her lips with a soft, wet pop.

He could have groaned at the loss of her. Instead, he used the moment to work off his constraining pants and toss them away. Before she could reach for him again, Rolan pulled her up and onto his lap.

Her knees sank into the bed on either side as she straddled him, but she kept herself hovering well above him without contact. He pushed aside the ache between his legs to focus on more important things.

He leaned forward to press a soft kiss between her breasts, allowed his mouth to explore. She sighed with pleasure as he alternately licked and kissed across each curve, then drew sharp breath as his teeth sucked at the soft flesh under one breast.

Her hands, at first resting on his shoulders, flew to grab two fistfuls of his hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Rolan pulled away for a moment for admire the purple mark blooming on her breast. He glanced up as though looking for approval. She gave it, tugging his hair to tilt his face into a waiting kiss.

Ever so carefully…mindful of his fingertips, he placed the flat of his palm on the heat between her legs.

“Rolan–” she gasped, breaking away.

The sound of his own name had never been dearer to him. He was run through with a thrill, and a fervent desire to do whatever it took to make her say it again.

He massaged gentle circles into her, the base of his palm pressing against her clit in slow rhythm. Her wetness coated him with each stroke. She quaked under his touch, eyelashes fluttering, and his other arm circled her back to support her. He felt her lean against him without a second thought. Trusting completely.

“I can’t believe I have you,” he heard his voice say, perhaps to himself.

As he spoke he felt the core of her tightening under his hand. Abruptly, her fingers closed around his wrist to still his ministrations. He froze, immediately afraid he had scratched her somehow. But her face shone with nothing but desire for him.

"On your back," she directed.

Rolan nearly pinched his tail under himself in his haste to obey. He swept his legs out from between hers and stretched out as she climbed over to straddle him.

Now they were finally here, she wasted no time leaving space between them. Her hips rolled down onto him and drew the wet folds of her center across his tip. His entire length throbbed at the blessed return of her touch, the head of his cock burning against her.

Smoothly, simply, she lowered herself onto him.

The shuddering exhale from his lips met against her moan of relief. Rolan willed himself to keep his eyes on hers, even as her inviting walls gripped him, even as he practically felt his pupils dilate with want. Her features relaxed into a state of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Then she started to move her hips.

She pushed her palms against his chest for leverage, riding his cock at a steady pace that felt entirely too slow. Whatever will he had to follow her lead was immediately tested; he was overcome with the need to touch her everywhere at once.

Care forgotten, he gripped the soft flesh of her back with his fingertips. She cried out softly as his nails dragged from her shoulders to the base of her hips, but he felt her walls clench around him in response. His tail curled up and around her waist of its own volition, holding her as she took him in further with each bounce of her hips.

She gasped and fell over him, hands braced on either side. She was already losing control. He felt his own release closing in, used the new angle of her hips to thrust up into her.

“Oh, Gods, yes–” Her mouth dropped open. She moved her hips back with each of his thrusts to take him more deeply.

Rolan thought he might shatter apart. Waves of searing desire swept harder and harder through him. She took him so perfectly, his cock almost painfully gripped by her tightening walls, so wet and lush and sweet and for him–

A hand flew up to the back of her neck to grasp and to pull her down so he could taste her as he came. Lips crashed together frantically as the pace of their bodies started coming apart at the seams.

In one bright concentrated moment, she shook and trembled violently into him as she grasped for whatever part of him she could reach. He managed one last stuttering thrust before his climax was ripped from him by her own, spilling inside of her clenching center, hurling him outside himself and into the wide Astral plane.

They shuddered against each others' bodies as white-hot waves receded outward farther and farther. Her head dropped to his shoulder as though she'd lost all muscle control.

He felt her slowing breaths fan out across his chest, and he rested a hand on the back of her head to keep her there.

As Rolan stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling above them, something cold dripped down at the base of him. He realized he was still inside of her. He swung his free arm over the side of the bed–still woozy enough from his climax that he nearly slid head-first to the floor–and snatched up his rumpled robes to clean them both.

She rolled off him then and cuddled up on her side to watch him. He mirrored her pose, adjusting against the pillows to make a spot for his horns. One of her fingers found the point of his ear and began tracing.

“How do you feel?” She asked.

Rolan sighed deeply. “Happy.” He could cast around for another dozen words, but he’d rather take her in. He smoothed a hand up and down along the curve of her side.

“So do I.” She leaned over to spread light kisses along his lips, then his jaw and cheek. His tail brushed against her leg in an idle caress.

She glanced down. “I didn’t actually know about…that.”

“Am I your first Tiefling?” He teased, though the thought genuinely pleased him.

“First and last,” she replied. The words were instantly locked away in his chest.

She gave a little shiver then, tucking her body against his warmth. He dug the covers up over themselves and wrapped her up tight with his arms and legs. The simple feeling of holding her brought him a deep sense of calm.

“I love this, Rolan.” Her lips moved against the hollow at the base of his neck. “I wish I could take tonight and carry it with me everywhere.”

Something sparked in him at her words. He opened his eyes and reluctantly released her to feel around the floor at the floor for his stained robe.

"What are you doing over there?" She lifted her head curiously to peer over the bedside.

"Just need to find something." He rummaged through his layers of discarded clothing before finally, his knuckle grazed something hard.

He slid back up under the covers beside her. She propped herself up against him, resting a palm on his chest with an expectant look.

He held out his thumb and index finger. Between them, an amber stone glinted in the dim light.

Her mouth fell open in recognition. For one second, he was afraid she might cry.

Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms tight around him. "I knew you were a darling all along."

#blowjobs and self esteem #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #i can't be trusted with this man apparently

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thrutheriff-if · 9 months

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Thru the Riff is an 18+ interactive fiction revolving around music and the paranormal. It follows you, a journalist working for Star-Dust Magazine, in your newest gig of “interviewing” the members of the “hottest rock band” around, MANHUNT. You’ll work to uncover the bands secrets in your own… creative ways, and find out the truths as to why their stardom is surrounded by scandal.

Content Warnings: violence, foul language, suggestive themes, substance abuse, possession and other paranormal related themes, and more.

You’ve spent the past three years of your life trying to climb the corporate ladder at Star-Dust Magazine, a magazine focusing on the secrets and personal lives of the biggest bands and musicians of your time. You were hired as a journalist alongside your best friend, and have worked on countless jobs and interviews together, most of them being your best work despite your bosses trepidation.

However, your most recent jobs have seemingly all ended as busts, your boss describing them as “fluff pieces” rather than the raw, true pieces that she wants. She’s given you an ultimatum: give her something truly fitting for Star-Dust, or she’ll refer you to a different career path.

Seemingly at rock bottom, you’re given a golden opportunity — MANHUNT, one of the biggest rock bands around, has gone viral for a scandal revolving around one of the members volatile departure from the band. It’s the perfect opportunity to use the bands mystery to your advantage.

The bad news? MANHUNT has never accepted written or filmed interviews that they can’t control, and they’ve refused countless interview invitations from Star-Dust in the past. The good news? Now with their rhythm guitarist very publicly leaving the band, they have to open auditions to replace her.

If only things could be as simple as they seem.

Customize your main characters gender, pronouns, physical appearance, personality and views. As well as choose their skill and interest in music, and their belief in the occult. Do they like the kind of music MANHUNT creates? Can they play any instruments themselves? Do they believe in any sort of occult or spiritual beings? How do those questions tie together? Only one way to find out.

Audition to join the band! MANHUNT needs a new rhythm guitarist, and you see this as the perfect opportunity to get an insider look on the band. Will you be genuine or secretive with your audition? Meet your future bandmates and impress or disappoint them.

Choose from four romance options; MANHUNT’s distant lead singer who has more secrets than they let on, MANHUNT’s drummer who has integrated you into the band without complaint, your guitar tech who has taken a special interest in you, or your best friend who has tagged along for the job.

Develop friendships with the rest of the band and help or destroy MANHUNT’s public image.

Oh, and don’t forget to write your piece for Star-Dust, your job literally depends on it. Find out as much as you can. Find out too much. Don’t get hurt.

Maxim / Maxine “Max” Hawke (RO, gender selectable) — The rather broody lead singer of MANHUNT. Max is the perfect fit for a rockstar, broody in their personal life but an all-out force of energy on stage, wooing crowds of thousands (and mortifying their parents) without issue. As personable as they appear to be on stage, they seem like they want nothing to do with you. It’ll be difficult getting close to them, especially with how odd they seem to be acting offstage.

Roman / Romona Woods (RO, gender selectable) — MANHUNT’s drummer who has a roguish appearance with a heart of gold. They may not look like the most approachable of people, but they’ll surprise you with their boundless energy and bubbly social skills. They’re the most accepting of your arrival to the band so far and are genuinely excited to get to know you.

Beck Moreau (RO, they/them) — Your own personal guitar tech! Well, not technically yours as they used to be Willa’s tech before she left but, regardless they’re tagging along to MANHUNT’s shows and maintaining your equipment for you. They’re loud and can be pretty irritating, and they seem to have a special interest in pushing your buttons. Can you handle the headache they give you?

Gabriel / Gabrielle Moretti (RO, gender selectable) — Your quiet, kind hearted best friend from your childhood. The two of you have been thick as thieves since you were young, and somehow you found yourselves tackling the same career path in adulthood. They’re kind and have been there for you throughout your struggles working for Star-Dust. They decided to come along with you on your newest job to “keep you safe” but, is that really… it?

… and be prepared to meet the rest of the band!

Finn Kellett (he/him), MANHUNT’s perpetually tired manager, Nex Warren (he/they), MANHUNT’s apathetic bassist who couldn’t care less about your arrival, Juliet Beckford (she/her), MANHUNT’s energetic lead guitarist who has a special interest in the unknown, and Willa Perez (she/her), MANHUNT’s rhythm guitarist before you came along, of whom you know very little about.

Author’s Note: Thru the Riff is a passion project of mine (Wil) and Elliot’s, so development will be entirely based on our free time and understanding of how to create our first interactive fiction. We hope you’ll enjoy what we create!

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive game #choice of games #cog #cog game #interact if #interact-if #dashingdon #if wip #interactive fiction wip #upcoming if #hosted games #if #thrutheriff #thrutheriff if

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taurusdaylight · 3 months

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our rendezvous

summary. being lost in the horizon sounds scary, but not when you're hand in hand with your lover.

pairing. boyfriend! jaehyun x implied fem! reader

genre. established relationship! au, fluff

word count. 4,021

warnings/tags. as far as i know, nothing :) it's only a little angsty because of uncertainty about the future, but nothing too intense! very very fluffy,,,, maybe a lil pda (oh?)

a/n. ur resident valentine is back! i'm so sorry for going off the grid, my life has been a blur over the past few months… i did nothing and everything. anyway, this is inspired by none other than horizon (soty!) and i was very lucky to have had the opportunity to visit florence, where the horizon mv was filmed, so i knew i had to write this! after finishing it, i realised it's rather similar to my first fic but what can i say, i love jaehyun travel! aus, plus, jaehyun and forever just go together. <3 hope the new year is treating everyone kindly, and as always, have fun reading~

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Navigating life after graduation was akin to walking through a maze, struggling to find a way out. Growing up, you always thought that everyone’s life had already been nicely written out since there were only two things that truly mattered: school and work. The adults always preached about how good academic records would land you a great job. All your life, you never failed to achieve and maintain stellar grades so you never doubted that you would get a job. Yet, as the day of your graduation approached, you started to worry that you might not end up finding a job. Or at least, one that was to your liking.

The thought of working for the rest of your life sounded… boring. Perhaps an oversimplification, but you always made sure to put a hundred percent into your studies, so you felt like you never really had the chance to live your life the way you wanted to. You weren’t a party animal per se, but you wouldn’t hesitate to skip a night out with your friends if you had an important deadline to meet. It was always academics over everything else. Apart from meeting expectations that others had on you, the fear of failure haunted you too. More often than not, the urge of wanting to disappear creeped into your mind. It didn’t seem like a bad idea, running away to some random part of the world where no one knew you. Once you’ve spent enough time there, you could easily travel to another city and explore till your heart’s content. That was the dream. Unfortunately, this particular dream of yours never came true.

That was, until now.

Treading the path of adulthood was admittedly scary, you could slip and fall at any given moment and not know how to pick yourself up. But, you weren’t on your own.

Jeong Jaehyun, your boyfriend of two years, shared the same sentiment. Sure, he was ambitious and had his goals set out. Like you, however, working himself to death wasn’t one of the things on his list. Jaehyun believed that it was important to strike a balance, to not throw yourself into something so deep that you would get lost in it. Working may be important but it would never hurt to have a little fun whenever time called for it.

