#there were a lot of self-insert stories in my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryenluvs · 5 months

Text

— A WHOLE NEW WORLD

pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: in which you and percy navigate a whole other world, and encounter trials in the way.

warnings: angst, bullying mentions, teasing, physical violence courtesy of clarisse my bae, drowning, confessions, fluff, hugs, smooches, percy n you are a comedic duo i swear, basically a self insert, not proof read

wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: i’m insane, this is the longest thing ive ever written. so please reblog and interact <3

you’d grown up with the same stories percy had. the greek gods and goddesses, their lives and tales, their failures and secrets. what you didn’t expect was to be the child of one.

you, percy and grover were currently on a field trip, and you couldn’t have been happier. all around you was history, and you were fascinated by it all. breaking away from them, you viewed the tallest of statues and the intricate, taking your phone out secretly and snapping a photo to show your mother later.

you were dragged out of your fairytale by laughter, and percy’s scowl evident on his face as you made your way over. “i don’t know if you have a miserable home life or just enjoy being a bitch but this trip would be much more enjoyable without your annoying voice.” you sneered before shining a fake smile her way. percy’s laugh in your ear made you join in, but the reprimand afterwards dulled your mood.

you weren’t a big fan of bullies, especially when they targeted your friends. for some reason you obtained a boost of confidence and a need to protect your own friends from such people yet you couldn’t defend yourself on your best day.

the trio of you sat, eating your lunches, you were inhaling your favourite food much to the amusement of grover and percy. “i don’t think your food is running off y/n.” grover teased as you shoved his arm, “i know, but i’ve been waiting for so long, i didn’t eat anything this morning, i was too excited.” percy turned his head towards you, “you were excited?” you nodded, “for a museum?” you waved him off, returning to your food.

but not before nancy launched a sandwich percy’s way, you’d had enough, and so had he. the two of you got up despite grover’s protests, and somehow she ended up in the fountain, even though percy hadn’t touched her. you’d been lost in the crowd around the fountain and once you’d broken out you found percy on the ground.

“perce! percy are you okay?” you tried to shake him awake to no avail, so you did the next best thing, slapping him awake. twice should do it. his eyes opened, focusing in on you, “i’m here, i’m fine, i know you care about me.” relieved, yet annoyed you hit his shoulder before you and grover helped him up.

and when he did wake up he spoke about what he saw. on the walk to your hearing percy went into detail. and you couldn’t help but feel scared, what the hell was going on?

and the two of you stuck with the story of nancy throughout, feeling betrayed when grover went against you. your own parents were out of town and you were freshly kicked out of school, percy’s home was also your own. you prepared yourself before the two of you entered the apartment, gabe wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes.

and soon enough yourself, percy and his mother were headed for montauk. you’d left over twenty four messages for your parents but it seemed none of them had made their way through.

“so all the stories, they’re all true?” percy was fast asleep in the front seat, and the book in your hands wasn’t all that interesting. sally nodded, “i know it’s all a lot for the two of you to take in,” if percy was a demigod, then were you too? “what am i? who’s my parent then? are my parents my parents? am i adopted?” sally stopped at the intersection abruptly, turning towards you with a sad smile, “sweetheart, it doesn’t matter. your parents love you no matter what, i know it. you’ll learn everything with time, i’ll tell you more when we’re all inside okay?”

the water droplets on the window were plentiful, some big, some small, some new and others falling. the storm outside was looming, loud and dark, but it seemed to bring you comfort in all honesty, you loved the rain. and as you sat and drove all you could think of was your future, and what it had in store for you.

you’d been in the kitchen whilst listening into sally explain to percy about his parentage, the gods and goddesses. you were sure if you heard anymore you’d pass out. percy’s outburst led you back to them.

“well i’m not a baby! i know there’s no such thing as monsters, i know there’s no such thing as gods and i know for certain that there’s no such thing as demigods.” the hand on percy’s shoulder brought him back down, “percy, why would your mother lie to you? no one on this earth loves you more than her, i think we should listen.” his face was riddled with confusion, “you’re telling me you believe this crap?”

before the conversation could get heated, grover’s appearance interrupted. “what the hell are you doing here? how did you get here?” grover sighed, as much as he wanted to explain he needed you all to get moving, “i promise i’ll explain everything but somethings coming,” percy and yourself took a step back, “grover.”

“and i know that sounds really bad,”

“grover?” he brushed the two of you off, continuing to ramble at sally.

“but the important thing is not to panic—”

“i’m not panicking.” sally rested her hands on her hip, “great! i’m also definitely not panicking. i feel very good about how we’re doing so far—” you closed your eyes, maybe when you opened them it’d go away. “grover!” you and percy shouted out at the same time, “what?”

you pointed towards his legs as percy spoke up, “why is there half a goat in your pants?” his legs were bare, mist not around.

as if the day couldn’t have gotten any crazier or exhausting for you and percy grover all of a sudden showed up and you were all on the move. sally was punching the accelerator, whilst grover continued to explain, “what are you?” grover turned to face you, “i’m a satyr. and i’m your protector. i was assigned to you but we didn’t know that y/n was special like you, so i guess i’m sort of protecting you both.”

“you’re my protector? and what y/n doesn’t get one?” you laughed, “no offence but i think i’m alright perce. if you’re our protector than shouldnt you have protected us at school? against nancy?”

“i protect you against actual evil,” you snorted, “the only evil is nancy’s personality, that should count.” percy managed a smile at your words. “if i hadn’t gotten you kicked out of school, you’d have never survived the night. and what’s chasing us now would have found you there easily.” it was like a truckload of information all at once, you felt like you were in a movie.

“the mist. it’s the veil that hides the magical world from the human world. my legs. dodds’ wings. even dodds’ absence, but it isn’t supposed to hide things from me. that never happens. something powerful is at work here. the sooner we get you two to camp, the better off you’re… you told them about camp, right?” grover looked towards sally for an answer as you moved his hand away from your face. grover tended to move them around when talking about something he was passionate about.

“not yet, no.” sally shook her head as you smiled, “you’re early remember?”

“camp is a sanctuary for half-bloods.” great now you were going to a summer camp. the more he divulged the more you began to understand. you’d always been told you were special, percy especially. you should’ve known you were meant for more. demi gods were never safe, that was obvious by the huge monster behind the car.

“is that the minotaur?”

“once the attacks start, they never let up. okay? dodds was just the beginning.” you twisted your body to get another look at it, “okay well if we’re being chased than maybe less talking and more runnin, driving, whatever just go!” you shouted out, your heart was ramming against your chest, your hands felt warm and jittery. you needed to move, to do something, you hated just sitting and relying on a car. you zoned out in time for percy’s regular jokes.

“he is still wearing underpants.” you giggled at him, “i wonder what size.”

“the mythomagic cards were training. everything has been training for what’s still ahead of you, and i know wherever percy goes, you go.” you rolled your eyes, “i always hated those stupid cards, guess i should’ve played huh?” percy cocked his head, “what’s ahead of me? of us?”

“kids,” you all turned to sally, her knuckles were turning pale white, an unrelenting grip on the wheel, “hold on, please.” you clutched on to the seatbelt and seats as you all were jolted around, dodging a car and attempting to evade the minotaur, which wasn’t exactly all that easy as he rammed into the car, horns penetrating sallys window.

she fought for control, her foot pressing down on the accelerator before you all ended up crashing.

the ground was wet and mushy, you felt dirt gather underneath your fingertips as you crawled out of the car. you could see sally helping percy out as grover made his way out. your leg was aching, a shard of glass caused a gash in your thigh and dragging it along the floor hurt like a bitch, “ah, shit!” you rolled over onto your back.

percy’s eyes darted towards you the second you cried out, “y/n!” he dashed towards you, sally and grover in tow. “are you okay? what happened? where does it hurt?” his eyes were frantic and his hands unsure, the sight of you hurt was more than enough to worry him. “i’m fine, i just, if we take the shard out and tie something around then it’ll stop the bleeding right?”

percy shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, hoping it would clear it out, the whole situation was already stressful but his best friend injured? an absolute nightmare. “i— i don’t know! mom! what do we do?” he shouted as sally grabbed your jumper from inside, “move aside percy, let me help.” he didn’t want to, percy wanted to stay right by your side, but he knew she could help you where he couldn’t.

the make shift tourniquet did the job thankfully, but you were in and out from the loss of blood, the last thing you recall was sally jackson in the hands of the minotaur, and suddenly, gone.

your voice was stuck, trapped in your throat. your eyes stung immensely, waterline flooded. she was family to you, one of the sweetest people, supportive. and just like that, erased, just dust. your eyes searched your surroundings for percy, to see him, to help him, but all you could view was darkness as it took you far away.

the last thing you’d heard was grover yelling out for the two of you, “stay awake! please!” his pleads were unmet, as you were whisked away to a world of sleep.

the light was harsh on your eyes having just woken up, at least your bed was comfortable. but you still had no clue where you were. your body was stiff, needing to move around. as you shuffled to sit a voice called out for you.

“y/n!” you turned to see percy peering through the window, a large smile on his face as he promptly ran inside to you. “percy.” his arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing hardly. “you’re killing me here.” you croaked out as he let go, taking a step back.

“i’m sorry. do you need something? are you hungry?”

“that i am, where are we?”

“camp half-blood, welcome y/n l/n.” an older boy spoke up from the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “luke.” percy recognised the boy, which made you feel at ease, “hi luke.” he smiled, “hey, how are you feeling?” you sighed lifting the blanket up and resting your feet on the floor, attempting to rise from the bed. “like i need to walk a bunch, is there food around?”

luke nodded his head before signalling you to follow, “is your leg okay?” the pain had lessened since the initial hit but it was still sore, “i think i’ll be okay, might have a limp. i can be a zombie for halloween maybe.” percy was glad you were making jokes, seemingly back to normal.

the camp was everything you could have dreamed of. straight out of the pages of a book or out of a movie, amazing scenery, nice enough people, and insane skills amongst them. you had no clue how you’d fit in. you’d settled into hermes’ cabin, your bag and bed next to percy’s.

“so, how long have you been awake?” you were pushing down on your mattress with your hands, testing the springs. the bed wasn’t as soft as you’d have liked it to be but you couldn’t exactly buy a new one.