You first met Jaehyun in Introduction to Film Studies. Both second-year students, you and Jaehyun clicked extremely well with each other as you bonded over your shared love for films. What started as study sessions to help each other with assignments eventually progressed to warm, cosy movie date nights that also involved cuddling under a fluffy blanket on Jaehyun’s couch.

While there have been minor arguments over those two years, you and Jaehyun always made sure to communicate. After all, a couple is supposed to fight the problem, not each other. The both of you understood that. These disagreements never bothered you that much because you believed that they were part and parcel of every relationship. Instead, you wondered more about how lucky you are to have found someone like Jaehyun. As you liked to put it, Jaehyun was your twin flame. He spoke to your soul in a way that no one else could.

Instead of taking the conventional route of starting a full-time job after graduating, you and Jaehyun booked one-way tickets to Rome the week after your final exams. How long the both of you were going to stay there for, that was a question for another time. The plan was to have no plan, going wherever your feet took you. Both of your parents weren’t exactly agreeable about this idea, nagging about how irresponsible and irrational it was. But what could they do? It’s not as if they could physically stop two grown adults from going. Eventually, they were able to come to terms with it and simply asked the both of you to stay safe.

It’s been about three weeks or so since you two arrived in Rome. Tranquil mornings without a blaring alarm was something that you could really get used to. The icing on the cake would be waking up to the sight of Jaehyun sleeping peacefully next to you, an arm securely draped around your waist. His lips would slightly jut out, you would sometimes sneak a kiss or two because he simply looked too adorable to resist.

A day out together would look something like sitting by an artwork in a museum, coming up with various interpretations or hopping from café to café to try out different desserts (which were often, gelato), you couldn’t count with your fingers the number of times the staff had to chase the both of you out because they were closing. Time is said to fly past when you’re having fun, but even more so when you’re spending it with the love of your life. At least, that’s what you think.

The both of you woke up earlier than usual today because you’d turned in early the previous night, probably exhausted from all the walking. The sun wasn’t up yet, which meant that there were limited stores that were operating during this time too. It felt like a waste to sleep in and laze around in the apartment, so came the impulse decision of buying last-minute train tickets to Florence.

“C’mon baby,” Jaehyun half-shouted, his gaze flickering between you and the platform located at the other end of the station.

Hands intertwined, you and Jaehyun were sprinting as fast as your legs could carry you in order to catch your train that leaves in approximately two minutes. Or rather, you were doing everything in your power to match Jaehyun’s speed because why was he running like he was competing in the Olympics? So much for wanting an athletic boyfriend.

You were almost out of breath from running, you didn’t even have the energy to give Jaehyun a verbal answer. Instead, you tried to speed up like he told you to. After what felt like a hundred miles, the both of you finally reached the platform, boarded the train, and settled down into your allocated seats.

“Oh my goodness. We are never doing that again,” you said, panting.

Jaehyun shot you a wide grin. “Now that’s what I call an intense leg day.”

You were rendered speechless. Here you were, thinking that he was going to agree with you. But you also remembered that Jaehyun was a gym rat first, your boyfriend second. Jaehyun goes a little over the top with exercising, you could tell that much just by looking at his physique. Though, you wouldn’t say that it was exactly a bad thing. In fact, what a sight for sore eyes he was…

Before you had a chance to respond, Jaehyun used his other hand to push your head towards his shoulder. “Go to sleep, doll. Don’t want you feeling cranky in the middle of the day because you didn’t get to take your daily nap. I’ll wake you up when we’re reaching.”

Despite not being able to see him, you could hear the smile in Jaehyun’s voice, which caused you to grin too. Perhaps it was Jaehyun’s shoulder that made you comfy, but you could feel the sleepiness slowly start to envelop you, so you snuggled even closer to him.

“Good night, Jay,” you said before falling into slumber.

–

The train ride took faster than expected, probably because you were asleep throughout the journey. Upon alighting, you and Jaehyun walked aimlessly along Via Faenza. You stopped in your tracks when you caught the pleasant aroma of coffee beans coming from a café, it was so inviting that the both of you had no choice but to enter.

Save for the long line of people in office-wear queuing to get their morning coffee fix, there was no one else occupying the seats in the café. Wanting to be away from the crowd, you and Jaehyun made your way to the corner booth seat situated all the way inside after getting your order. You sat next to each other, with Jaehyun's arm wrapped around your waist. Your torso was slightly exposed because of the cropped top that you wore, and Jaehyun’s fingertips easily found purchase on your skin. Soft traces all over, which oddly enough, made you feel tingly and warm simultaneously.

“Jaehyun,” you called out.

He turned to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Do you regret being here with me? Don’t you feel like you’re wasting your life away?”

Jaehyun halted his movements, but he did not loosen his grip on your waist. His answer was written all over his face, from his creased eyebrows to his frowning lips.

“Of course not, baby. Did I do or say something to make you think that way? I’m sorry if I did,” he said sincerely.

“No, you didn’t do or say anything of that sort!” you quickly clarified. “I think I’m just worried about the future, you know? Once all of this is over…”

A small smile played on Jaehyun’s lips as he removed his arm from your waist. He cupped your face in his hand, sighing. “I wish you could see yourself the way I saw you, because then you’d have nothing to worry about at all. You’re going to do great things, ____. I’m sure of that. But for now, just let loose and enjoy yourself, okay? You deserve to have a break.”

Jaehyun’s words could bring you to tears. He radiated so much positivity that it naturally rubbed off onto you, especially with the amount of time that you spend with each other. However, there were still moments of weakness, like now, where you’d inevitably think about how things could possibly go wrong. Before you could spiral into a whirlpool of negative thoughts, however, Jaehyun would pull you right out of it by telling you exactly what you need to hear in order to help get you through these times.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Jaehyun’s cheek.

Jaehyun made a sound, as if to signal that he was pondering. He pointed at his cheek and tapped on it with his index finger several times. “One more?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his request, but who were you to deny him? Since you were feeling generous and grateful to your boyfriend, you quickly moved closer to give him two more kisses. One on his cheek, and the other on his lips. The best part was seeing the Cheshire cat smile appear on his face after he’d received his well-deserved kisses.

For the rest of the time at the café, you and Jaehyun were people-watching through the glass window while sipping on coffee and feeding each other small spoonfuls of pastries. At some point, random passer-bys became a part of a guessing game that started out of nowhere. Dating or siblings? What would their coffee order be if they came in here? The both of you had a lot of fun making up stories to back up your answer, boisterous laughter sounding through the place.

Afterwards, you and Jaehyun continued wandering through the streets now that more stores have opened. An apparel store selling headwear caught Jaehyun’s eye, and he spent about twenty minutes or so looking through the bucket hats. Taking one in his hand, he tried it on and started making silly faces at you while dancing.

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” You reached a hand out in an attempt to remove the hat from Jaehyun’s head, but he swiftly avoided you.

He held on tightly to the hat. “I think this was made for me. I’m definitely getting it.”

The hat didn’t look bad on him, but it was still… questionable. A helpless sigh escaped your lips when you knew that nothing you say would change his mind. “Okay… as long as you’re happy.”

Fortunately, Jaehyun didn’t have thoughts of wearing the hat there and then. Because if not, you would think twice about walking next to him.

The next few stores mostly sold vintage items and souvenirs. You and Jaehyun ended up getting matching gnomes that had the initials of your first names carved into it. While checking out at the counter, the cashier made a comment about how cute the two of you look together and that the gnomes were such fitting choices, so much so that they looked like mini versions of you two. With shy smiles, the both of you thanked her before exiting the store. You also noticed the tinge of red on Jaehyun’s ears, but kept quiet about it since you were most likely a blushing mess yourself.

Then, it was time for lunch.

You and Jaehyun had previously crafted a mini bucket list, and one of the things on the list was to try the various types of pasta while you were in Italy, so that’s what the both of you had for lunch. It appeared that all the shopping must have taken up a great deal of your energy because the both of you still had an appetite for dessert afterwards, or, rather, gelato was considered a staple so there was no way that dessert could be skipped.

Although it was sunny, the summer heat wasn’t unbearable so you two were at the outdoor seating area of the gelato café. Within the vicinity of the café, there was a group of children playing catch with one another. After finishing the gelato, Jaehyun dragged you along to them.

“Ciao! I’m Jay,” he introduced with a friendly smile.

You introduced yourself to them too and stood behind Jaehyun, hiding slightly. You didn’t have anything against children, but you still considered them to be strangers, and you always had a hard time talking to strangers due to your reserved nature. You barely had any experience with children too so this was still foreign to you.

On the flipside, Jaehyun adores children. You could see it in the way his eyes would light up whenever he interacted with him. Not to mention, he was great with children (an understatement, if you had to be truthful). Seeing Jaehyun with children always made your heart swell, in a good or bad way, you weren’t sure… The only thing you were certain of was that you definitely wanted to have his children.

While you were spacing out, Jaehyun was quick to ask and memorise the names of the children. He played around with them for a bit and made sure to include you as well, the game of catch was never so fun before. However, it wasn’t long before you got tired, so you opted to sit at one corner to watch them. You whipped out your phone to capture this moment, giggling at how precious Jaehyun looked. Happiness looked great on Jaehyun, and you hoped that it would stay on him for a long, long time.

All of them grew tired after a few rounds too, putting an end to the game. While they were busy running around, you discreetly returned back to the café and told the cashier that you would be paying for the children to get gelato. You also grabbed a bottle of water and gave it to Jaehyun, who was perspiring profusely; indeed, an intense leg day it was for him.

Through body language and very poorly spoken Italian, you tried to tell the children that they could go pick out the flavours that they wanted at the café. You were far too preoccupied with communicating that to them, the endearing look that Jaehyun had on his face went unnoticed by you. Thankfully, the cashier was there to bridge the language barrier and they managed to get their gelato without any hiccups. Before leaving, each of the children gave you and Jaehyun a hi-five, a word of thanks echoing after one another.

Having spent almost the entire day in that area, you and Jaehyun decided to explore another part of the city before catching your train back to Rome. Long before this trip, you happened to stumble upon a website about the top spots that offered a picturesque view of the city. One of which was a twenty minute bus ride away from where you and Jaehyun were currently at.

When the bus arrived, you and Jaehyun entered by the back door and sat down. You were busy admiring the old architecture of the buildings outside until you felt Jaehyun’s hand touching the side of your face. You realised that he was trying to put one side of his wired earpiece in your ear, which caused you to turn and face him, and you saw that he already had the other side of the earpiece in. Jaehyun was smiling so widely that his dimples were showing. You brought a hand up to poke it, feeling a sense of victory because you were one of the very few people in the world whom he allowed to touch his dimples.

Shyly, you took Jaehyun’s hand and interlocked your fingers together. No words were exchanged between the both of you, but there was a mutual feeling that this exact moment perfectly encapsulated the love you and Jaehyun have for each other. Tender, somewhat otherworldly in a way where everything, like the chatter of the other passengers on the bus, seemed to fade out in the background.

As Can’t Take My Eyes Off You started playing through the earphones, you took it as an opportunity to mouth to Jaehyun, “I love you.”

Jaehyun’s dimples became more prominent at your sudden declaration. He made sure not to break eye contact with you before he mouthed back, “I love you.”

–

“Look!” you exclaimed, pointing toward the replica statue of David. It was the first thing that you saw after alighting from the bus.

Jaehyun turned his head to look at what you were pointing at. “Wow, it’s stunning."

The both of you hurriedly walked over to take some photos, which ended up in you and Jaehyun bursting into fits of laughter because he was imitating the statue and posing in the same way. It definitely earned you a few stares from the other visitors, but you and Jaehyun were too busy laughing to even notice that you two were getting judged.

After snapping a few more photos, you and Jaehyun went to the other side of the square where you could see an overview of the city. It was breathtaking, to say the least, the both of you concurrently marvelled in awe at how it looked like a scene straight out of a movie. You could even spot the street that you two were at earlier in the day, as well as many other famous landmarks. Not to forget, the surrounding trees and mountains made it feel more complete, it was a perfect getaway from the bustling city for some peace and quiet.

The both of you were standing at the top of the stairs, and you saw that there was a walking trail below. Due to time constraints, however, it seemed more logical to sit and admire the view, since neither of you knew how long the walking trail was and where it led to. Besides, it was a perfect spot to catch the sunset before you had to leave for the train station, so you two sat on one of the steps near the top where you had an unobstructed view of the city.

Like before, you and Jaehyun were listening to music together while holding hands. Other than humming along to the song, Jaehyun would also sing some of the lyrics to you, especially if it was a sweet or cheesy line.

“Can’t believe I get to be here with you.” Even after some time had passed, you were still greatly impressed by the scenic view, in disbelief about how you could share this moment with your lover. The bright orange hues of the sun added more colour to the backdrop, it felt surreal watching it slowly go down.

“Me too,” Jaehyun replied almost immediately. “It feels like a dream…”

“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up from it,” you said while shifting closer to Jaehyun’s side. “Like, ever.”

“I want to stay here with you forever.” Your voice came out as a whisper, because deep down, a part of you was afraid that this happiness would be taken away from you abruptly.

Yet again, Jaehyun made one of those sounds to indicate that he was thinking, which made you gasp in response.

“You don’t want to be with me?” you questioned, a look of betrayal on your face.

“No, silly,” Jaehyun chuckled. “Of course I want to be with you.”

Jaehyun let out a deep breath, as though he had to brace himself for what he was going to say next. “The thought of eternity feels scary. But if I know that you’ll be there with me, then… there’s nothing to be scared of. I think, for me… forever is where you are, wherever that may be.”

Silence ensued, music playing through the shared earphones being the only source of sound. Jaehyun gulped awkwardly when he noticed that your gaze was fixed on him, but you weren’t saying anything. “Did that come out wrong? I don’t even know what I’m saying sometimes. But I guess I was trying to say that–”

You cut Jaehyun off with a kiss. He smiled against your lips, causing you to do the same. Jaehyun’s hand travelled to the small of your back to pull you in before he tilted his head to the side for better access, going straight for your upper lip to return the kiss. It was slow, delicate, and everything you could ever ask for. You sighed when you felt Jaehyun’s hand running over your skin; he knew exactly what he was doing. Every kiss that you shared with Jaehyun never fell short of being exhilarating, which was one of the great things about love… or Jaehyun. Perhaps, both.

He was the first to pull away, staring intently at you with a cheeky smile on his face. Jaehyun leaned in closer until he could bury his head into the crook of your neck, leaving another kiss on your collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his frame, hugging him as tightly as possible. You and Jaehyun stayed like this for a while until you heard a lady yelp from a distance away, her loud voice grabbing your attention.

As you looked up to find out what the commotion was about, tears immediately filled your eyes and you had to do everything that you could to hold them back.

The said lady was standing by the railing, both hands covering her mouth. In front of her was a man, down on one knee, holding out a box with a diamond ring. You tapped Jaehyun’s shoulder so that he’d sit back up, and he turned to see what you were looking at. All of the other visitors were also invested, as everyone patiently for the lady's answer.

Everything happened so quickly. The lady nodding and getting pulled into a hug by her fiancé, the crowd erupting in cheers and applause–a truly sweet moment to witness. Without thinking much, you blurted out, “that’s going to be us.”

Jaehyun diverted his attention back to you, shaking his head. Seemingly biting back a smile as his lips formed a thin line, Jaehyun jerked his head to motion at something behind you. “That’s us.”

You were about to protest, pop another question that was something along the lines of whether or not he was planning to marry you. However, you remained quiet and decided to take a look at what he was referring to first.

Well, it looks like the urge to complain has completely disappeared. How could it not? Rather than dissatisfaction, your heart leapt with joy when your eyes landed on a couple standing hand in hand at the other end of the steps from where you and Jaehyun sat; they were having their pre-wedding photoshoot.

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #horizon

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riminiscensce · 3 months

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HEY STEPHEN ִ ࣪𖤐 venti

SYNOPSIS … “I’m waiting alone now, so come on and come out and pull me near, and shine, shine, shine. hey stephen, I could give you fifty reasons why I should be the one you choose. all those other girls, well they’re beautiful, but would they write a song for you?”

NOTES … this is such a failed attempt at old school romance idk, intended to make this a bit angsty but I felt like “nah”, made this a bit short too

CONTENTS … fluff/sfw , gender neutral reader

Word Count … 1028

Genshin Impact (Taylor’s Version) Masterlist

Venti stays true to himself whenever looking over his people. He knows how to see the best in everybody, though he also knows that there are rare occasions when he sees wrong.

He has had his fair share of misjudgments, had misconceived others— usually when something seems far too good. Though in some cases, it doesn’t bother him much.

When he mistakes something for being beautiful, that is when it would usually hurt.

Sometimes it leads to betrayals, tears, and reflecting on his trust towards others.

He knows things can be deceiving, but the thought of you felt so genuine to him.

So real and unpretending.

Venti knows he saw something within you. A light that never dared to hide behind even a single patch of darkness.

It was beautiful.

And when he had the chance to talk to you, the bard of Mondstadt, known to never run out of words and tales to muse, found himself failing to say half the things he wanted to say.

It got Venti’s notice that he wasn’t the only one within the city who'd seen your genuinity.

He saw how others would talk to you, help you, and just be with you.

Venti knows he can offer a new feeling if it were him that was beside you.

He’s the bard! Much more— the God of Freedom (not that you know)!

He can take you to new heights than anyone can.

Beating around the bush isn’t usually Venti’s style, so he already accepted he had some sort of infatuation towards you. Sweet, innocent you.

Something untouched by Teyvat’s story.

Someone that he feels is untouchable.

Not even by him.

But he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to get caught up by you.

As months passed, he continued to ponder about your existence.

“Venti?”

The way you say his name perfectly matches the way he strums his lyre. It was a wonderful tune.

Turning towards you, the wind shifts as Venti notices his surroundings grow dimmer.

Leaving only a ray of light that shined down on you only.

“Hey there, what brings you all the way out here?” He watches as you gracefully sit down on the patch of grass beside him, careful as to not disturb much of the surrounding. He notices how you do that so well.

“To watch crystalflies.”

“Really?” That’s all? Archons, may your innocence be like this forever and always.

“Mhm, I’ve only heard stories on how they light up every path they fly through. I wanted to see for myself.”

“You seem very dedicated, so far as to leave the city in the middle of the night… Do you really want to see them that bad?” Venti muses, the idea of it feels so natural to him.

“I guess you could say that,” You hummed, “I just never seen anything shine the way that crystalflies do in tales. Except for the sun, but you can’t even look at it without ruining your eyes.”

Venti chuckles at your white thoughts. He simply adores your sense of wonder even at your age. Not a lot of adults grow up with maintaining their pure thoughts.

He only hopes, to any being listening to his pleas, that you remain unchanged.

Because he knows he would also stay the same for you.

Right now, he wants to help you remain the same. That was when you felt the breeze shifting against you, pairing with the seemingly mindless tunes of Venti’s string instrument.

Within the same moment, you see small specks of teal light floating through the dark.

“Crystalflies only drift towards those that holds cleanhanded and honest emotions.”

Venti watches in comforting silence as the crystalflies shine, shining alongside you.

Despite the quantity of the creatures, they don’t seem to outshine you.

You still stand out as ever.

“You shine brighter than ever.” The bard hums, retreating his gaze down his lyre the moment you turned yours towards him, thinking he was mentioning the crystalflies.

“They do.”

“I meant you.”

“…”

“I’m not quite sure how you do it, but that light you have seems far too good and different from anything I’ve seen.”

At that peaceful moment, the bard who lost his capability of expressing words about you, starts musing his feelings toward his audience, you.

So he goes on..

“I see everyone in the city as similar souls, yet you seperate yourself from theirs, as if you were meant to be your own wonder.”

And on…

“I’ve seen it all. Different kinds of people, how they act, how they shine separately… but somehow even beings such as crystalflies seem to be bothered by how you outshine them.”

And on…

“You seem to act as if you were unpretending, but as I get to see you stand out on your own, the more I came to realize how none of it was an act. But rather, it was sincerity that was touchable for no one.”

And on…

“People change, they always do and I’ve already grown to accept that phenomenon. Though when it comes to you, I can only hope you stay the same.”

Until he realized how much he had said aloud.

But it seemed as if it wasn’t enough.

You stared agape at him, the presence of the flying glows fades into your inattention.

“A simple “I like you”, would have sufficed.”

That was when Venti grinned and chortled.

“I can’t help myself knowing how much you hear that phrase from a lot of people…”

The wind picks up yet again.

“I simply don’t think those three words are enough for me.”

And with it, the tranquil sounds of nature and Venti’s instrument harmonize together.

“I want my words to stand out the same way you do to me.” He continues, “No matter how many beautiful souls tell you that they like you…”

He winks, “Would have they said it the way I did? Hehe…”

You giggle at his behavior, not so different from his usual self, although there was some indifference with the way he expressed himself tonight.

And you know deep down, that no one would have expressed it the same way Venti did.

rimi's notes …

I intended to make this a “happy crush” kind of situation where Venti thinks that he shouldn’t mingle with you because he’s a God and you’re not, so he just settles to watch you shine from afar to lessen the hurt he knows will come with change. Anyways, Happy Valentines’ Day!!!

I would also like to deeply thank you for your guys’ support :3 I’m glad people are liking the silly things I write heheh 🫶

Next in line would be Wriothesley for Speak Now!

hearts / reblogs / follows are very much appreciated ★

Stay Beautiful by Kaedehara Kazuha (previously) ִ ࣪𖤐 I Can See You by Wriothesley (coming soon)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #venti x reader #venti x reader fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact tv 🫶🪽

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mustangs-flames · 9 months

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'Hail, True Body' AU Summary

So, here's an overview of my Mandela Catalogue AU called 'Hail, True Body'.

The alternate that killed and replaced Cesar Torres tries a little too hard to be human. It goes terribly.

Mark Heathcliff who should, by all accounts, be dead, discovers the awful truth about what happened to his best friend and takes up a path of vengeance and discovers some pretty awful truths about himself as well.

Being human is a terrible weight, but sometimes you find others to share the burden with.

The AU:

All Parts of Hail, True Body are posted in the order they should be read in to avoid any confusion or need to jump around. Some parts are multi-chapter fics whereas others are just oneshots. Here are links to the parts so far. A new part begins whenever the previous one comes to an end - this is once again to avoid confusion or a need to jump around (I feel that makes the story get too complex). Alongside the links, I have included the length of the part and an overview without too many spoilers.

Part 1: Its Name Was Cesar Torres.

Length: 6/6 chapters (the 7th chapter is just an art reference for Mark and Cesar).

Overview: Mark Heathcliff answers a call one September night in 1992 to find his best friend probably suffering from M.A.D., and Mrs. Torres dead on the kitchen floor. The creature that has replaced Cesar Torres formulates a plan to kill Mark with the most reward, but finds being human is a lot more complicated - and dangerous - than it initially thought.

Part 2: 10:15, Saturday Night.

Length: Oneshot.

Overview: Following the immediate aftermath of Part 1, Mark Heathcliff spirals into a crisis of faith unlike any he's experienced so far. Cesar Torres is dead, and in what kind of a world is that fair? Unsure of what to do or where to turn with the blood on his hands, he picks up the phone and asks for help from the one person who's been there since everything in his life started to go wrong.

Part 3: Old Rugged Cross.

Length: 5/5 chapters (this fic is Mark's backstory).

Overview: Mark Heathcliff has always been dogged by despair and the unusual, ever since he was a child. For him, it begins on October 15th 1978, when he makes his first imaginary friend, and it only gets worse from there.

Part 4: What's In A Name?

Length: Oneshot.

Overview: Some time after Part 1, the alternate formerly known as Cesar Torres wakes up in the nothingness it originally came from. Confused and unable to recall what happened, it clings to the one thing it can remember: a boy with sad brown eyes and a crucifix about his neck.

Part 5: The Good Samaritan

Length: 10/12 chapters (currently ongoing).

Overview: Mark Heathcliff decides revenge is the best way of moving forward. Thatcher Davis disagrees. Mandela County isn't safe and has never been safe, not for people like them who've seen more than they ever should have. On opposite ends of the divide, Thatcher tries his best to meet Mark halfway, before that kid can get himself killed.

Part 6: Eye For An Eye (upcoming)

Length: TBA

Overview: An alternate seeks revenge and longs for a time when things were simpler. It is broken. And it wants to be whole. No matter how it looks at it, there is but one common denominator: Mark Heathcliff. There is only one course of action - remove him from the equation. It will be whole again. It must.

Please make sure to read the content warnings in the author's note of each chapter for every part before reading!

If you want more info with links to character designs, music playlists, and insight into how angels and alternates work within this AU, here is the link to the masterpost!