“let’s go outside and talk.” percy muttered, leading the way. you were sat down behind the cabin now, percy slowly sliding down the wall to be next to you.

“i only woke up a few minutes before you, i saw chiron he’s a—something. and i met the camp director mr d, dionysus by the way. they wouldn’t let me go back into the infirmary until we finished talking.”

“why’d you want to come back so quickly?”

“your bracelet was missing, i didn’t know where it was so i was freaking out. anyways i saw the camp a little, and i came back for it and you were awake. i got, i got scared before.” percy couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, he felt nervous admitting it, his worry for you. your smile was wide as you recalled his own worry for the bracelet you’d made him.

“what? why?” he exhaled, his hands playing with his shirt, “i— i thought you wouldn’t wake up maybe.” you grabbed his hand, “i’m right here, there’s nothing to worry about perce. how are you feeling?” your voice was barely above a whisper, filled with sympathy and sorrow, you still hadn’t spoken about his mother.

“don’t.” he shook his head whilst averting his gaze, staring down at his hands. “don’t what? i’m not going to force you to talk about i promise, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” percy closed his eyes, “i can’t just,” percy breathed in, working up the courage to meet your eye, he hated the pity on your face, “just forget it, her.” you rested your hand on his neck, bringing him in, “no one’s asking you to percy, if there’s anything you need from me, or if you just want to sit and die of diabetes with every blue food in the world, i’ll be right there.”

“thank you.” his voice came out muffled against your shoulder. you tried your best to comfort him with a hand in his hair, you pulled him back to take a look at him. his eyes were glossy, a few tears had fallen free. using your sleeve you wiped them away, “now what demigod has the time for tears, percy jackson?”

you loved percy best like this, with a grin plastered on his face.

“yknow what we could use?” percy pulled you up from the ground, before you walked back to the cabin. “and what exactly is that m’lady?” you rolled your eyes, “first of all i despise your british accent and second, a nap!”

percy was sweating profusely, his nightmare having jolted him up from his bed. his jittery movements concerned you, book in your hands forgotten as you surged forwards, “perce? you okay?” his eyes were blown and chest heaving, but at the sight of you he relaxed, “yeah, yeah i’m fine.”

“you okay?” luke stood infront of the two of you, arms crossed, “super.” percy snipped back as you swatted his arm, “be nice.” your voice was firm, and you knew how percy was, you’d say sarcasm was probably his middle name if you hadn’t already known it.

“we all have them, you know.” luke clicked his tongue, taking a step closer. “intense, recurring nightmares. that’s normal here.” his words were surprising to you, knowing that yourself and percy rarely fit in.

“and the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. demigods just process reality differently, than humans do. for the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.” you let out a sigh, whether of relief or sadness you didn’t know. did you want to fit in? be the same as everyone else? nothing special?

“so are you also… do you not know who your—“ lukes lips pressed into a thin line, knowing what percy insinuated, “am i… unclaimed?” the two of you nodded in unison, “no, hermes is my father. that doesn’t matter, we’re all on the same team here.”

percy’s agitation was obvious, as well as reasonable and it was exactly how you felt. “each kid is brought here and made to wait around until their parent decides to pick up the phone? pick up— whatever. how is that fair?“ percy nodded along, “she’s right, why is that okay? why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?” you did feel bad for luke, you felt as if the two of you were bombarding him with questions and expecting him to hold all of life’s answers.

“spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you’ll drive yourself crazy. sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

percy’s interest piqued, “and what’s that?”

“glory.”

you’d spent hours trying different things. percy almost hit a bunch of campers with an arrow, whilst you’d hit the bullseye, much to your elation. the both of you were absolutely horrendous at welding, which you figured. the only thing that had stuck with you through out the day was the idea of offerings. and you knew percy was thinking the same thing.

the smell of fire invaded your senses as percy threw in the thing that meant most, whilst you sat by him and wondered if it would actually work, would she be able to hear you? you’d zoned out for a bit, feeling as if you were intruding whilst he talked.

“i hope you’re sitting down, but… i think… i’ve made some friends here. like, real friends. y/n and i, we might actually fit in for once.” you beamed at the thought, yet not wanting to interrupt so you settled for nudging his shoulder to which he smiled at you, “i think they might really like me. imagine that. he isn’t here. my father, he just… didn’t show. i mean, ignoring me is one thing, but he doesn’t get to ignore you. i’m gonna make him come down here. i’m gonna make him see me, i’m gonna make him see us both.” and with that he blew out the fire, a small flicker of hope ignited inside.

“we’re going to get her back percy, i swear.”

and that was the end of your pleasant night, the reign of terror, clarisse and others were infront of your cabin. and that’s where your night went haywire.

you and percy were thrown to the floor roughly, landing on your bad thigh caused you to shout in pain. “aw, does someone have a scratch? where’d you get it from? the minotaur?” the girl was blonde, and you had no clue who she was but her mocking tone made you want to punch her in the face.

“do you think you’re special? better than everyone else?”

“no.”

“tell me you made it all up about the minotaur, and I’ll let you go. maybe to impress your friend here? you practically have heart eyes when you look at her.” clarisse approached you, “don’t touch her!” percy shouted as clarisse chuckled, “why not? you gonna stop me?”

“he didn’t make anything up.” you responded to her question since percy hadn’t, with her harsh glare you prayed for the earth to swallow you whole. “she’s right, i didn’t make anything up.” clarisse was hoping for truthfulness from percy, she couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or happy, she could teach him a lesson.

“some kids gotta learn the hard way.” the two other girls charged towards percy before abruptly walking around him, dragging you up by the elbows. “hey! if you’re mad at me then hurt me! don’t touch her! let her go!” clarisse held percy back as the girls forced you to your knees, “guys i appreciate the sentiment but i’m not all that thirsty.” please tell me this wasn’t used recently.

percy thrashed around in her grip, desperate to save you, “you really like her don’t you? not a single ounce of fight in you when it’s your ass on the line but for her,” his chest heaved, and his hands clenched, he wasn’t commonly violent, but a beat down on clarisse seemed amazing right about now.

“get off her! y/n!” your eyes were clenched shut in an attempt to prepare yourself, holding your breath, yet nothing happened. when you peeled your eyes open you were met with an empty toilet bowl.

“please tell me you guys didn’t drink it yourselves.” if it wasn’t already an indication of her irritation based on the scowl on her face the second-grade ‘you stole my swing’ type of pull at your hair dragged you back to younger self. but what really awakened you were the three tentacle like forms of water, “what the hell?” the harsh collision of your back on the wall saved you from the attack. the girls all staggered around, careful of the water before scurrying out.

percy rushed over to you, hands cradling your face, “are you okay? did they hurt you? you didn’t touch the water did you?” you raised your hand to cut off percy’s rambling, “i’m fine, but what the hell was that?” he shook his head, “not a single idea in my head.” percy slumped opposite of you, “there’s not much in your head either way.” percy placed his hand on his heart, feigning shock and hurt, “how dare you!” your giggles rejuvenated percy, your smile was all he needed to be happy again.

the figure of someone at the door caused you to shoot up, careful of the water, you saw annabeth come into view. crap.

“we can explain.” you both held up your hands, caught at the scene of the crime and afraid of the consequences. “no, you can’t.” percy nodded in agreement, “okay,” the girls face resonated with percy, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he tried to recall how, “wait, I know you.”

annabeth shrugged her shoulders, “no, you don’t.” percy stepped forwards infront of you, directly inline with her, “yeah, but you were there. that night in the infirmary.” you couldn’t recall seeing her there when you woke up, “i don’t think she was, i don’t remember seeing you.” anabeth peered down at her shoes before returning to the conversation.

“yes. i’m annabeth.” she introduced herself, you’d heard of her a bit from other campers, daughter of athena.

“are you stalking us, annabeth?”

“yes.” her bluntness was something you didn’t expect. “okay. why?” you inquired further, “well, i’ve been waiting to see if something like this would happen. “so i’d know if you can help me.”

“you’ve been waiting for me to get my head in a toilet and for percy to be manhandled? well, girlhandled.” percy was confused, “help you do what?”

“win capture the flag.”

the helmets weren’t exactly the most comfortable but you figured keeping your brain in your skull was more crucial.

you walked next to luke with percy on the left of him, “you’re gonna love this. campwide mock warfare, all glory to the victors. annabeth’s the head counselor of the athena cabin. she’s led our team to three straight wins. been a long time since anyone’s won a fourth.”

“she was there in the bathroom, she said she’d been waiting for it to happen.”

“annabeth sees the world differently. always six steps ahead of everyone else. you should cut her a break.” you scoffed, “cut her a break for what? her life seems perfectly fine.” luke shook his head, “not everything’s as it seems y/n.”

“whose side are you on, anyway?”

luke stopped and turned towards percy, “oh, hers, always. she’s my little sister. maybe I should back up.” you nodded, “i think we should sit down if we’re going to be getting an origin story here.”

luke’s entire story of how he and annabeth got to camp made you regret your earlier comments of an easy life. she’d been fighting since she was a child, it’s all she’s known. “she’s been watching us since we got here. why?”

“annabeth is the strongest warrior in camp, the only way left to prove herself is to go on a quest.”

“and what does this have to do with us?”

“chiron’s been promising her for years. one day, a demigod would arrive who was fated to go on a quest that even chiron couldn’t prevent. and when that happened, she could join it. every new arrival, or, arrivals in your case, annabeth watches, looking for a sign they’re the one. usually, she gives up after a day or two, but she’s still watching you two.”

“can you ask her to knock it off?” as much as you hated to admit it, she did kind of freak you out, “i agree, we’re not going on some magical quest any time soon.”

“yeah, sure. but you never know, what if she’s right?” the conch shell blowing in the distance alerted you all.

it was battle time.

as you walked behind luke you couldn’t help your nervousness, which percy always noticed. “hey,” his voice was soft and reassuring, a hand on your shoulder, “we’re gonna be fine, it’s just a friendly game. we’ve won three times and we’re going to get a fourth since they have us brilliant additions of course.” percy literally bowed in front of you as if being applauded for a performance as you chuckled, “oh please, you cant win with idiocy percy.”

“that is extremely offensive! how many times have i beaten you in monopoly?”