Essentially, this AU focuses on all the respective characters of The Mandela Catalogue and how their stories all come together. At the moment though, Mark and alt!Cesar are the focus as that's where we're at with the current story arc. It handles the topic of what it means to be human, a bunch of 'what-ifs' (such as Dave being Mark's uncle), trauma and found family without compromising on any of the horror the original Mandela Catalogue series has. The AU will follow all the way up to 2009 and possibly a little beyond that.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask!

Thanks!

#hail true body au #the mandela catalogue #tmc au #mandela catalogue au #mandela catalogue #htb au #my work #my writing #please check it out if you think this sounds like something you'd enjoy

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Walking on Sunshine 2

Sister series to Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows

Warnings: non/dubcon, antisocial behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: God The Bounty Hunter x reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stopped eating in the lunchroom after your second week with the company. That’s a few years back now but you don’t miss it. You never liked searching for a place to sit or being lonely in a room full of people. Instead, you leave the office and go for a walk, opting to sneak it nibbles at your desk after.

That day is just the same. You’re happy to see the rain has cleared up and so you won’t have to just stand and watch the downpour from under an awning. You grab your jacket, a brown wool with roses sewn into the lapels, and your wallet in case you get a temptation near the cafe.

You take the stairs. Not only is your little strolls meditative, it’s exercise. Sitting all day in your squeaky chair doesn’t do much for your cramped muscles. It’s a small thing but you enjoy it.

Your footsteps echo around you as you fumble for your earbuds. Sometimes it sounds like you’re not alone in the staircase as your soles scuff and reverberate in the empty space. You get to the bottom, catching your breath as you shove the wireless buds in your ears.

Despite using the time to detach and refocus, your choice in content is less than relaxing. The true crime podcast begins with its usual warning and sets your pace as you come out the front doors of the building.

You head down along your usual path; just down towards the next corporate tower, through the path, and around the park. On the other side of the green, there’s a street full of businesses, including a cafe that sells jelly-filled muffins. You lose track of the narrative of a cheating husband and vengeful wife as you contemplate a sweet treat.

You get to the other side of the park and continue down the street. You pass the vintage stop you’d been in a total of one time and swiftly evacuated upon seeing a price tag. You carry on and stop in front of the cafe… it’s only Tuesday, you should wait until Friday.

You give a bittersweet smile and cross the street, turning back in the direction you came as you round out your usual cycle. As you get to the pavement, you hear the cafe door but the dark figure disappears inside as you glance back. You shrug and keep your pace, just to the other end, back across, and through the park, this time along the small bridge that arcs over the trickling river.

There’s always hot chocolate at the office. That’s good bait to keep your feet moving.

🌞

Around two, you start to feel the day sitting on your eyelids. You yawn and sit back in your chair, the loud creak drawing the mutter of your seat neighbour. You apologise and steady the chair, bracing the arms as you stand. Your calves are all knotted up.

You shuffle away from your desk and go into the break room. You peek around, your earlier run-in still looming in your mind. You go through the usual routine; rinse your mug, turn on the kettle, and wait. As the water boils, you catch yourself checking over your shoulder. Still alone.

You stir in the powder and toss the stir stick. You turn and nearly cry out at the next surprise. No, it’s not that man, it’s the girl in her bright sweater. She skips through the door as you dribble hot chocolate down your fingers, switching hands to shake off the scalding droplets.

“Oh, hello!” She trills brightly, “mmm, hot chocolate?”

You nod and smile. You try to at least. You want so much to say something to her. To do more than stare back dumbly. Like that man.

“Um,” you chew your lip, “I like your sweater.”

“Huh?” She looks down and tugs at the bottom of the pink pullover, “oh, thanks! I sewed on the hearts myself.”

“That’s so cute,” you squeeze the mug handle.

“I like your blouse! Is it thrift?”

“Hmm?” You scrunch your brow, “oh, uh, yeah, totally vintage.”

“That’s awesome! I love thrifting. I found an old rotary phone the other day, I put it with my squishmallows.”

“Squishmall-ows,” you enunciate curiously, “cool.”

“Oh, let me show you,” she pulls out her phone. Her eagerness, her absolute carelessness, both surprises and calms you. She’s not that intimidating. She shows you a picture of very happy looking stuffed toys.

“Cute,” you remark.

“Right? Oh, I’m Lollipop, I just started in finance.”

You swallow and muster your name and title. Nothing fun, mostly policy reviews.

“I love that name. Well, I’m sorry, I don’t wanna keep you from working… I keep getting in the way.”

“Uh, yeah, they do make you feel like that around here,” you grumble.

She grins, “oh, so I’m not the only one.”

You chuckle and she continues on to the coffee machine. You leave, feeling accomplished. You don’t expect to be good friends but it’ll be nice to have someone to say hello to.

As you get to your desk, you set down your mug and sit, careful not to squeak the chair. You stop short as you reach for your mouse. What’s this? A small brown paper with the marquee of the cafe stamped on it. How…

You lean forward to unfold the top, glancing inside at the crumbly top of the muffin. The smell of apple and cinnamon has your stomach growling. You’re pretty sure your neighbour can hear as they sigh again.

It smells so delicious but where did it come from?

#god the bounty hunter #god the bounty hunter x reader #dark god the bounty hunter #dark!god the bounty hunter #drabble #au #series #walking on sunshine #ghosted

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marches45 · 28 days

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Progress Report #4’s preview clip and how Ashley fit into Andrew’s decision-making

Progress Report #4 showed how Andrew and Julia began dating in high school. Rumors were spreading about Andrew and Ashley, and we can take a pretty good guess what they were about. While Julia told him that the school knows it’s just unfounded gossip, Andrew wasn’t satisfied with just that, or else he wouldn’t do what he did next.

He was the one to make the first move, but leading up to it, he didn’t signal any romantic interest in her and, in fact, nearly revealed that Julia’s ostensible friendship with Ashley, which he had requested Julia to initiate alongside her best friend (and the siblings’ manslaughter victim) Nina in their preteen days, only meant anything to him rather than to Ashley. Julia had caught on to Ashley’s disdain for her and believed she was hated until Andrew’s comment otherwise reassured her that Ashley considered her a friend. What Andrew did do was pick up on her interest in him and throw her a bone. His motive was pretty self-serving, of course.

Andrew is cautious. After fleeing the apartment with Ashley, he would check newspapers to see if there was anything written about what they’d done in their escape. Finding nothing over and over wouldn’t really quiet his worries of eventually getting caught and facing consequences. So Julia telling him that the rumors weren’t believed wouldn’t be enough to quiet his mind. He would have to do something that incontrovertibly proved they weren’t worth considering. So that’s what he did. But right before popping the question of Julia’s availability after school, he sighed behind her back as she anxiously walked away.

It’s clear that his most proximal cause to date Julia was to fend off any social consequences resulting from rumors by permanently silencing them, like he permanently silenced multiple people who posed a serious threat to his sister. But it took me a while of digesting the report content to see that he was thinking about her too when making his choice. I think he wanted to take the heat off of Ashley just as much as himself and self-justified with a thought like this: I’m sorry, Leyley, but it’s what’s best. You won’t like it, I know, but I’m doing it for you. No one’s gonna spread rumors about you on my watch! I shared this idea with a fellow fan in Discord (she’s Ashley fr fr), and what sold its plausibility for her was the sigh he let out before making his move. It was reminiscent of his reaction after killing for Ashley or otherwise bailing her out of a mess in ways he’d have no real problem with if they had no risk of consequences. I also think the idea works with how Andrew functions as Ashley’s parent and only true family. Parents often make decisions for their kids’ own good that are difficult to like or appreciate due to limited perspective on the kids’ part and reasoning not communicated (well) on the parents’.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more obvious it felt in hindsight, and the less I could believe that he wouldn’t account for her in his thought process. Andrew may treat Ashley as a scapegoat, but he doesn’t throw her under the bus for no reason. When referring to her in her absence, he has, as of yet, never explicitly pointed the finger at her for things he did, and even made excuses for her actions. To the extent that his resistance to blaming her behind her back fails when he starts the path to Decay by admitting he wants to accept his mother’s olive branch, the blame shifting avoids being explicit in his dialogue. More, when he did try to dodge accountability for inaction (the break-up, for example), he failed to appease the other party. Bro can’t get Ashley out of his thoughts, so how could he think of a way to escape the rumors without taking her with him? He may have gotten his mom’s looks and talent for deceit, but not her disregard and apathy for his sister. Maybe she’ll come to really appreciate his efforts when she isn’t…well, you know what those rumors say. But you didn’t hear them from me.

youtube

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal #coffincest #tcoaal julia #julia tcoaal #Kit9 Studio #character analysis #kit9 #nemlei

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skyloftian-nutcase · 9 months

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Hey guess what it's more Good Ganondorf content!

@silvercaptain24 <3

The party had long since finished. Link had been escorted back to his room and left in peace. With food in his stomach and some water, he felt his strength returning. His body trembled as he stood tentatively, alone in his room, but he managed to stay on his feet nonetheless.

Stepping quietly to the door, Link put an ear to it. There had to be guards outside, but he hadn't seen any when Nabooru had brought him back here.

This entire situation was making less sense, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to parse it all out. Nabooru had claimed Ganondorf was holding him hostage to keep him safe. Ganondorf himself had tried to make himself look like he wasn't the villain, like the entirety of Hyrule hadn't been ripped apart at the seams because of his corruption and desire for power, like he hadn't torn the Triforce from Link and Zelda in battle while his army slaughtered their men.

It didn't make sense. What game was the monster playing? Link would have to figure it out when he made it back to his own people. Zelda and his army were waiting for him. The queen was no doubt trying to get a rescue operation together, and Link didn't want to risk anyone's lives over himself, not when he could find his own way out. He wasn't some helpless fool, he could handle this, and he would get the Triforce pieces back that the queen so desperately guarded.

He'd seen the crazed look in Zelda's eyes when they'd lost the Triforce the first time. He didn't want to see that again.

There was no other way out of this room than to use the door. It felt stupidly simple and reckless. He had to open it quickly, to catch the guards by surprise, wherever they were stationed. He needed some kind of weapon. He'd managed to sneak a knife in from dinner, slipping it into his boot, but he wasn't sure how useful it would be. He gripped it firmly in his hand and took a steadying breath.

It was now or never.

Link threw the door open, quickly taking in his surroundings, and saw... nothing.

No one... was there.

Well, he couldn't stop to think about it. The noise he'd just made would attract attention.

Trying to remember the path Nabooru had led him through to get outside, Link ran quickly, ignoring the chill that sank into his bones as he moved. When had it gotten so cold? His fingers felt like they were getting numb already as they gripped the knife.

The hallway opened up to a larger room. He remembered that. This was where--

A hand grabbed him by the back of his tunic and yanked harshly, sending him to the floor with a yell. Link kicked blindly, eyes focusing on his target.

It was Ghirahim.

Snarling, Link rolled to get away and swiped with the knife to create distance. Ghirahim caught his arm by the wrist, watching him with a sadistic smile.

"I figured you wouldn't sit still for long, sky child," he purred.

Something in Link roared in response, and he let out a battle cry as gripped the demon's arm with his free hand, bringing all his weight down to drag Ghirahim to the ground. The demon gasped a little at the increased weight he was holding, but he caught the hero by the shirt instead of letting them both fall.

Link spat in his face next, and that worked brilliantly, making the demon hiss and pull away immediately. Free from his grasp, Link began to run, knowing this was not a fight he was going to win with a knife. He heard a snap and Ghirahim appeared in front of him.

"Now, now," Ghirahim said, brushing some white hair out of his face. "I have strict orders to keep you here."

"Over my dead body," Link snarled.

"Oh, I wish," Ghirahim replied. "You see, that has been a point of contention lately. My master wishes you alive and it is so dreadfully taxing on me. But I trust his judgment. He has a way to address the true matter. And then your little vassal can be safe and sound while I deal with you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Link snapped, eyes searching for another escape route as he spoke. The demon lord certainly loved to talk, so if Link could use that to his advantage, he would.

"It's amazing how dense you can be," Ghirahim grumbled. "Honestly, an entire war fought for you and you don't even understand it. Cia may have fallen in love with you, but she desires your vassal. Nevertheless, this has always been about eliminating you. My master understands that. It will be my highest honor to serve in that capacity for him, to be the one to deliver the killing blow. I cannot wait for that momentous occasion."

"You're out of your mind," Link replied. Another hallway was just to the left, and if he ran fast enough... "I am the Hero. I don't know what you're talking about with vassals. I serve the queen as a--"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE QUEEN!" Ghirahim screamed, face contorted in rage. "This is about you, sky child, about revenge, about eliminating the one threat in my master's way! Her Grace isn't here, and her descendant doesn't have a fraction of that power, the Triforce is all my master needs now, and I will finally be able to kill you!"

The conversation was about to end and Link knew it. He tore off in the direction of the other hallway, managing to round the corner when he heard a snap again. He was prepared this time, grabbing the nearest pot and throwing it just as diamonds materialized in front of him. Ghirahim grunted as it made impact as soon as he appeared, shattering into countless pieces while Link quickly backtracked and went a different way.

By the grace of the goddesses, that had given the captain enough time to at least outmaneuver the demon lord, who wasn't sure which part of the compound Link had ended up by now. He was grateful for it, his heart racing and pounding in his ears as he rushed to find an exit. Fighting Ghirahim in the heat of battle felt far more... controlled than this. Here he felt like prey, and Ghirahim's rage and power over him was...

He wasn't going to say he was scared. He wouldn't.

Link felt a breeze and it gave him hope. That had to mean he was close to the outdoors. But where were all the Gerudo?

A door was up ahead, sand trickling in from beneath it, a promise of freedom and safety. Link threw it open with relief.

And ran right into Ganondorf.

Gasping, Link scrambled backwards, losing his footing and his balance as he fell unceremoniously to the ground. He continued to scoot away, trying to find a way around the towering figure. The man was enormous - it could give Link the advantage of scurrying around him if he was fast enough, but the world was spinning and--

"I figured you might try this," Ganondorf sighed.

Okay. Okay, fine. So they were talking. That would give him time to catch his breath. All these fools and their monologues - and people said Link was arrogant. At least he didn't usually give his enemies time to formulate a plan while they were actively standing in front of him.

"Your strength is returning," Ganondorf noted, walking towards him. "But that doesn't mean you're ready for a fight."

Well, Link might as well try to get some answers while he was here. "Where's the Triforce, you monster?"

"Where it needs to be," Ganondorf answered simply, closing the door behind him, much to Link's dismay. He stared at Link for an uncomfortably long time, making the captain squirm.

"Nabooru said you want me alive. Tell me why," he demanded, trying to make the man talk again.

Ganondorf was silent for a moment longer and then shook his head. "You're not in a state to accept my words."

"Try me," Link goaded. He had to admit, at this point he was curious. And it bought him more time to figure out what the heck his next step would be.

"I know your type, Hero," Ganondorf said, tacking on the title as if it were a curse. "You follow the queen like a puppy that doesn't know any better. Your heart is filled with a sense of duty, a desire to help and do good, and it is fixed on that woman. You'll do whatever Zelda tells you."

Link bristled but bit his tongue. Whatever slander Ganondorf was about to say didn't interest him, but the man hadn't made a point yet.

"You don't see the mess you're in," Ganondorf continued, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I'm trying to protect you, Link."

Link blinked. Then he blinked again. Nabooru had said as much, but hearing it from him... well. She had said keep him safe. He'd interpreted it as keep him alive. "Protect me from what?"

"Everything," Ganondorf muttered in a low time, voice rumbling in his chest. He bent forward, as if to grab Link, and the captain took that as his cue.

Link bolted, rushing to the left to get out of the reach of the man as he tried to run around him, using his small size to his advantage. He reached the door and immediately realized his mistake.

It was locked.

The ground vanished beneath him, and Link felt his stomach lurch as he was held in the air by one of his arms. The strain of having his entire body weight pulled into his shoulder joint made him grit his teeth. Then his world twirled as he was tossed against the man, his back to Ganondorf's chest, held in place by an arm wrapped around his torso.

"Let me go!" he yelled, kicking his legs as much as possible.

"I told you that you were not ready for this conversation," Ganondorf said, almost chidingly. "I'm taking you back to your room so you can rest."

"You think I'll be ready for a conversation that isn't true?" Link snapped. "You're holding me hostage for a reason, stop lying to me!"

Ganondorf said nothing, walking down the hallway with Link his helpless prisoner dangling in his grip. His waist and stomach ached from the hold, though at least pressed against someone else warmed him enough that he wasn't shivering and numb. His body was screaming at him at this point, wounds he hadn't even realized existed suddenly flaring up. He supposed the battle that had gotten him captured had left more marks than he'd realized.

That didn't matter. Escaping mattered.

Link felt so utterly helpless and he hated it. He'd never felt so out of control in his life. When he was plopped back on the bed and left alone to his own musings, he curled into a ball, suddenly shivering again.

He felt so, so alone. And suddenly, with the thought of Ghirahim's twisted, demented, enraged face, with the thought of how easily Ganondorf just manhandled him, he felt...

He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to say it.

Damn it all, he was scared. And he hated it.

He was the bearer of the Triforce of Courage and he was scared.

Burying his face into his knees, Link hugged himself and cursed himself at the same time. The tears fell silently at first before little hiccups started to accompany them. He was too tired for this. The only mercy the goddesses provided was that he was alone. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.

His body felt impossibly heavy. The room felt like it was closing in. He was exhausted. His head hurt. His stomach ached from how he'd been held. Something on his back seared like fire. His knees were bothering him. He was freezing. He felt so unbelievably overwhelmed. He felt so unbelievably unsafe.

He'd always been the one to save the day. He'd been invincible with the Master Sword, though he'd learned that having others to help him was equally as important. But he had no Master Sword here. No friends. No hope of anything.

In the darkness and cold of the night, his fears consumed him, and he gave into despair. Link cried, so desperately alone. He just wanted to feel safe.

Warmth enveloped him, and he sank into it willingly, his hiccups turning into sobs. Something ran soothingly along his back, soft cloth was pressed against his face, and he found himself clinging to it desperately like a lifeline.

He needed to get himself together. He didn't care. No one was here anyway.

Then what's... why am I...?

He was too tired to process it anymore. All he knew was he felt safe.

"You'll be okay, child."

The voice was deep and gentle, whispered into his hair. Gentle pressure pressed him against whatever softness was in front of him. He heard a heartbeat.

A heartbeat. Pressure. Words. This was... he wasn't alone.

Hiccupping, Link opened his eyes, hands still clinging for dear life to patterned cloth in front of him, red hair spilling into his face as it slid over the person's shoulders.

A deep voice. A man's voice. A man wearing Gerudo--

What the hell.

Alarms rang in Link's mind as he put the pieces together. This couldn't be right this couldn't be right--

"You're safe," the voice said gently, continuing to run a hand along his back.

Link was so lost and confused and hurt and why the hell didn't anything make sense what was happening--

"I'll fix this," Ganondorf promised, and Link gave up entirely, falling apart.

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timlets · 6 months

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i could write literally an essay on how kuwameshi is so awesome and beautiful

kuwabara literally has been crushing over yusuke so bad he just follows him eberywhere and would do anything for him and would sacrifice himself for him and he admires him so bad and he wants yusuke to just look at him but he doesnt ever think it will happen brcause theyre just best friends theyre just bros, right? kuwabara is literally content with just being this for his whole life with yusuke bevause he's afraid of ruining what they have because that would kill him. kuwabara doesn't think of himself as anything, especially at end of sensui arc where he was ready to die without yusuke being there with him because what was the point and he couldn't see any other outcome because he's been following yusuke's path this wjole time and it's only when YUSUKE gives him the green light to go to college. i want you to go. that kuwabara feels good about wanting to go to college instead of guilty that he can't fight like everyone else when he doesn't want to really anymore he's tired and sure he'll do it from time to time but he's had a full life of fighting and tournaments and watching yusuke die again probably broke something in him and then yusuke goes away for three years and kuwabara is like i miss him so bad and he gets to actually focus on and get to know himself instead of this idol he's been chasing because well anyway. do you get me

meanwhile yusuke is like at first hmm this guy and then after he dies he sees kuwabara in a completely different light and then at the rando fight yusuke's like ok, we're friends. we gotta be friends. because he got such a visceral reaction to kuwabara getting beat to hell and then like umm dark tournament hes like ok, we're BEST friends. ok. but he's so fucked up at that time over kuwabara dying for him because he hates himself soo much he's like got the world on his shoulders and in his head he's like he's dying for nothing i mean im not anything and then... in sensui arc mitarai fight when genkai's like WHY DIDN'T YOU GO AFTER HIM? HE'S PROBABLY DEAD! yusuke got sudden ptsd moment and was realizing Ok, what's more than best friends? and was stewing on that the whole time looking for kuwabara and i believe that's when he was like i want you LOL and when kuwabara was like urameshi you handle the rest i think thats also when yusuke was like okay im needed im important he relies on me and idk if he really thought that about kuwabara before but its so true that's kuwabara's whole character he's there for yusuke because of yusuke

idk they're just everythjng to me i love their dynamic i want them to hug and smile and laugh ans i want yusuke to hug kuwabara and make kuwabara feel safe and loved and needed i think that would be awesome idk though. just rambling.

this whole thing is not even coherent but its okay because it doesnt need to be its just me getting this out LMFAO

#timlet talks #kuwameshi #im literally just rambling dont mind me #kazuma kuwabara #yusuke urameshi

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freakoont · 9 months

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Converged Paths

Featured content: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Edogawa Ranpo (again lmao)

GN reader

Angst Oneshot summary: you two were to different for eachother. It's either you make the right choice and lose it all just for him... Or continue with this cycle of trying to act like it doesn't hurt.

Warning: angst, hurt, "only friends" trope

READER TYPE- kind, nervous, stressed easily, crybaby, carries self esteem, emotional, hate change, that one childhood friend everyone knows, self-conscious, hides behind a smile, confused adult

Was it wrong of you to say that some part of you was hurting? Actually no, everyone hurts... don't be selfish is what you think to yourself while you continue to walk through city of Yokohama, on your way to the Agency.

It was only a matter of time before Ranpo, your dear best friend you cared so much for, was to find out. Actually, he probably somehow knew right now... Standing and waiting in the Agency for you to walk through that door and to confront you.

It's been on your mind for so long... No, to long. You want to quit the Agency. It was a difficult situation for you right now but the simple answer was your were tired. You were more than just tired in the morning, but mentally tired of everything.

You've been in the Agency for so long, maybe even too long. You were tired of everything surrounding your life... The amount of people that get hurt, the cases and deaths you have endure and witness, the tears of the people affected, the screams of people who can't accept reality... Did you hate your job?

...

That answer was unclassified.

Just like every other day, put on a smile and just do what you must.... This neverending nightmare has got to end one day.

At least... That's what you want to tell yourself.

Don't be dramatic, this isn't a nightmare. It's only your fault for choosing this job in the first place.

You've actually spoken to the president about this, it's a good thing he was understandable. You told him... You want to live a normal life, live and get married, have children... Just be... Normal. You want to quit the job of Armed Detective Agency but never leave it behind you. Maybe saying that you want to get married and have children when you're only in your early 20's but is over exaggerating... But it was whatever.

Finally you stopped in front of the building and took a breathe in. Any moment now.

Stop it, your palms are sweating, your practically shaking. Grow up.

One step at a time.

"(____)!" There it was... Ranpo Edogawa. He called your name as soon as you walked inside that door. You turned to see him marching over to you. "Soooooo, did you get me any snacks before you left your house? Y'know I can't function without eating." He whined a little.

You smiled, you seem to do that a lot, and pull a Pocky box out of your pocket. He grinned while snatching it from you. "thank you!!"

You sit down at your desk and you're ready to start the day like any other. You open your computer up--

SLAM

Ranpo stood beside your desk with one hand on his hip and the other flat on your computer to keep it close. "Is it true?"

I knew he'd find out

I was an idiot

I can't hide anything from him

I am an idiot

Please don't hate me

"(____)." He pulled your head out from your little island of thoughts. You see it. His emerald eyes looking down at you waiting for an answer.

"...yes."

Ranpo knew that would be your answer, but he still felt hurt.

"... I want to quit the Agency and I think that if I do, it will be for a good reason. I think that if I quit the Agency I can be.. normal-"

"(____)...stop. just stop for a minute. You do this everytime, everyday to everyone."

I am sorry

You continue to plaster on a smile, "what do you mean?"

"that." He pointed up at your face. "you always try to act happy with what you're given, you never push yourself and allow yourself to do what you want, you always smile even when people know you're upset. It's tiresome..."

I am sorry

"...then you speak about being normal. Is the Agency really that bad? Do you... Hate it here?" His tone was serious. He wanted an answer and he was going to get one.