“ohh, you want to talk about monopoly mr bank robber? do you honestly think no one noticed when you randomly turn in broken change and grab even more bigger notes? or the fact that three houses does not make a hotel!” clarisse watched the two of you fool around from afar, she was going to make you pay.

the pebble you’d thrown clattered against percy’s armour, “hey! what was that for?” you groaned out loud, your head lolling back, meeting the log. “if you keep flossing i’m going to push you myself perce. you need to take this more serious—” the girls surrounded you from every angle, swords in hand as you rose from the floor, your own sword clutched tightly.

“flags that way, it’s not here.” clarisse smirked, “we know. yeah, glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.” her spear crackled as they all surged forwards, time to fight, it’s now or never.

clarisse’s scream was deafening. “so much for friendly huh?” percy shook his head, “not now! you can tell me how wrong i was when we’re out of here.” for some reason once they’d begun their attack, you’d never felt more alive. as if you were born for this, to fight. every sword and hit that came your way was met with double the force, hurling people backwards as you tried to make your way to percy’s side. one of the girls was sly, managing to corner you on the boardwalk near by.

her knee, she’s weak in the knees.

the voice echoed through your head, as if compelled you followed up on it as the girl went down almost immediately. thank you very much random voice! the sound of cheers floated through the air as you saw luke plant the flag in the ground.

4 — 0.

perhaps you’d been distracted by the people, or maybe it was percy being held by his armour courtesy of clarisse. either way you didn’t notice the girl lunging your way, not until the cold water engulfed your body.

you’d never learnt to properly swim.

percy’s footsteps drummed through the air, each step heavy and weighed down with purpose. he had to get to you, now. the second you’d hit the water he was on the ground running. it had only been about five seconds at most yet percy was already at your previous spot, diving in head first.

act now, think later.

your eyesight was blurry as the two of you resurfaced, the first thing you spotted the crowd on the shoreline, they waited with bated breath, your team cheering once the two of you were back up. “i’m so sorry, i said i would protect you but clarisse— i was so scared when i saw you get pushed, i think i froze up. i should’ve listened to you, i should’ve taken it more seriously. this is all my fault.” he was holding onto your face for dear life, afraid to let go.

percy had dived head first into the water for you, no hesitation. he put himself at risk for you. he always knew what to say and what to do. percy was your person. you’d been an idiot, why’d it take so long for you to realise what you knew deep down?

you love percy jackson. and not in a friend way, in a love way. in the best way.

your lips were pressed on his in seconds, you weren’t in a hurry, not desperate, not messy. just passionate and deep, as if you were trying to convey your feelings through it. you were simultaneously trying your hardest to remember this moment. percy’s cold hands on your cheeks, both of you sopping wet, nothing else mattered to you, until he kissed back. percy on the other hand was desperate, he’d been waiting for so long, settling for the title of best friend. he had you in his arms, he’d already lost his own mother, he wasn’t going to lose his other half.

his hair tousled, curls sticking to his face, yours dripping wet, hands on your neck as you clutched his. “what are we percy?” he grinned, “whatever we want to be.” the pair of you may have forgotten the fact that you were currently surrounded by campers, but the deafening cheers and shouts of support warmed your heart. surely a kiss didn’t elicit such a reaction? yes it did, but also the fact that a trident loomed over percy’s head.

percy jackson, son of poseidon.

the two of you walked with a literal army of people, friends, even. for once you both felt as if you belonged.

luke was unbearable, taking any chance he could to tease the two of you, “my little campers, all grown up.” he fake-cried, wiping false tears from his eyes as you poked him, “now if we can find someone then where’s your partner pal?” percy laughed, “please never say pal again.” you turned his way, scrunching your nose, “doesn’t work does it?” he shook his head as the three of you chuckled.

“but seriously, you two are made for each other, i’m happy for you.” as you reached the cabin you couldn’t help yourself as you hugged luke by surprise, “thank you. we’ll be in soon, we just have a bit to talk about.” luke made his way inside as the two of you turned to walk away but not before hearing him call out, “keep your hands to yourself percy!” percy rolled his eyes as you smiled.

the two of you sat at the boardwalk again, feet dangling off. you’d been discussing the quest, as well as the fact that it was only undertaken by three.

“so, you, me, anabeth and grover. percy i know school sucks but if you could count those names on your fingers for me please.” percy groaned as you laughed at your own joke, “i know, i know. but i figure four heads are better than three.” your legs swung back and forth as you shrugged your shoulders, “we could fold grover into a box and take him with us secretly.” percy suggested.

“yeah, maybe.” your voice was quieter than before, eliciting concern from percy, “hey? you okay?” you were fidgeting again, this time with the black bracelet you’d made for him. he met your eyes with a smile as he lifted your head by the chin.

“i promise, i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” and for once you could feel how serious he was, “thank you perce, you— have been apart of my life since i was little. i don’t think there’s a single person i trust more on this planet than you. i’m sorry, for everything you’ve gone through. i swear, we’re going to make it out of this. we’re going to find your mother, we’re going to find the lighting bolt, and everything can return to normal. well, besides the fact that we’re all demigods and all.” the laughter was bittersweet, a moment of peace before you embarked on the quest.

“you’re beautiful you know that?” he whispered to you, as if he was afraid for others to hear. you grinned at his words, leaning in towards him as he followed, “i know, you make it a point to tell me at least once a day. but you, percy, are as gorgeous as the calm seas.”

you wiggled your finger in his face as he swatted it away, “if i had known my girlfriend was a poet i would’ve had every word of yours written down.” you felt fuzzy, warm. with percy you felt a million ways, all of them good.

as cheesy as he was you loved him.

“look at us, exploring a whole new world.”

“did you just aladdin me?”

“yup, do you think they have a flying carpet here?”

“why so zeus can strike it down when he’s angry? i feel like the gods are all little kids throwing temper tantrums.” percy shushed you, “they might be listening.” he joked as you punched him.

“i hope they are. so they know, we’re coming for them.”

“holy shit that was a badass line.”

“perce?”

“yeah?”

“you’re ruining it.”

#pjo x reader #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic

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ew-selfish-art · 7 months

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Dp x Dc AU: That one episode of teen titans where they all dress up as Robin + Tim being a gremlin about his legacy + Danny look alike/twin AU.

So there is that episode of Teen Titans where Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven all dress as Robin (Dick) while he's out and it's admitted that the outfit makes them feel cool. Imagine a young Tim hearing that story mentioned in passing by Dick while trying to manage what becomes Young Just-us. And then when Damain becomes Robin?? Gremlin mode activated.

Tim hosts regular 'Robin' Parties, where the idea is that you come in Robin colors, get a mask at the door and everyone gets to basically hang out in civilian clothes without the identity crises for those just getting started. "age appropriate" drinks, games, and good music are all staples. The parties become more frequent once Damian becomes Robin and he pointedly doesn't attend Tim's parties which... Neither of them are really happy about. Family is complicated, but finally, after a few years of cooling off, it's decided that Robin will actually host this years Robin party.

Meaning Tim shows up in casual clothes (MIT sweatshirt) and a mask, and Damian is actually dressed as Robin when the party is starting to get into the swing of things. The point of it is to make sure all the young heroes get to come and start to befriend each other, so there are a few people who show up and have to actually say that they're *insert alias* and this is met with basically "Dope, nice to meet you Robin" etc.

Insert Danny Twin AU (Or just look-alike fuckery) (for either brother but my brain is on Tim Twin au mode).

Danny decides to show up as his human self, grabs a mask at the door before coming in, and is slowly integrating himself into a conversation when someone grabs his arm- "Hey Red your brother is fighting with a newbie about meat products again-"

And Danny doesn't have a brother but my god has he heard this fight too many times with Sam and Tucker- He's going in and he's defusing this situation because he cannot handle the thought of this argument taking over his new friend group. He deals with it enough, okay?

Robin (like, the real one) looks at him curiously while Danny is talking down the other hero Robin (insert here), and the whole room notices when Robin doesn't take the opportunity to dismiss or belittle his older brother (Lmao because its danny). Damian cannot place his unease about Drake (again, Danny, who is not hiding his identity beyond a mask), and simply decides that this isn't worth the effort.

The party moves on but now instead of everyone calling themselves Robin, Danny is distinctly being called Red. It confuses him a bit, he didn't even know Red Robin was going to be at this party (he hasn't met the guy and doesn't know the lore), but he rolls with it because he's made fast friends with Robin (Bart), Robin (Cassie) and Robin (JON). The kid was full little bro energy and it made Danny laugh, he was so surprised when the real Robin joined them and fell into easy conversation with Robin (Jon).

Danny is playing games with a few others when someone goes to grab a broom to clean up- Turns out Red Robin and his boyfriend Kon had been making out in the closet for most of the party- and the whole room looks at Danny like he's tried to trick them. Tim is at first uneasy that so many people mistook him, but once he's in front of his dupe, puzzle pieces start to move around in his head.

"And who are you again, Robin?" Tim asks carefully, though he suspects he has his answer.

"Uh, Phantom, but you know, a lot of people were calling me Red tonight and I didn't get why until just now." Danny laughs nervously.

"Yeah I bet- Find me monday and we can see about a geneology test."

"That leaves us the whole weekend, to do what exactly? Fuck with people by pulling a parent trap style swap?"

"Nature vs. nuture and all but I don't know how you could be anything but my brother with a question like that." Tim grins and they get to scheming.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #tim drake #danny and tim are twins au #robin party au #dear god someone please write this fic for me #its been rattling around in my brain for ages

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athanza · 1 month

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Starlett - Part 3

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Final part

2296

Suddenly Irene looked unsteady and she held a hand to the wound on her side.

"Fancy seein' you here." She chuckled painfully.

"I know, I haven't changed a bit."

She laughed but immediately regretted it, groaning in pain.

"You uh," she said, blood dripping down her leg. "you wouldn't happen to have a stimpak on you would ya? I'm uh...I'm not feelin' too hot."

He looked her over, the gash was deep, she'd need more than one stimpak. "Unfortunately I don't think I do."

Suddenly her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed.

"Whoa." He said, catching her before she hit the ground.

Irene woke up hours later, lying on her back in what looked like a small cave, her head resting on a saddle bag.

She didn't look any different than she did before the war, albeit a little dishevelled, Cooper figured that however Moldaver survived must've been how she did.