You looked a little stunned. "...no."

"then why quit? Why quit a job that you worked so hard to get."

"... Because I'm pathetic."

"stop it. That's not the real reason."

You were silent, in a daze, paused. You don't want to tell him the real reason... Actually, he most likely already knew.

How do you tell the person you've supported and followed beside, wanting to be just like him... Wanting to be with him... Wanting to go where he wanted to go... That you love him?

"(____)." He pulled you right out of those thoughts again, like he knew just what you were thinking. "... What is 'normal' to you."

Silence was your answer.

"How come, the person that has been working at this Agency longer than most, one of the first people to be apart of this place, the person who makes everyone happy and can make even a baby smile, not have the voice or courage to answer for themselves."

He was pulling strings. Ranpo always knew how to get what he wants, whether it was childish or serious. "...I love being a detective. I love my colleagues..."

"but you love us enough to leave us?"

"...I don't want to live the rest of my life as a detective forever. Solving cases and saving lives is amazing but... We are still people. We never really get the chance to live like anyone else."

"...you say it like being a detective is something that you have to get rid of. There's more to life than living like other people and staying home married, taking care of a house and worrying about yourself."

This conversation isn't going any where. Sorry.

How did he know about it though?

Yes, he was the Greatest Detective Ever for a reason, but how does he manage to get these answers everytime. It's not like the President would've told anyone about your conversation between you two. So how does he know?

How does he know that I want to live normal, like other people.... Get married and have children? At least.. that's what any normal person would say the meaning of life is.

"..but there is also more to life than just sitting in a chair all day solving problems and cases that will never stop."

You spoke up. You rarely ever do that. Good job. Is what you're hoping to hear. Pitiful.

Ranpo's expression turned from a look of seriousness, frustration of understanding and a little hurt to... Dumbfounded. "...do you seriously think this is what you want? Just leaving us behind to get married and nothing else at the end of the day... Just that?"

"...yes."

It aches but it's for the best

"Ranpo. I feel as if I've, supported you practically all my life for your... Ability and having such a great title of Greatest Detective Ever... And yet it feels like you can't show me a little support for my decision."

It was a stab through the heart. Those words exactly weren't what you wanted to say, they just came out of you. He seemed shocked by the change of tone from you. Who were? Just yesterday you were the friend, the colleague, the person, that made everyone smile just by walking through the door. The person that laughed at even the dumbest of jokes. The person that anyone was basically able to talk to. Now, you're just... A figure who feels and looks so lost and confused. How did it get to here?

"(____). I've supported you and I do want you to be happy but I also want you to be realistic. I'll support you... I'll always support you because you're my best friend.... But I can't support this."

"...so my idea of moving on and getting married happily, finding a new job, starting a new chapter of my life, most likely having children, to feed and care and love for my future offspring, is unrealistic?"

"it is unrealistic! Getting married isnt all sunshine and rainbows like you imagine it, you know that."

"So I can't even try to find the slightest chance of happiness..?" You paused to think. "...what is that you always say to me when I feel like I've given up? Just keep trying and you'll find a chance? Is that not the same as now?"

Nothing will ever be the same

Why did I have to open my mouth

Why am I so stupid

I am sorry

"...There's no way you're dropping your dream job just to live like other people who practically do nothing to be remembered for. You have a life of your own. Don't throw it away for something you're going to regret."

"...it what never my dream."

At least you said something that's 100% honest

"What?" He looks up at you with wide eyes, his emerald eyes were looking right through you. You're not being serious. He thought... No, he knew he heard wrong. "(____)... I don't even need my ability to know you're just lying to yourself. I've knownyou for too long. You always wanted to be a detective."

"No. I wanted to follow along side this Agency and support you. I didn't even know who I was so I had to follow other people like a headless goose all those years ago."

Ranpo felt himself giving up. That's rare. Seems like you've pushed both you and him over the limit. "...you're kidding right..?" He paused to look down at the floor with a heavy sigh. "... You have a place in this Agency. We all need you. You're a vital member here. And I don't just say that because you're my best friend... We don't need you to be someone else. We care about you. And I don't want to just say bye one day because you decide to marry some.. person."

"...even if that person I marry makes me the happiest I've ever been in the world? Wouldn't it all be worth something in the end?"

He sighed... What else was he supposed to say? Just giving you the slightest advice wouldn't change your mind and telling you not to do this obviously hasn't worked. Was he really at fault for not believing in this future for you?

"...Do what makes you happy, alright?"

"...even if it means I have to say goodbye now?"

"...yup."

You smile, but you still ache deep down inside... It's going to hurt for next few days or weeks, you know it will.. but that's alright. You stand up to leave. But stop at the doorway.

"..."

"... Y'know, even though we've been there supporting each other through this journey of the Agency... We see completely different worlds have different dreams."

"...please don't leave.."

"I love you, Edogawa Ranpo." You turn to him with a kind and empathetic smile with teary eyes. "...and as cliché as it sounds... I want to be with you. I want to follow beside you, even when you're being a cocky snot. I don't need you living in my life, but I need you to understand that someday... That will be my life. Living normal and happy. But I need to know... What is it you truly see in me."

Just like that.. you said it. You can't believe you said it.

"(____)..." He didn't want to hurt you by telling you the truth but he knew that if he didn't, you'd be regretting something in the end of the day. "...I love you."

...

"I love you as a friend. But I can't love you like someone to actually be in a relationship with."

You smiled. You knew Ranpo, he was too focused on his life as a detective to allow something like romance get in the way. He was just like that. And you still loved him for that.

"...I was actually hoping you'd say that..." You paused to wipe a tear away. "... I really was hoping you weren't planning to lie and tell me just what I wanted to hear for my sake."

He stayed silent. At the end of day, he was happy to have that response but sad of the path that was going to happen next. You smiled and turned to leave. "...can't wait to see you again.. friend."

He had no words to say. You're gone. Just like that. His expression seemed, unbothered... But his heart felt broken to lose someone important to him. But of course they were best friends so it's not bad.

Although... He didn't want to believe it but... His deduction was telling him that he'd never see you again. But he's just going to have accept it.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #ranpo edogawa x reader #x reader #anime #anime and manga #bsd ranpo #bungou stray dogs ranpo #angst #angst with a sad ending #Bungo stray dogs angst #ranpo angst #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa

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justalonelyslytherin · 11 months

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Legacies | Eleven

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: The time for the mission has come. While the team risks their life, coming too close to death, Jake is left to deal with the guilt his reaction left him with.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, mentions of dying, mentions of parental death/parental loss, mentions of killing someone in combat, air combat, dealing with the aftermath of it

Wordcount: 3.1k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. I ALSO DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THE USE OF AI IN ANY OF MY WORKS! Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: I already mentioned it in another chapter, but I think now the time has come to permanently implement and switch to a bi-weekly update schedule. One week is just too little for me to adequately write the chapters (to my standards) without stressing myself out. I'm going to try to stick with the update times but if needed I'll postpone it for the sake of good quality content.

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

True to his words Ana didn’t return to the base following the funeral. But contrary to them, Hangman wasn’t happy with the situation.

It bothered him.

His anger toward her had long vanished, leaving behind dread and a new annoyance focused solely on himself and his stupid actions.

Mixing with it was the feeling of irritation he felt now that she was missing. It felt different without her there. They were missing one person in their group and everyone was well aware of it. Hangman perhaps most of them all.

Never before in his life had he been so affected by the lack of one's presence. The moment she’d been officially taken out of the lineup for the mission he’d nearly stormed out of the room. Guilt and shame fought to overtake him. To no little part he’d been at fault for her absence, he was well aware of it.

Even though his rational thinking wanted to tell him that the loss of her father was reason alone to sit out a mission with such dire stakes, where even one millisecond of distraction could cost one’s life, the other parts of his brain screamed at him.

Your fault.

It bothered Hangman. More than he’d ever admit and more than he could ever possibly hide. Her absence left a gaping hole unable to be otherwise filled. It felt different without her there. Empty.

In the days to follow he’d been an emotional wreck. Constantly irritable, tense, and snippy. A fuse so short anyone breathing in his direction was bound to set him off. He dangled on a dangerous path toward exploding at any moment.

Not even his otherwise impermeable cocky attitude, the mask he had built up so meticulously, could hide his true emotions. For the first time since he became Hangman, his walls weren’t enough.

None of the others could be blamed for his irritability. Once more it was his own fucking fault. He, all alone, was to blame for it. And perhaps that was what made it this bad. Well aware of his role in the dilemma, Hangman couldn’t help but still be upset about it.

If he was honest with himself he had never been angry at her, not directly. He’d been angry with the situation. Not understanding it and on top of it misinterpreting it. On any other occasion he would have forgotten it, let it be, and moved on. But he couldn’t.

He could not move on from this.

Not with Ana.

He couldn’t do that to her and he couldn’t do it to himself. But there also wasn’t any way for him to fix it. Not right now.

Not when he was in the middle of the ocean, stuck on an aircraft carrier, bound for the most dangerous mission of his life.

Yet all he could think about was the woman he’d wronged so horribly.

“It's been an honor flying with you.”

It was an entirely new experience for him. Being distracted. Unable to focus solely on the mission. Never once in his entire career had that happened to him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. It had happened once, early on, and nearly cost him the career that had been just in the wings.

That’s when he’d been still Jake Seresin in the navy, not yet Hangman, which had soon after changed. He’d made up his mind. Nothing and more importantly no one would ever distract him from his dreams, from the career that had almost ended before it had even started.

“Each one of you represents the best of the best.”

For nearly ten years, he’d lived after this principle, becoming Hangman but also becoming perhaps the best naval aviator of his generation and the only one on active duty to have a confirmed kill.

“Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

As new and unusual the sensation was, he’d tried to keep on track. Stubbornly he’d commanded his thoughts back to the mission, punished himself for any stray thought by reading the mission briefings, the F-18 manual.

“Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

It didn’t work. Not as good as he’d liked for it. He was distracted enough for it to be noticeable.

“And your wingman.”

Green eyes focused forward as he braced himself for the pick. He’d been sure to have the spot in the pocket the moment he’d set foot in San Diego. The moment he’d seen them, first Rooster waltzing into the Hard Deck in civilian clothes and then shortly after Ghost at the bar, he’d known they were his competitors. The three of them.

They’d been the frontrunners for the position of mission leader. And had it been him from that night in the Hard Deck two-ish weeks ago standing here in the hangar now, he’d been just as sure of having the spot of wingman too. Present-time Hangman wasn’t so sure of it.

Maverick stared straight ahead, jaw tense and eyes full of a sadness and misery he’d never seen in their instructor's eyes. Not even on the day of the funeral. Maverick had been filled with sadness, grief, and loss. There had been an acceptance in his eyes that day, now he looked torn, refusing to acknowledge the present, the reality of what lay before them but more importantly the difficult decision that lay immediately before him.

“Rooster.” Mavericks' voice was dismal as if he’d predestined an awful fate over them.

To his great surprise, Hangman wasn’t surprised not to have been chosen. In a way, he’d already known it. He wasn’t ready, wasn't good enough for it.

Not in the technical sense. Ana’d been right. He wasn’t enough of a team player for the mission. It was where Rooster excelled, surpassing him miles ahead.

The Hangman – the Jake – at the beginning of the training, not even three weeks ago, would have reacted differently. Disappointment still filled him, but the Jake then would have not been able to accept it. He wouldn't have been able to see the fault in his ways, to admit his fault.

A small and twisted part of his mind hollered that he’d deserved it for wronging Ana.

He knew that Maverick hadn’t chosen him for apparent reasons. His inability to be a team player and the lack of attention in the last days more than clear to see for everyone had cost him the spot, had he ever had it at one point. Maverick had said it himself: My choice reflects that and nothing more.

Outside on the deck the blonde waited for Rooster. They weren’t friends, yet Hangman didn’t want to let him leave for the mission without having spoken to him first.

He hoped that the brunette was ready. That he and Maverick could work together, jump over their shadow to fly the mission. Both had been limited, held back by their shared past – whatever it entailed – too caught up with their demons to realize what was needed for the mission.

Rooster was surprised, coming face to face with him. Stopping in his stride the two men stood across another. The brunette looked at him questioningly. Under the observant, guarded look all words Hangman had carefully laid out in the last couple of minutes left him all at once.

His tongue was tied, clued to the bottom of his mouth. Suddenly his lips felt dry and his throat had closed down entirely.