"Coop." Irene croaked.

He looked up from cleaning his revolver and saw her try to move.

"Easy there Starlett, you're pretty banged up."

She winced in pain again and lay back down. "I thought you were dead." She said, weak from the blood loss.

"I should be. So should you."

"Fate had other plans I guess."

Cooper scoffed quietly. She didn't press it, even though she wanted to know if Janey made it.

"You're gonna need some proper medical attention." He said. "Ain't much out here though."

"Eh, it's just a scratch." She joked, swallowing a mouth-full of blood.

Cooper got up and handed her a flask of water, half empty. She took a few sips and handed it back.

"I'm lookin' for Lee, you know where I can find 'er?

"I've been looking for her myself, I'm afraid I can't help you there, I've found nothing but dead ends. The bitch is hard to find even in a fucking desert."

He smiled a little at the very different tone coming out of her mouth than he remembered; she must've been in the wasteland for a little while, at least.

"I'm glad I found you cowboy. You're about the only fond memory I've got left. I needed that right about now."

"I'm not the man you remember."

"Doesn't matter. You've reminded me of something I haven't seen in years."

"And what's that?"

"Kindness."

2077

The doorbell rang and Cooper opened it to find Irene looking remarkably understated compared to her shows, but she still had that aire of grace that she always carried with her no matter where she was.

"Come on in." He smiled, stepping aside for her.

"I can't thank you enough for letting me stay, I know its a lot of ask of someone you just met."

"It's the least I can do."

He closed the door and took her suitcase for her.

Janey appeared with Roosevelt, having been playing in the backyard and Cooper gestured to her.

"Irene, this is my daughter Janey. Janey this is Irene, the friend from work I was telling you about."

"Irene Taylor!?" She said, her eyes sparkling. "I've seen you on TV! Your voice is sooo beautiful! You definitely should have won the award on last month's show."

Irene and Cooper both laughed.

"Looks like you have a fan."

"That's very kind of you." Irene smiled sweetly.

"Janey, why don't you watch some cartoons while I show Irene to her room?"

"Ok." She beamed and sat down with Roosevelt in front of the TV.

Irene followed Cooper to the back of the house where the guest room was and looked at all the family photos as they walked through. Wedding photos, Janey's baby photos, a puppy photo of Roosevelt. When they finally reached the room she felt even more uncomfortable.

"This is you." He said, placing her suitcase on the bed.

"I'm so sorry to put you in this position Mr. Howard, I do appreciate it very much. I didn't know who else to come to."

"Don't worry about it." He smiled warmly. "I'm just glad you decided to leave."

"So am I. You made me realise the cause wasn't worth the abuse, no matter how much I told myself it was. Lee won't be happy but it'll be worth it in the end."

"I'm sure it will."

She smiled softly at him. "I'll let you get back to your daughter. You'll barely know I'm here."

"Nonsense," he said. "You're joining us for dinner, plus I'm sure Janey would love to spend some time with you."

She got choked up a bit at that. Everything she had done since getting into show business had been for other people, someone doing something like this for her was something special.

"Thank you Mr. Howard."

"Cooper." He replied.

2296

Irene lay sleeping and Cooper sat wondering what to do with her.

He couldn't spare any resources, and he didn't need stimpaks, so he had none. Could he carry her to Filly and get her to a doctor? Sure, but that was in the opposite direction of where he was headed, where they were both headed.

It would be more humane to shoot her now to save her the pain, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and it angered him.

"Fuck." He said, getting to his feet and picking up his gun, walking out of the cave in search of supplies.

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sardonic-the-writer · 3 months

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𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: fighting, brief mentions of injuries & alcohol. murdoc is a warning in himself to be frank

↳ song: rock the house—gorillaz

↳ notes: headcanons about murdoc & you. made to be platonic/a self insert type fic, but could be romantic too. this overall just stemmed from my infatuation and hatred for his green ass

nasterlist | commissions | carrd

• Murdoc is so self-absorbed. It's honestly beyond you how he hasn't floated away into the sun with how inflated his ego's gotten

• It doesn't help that he's regarded as the sole reason for bringing together one of the best bands ever recorded—something that he holds over the entire bands head when he feels like being an asshole

• With that giant persona of his inevitably there comes jealousy. The musician gets unreasonably grumpy if someone, especially you, is ever more excited to see a collaborator over for a recording session instead of him of all people

• "You were just gawking at 'em the entire time like an idiot! Wha', never seen a bloody live recording before?" Murdocs accent clipped his words as his gravely voice spit fire at you one afternoon. You just laughed at his annoyance, not even bothered by his attitude after years of putting up with it

• "Murdoc, it's De La Soul. Of course I'm going to be excited. It's ten times better than waking up to you rummaging around in the fridge with nothing but a thong on."

• "Get fucked you little twat." He barked, stomping off and ending the little spat. You didn't see him the rest of the day, no doubt off brooding in his Winnebago. It didn't bother you. More quiet time to hang out with Noodle for you!

• More than often, the two of you have been recorded in separate interviews talking about the other. Mostly just talking shit

• "So, what's this we've all been hearing about a certain bassist getting in a car accident?" A random reporter asked you one day from over their horn rimmed glasses. 2D, who was currently the only other person besides you that had been able to make it to the questioning, scratched his head absent-mindedly as you cackled in glee

• "Yeah yeah. I ran over Muds with my car one day. Just knocked his sorry ass right over. Pow! He recovered fine, dont worry, but the moment he did, I had to run for my life." You managed to get out through laughter. "Still have no idea how those fucking tabloids got ahold of that story."

• "Wasn't it an accident f'ough? I remember you sayin that." 2D tilted his head with a slight lisp

• You just grinned toothily and said nothing

• "It. It was an accident. Right?" He asked again, this time with more nerves

• The interview was cut off shortly after that

• On the topic of cars, Murdoc's own set of wheels was probably his only pride an joy apart from his bass. And ironically, the van was the bane of the rest of the bands existence

• The amount of times you had to bang on the Winnebago's dented door to tell him to shut up— the smell of cigarettes, sex, and too many air fresheners leaking from the cracks —should be a crime

• And each time without fail, you were always met with a shirtless Murdoc; either inviting you in for his version of a night of fun or just plain flipping you off

• You always found the latter easier to deal with

• Russel has always been the medium for any serious fights you and Murdoc would have. You both fight a lot, sure, but normally over small things like who should run out to get more booze or tune up band equipment. It was only when things got really heated that the drummer would step in

• Nine times out of ten, that just meant he'd pick you up with one arm and place you in a separate room until the two of you could stand to be around each other. It was always you he did that to, too, since the one time he'd tried that on Murdoc, Russel narrowly avoided a black eye and a week's docked pay

• It really was easy to forget that technically Murdoc is your boss. With how much shit he gives out, and vise versa from all of you, it really just felt like he was an annoying roommate. An annoying, rich, and vibrant green roomate

• At the end of the day, though, none of you really hated him. Well, the jury was still out on 2D, but you had a feeling the past few years the singer had been trying to pick himself back up

• Murdoc, however much of a prick he is, is still a key part in the band. Without him, some of the best song you'd all produced would have never happened, and some of your best drinking memories would have never happened. Hell, he even did a pretty good job raising Noodle. With plenty of help from everyone else, of course

• So no matter how many inanimate objects you all chucked at each other's head, at the end of the day you'd never trade him for another bass player

• "You lot getting soft on me now?" He grinned sharply at you, licking the outside of his teeth as you pretended to vomit at the mere thought of being nice to him

• "I'd rather die and be reincarnated as a cockroach." You grimaced dramatically. But the both of you were smiling at each other, breaking up the conversation with playful punches

#gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #gorillaz x you #gorillaz x y/n #murdoc niccals #murdoc x reader #murdoc x you #murdoc x y/n #2d gorillaz #noodle #russel hobbs #x reader #headcanons

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dearbraus · 1 month

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Good Luck, Babe ! - Chapter 1: You'll Need It.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, sfw, reader has hair that can be run through, reader is a teacher, reader is a slight author self insert, first meetings and a not so cute meet cute. ⊹ Run time. 4.2k ⊹ Note. This has been marinating in my brain for a while! So I decided to bite the bullet and write it, enjoy :3

❝It's your first day on the job, teaching at the overly prestigious hero school, U.A Academy, what could go wrong? Apparently a lot.❞

masterlist || next part

September's early morning chill was a bitter reminder that summer would soon come to an end. An unwelcome reminder that with summer gone so too would the precious tendrils of young adulthood. It was a frightening truth. Though you’d been one of the lucky ones. Employed only six months after graduating from university, with a fairly cushy gig that most could only dream of. The pay was good, you had an ample amount of sick days and vacation days. It was far more than you’d been expecting for a glorified student teaching position.

Still, the prospect of embarking on a new journey without the support of family and friends felt like too much for you to bear. Your stomach twisted itself into knots that refused to be undone no matter how many little reassurances you chanted to yourself. On the brink of thinking yourself sick, you forced your gaze upwards to the campus ahead. It was the stuff of legends, only something you could have dreamed of as a teenager.

The U.A High gates were an imposing sight to behold, far more akin to that of a fortress wall than your run of the mill boarding school. A twinge of pain shoots through your neck when you crane your head to drink in every last bit before you brave the next big adventure– actually going inside the building. Sweat gathers within the palm of your hands, you reflexively drag them down the length of your shirt, hardly flinching under the scrutinous stares of the passing students who need no invitation to head back onto campus after a weekend away. Your nerves fail to scatter the longer you peer upward but your eyes begin to burn as the sun shifts from behind the building.

“No big deal, this is no big deal,” you mutter beneath your breath, “This is just the start of your career, it’s not like failure is going to make or break it.”

You blanch for a moment, your mouth running dry.

Failure could ruin your career, it wasn’t everyday that the ministry of education hand selected educators to work with a school as prestigious as U.A. Rarely, had they taken interest in newly graduates with too many opinions like yourself. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to prove that all your hours spent researching pedagogy, writing papers on the merits of student-led learning, and focusing your dissertation on why hero courses were intrinsically detrimental to their social and emotional development, weren’t wasted because you couldn’t hack it in the classroom. Smoothing out the rumpled fabric of your dress shirt, you fought the urge to nervously swipe your sweaty hands against cotton once more.