“You give ‘em hell!” He managed to utter, voice strained and close to cracking. Hangman wasn’t even sure if Rooster had heard him over the noise of the jets. Rooster’s eyes followed him, burning into his side until he was past the brunette.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit!

Maverick is down.”

Phoenix’s crackly words coming over the radio comms sent a shockwave similarly big to the blast of the SAM hitting, through Hangman’s body. A shot of pure electricity raced up his spine, culminating in a deafening, mind-numbing sensation as the shock settled over him.

Over the comms followed Rooster’s stricken and panicked calls, requesting for their team leader to respond, to show any sign of life.

There was no response.

This couldn’t be happening. Maverick was the most qualified out of them all, the one with the least chance of crashing or getting hit, yet out of all of them it had been him.

No, actually it was him who was most likely to be hit. Maverick made it clear from the beginning that he’d protect his wingman, that he’d protect Rooster just as much as he would every other aviator under him.

For it to actually happen was entirely different from the possibility of the scenario.

“Comanche. Bandits inbound. Single group, hot. Recommend dagger flow south. One minute to intercept.”

Still no sign of Maverick, not even a parachute. Jake's teeth were grinding on another, back ramrod straight, hands balled into fists. Here he sat, strapped into his jet, on short standby to aid them. Why wasn’t he in the air with them?

His breath came in uneven, short bursts. Entirely contrary to how he was taught to stay calm and unaffected. Entirely opposite to how Hangman should act. How everyone expected him to act. Damn them, damn everyone. Damn the stupid fate.

Jake refused to believe that they could lose Maverick this easily. If his legendary exploits were anything they showed that to get rid of this man, death himself would have to step up and lead him to the gates of the afterlife. He refused to believe that they wouldn’t come back with everyone on their team from this mission. He refused to accept Maverick being gone.

They hadn’t lost him.

She couldn’t have lost him. Not another one. Ghost had just lost her father. If she now lost Maverick too, how would that wreck her?

She’d already suffered too much, much of it at the hands of him and Jake wouldn’t let her suffer even more, wouldn’t let her have to grieve another person. Even if that meant he had to go get Maverick on his own.

Jake scrambled, reaching for his mask.

“Dagger Spare requests permission to launch and fly air cover.”

With bated breath and furrowed brows, hands ready to clasp his mask on entirely and get ready for take-off he waited for a response from the control room.

“Negative, spare.”

Disappointment and anger flushed him. Jake scrunched his face in annoyance, mask dropping to dangle down his side.

“Damn it.”

His balled fist hit the top of his thigh in anger. Sinking down back in his seat, the straps strained against his chest. It hurt, the space tight as his heart clenched in pain. Pain for Maverick and Ana.

Touching down with the jet back onto the deck felt great. But not even the euphoria and the adrenalin kick after the successful albeit close-cut mission could keep his thoughts of Ana away.

The high that had swept over him after shooting down the fifth-gen fighter and thus saving Maverick and Rooster came to a plummet the moment Hangman climbed down his jet.

His feet hit the deck, flight crew rushed all around him to aid Maverick and Rooster for their return. Eyes scanning the moving crowds where the duo seaters had gathered after coming back with the rest of the team, he stopped abruptly, a deep frown forming on his face.

Too late did he realize the person he was looking for wasn’t even on the ship. He was looking for her – subconsciously – to share the excitement, the high of the win, the success they had worked so hard for.

She wasn’t there and it may well have been his fault entirely.

All at once the euphoria of the mission, the relief that Maverick had survived the crash and both him and Rooster the following chase back to the carrier, his second shot down, it all seemed hollow and meaningless. None of it brought joy anymore.

Hangman felt guilty, he felt angry, and sad. And on top of that the realization, just as it had happened the first time, that he had taken the life of another person – another human – perhaps a guiltless one and for certain a life the same as those of his colleagues, like his, swept over him. The weight of it crashed into him full front, nearly taking him off his feet.

His breath grew heavy and labored, each intake harder than the last as a mechanical vice wrapped around his torso and squeezed him tighter and tighter. He couldn’t breathe and it made him dizzy.

Smoke from the wrecked F-14 drifted over the deck, the flight crew littered the space around the jet. Maverick and Rooster. He had to make sure they were actually alright. With shaky, unsteady legs Jake started to march, quickly transitioning into a jog toward the crowd, weaving his way through the cheering figures until he stepped up to Rooster.

With every step from his jet he’d gradually forced himself to appear calm and collected, even though the sweat trailed down his skin in heaps, it stung in his eyes and left a salty taste on his lips. By the time he stood in front of the brunette nothing but the slight flaring of his nostril indicated his troubled mind.

Jake was genuinely glad Maverick and Rooster appeared to be alright. The brunette, even with what had happened shortly before the mission with Ana, grinned at him. It was a grin that – for the short moment of it – made him forget the horrible guilt running through every cell of his body.

A relieved grin brightened atop his face as they looked at each other, Jake ultimately holding his hand out to him to shake. In congratulations. Rooster took the hand, shaking it.

“You shot yourself another kill.”

Although well-meaning, the words left an aching pang in his chest, his grin momentarily dimming.

Remember who you are.

And so, with another grin, even brighter now and entirely Hangman, he answered “That makes two.”

While everyone else was still swapped up in the celebration of the successful mission, Jake had withdrawn inside. Somewhere quieter, somewhere he could be alone.

In his hand lay his phone now. All his thoughts had centered on Ana once more after he quelled the rising panic in him. Her contact opened on the dim screen in front of him, he had his thumb hovering over the call button.

For the last ten minutes, he’d been stuck in this position. Going between hovering over the icon and changing his mind. To call her or not to call her. What would he say if he did?

Before he could pull through or back down Jake was startled. Rooster appeared along the hallway, coming towards him. He quickly put his phone down, locking the device, its screen turning black. Not fast enough.

“If you think she’d even answer you are mighty stupid.”

The words were clipped and strained. Nothing of the friendliness, the truce between them, was left. Rooster now eyed him with open animosity, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“The only reason I haven’t killed you for what you did to her was the mission. Regulations may keep me from doing anything right now but don’t think I won’t take the chance once we are off this damn ship.”

Gradually Rooster’s voice had become more furious and resentful. Not that Hangman could blame him for it.

“You had no right to say this to her. Who the hell do you think you are, to accuse her of something that doesn’t even concern you–”

The realization came over him like a wave. Of course, how didn’t he realize that Rooster must have known from the beginning? As close as the two of them were.

“–Not like you are going to have anything to do with her after this mission. You like shooting people down, don’t you?”

Seething jealousy filled him at the thought that Rooster had known all along. “You done now? I get it. I was an asshole and I made a huge mistake. I was already regretting it before you had to rub it in.”

Jealousy was an ugly thing, almost as rotting as his hurt had been at the funeral, he added as if it was entirely blasé “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because she is family. The Kazansky’s have been there for nearly my entire life. I’ll be damned if I let you hurt her even more.”

With every word, Rooster came closer to him. Dangerously close. Now they stood nose to nose, with the slightly taller brunette staring down at him murderously.

For a moment Jake wasn’t sure if Rooster would do something more, go against regulation, and beat him up here and there. Instead, Rooster walked past him, shoulder bumping harshly into his.

That night, long after the mission when they were already on their way back to home port, Jake was lying in his bunk.

The dim, blueish glow of his phone lit up the confined space. Opened was a chat window. An empty one.

A lengthy message was already typed out in the little box, the obnoxious arrow taunting him to send it off. Just as with the call button, his thumb hovered over the arrow.

It would take little effort for him to send the message off. His eyes jumped up to the name on top of the window.

Ghost.

In the end he deleted the message.

#legacies #hangman x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x oc #hangman x reader #jake seresin x kazansky!oc #jake seresin x kazansky!reader #hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #top gun maverick fanfic

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karin-gespenst · 1 year

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one of the reasons why I love Call the Midwife is that the show makes me feel excited about growing older. Of course, I’m making an effort to let present-me be content and thriving. But in seeing women older than me being happy, safe, filled with purpose, part of a tightly-knit community and guiding their younger peers, then I can imagine myself in their shoes.

I see Shelagh watching her oldest child grow into a young adult and I’m excited to be a mother like her soon - with a kid out there in the world, finding her path.

I see Sister Hilda taking a long, hard look at the world and deciding that she wants to be better equipped for helping in more capacities and I’m looking up possibilities to learn and take better care of other people and myself.

I see Millicent Higgins being unapologetically herself and taking pride in her achievements, relishing in the things that bring her delight and using her unique power of getting things done to sort through any kind of mess, and I’m laughing at myself now for being afraid of paperwork - maybe I can be braver in the future.

I see Violet Buckle taking charge of everything and making sure that she uses her position to make important changes, I see her opening her door and her heart for so many people, and I’m hoping that life will bring me second chances and maybe even the opportunity to raise a slightly different kind of family - in a sewing shop, patched together with the yarn of love.

I see Phyllis Crane being the pinnacle of her profession, supporting herself all the way from the fringes of society into the heart of a community that cannot do without her anymore. Leading by example and never running out of true and kind words, her common sense is the most versatile tool I’ve ever seen anybody use and I want that groundedness for myself - today and especially in the future.

I see Sister Julienne accepting the burden of leadership, pouring endless bounds of faith onto every kind of problem and admitting freely when she has been wrong, or uninformed. Her ability to calm storms is legendary and as in practice makes perfect she must be the most centered person to ever walk the earth. I’m jealous.

I see Sister Evangelina speaking truth to everyone and being proud of her work, a woman unafraid and resourceful like few others. The show has hardly scratched the surface on what the real Sister Evangelina has seen and done in her life and part of me wants to be as unafraid, too. But I’ll pass on the parachute jump behind enemy lines, thank you very much.

I see Sister Monica Joan, after a long and extensive work-life amidst her sisters, with an endless variety of baked goods, watching Doctor Who, playing with children, calling a sizeable library her own, and when I’m at her age I hope I’ll to remember to say “Child, I have seen everything.”

#call the midwife #shelagh turner #violet buckle #miss higgins #Sister Hilda #Phyllis Crane #Sister Julienne #Sister Evangelina #Sister Monica Joan

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thesapphireprincess · 2 years

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Let’s talk about doing the damn thing

By doing the damn thing I mean actually working toward your goals with physical action

What is it that you want in your life? What do you truly want that will make you happy? I’ll tell you what I want. I want to be able to come home without a single worry about my necessities in life but it is more than that. I want to be able to walk into any store and not worry about the price tag, a life of abundance. I want to be able to wake up to an alarm by choice, I want the alarm to go off because I want to wake up at a certain time not because I have to be at this job at a certain time in order to keep a roof over my head. This is what I want. I want to be my own boss and run my own business, this is what I want. What is it that you want?

It’s always been my dream to be my own boss and run my own company since I was 9 years old. I am now 23 and I got a little lost through out the years, nothing too heavy just being surrounded by the wrong people. I always wondered why when I would cut off every toxic person in my life I would suddenly be focused on my future but then another test would come and I would fail that test and be lost again and unhappy. Friend groups are not for me. Friend groups are usually toxic and full of so much unnecessary drama. I always felt left out in friend groups. I think I’m meant to be solo until I am so stuck on my path that it would take a literal meteor to knock me off. I prefer to have friends but not a friend group. At the moment I don’t have any friends because as you can probably guess I cut them all off. While I’ve been in Texas I haven’t made any solid friends. The people I’ve met haven’t been too consistent but ig that is for the best. I am not meant to have friends right now. I would like to have a few friends but I want true friends not fake ones. If I was meant to have friends right now I would simply have them, am I right?

Let’s get into the main topic of this post “doing the damn thing”. Just recently I’ve come into myself in a way that I’ve never before. Being content with who I am and where I am. I didn’t say comfortable I said content. Even though I am content with myself I’m still looking for ways to improve and grow in every way possible in order to reach my goals. There are things that I need to do and that I am working on in order to create my dream life. I hope this makes sense. Ik what I need to do to be successful and I need to do more than that. I need to push myself harder not like a working mule because never that. I mean I can feel that I am being lazy in certain areas that I shouldn’t be lazy in. It’s a slight adjustment and it’s not going to burn me. Pushing myself to work towards my goals is so important to me. I want to stick to a schedule, be organized and realistic with myself. I want a balance of work, rest and fun. I’ve been dabbling too much in the rest part so it’s not balanced. I will fix this in time. I have figured out a good schedule and now I just have to try it out.