“There’s nothing to worry about, today is going to be a great day!”

Your voice carries farther than you intend for it too, it catches the attention of two students who loiter nearby. They cast you a perturbed glance before shuffling toward the school. You offer them a toothy grin in response, hoping it’d disguise your nerves and give those kids the impression that you belonged here. It was laughable. You belonged at U.A even less than the countless number of journalists who milled about in search of an exclusive story. That lot hardly gives you a once over, as if they could smell the mediocrity wafting off of you. Your quirk wasn’t very interesting and you hoped you looked too old to be a student. So, there was no need for anyone to chase after your coat tails when you finally pried your feet from the cement, and walked past the school gates.

The sidewalk feels as though it’s fused to the soles of your oxfords, your legs like lead as you attempt to shuffle forward. You're rendered still by the nerves that eat away at your belly even as the clock tick closer and closer to eight. Sucking in a deep breath, you force yourself to step forward though the pace is still painstakingly slow. You regret not shaking out your nerves before you arrived at the school. Tension gathered in your joints and painfully fused your limbs together. You couldn’t rid yourself of the stress that clung to you not matter how many deep breaths you sucked down.

The main building possessed the same grandeur as the gate. Its front doors are ornate, with gold lettering detailing which door was designated for each year. You quickly yank open the door with the large letter one atop it, hoping you’d made the right choice. The email you received for this position stated you would be working with a first year class so, this seemed like the most logical choice by far.

If it wasn’t, you’d fake it ‘til you made it.

You remember a professor of yours telling you that confidence was key. Nothing could go wrong if you looked like you knew what you were doing, others would trust that you did. If you looked like you belonged, no one would question why you had a seat at the table. Holding your head up high, you walked towards the administration office, thanking whatever cosmic force that despite all its quirks, the ground floor layout was the same as most high schools in the area. The principal, a small marsupial looking man, Nezu pops his head out from the office before you’ve finished rounding the corner. The scar that cuts into his short white fur and left eye was slightly disconcerting, somehow more so than a talking animal.

Based on your googling during your commute, he’d once been an ordinary animal that developed a quirk– truly one of a kind, sentience and an IQ that surely surpassed your own was just the surface level of what Nezu had been blessed with. Though, there was little information detailing how and why he was given the position of principal. That struck a chord of concern. You wondered how much empathy he possessed, if he related to his students, and how he went about human affairs, even when they were personal in nature.

“There you are!”

Nezu waves you over with a paw.

“I was starting to worry you weren’t going to show!” He exclaims with a laugh, “Didn’t happen to get lost, didja?”

With as much confidence as you could muster, you shake your head, “No! No, of course not,” you mutter with a wave of your hand, “I was just taking a quick tour and didn’t realise how much time had passed!”

Nezu nods sagely as if there was some unspoken wisdom to what you said, “Oh, good! So I take it you’ve unloaded your things at the dormitory then, how proactive!”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow?”

“As of this year, U.A High is a boarding school as I’m sure you may know,” Nezu explains with a flourish, “As such, all educators must reside on campus, including temporary staff such as yourself.”

“Oh, right, yes, I was actually planning to do that after classes today!”

You chuckle unconvincingly, offering an awkward smile. Well, that solved your problem of where you’d go after your lease was up in two weeks. Still, the pressure of throwing yourself completely into this job weighed heavily upon your shoulders. You were still unconvinced that this was truly happening. Even if you did everything perfectly, there was still a chance the teachers here wouldn’t take too kindly to you bulldozing years of lesson planning all because parents, and the ministry of education were starting to listen to people like you. You didn’t want to believe that all heroes were as egoist as the media painted them out to be, but the thought still made your hands shake with anxiety every time you imagined what this new job would entail.

The smile Nezu offers only unsettles you further, something about seeing an animal's face contort like a humans, “Very well, come along now classes are starting shortly.”

He presses an ID card into your hands, a black lanyard dangles from it. Your smiling face peers up at you. The photo’s been swiped from your university's website, along with the other information– including your new job title– since you don’t recall submitting your picture to them. Slipping it into the front pocket of your pants, you follow Nezu through the halls. Your shoes click against the blue tile flooring. You’d been expecting scuffed linoleum but the tiles were smooth and recently buffed if your reflection was any indicator. The sound soothed your frayed nerves, and almost allowed you to forget how out of your depth you were. Almost.

The grandiose scale of the environment you found yourself surrounded by was intimidating. Everything at this school was large, given how massive Cementoss and Ectoplasm seemed on your tiny phone screen during the sports festival, the building must have been made to accommodate those of all sizes. Even the door to class 1-A made you feel dwarfish in comparison. It stood a good two feet over the top of your head, made of fine maple wood that had been painted brown and red. 1-A was printed in the negative space, denoting which class this room belonged to. You’d never have to worry about entering the wrong classroom, that soothed the butterflies in your belly.

Dragging your hands down the front of your shirt, you smoothed out the invisible wrinkles you swore were pressed into the fabric, “Deep breath in,” you whispered to yourself, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, “Deep breath out, you got this!”

Using the window pane of the door, you raked your fingers through your hair. Cursing to yourself when they got caught and tangled on a few strands. Pushing your hair behind your shoulders, you mechanically cranked your lips upward until a cheery smile replaced the anxious expression you wore like a second skin. Your shoulder blades slid backwards as if on cue, your spine straightening.

“Now then, go on, don't be shy,” Nezu says, nodding his head toward the classroom, “Introduce yourself to the class, tell them why you’re here, their homeroom teacher should be waiting for you inside.”

The doors hinges squeal as you struggle to open it all the way. Still, you force on a smile the way your teachers had instructed you to. Apparently, students could sniff out fear and anxiety like a bloodhound. You tried not to appear too miffed by how strenuous opening the door was, quickly stepping towards the front of the classroom. All twenty sets of eyes were glued to your frame, their conversations running to a harsh stop as you clapped your hands together.

“Good morning, class!” Your voice is chipper and perfect even just like you rehearsed in the mirror this morning, “It’s so nice to meet you all!”

The classroom was plain, devoid of any personality or signs that students had occupied the space for the better part of six months. The desk sat in four rows of five, their table tops practically sparkled beneath the sickly yellow fluorescent lighting. From here, the lack of student graffiti was evident. You supposed you could take it as a good sign. Though, following the rules and not defacing school property seemed like an entry level requirement for prospective heroes.

Principal Nezu offers your leg a pat before swiftly scuttling back out the door. There was no sign of the class’ home room teacher, even in the form of a yellow lump on the ground. Wringing your hands together, you flash the class a grin. The students stare blankly back at you in confusion. Some exchange a worried glance with one another before returning to eyeing you up.

“Are you going to be our new teacher?” A boy with unruly green hair asks. He raises his hand after he finishes speaking, a sheepish expression when he realises he spoke out of turn.

Midoriya Izuku.

You remember him from the set of student profiles you were emailed last week and the intermittent news stories he appeared in. He was a relatively good student, with only a few minor infractions here and there on his permanent record detailing unsanctioned usage of his quirk. That was out of your jurisdiction. Aside from his penchant for working himself to the point of exhaustion and his habit of breaking his bones, Izuku wouldn’t cause you much trouble within the classroom. His records from middle school told you that much.

“Ah no, actually-”

“Don’t get all excited,” a gruff voice rumbles behind you, you don’t have to turn to know it’s Aizawa, their homeroom teacher, “You lot are still stuck with me.”

A mass of loose black clothing and messy black hair begin to fill your periphery as the man steps closer to you. You hardly have a chance to greet him before he’s placed himself between you and the first row of desks. Dark circles line a pair of ebony irises that are nearly hidden by his heavily lidded eyes. The pale skin of his jaw disappears into a thin, wispy beard that Aizawa compulsively scratches at as he eyes you up. Pinned beneath his scrutinising gaze, you suddenly feel silly, like you were five years old again, caught playing dress up in your parents closet. The corduroy pants and nice dress shirt you took several hours picking out last night seemed over the top and childish.

“What are you doing in my classroom?”

“Oh!” You quickly offer your name with an apologetic smile and a bow, “I’m here on behalf of the ministry of education to audit your classroom and work alongside you for the foreseeable future.”

Aizawa looks unimpressed, but when you offer him your hand, he takes it. His skin is calloused and rough, yours, comparatively, are soft to the touch. The callouses that formed from writing seemed so insignificant to the history that marred his skin. Clearing your throat, you steel your gaze on him, smiling in hopes of covering yourself in an air of indifference.

“Did Principal Nezu not inform you that I’d be here today?” You nervously question, pulling out your brand new ID card, “He told me that you’d be expecting me.”

“Why don’t we go chat outside?” He suggests, taking your ID card to inspect. You suspect you don’t really have a choice in the matter.

You nod, ducking your head down to avoid his intense gaze.

“Start preparing for your next class,” Aizawa addresses his students, his tone even and unwavering, “Yamada sensei will be here soon for your English lessons.”

There's a mumble of agreeance that breaks out amongst the throngs of desks. You’re certain that if the walls were thinner, you’d hear far more from them once you stood outside the classroom door. Kids were nosey, you wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them pressed against the door and strained their ears to catch even the smallest morsel of information. You’d almost prefer to be chewed out in front of twenty teenagers than be left alone with the ire of a pro-hero.

“Look, I don’t know what Nezu told you but I don’t need help managing my classroom,” Aizawa says as soon as the door has clicked shut behind you, “And I certainly don’t need help from a child.”

His arms are crossed over his broad chest. Your skin prickles with insecurity as he regards you. With his hair hanging over his face, you’re unable to discern what it is that lays in the depths of his eyes. If there’s an ounce of pity or just annoyance, you’re unsure. Whatever it is, its intensity makes you squirm beneath his gaze.

“I’m not a child,” you pause, attempting to counter but you stumble a bit over your words “I have two degrees and was hand selected by the ministry of education to be here, to work alongside you.”

Straightening your shoulders, you puff out your chest. With the way Aizawa tiredly slouched, he wasn’t as intimidating as he could be. If anything, if you could imagine him to be a petulant student. It wasn’t so hard. You’d dealt with worse during your days of being a TA. Hungover frat boys were far worse than a grouchy new colleague who didn’t appreciate having their authority tested. Not that you wanted to do that. You were looking forward to working with him, even if he was resistant to change.

Aizawa hardly stifles an eye roll before he narrows his gaze, “You were just about to call me sir, see child.”

“You’re not that much older than I am,” you retorted, frowning. Of all the things you’d heard of the elusive Eraserheard, you didn’t expect him to criticise you so harshly because of your age. Your lack of experience in the classroom? Sure, fair game. But, your age meant nothing in the grand scope of things, “Even if you were, I’m still qualified for this position.”

Your face grows hot with embarrassment. Six months. That’s how long you’d been a real adult, no longer a student. Calling anyone with even an inch of authority sir or ma’am had become second nature. How quickly Aizawa had caught on, made you wonder if he was right, if you were too far out of your depth. You feel it again, the nasty little pang of self-doubt that made the new lipstick you wore feel like you’d rummaged through your mothers things rather than the understated elegance you thought it gave you.

“Still, I have far more experience than someone who's never stepped foot in a classroom,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Nezu made a mistake, and I’ll be sure to tell him myself.”

“So you don’t take naps during lessons and allow your students to do as they please?”

It’s a dirty, underhanded comment. But, you’re struggling to find any solid ground in this conversation, anything that would prove to him that you belonged in this school. Your throat feels like it might collapse in on itself as you suck in a nervous breath.

“That’s not-” Aizawa starts with a mild look of distaste.

Shaking your head, you continue on,“True? Well, Nezu listed it amongst some of your other questionable teaching practices such as threatening expulsion?”

Your hands tremble with remorse. U.A prided itself for its unique delivery of course content. They allowed teachers to do as they pleased within their classroom, even mid-semester expulsion if they saw it fit. Which Aizawa had, on multiple occasions. Apparently, he’d even expelled all twenty of his students on the first day of school a few years ago. Most of your peers dreamed of having that kind of authority in the classroom, they became starry eyed at the mere thought of being able to employ whatever pedagogical methodology they wished without having to adhere to curriculum expectation. You weren’t sure how they’d feel knowing you were expressly against such power.

“Are you trying to suggest that I’m a bad teacher?” The hurt in his voice is evident, the sincerity of it further fills the bucket of guilt that hangs off your neck.

“Not at all, just that you trained to be a hero not an educator.”

Tomorrow, or even twenty minutes from now, you’d regret reaching forward to place a hand on Aizawa’s crossed arms, “I don’t doubt that you care for those kids” the muscles in his throat tighten as he swallows and you’re keenly aware of his capture weapon sitting mere inches away from your arm, “And I’m not here to doubt you abilities, I’m just here because the ministry of education is concerned about the wellbeings of the students in the hero course.”

“They’re concerned?”

“It’s kind of hard not to be, they’re constantly in the news,” you say, sympathetic to the near constant villain attacks they had endured, “And the optics of a kidnapped student never look good no matter how it's spun, even if they’re a hero student.”

Aizawa rubs his chin with a sigh, “There’s no making this go away, is there?”

“Afraid not.”

You’re sure he feels your body shaking as you press closer. Your breath hitches.

“Besides, you’re really in no position to get rid of me,” you cringe when the words come out of your mouth but you can’t stop yourself from speaking, “Principal Nezu agreed, and if you really send me packing, it wouldn’t look too great on your end, it’d be all the more reason to question what goes on here.”

You’re right, he knows you’re right. You can tell by the way he sighs and tries to disguise it with a cough. You’re sure the way you invade his personal space doesn’t help your case or sweeten his opinion of you but it keeps you standing straight and prevents your knees from buckling beneath you.

He looks past you and down the hall, almost wistfully, “Would it really be so bad?” You ask, bouncing all on the balls of your feet, “Having me around would be a smaller workload for you to take home each night.”

The expression he wears tells you yes, it would be so bad, “You’re a civilian,” is all he says, a puff of air passing his chapped lips as he turns his gaze toward you, “If something were to happen, if there was another attack, you’d be in danger. You know that, right?”

“There are plenty of civilian students in the building, are you worried about them too?” You stupidly ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You’re sure you appear petulant, you feel petulant. You have to stop your bottom lip from jutting out in annoyance. Professionalism was still a bit of a struggle.

Your quirk wasn’t particularly flashy, but you had learned to use it for self defence as a teenager. Turns out, most didn’t enjoy being struck by lightning. They liked it even less when it came in the form of a spear— being a human sized taser had its perks. In any case, you were a nobody. No villain would take particular interest in you if their recent attacks were any indicator of their motives. They seemed to get their kicks terrorising teenagers.

“I’m worried about you,” Aizawa says with such conviction, that you’re not so surprised that he pursued hero work, “Working here, working with my class means having a target on your back. You realise this, don’t you?”

“I do.”

He clicks his tongue,“I don’t think you do,” deeply sighing, “You aren’t authorised to use your quirk even in self defence.”

“If I taught at a regular high school, I’d be expected to put myself in between my students and anyone who posed a threat without using my quirk,” you shrug your shoulders, “I’m prepared to do the same here.”

“This is different, this is serious. If you get caught up in an attack they could kill you or worse.”

Your skin crawls with an unpleasant feeling of dread. Goosebumps made your hair stand uncomfortably. What could be worse than death? You didn’t want to know. Aizawa clearly did. That’s why he didn’t find your blind acceptance endearing or brave. Just stupid.

Shaking away the nerves, you forced yourself to look him in the eyes,“The train I took this morning could have caught fire and killed me,” you say, like the thought of spontaneous combustion didn’t terrify you, as if you didn’t triple check your curling iron was unplugged each morning, “So could the raw flour in the cookie dough I ate last night.”

“You’re being far too flippant for me to take you seriously,” Aizawa doesn’t hide the roll of his eyes this time.

“Villains are dangerous, I get that,” you hope your voice didn’t sound as pathetic to him as it did to you, “I know what teaching here entails, I didn’t take this position on a whim.”

Aizawa’s dark, red rimmed eyes rake over you. He’s studying you, perhaps searching for a crack in your demeanour, for something to give reason for his refusal. A dissatisfied “hmph” passed his lips, they dip into a deepened frown. Whatever he’s going to say dies on his tongue as Yamada Hizashi– the pro hero, Present Mic– comes bounding down the hall, a tune humming under his breath, his head in the clouds. He sported his hero costume, seemingly more comfortable while dressed up than you did. His hair stands nearly straight up, a shock of bright yellow amid the calming pale blues and whites of the U.A hallways. Confidence oozes off of him, painting his aura in an alluring shade of something magnanimous.

Yamada wore the hat of hero well, sending you a toothy grin when he caught your stare.

You suddenly get the state of being star struck. His presence was startling.

“You should go unpack your things,” Aizawa suggests when he takes notice of your gaping– though, this was not a suggestion. The thin press of his lips and finite tone that edged into his voice told you that, “We can talk further, later, after the school day has ended.”

You nod numbly, slightly shocked that you hadn’t been fired before you’d even had the chance to start. This was happening. Perhaps not in the way you’d envisioned but still. You hadn’t failed, not completely, not yet. The megawatt smile you throw at him makes your cheeks ache but you can’t stop it from forming.

“See you later, Aizawa-san.”

#aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #good luck babe

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proseover-bros · 1 year

Text

FOR THE ONES WE LOVE | CH. 1

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

SERIES: For the Ones We Love

STATUS: Ongoing

ERA: Prison

PAIRING: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

CHAPTER ONE: Backseat Driver

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Daryl Dixon gets much more than he bargained for when his motorcycle breaks down while out on a run. Miles from the prison, he has no other choice but to hot-wire a car he comes across on the side of the road, only to discover that he wasn’t the first person to get there.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Language, Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault, Symptoms of PTSD

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: While I’m not new to writing fanfic, this is my first attempt at Tumblr fanfic, which is somewhat different than what I’m used to. I have a whole backstory dreamed up for this character (she’s a nursing student who escaped from Grady Memorial after it was overtaken by Dawn and Gorman), but I know from what I’ve read of Tumblr fanfic, self-insert fics are preferred. This is my first attempt at that, so any constructive criticism is welcome. Please let me know your thoughts on the story as well. I have several chapters already written, just trying to decide what format to proceed with/if there’s an audience for it.

“Wow, thanks for that.”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from behind him, Daryl Dixon’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror as you sat up from where you’d been lying in the backseat of the car he’d just hot-wired. The all too familiar noise of a hammer clicking into place sounded as you lifted your arms, aiming a revolver directly at the back of his head.

With the way you trained the gun on him, combined with the intense gaze in your eyes, he knew that you’d shot it before.

Of course you had.

A woman, alone in this world?

There was no way in hell you could’ve survived as long as you had not knowing how to use a gun.

Daryl cut the engine and raised his hands. “This your car?”

You shrugged. “No, but I was here first.”

“I got it runnin’, that makes it more mine than yours.”

“I was getting to that.” You said defensively.

“Bullshit.” Daryl scoffed. “Ya don’t know how to hot-wire a car.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause ya ain’t that kinda girl.”

The stranger’s assumption pissed you off, but what pissed you off even more was the fact that he was right. Before he came along, you’d been close to having a full-on meltdown when finding the car just a few minutes earlier, only to discover that the keys were missing from the ignition. There’d been a hell of a lot of abandoned cars that you’d passed during your travels over the past couple of weeks, because apparently even after a goddamn apocalypse, nobody left their keys behind.

And who was he to pass judgement on you? With his Harley Davidson vest, greasy hair and the ability to steal a car in the first place, this guy was lucky you’d given him any warning at all. Although you hadn’t spoken to another human being since escaping the hospital, and were beginning to think you were missing even the most trivial of conversations, you had quickly come to the conclusion that human interaction was entirely overrated.

Especially with this particular human.

“How the hell do you know what kind of girl I am?” You practically growled.

Daryl hesitated, knowing that he ought to tread lightly, yet somehow his mouth decided to run off anyway. “Just do.”

Your eyes widened as you lunged forward to press the barrel of the gun to the back of his skull. “You don’t fucking know me.”

Dumbass, Daryl scolded himself.

What was he thinking, arguing with someone who was pressing a loaded gun to his head? After all this time spent fighting to survive, did he have a death wish all of a sudden?

With his hands still raised, Daryl nodded, his senses finally returning to him. “We can change that. I’m Daryl.”