I want to be able to date the kind of men I want to date. I want to be taken out to really nice places with men who are well dressed, handsome, wealthy, generous, smart, and kind. A gentleman. I have the image of the kind of men I want to date and eventually be with but in return I have to become a women of means. Turning myself into who I’ve always imagined myself to be is something I want. I want to be seen as a woman not a girl. Becoming her requires not only beauty but brains and trust me I have the beauty thing down. I am working on the other half, the brains. Me becoming my Dream version has nothing to do with a man btw but I definitely don’t want to be single forever. I want to be in a healthy relationship and I’m not going to pretend that I’m perfectly ok with being alone for the rest of my life or being 40 with no husband or kids. If that’s what you want that’s fine but that’s not what I want. When I am 40 I want to have a husband or 40 with a husband and kids no in betweens. I want to get married in my mid or late 20’s and then maybe have kids in my early 30’s. I deserve love and I deserve to be with the man of my dreams. Hello like attracts like. I’m done dating men who aren’t what I truly want. I want a Bruce Wayne archetype minus the mommy and daddy issues. I mean the look: dark hair, handsome, young and wealthy. A Mentally healthy and wealthy man. I want someone kind and adventurous with the means to give me and show me true romance. I want someone who can give me a life worth truly living. I want the career, the husband, the lifestyle and family of my dreams. So I will become the woman of me dreams. I’m only 23 and a lot can happen in a year especially with hard work. I refuse to be stagnant in life, I refuse to waste my youth doing nothing and I refuse to waste all the opportunities life has to offer when you choice to knock on the door of your dreams. With all of this being said, stop being stagnant. Stop wasting your time and do the damn thing.

#level up #self improvement #entrepreneur #entrepreneurship #hypergamy #upscale dating #black women in femininity #black women in leisure #black women in luxury #spoiled girlfriend #spoiled wife

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twojackals · 10 months

Text

It starts at the top

Rev. Dr. Tamara Siuda is a good person who I admire. I consider her a mentor and I probably always will to some degree. She is a skilled Egyptologist, a talented divination professional, a beloved spiritual leader (even still to me now, that remains true), and I dare say under different circumstances she'd be easily considered a friend -- the problem is, no one these days has access to Tamara Siuda long enough to be her friend -- but what's worse is that in, my opinion, no one has enough access to Tamara Siuda to be her devotee, either.

And that is definitely one of the big reasons behind my dropping down from Shemsu-Ankh to Remetj.

Let's roll back for a second though.

Rev. Dr. Tamara Siuda is the creator of Kemetic Orthodoxy (not Kemeticism, but Kemetic Orthodoxy in specific. She is a truly beloved spiritual leader, and the self-proclaimed incarnation of the Kingly Ka (a spiritual component linking all Pharonic Kemet rulers, aka Pharaohs). She had a calling, and a vision, and she did everything she could to bring those ideas and visions to fruition. Enter Kemetic Orthodoxy.

I arrived in the House late 2000. The year 2000 was a different time: Some people like me will tell you the old days were the better days, and we really do mean it; however, it doesn't come without its caveats. We were smaller back then, and that isn't something I deny to be an easier situation. With a smaller community size, came differences. Much different, in fact. So different, it may have well been an entirely different religion in a lot of ways, not in belief structure, but in access to the people most important to be the guiding lights of the path itself, and interaction with Hemet (a word conveying a type of royalty), or Rev. Dr. Tamara Siuda, was not at all infrequent.

Having an actual human relationship with Rev. Dr. Siuda back then wasn't a difficult task, and it is what I remember most fondly about "the old days", as it were.

Today, you can literally go months without ever seeing Hemet in any accessible KO location. It's strange because I think I didn't notice it for a long time, and only began to realize the extent of this isolation / disconnection for myself when I first joined her Patreon server. While I had spent the 3+ years (4 come Wep Ronpet) since re-joining the temple wondering "where is Hemet in all of this these days" as her presence grew ever more scant, joining her Patreon would be a refreshing surprise, because basically: there she is. It's not terribly difficult to touch base with her when you're on her Patreon Discord or in one of her Patreon programs, and that shook my world a bit more than I thought it would. To the point where it became one of the reasons I pulled out of the same program after being in it for only a very short amount of time.

Where was Hemet? Well she was there, for anyone who was willing to pay for it at least, and that bothered me to my very core. To be extremely clear, I do not believe she means it to look this way. I do not believe it is her intention for things to be this way, but as per our capitalistic society, maybe that's just the way it needs to be.

That sent me spiraling back into my memories, some more recent than others. We had for years disavowed the idea of a "paywall" inside Kemetic Orthodoxy, for example. Even the old mailing list which was a "Donate $5 and get access to extra stuff!" was a source of disdain: People considered that "tiered access", though I think the donation aspect still exists but not held in perpetuity or the like (you donate once, no one notices if you never donate again). But today, the quality of what you get is no longer there anyway, even for $5. I suppose that is because holding anything back "just for donors" brings that "tiered access" problem back. Today, the list you are subscribed to is nothing but a regurgitation of some Daybook content, and it appears to be queued up robotically with absolutely no customization.

It's funny because if you read what the list is meant to provide, it is that Daybook content as well as (quote) "hymns, prayers, and other tidbits provided by Hemet (AUS)." We used to get that back in the day, to be clear. The tidbits, prayers, hymns… we used to even have access to KO blog-style posts from Hemet multiple times per week. Unfortunately, those days are long gone, and as I mentioned, the mailing list is nothing but the same Daybook content on a never-ending carousel, the beautiful inspirational blog posts are long gone, and Hemet is about as distant as both of them.

As a result, I hardly consider the "mailing list" to be a form of tiered content, but there was at one point in the House's history a time when people cried about the disparity between those with $5, and those without, despite always needing donations, and I suppose here we are.

When you think about the fact that we no longer have the access to Hemet we once did, we no longer have the relationship to Hemet we once did, we no longer get the tidbits, prayers, hymns, and other unique content we once did, and no one really cares if you continue donating "at least $5 in a calendar year or not" to be on it, you realize that list is really nothing anymore. It's just recurring mush pre-scheduled and unlovingly dumped into your box at midnight or like, akin to so much spam we avoid day in and day out, and you still technically have to pay $5 for it.

But all the while we the Kemetic Orthodox crowd is getting this regurgitated content and limited access, people are in fact able to get plenty of access to Hemet and personalized relationships and advice... just not within the actual religion she created. And the way they do that is, in fact, by paying for it: the one thing we kept saying we didn't want to do as a religion, but that we can -- and dare I say, should -- do. Because listen: I recognize capitalism, and that nothing operates on hopes and prayers. There should be tiered access available within Kemetic Orthodoxy that gives access to programs and resources so that donations do happen and that Hemet does not need to go to Patreon independently to do what she needs to do, and our community can again have an access to its spiritual leader that makes that much more worth being here to begin with.

Because I can get the Gods anywhere -- I can only get Kemetic Orthodoxy here though.

But at the same time, you can't keep asking for donations, and delivering almost nothing to the very religion you created. And I do not say that in a vacuum, because before you say "all she does behind the scenes", I already know quite a bit of what she does behind the scenes, and I'm here to tell you quite point-blank: it isn't enough (clarify: it isn't enough to only be behind the scenes and just tell people you really really promise you're doing tons of work, even if you never see or get to interact with me).

I'm sorry, Tamara.

It's weird, I know, I sound like I'm speaking against her, but yet seem to turn it around entirely saying things like she should be available via paywalls. It also seems like I'm screaming into a void of entitlement, but again that's not meant to be the case. If you look at what I'm saying, you will understand I am not speaking 'against' her at all. I am in favor of her doing every single thing she must to find joy, happiness, and yes money, because that's the world we live in... and if that's outside Kemetic Orthodoxy, so be it. But you can't necessarily be "King", either, at the same time.

I do not agree with the idea that the only place you can seem to get access to our own spiritual leader in any significant capacity, is outside of the very religion she created. And creating a religion is no small thing, particularly if you are going to be assigned the literal role of Royalty that comes down from a very long, long line. I mean, she won't even participate in our own Discord, and to be clear, she is definitely participating in her own. So this is not a technology-gap kind of thing, and while the excuse over time has always been that people will try to overwhelm her, there are ways of dealing with that -- none of which anyone is willing to explore.

That responsibility you create by the process of birthing an entire religious movement into this world… it cannot be quantified by contracts, donation levels, exterior commitments, or other spiritual lives you may lead. If you create a path followed by hundreds, you need to be there, because that is your creation from the ground up, your baby, and all the babies that came from it depend on you for as long as it remains standing. "How do you make money", "How do you keep it going", "How do you find the time" -- all good questions, and all not questions anyone in the religion you've created technically needs to worry about, because it wasn't their choice to make this path, it was only their choice to follow it.

By making a statement of such importance as being the incarnation of an ancient, profound, holy and somewhat unbroken energy, followed up without a commitment that reflects the very innate reverence and humility contained within the statement itself, is a paradox I am having great difficulty to reconcile, not the least of which is how you can claim to be this, but also be dual-aspected in terms of your own spirituality in your own personal life as well (something I will not comment further on, asit is a point of bitterness I cannot overcome right now but also a very complex point as well that is not fair for me to touch on).

Simply speaking, after great, deep consideration, I have simply had to come to the conclusion as follows:

Rev. Dr. Tamara Siuda, who I still admire, and deeply respect, is not the incarnation of the Kingly Ka of Pharonic Kemet. She remains an amazing spiritual leader, a strong and experienced divination practitioner (which is why I still accept my RPD results), and a beautiful soul. But in its current incarnation? I feel Rev. Dr. Tamara Siuda has functionally abandoned Kemetic Orthodoxy in one too many ways, and I do not believe any true modern-day King could be capable of such a serious lapse or gap.

In a not-insignificant way, I do feel she avoids her community more than she embraces it, and that makes me sad. Too sad to stay as I was any longer, because I was not getting what I needed from a spiritual community, and too much of it went back to Tamara in specific.

It's possible, one day, I will change my mind about this. I am not so arrogant to think I will never change my mind again, I am 41 years old and have changed my mind more times than I can count. But for now, I agreed I would talk about why I've decided to make these changes in my Kemetic spiritual life, and this needed to be said if I was going to be honest. This is how I feel, right now, for today, and probably tomorrow.

I've cut out quite a bit of material from this, things I wrote down in my first few days after I made the change to Remetj that were perhaps a lot more harsh than I intended. I re-read it to myself and, while a lot of it still made sense, I decided it was just not fair to post. Instead, I tried to balance the way I feel, and the things I want to say, with enough balance that I can still project how disappointed I am in the state of everything and turns of events (or lack thereof), without equally projecting a serious attack against another person (which is not my intent).

I am not here to attack. I am here to express, and that will walk a fine line not everyone is going to agree with.

As usual, I'm fairly OK with that. Edit: Wow... in writing this, I wasn't expecting it to feel like a 20-lbs weight has been lifted from my chest, and my heart, and my soul. But here we are.

Edit 2: Someone on Facebook decided to state that I believe Hemet is a "dirty capitalist" -- I want to be clear that if this is what you've gotten from this post, you are wildly mistaken. Either I am not calling her that at all, or I am simply calling us all dirty capitalists, due to the innate unavoidability of capitalism itself. Ultimately, the idea is to combine 'necessary capitalism' with KO in order to save it and to ensure its spiritual leader can survive on what is connected to the House, rather than what comes from outside the House.

But, I was also accused of stating that Hemet should spend 'all of her free time' in the House, and that is a bit more tricky to address. Here's the thing: if you're going to call yourself King / Pharaoh, perhaps this is the responsibility that comes along with it -- whether that is 'palatable' to people becomes irrelevant.

Edit 3: Because we need these edits, yo. To be crystal clear, I also believe there are alternatives to Tamara being "only involved" in KO, but that's going to involve her a) speaking more readily, honestly, and openly to her congregation on a regular basis (perhaps not every day, but regular, none the less), b) dropping down from a position of "King" to something more akin to High Priest or Spiritual Leader so that her role makes more sense, c) creating full delegation to a wide group of people to run the Temple and its resources/platforms (something where change is happening slower than a snail can jog), d) dropping all contracts that indicate she will work x-amount-of-hours for x-amount-of-pay, because the organization is no where near big enough or committed enough to support it, unless e) they finally agree to integrate some revenue stream into the Temple itself. I'm not saying I have all the answers. I'm saying the way it is now, doesn't work, and will only get worse. I am hoping for change that bridges the gaping divides, and I don't have a scripted plan to 100% tell anyone how that would go. I just know that it can't stay like this, and as long as it does, Kemetic Orthodoxy is not for me. Like I said: I can get the Gods anywhere.

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