Suddenly, a memory of your mother warning you not to talk to strangers appeared as the man introduced himself, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. After a few seconds, you lowered your gun and laughed out loud, no longer able to keep it inside.

The entire situation was absurd. You were running on zero sleep, hadn’t eaten anything in days, and hadn’t spoken to another soul since you’d left Atlanta. It was the most inappropriate thing in the world to be laughing in your current situation, and yet you couldn’t stop.

Daryl hesitated. He thought he might be okay at handling a pissed off woman — but a crazy, pissed off woman?

Might as well shoot myself now.

“Ya crazy or somethin’?” Daryl found himself asking.

You laughed harder at his question, leaning against the backseat as your sides started to ache. “Or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ya gotta name or not?”

Once regaining your composure, you peered over the passenger seat and noticed the large crossbow that he’d laid down while working on getting the car started. You also noted the backpack slung over his shoulder with several arrows sticking out through the flap. “Give me your arrows and any other weapons you have. Maybe I’ll tell you then.”

“Don’t wanna know that bad.”

“Hah.” You rolled your eyes, aiming the revolver at his head once more. “Wasn’t asking.”

With an irritated grumble, Daryl shrugged off his bag and handed it over. There was a brief pause while he rummaged around in his pants and pulled out a pistol, extending it to you handle first.

“No knife?” You asked suspiciously.

He cursed under his breath, but a few seconds later you had a hunting knife to add to your collection as well. Finally satisfied, you met his eyes in the rearview mirror and told him your name.

“You alone?”

“Looks like it.”

The silence between the two of you clung in the air like smoke. Daryl kept his eyes glued to you now that you had all of his weapons, minus his crossbow, which was useless without the bolts.

He didn’t pride himself on much, but one of the few things that he’d always felt he excelled at was being a good judge of character. The woman in front of him was young, probably mid-twenties, and pretty. In Daryl’s experience, pretty women were absolute bitches, but not necessarily dangerous. Even so, he couldn’t brand you with that particular title just for pulling a gun on him. You were only protecting yourself.

“Mind lowerin’ that thing? I did give ya all my weapons.” Daryl reasoned.

You paused, but reluctantly lowered your gun, your eyes locked on his as you sat it down on your lap.

“How’s that?” You asked.

“Depends, can I turn around without havin’ to worry ‘bout ya blowin’ my head off?”

You stilled at his words but found yourself slowly nodding your head in agreement.

When Daryl turned all the way around to face you, you held your breath. The last time you’d been this close to a man, it was Gorman, and he had tried to assault you.

The world had been a dangerous place for women far longer than it had been for men. Men may have recently had to learn what it was like to fear strangers now that the world had ended, but it had aways been something to fear for women, which made it twice as frightening these days.

As you studied Daryl, you noticed that he had lighter facial hair than that on his head, and pale blue eyes. With his intense gaze and bare biceps, he had a rugged air about him that you had a feeling he’d always possessed. He seemed like the kind of man who didn’t need an apocalypse to know how to fight for his life.

The two of you remained as you were, staring at each other for a tense moment, sizing each other up and down as you both tried to decide whether or not the other was a threat.

“Lay down.” Daryl grunted.

“What?” You blanched, your hand moving towards the revolver once more.

“Down!” He hissed.

Jumping over the partition dividing the front and back sections of the car, Daryl slid to his knees, tucking himself in the floor space behind the passenger seat, his hands clutching you by the elbows as he pulled you down, tugging your body flush against the backseat cushions.

When Daryl grabbed you, your first thought was a vile one, but your grip around the gun relaxed ever so slightly when he landed beneath you rather than on top of you.

“What the fu—” You cried as you both lurched forward, a series of bangs sounding at the rear of the car. Rather than finish your crude sentence, you cut yourself off when Daryl’s hand covered your mouth. Feeling your jaw tense against his palm, he raised a finger to his lips when his eyes met yours, slowly easing his hand away as a horde of walkers appeared from a clearing in the woods by the side of the road.

You both remained that way for what truly could have been hours, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the groans of the horde as they trudged along either side of the car like cattle. When the noise finally died down some time later, Daryl held a hand out to signal for you to wait, then eased up on his haunches ever so slightly, peering out the front windshield to find that the horde had wandered off up the road.

Once given the all clear, you slowly lifted your body from the backseat, your hand instantly going to the side of your neck as you attempted to work out the kink that had formed there from laying in such an awkward position.

“Jesus.” You muttered.

Remaining where he was for fear that you’d think he might try something now that he was in close proximity of his weapons, Daryl kept his eyes on you for a few silent seconds.

“Look, I know all about wantin’ to be alone, but no one can make it alone now. You can keep my weapons, even hold your damn gun on me while I drive, but I have a camp a few miles back. My bike broke down, s’why I was lookin’ for a ride, but I can take ya someplace secure. I’m with a group of people back at a prison.”

“A prison? Really?” You asked curiously.

Christ. Was that actual hope in your voice? Had the last year not completely crushed you of that?

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. “There’s eight of us. Men, women, a boy, and a baby.” Nodding towards his backpack, he continued. “Open it.”

Cautiously moving your hand to his backpack, you unsnapped the top and drew back the flap to reveal several tins of powdered baby formula. Running your fingers over the lids, you hesitated, your eyes slowly returning to Daryl. If this was some kind of trick to get you to come along, it was pretty elaborate.

“I just gotta ask ya three questions first.” He said.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you shrugged your shoulders. “Go for it.”

“How many walkers ya killed?”

“Walkers? You mean, the living dead freaks that have taken over the world?”

Daryl nodded.

“I don’t know. Who keeps track of that shit?”

Daryl had to admit, at least to himself, you had a point. But it was one of the questions that Rick insisted on asking newcomers, and he wasn’t about to start breaking his rules for anyone.

Seeing that Daryl wasn’t willing to budge on the question, you sighed as you thought about it. “A dozen, at least.”

“How many people ya killed?”

Your mind instantly went to the lifeless eyes of Gorman and Dawn.

“Two.” You answered, without a hint of remorse.

“Why?” He asked.

You stared at him, expressionless. “I’m a woman and I’ve pretty much been on my own since the world ended. Why do you think?”

Daryl stared right back at you, and in his fierce blue gaze, you knew that he understood you completely.

“All right, let’s go.”

“That’s it? I passed?” You asked, surprised.

“Looks like it.” He grunted, using your choice of words from earlier and earning a small smile from you because of it.

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll ride back here, and I won’t hold my gun on you . . . unless you drive too slow.”

“Pfft.” Daryl scoffed as he climbed back over to the driver’s side and began to work on restarting the car. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”

CHAPTER TWO

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dearestcynthiaw · 5 months

Text

Goodbye Stranger - House MD x Reader

Chapter one: World Weary

A young, mild woman, of noble decent, comes face to face with an infamous doctor, not just from the other side of the world but seemingly a whole other time. Will he believe her ridiculous, and quite frankly, impossible story? In House's mind, everybody lies, but is that so for this new, mysterious woman.

_________________________________________

This is my first fanfic in a long time, I'm quite new to Tumblr, so hello!

I'm absolutely infatuated with this series at the moment, so I thought I'd do a bit of writing and play with a concept that makes me ponder. This is very very loosely based on a original character that lives rent free in my mind. I've done a chunk of paintings of her so I'll post a few as headers on some of the chapters. The character in this will go nameless, and is intended to be a self-insert for those reading, therefore I've tagged it as a 'x reader'.

I'm not a doctor and I don't work in medicine so lots of this is research and a little help from a friend who is a nurse, so the knowledge in it will be hit or miss.

Anyway, enjoy!

----

It had been a long, hot, blissful summer in the year of 1928. Newly September, the days were starting to get shorter and the trees were turning crisp and orange.

It had been quite a bad week, though bad was quite the understatement. Her uncle was on his deathbed. He’d suffered through a long bout of influenza that was seemingly impossible to recover from. She visited as often as she could, hoping that each visit wouldn't be the last. Her heart was heavy from knowing his death would eventually become inevitable. He had always been a man of great prowess and genuine kindness, which was a rarity in her family, and losing him would shatter her.

Moreover, her fiancé was hurried to hospital after a nasty accident at a rugby match. He hadn't been concentrating when running the length of the pitch, he tripped and was ambushed by the collective. His ankle looked horribly out of shape, one could only imagine how many degrees it had rotated. It looked almost entirely backwards.

Her Fiancé's hospitalisation and her uncle's sickness had caused the worst sleeping patterns. She'd barely had a few hours each night for the past week. As she laid in bed most nights, especially in the early hours of the morning, thoughts and worries flurried through her head. She lay there hoping to God everything would set itself straight.

The exhaustion had impacted every aspect of her day so far, and she had marched up to the central hospital, from her soon to be in-laws townhouse, she felt overwhelmingly drowsy and unsteady. Of course there was no transport to be seen for miles to cut down the walking distance and give her a couple seconds of peace. All servants were out of the house, and it had become increasingly difficult to hail a taxi.

She trudged through the bustling streets, avoiding streams of people surging towards her. She had arrived at roughly 13:11 pip-emma, give or take, hoping that her beloved was already awake and breakfasted, to spare the grumpiness.

Awkwardly she stood, though all else were seated, patiently waiting for the nurse to lead the way to her sweet fiance's room.

She had been called with the added 'Lady' positioned at the very beginning of her name. It had caused a slight shudder to run down her spine as the room of plenty turned to look in her direction, eyebrows quirking in curiosity.

She appeared quite out of place in the very centre of London in a hospital bustling with people who were much different to herself.

Although she never minded her title, she much preferred the simple 'miss'. 'Lady' carried too much sophistication and responsibility, the sort associated with cutting ribbons and giving out writing awards at local schools. It felt far beyond her, she’d always felt sort of, under prepared.

Standing there in her professionally ironed clothing and perfectly soft waved hair, being ogled at, made her feel uncomfortably separate from everyone else.

‘Just this way, You’ll find he’s in quite a pleasant mood today, we’ve been able to better control his pain since you’ve last seen him.’ The nurse turned to face the Lady, with a sweet smile as they walked the extensive, dismal hallways.

The door was ajar, and from the threshold she could see a well lit room, far different to the rest of the hospital. There were bouquets of flowers scattered about, along with ‘Get Well Soon’ cards that were crammed upon the limited surfaces. There were excessive amounts of sweetmeats and sugary treats upon the bed and sideboard. This man had only been admitted the day before and he already received a hefty amount of goods. It wouldn't be long before he had to pack it all up and head home.

She had been loudly interrupted from her thoughts with a cheerful ‘What-ho sweetheart!’. The nurse was quite right, he was much more sprightly today.

‘I say, take a seat, this chair or that, you might even be allowed to perch on my bed a while!’ Snorting, he motioned towards a patch on his bed that wasn’t decorated with an array of sweets.

‘You look quite at home here. Should I be assured that they’re looking after you well?’ Her eyes were glued to his bubbly expression. It was quite surprising for a man who had been writhing about in pain on a muddy pitch the day prior.

‘Quite, quite, very well indeed. Though, I can’t ever seem to get any service here. They’re always ignoring me. I don’t ask that much of them.’

It was almost certain that he did, it could only presume that he wanted to be pandered to and pampered as though he was on the coast of France in some lavish hotel.

She could only look at him with a sense of pity, she only saw a man who was in a great deal of pain and was pushing through with a gleaming smile.

She found she was at quite a loss for words, sympathising with him wouldn't do as he'd only push himself to show he wasn't entirely helpless. This always put him in a worse state. ‘Do you know when you might be coming home?’ was all she could think of after the momentary silence.

‘Oh yes, yes, it was supposed to be today, but I’ve asked to be held on until tomorrow. Charlie from the club said he’d drive me home.’

‘You don’t want me to take you home? I can do it later today when Dobson gets back, he has the key to the shed where my car is-’ Again she applied a bright smile, hoping she could be of help. ‘You’ll only have to wait till 3. It’s really not that long darling.’

‘Gosh no, I don’t like it when you drive, makes me feel like a helpless sod.’

Lightly exhaling and nodding she looked down at her hands in her lap.

And again he spoke; ‘You’ll have to bring me a glass of water dearest, I can’t get the attention of anyone at this bloody hospital. And I'm bloody parched!' He seemed to let out a sort of huff; boyishly crossing his arms.

As she stood and started to walk, he shouted after her ‘Oh! And grab a doctor for me too, there’s something I need him to see.’

With a sweet smile and a light nod she turned on her heel, heading back for that ominous, dark hallway.

A short way down she found a small cupboard, one with a tap and a couple glasses and other bits and pieces to accommodate patients and guests.

Just before fetching a glass, she lent over and placed her head on the counter, with her arms cradling her head. She let out a long exhale to release some of the stress of the day. The exhaustion was starting to catch up, she could so easily have a quick nap with her head on the cold surface.

Finally gathering the energy to move, she lifted a glass and ran the tap, making sure she didn’t fill the vessel with lukewarm water.

Someone must have closed the door whilst she took her momentary rest, as when she turned she was confronted by the clinical white passageway that was firmly shut.

With a heavy push she dislodged the door from its threshold and found herself to be completely disoriented. Nothing looked the same. She thought that maybe she had taken a long route to this small cupboard and had simply forgotten the way she came.

She was completely surrounded by shelves upon shelves of supplies. There was only one other door and it was straight ahead. She turned again, wandering back inside the smaller room with the sink, studying her surroundings to see if there was another entrance that she might have overseen. Yet there was nothing.

She finally settled on advancing towards the opposite door, walking between the sets of shelves that carried an array of different peculiar items that resembled medical arsenal, none of which she had ever seen used before, but yet again, she didn’t spend much time hanging around hospitals to see what new advances were made in the field.

Just as she reached for the door handle, it began to pull downwards as a force was applied to the opposite side.

Jumping back in surprise and slight panic, feeling as though she had wandered into the wrong part of the building, she had no time to think out a possible explanation before the door was fully open.

The man that was stood there gave her a wide eyed look, appearing equally as perplexed as herself.

She quickly took in his figure, he was no doubt tall, taller then most of the men that she knew, and was scruffily dressed, she wondered if he might have taken a wrong turn too.

Taking in a quick breath she squeaked; ‘Are you lost too?’

‘No.’ He had a distinctive accent as he bluntly said the singular word.

‘I’m in your way, sorry, I’ll just-’ She peered to his side noting the direction she was heading.

‘How did you get in here?’ His eyebrow quirked.

‘Through that door.’ She pointed behind herself, his eyes quickly following her movement. There was nothing there. No door in sight, as though it had never been there to begin with.

She looked back at him in surprise ‘I could have sworn-’

With that he let out a bark of laughter. She felt ever so small and grew red in the face.

‘I must be tired, but I swear that's where I came from.’

‘No door there sweetheart, never was.’

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, yet no sound came out. ‘I better get back to my fiancé.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ He attempted to stop her proceeding.

‘Well, I don’t really have much of an answer, because I certainly don’t remember entering through the door you’re standing in.’

‘This door was locked, did someone let you in? What you looking for, is it drugs? Could’ve just asked.’ Now she spotted his walking stick, he was leaning onto it, slightly blocking the way so he could continue interrogating her.

‘How dare you, I wouldn’t do anything like that.’

‘They all say that.’

‘Can I just get through? I need to take this to my fiancé.’ She raised the glass in her hand.

‘What ward?’

‘Somerset Ward.’ Her answers were getting shorter as she became frazzled by the constant questions.

‘Haven’t heard of that one before.’

‘It’s fine, I’ll find my own way.’

‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Look, I really haven’t got a clue. Can I go now please?’ She gave a hapless sigh as she was getting to the end of her tether.

He stepped aside, yet seemed to follow her as she stepped into an unfamiliar hall. It was bright white, almost blinding. It looked like an entry to the hospital, one that she’d never seen before. There were people scattered everywhere, wearing clothing very different from her own. She turned back to look at her interrogator with a look of shock and slight horror. ‘What is this?’

‘A hospital.’ He started to limp away, towards what looked like a reception desk. ‘You coming?’ She could see him leaning over the desk having a bit of a natter with a person sat there. She slowly got closer observing every detail in front of her. The gadgets and do-dads that adorned each desk and clinical colours that decorated the whole room. She'd never seen anything like this before. She must've ended up on the other side of the building, maybe a more experimentative wing compared to the others.

She stepped closer to what looked like a reception desk, momentarily placing down her glass of water.

‘Name?’ Came a sudden voice that carried a very similar accent to the male that she had encountered in that odd cupboard. She couldn’t quite see, until a lady poked her head out behind a silver sort of implement about the width of a brief case or small luggage holder.

There, she gave her full name in the presence of this strange man, middle name and all. A pattering sound began, like one you would hear from a typewriter, but without the obnoxious ‘ping’.

‘Dr House!’ This woman bellowed, only now realising that he’d started to wander away.

‘Can’t find a name on the system.’

‘You’re trying to find my records? I’m not a patient here, I’m only visiting. Besides you won’t find it by typing, it’ll be in paper form, I thought that was the same for everyone?'

‘Sorry dear, Dr House told me you’d found your way off the psychiatric ward, your name isn't even on the database.’ This woman behind the desk looked directly into her eyes, showing vague sympathy.

‘You think I’m mad?!’ She cried at the ’doctor’.

He continued to move away, towards what looked like a metal cladded elevator ‘Would explain the confusion.’ He shouted over the room of, what she could presume were patients waiting to be seen.

She quickly jammed her arm into the door of the metal contraption before it fully closed.

‘I am tired, but I’m certainly not out of my mind. I think you're having a joke with this whole thing. Who set you up to this? It’s really not funny. Can you just tell me what part of the hospital I've ended up in and I’ll be on my way.’

Again an amused smirk graced his face ‘You’re in the clinic.’

‘Well I’d gathered that from the sign above my head, but none of this is recognisable. I’ve been to the clinic before but it didn’t look anything like this.’

‘You sure you got the right hospital?’ He seemed so disinterested in giving any useful information.

‘Well yes, I’m in London-’

‘Well there we go, you’d better find your way back onto the crazy people ward, you’ve forgotten what country you're in. Next it’ll be what year from the look of you.’ He glanced down at her dress, to him it looked outdated.

‘Can you stop that? Tell me seriously now.’ She appeared panicked, worse than she had been previously. She had hit the verge of begging.

With a sigh he gave up on the teasing ‘Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. You happy now?’

‘Princeton, New Jersey?’ Her hands were starting to shake, struggling to keep the elevator door open. She’d only ever seen this place in atlases that she used to flick through in her childhood home’s extensive library.

‘Where else?’

‘No no no no no, this isn't possible.’ She stepped inside quickly before the door slammed shut. Putting her face in her hands and taking shuddering breaths.‘You’re definitely not lying right? This isn’t a joke anymore. It's all very funny, but are you sure this isn’t just an American part of the hospital and you’re just pulling my leg?’

The doctor seemed to ignore her and continue to look straight ahead, both hands on his cane.

The door to, what she had now concluded was indeed an elevator, slid open and he stepped out. She hurried after him and as she began to walk beside him he halted, staring directly at the side of her head, fierce enough to burn holes into her skull.

‘You can leave me alone now. I’m not going to help you get a plane ticket or whatever you are pestering me for. Go back to the 1920s or whatever F.Scott Fitzgerald book you think you came out of. If this is some tasteful prostitution then give me a ring later. Goodbye.’ And with that he veered off into a room that was made up of mostly glass panels.

The door flew shut and finally revealed this man's full name and title ‘GREGORY HOUSE M.D. DEPARTMENT OF DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE’

Though he seemed to be warning her, she still pushed forth, entering the office space ‘Aren’t doctors supposed to help people?’ She had never been so forthright, if she were back at home she would’ve taken that as a forewarning and scampered off like a scared mouse.

Dr House was now sitting hunched over at the desk, eyes glued to another one of those abnormal briefcase things that casted a blue tinged light over his face.

‘Are you not listening to me or are you just plain deaf? I said goodbye.’

‘I’m not taking that as the end of the conversation, Dr House.’ Her confidence was building, though it was most likely the adrenaline surging through her veins. She took steps closer to him, peering down at the jumbled items upon his desk. Odds and ends and many stacks of paper were littered about like a white blanket covering the entirety of the desk.

Her eye caught on one document reading today's date in the margain with a completely unrecognisable year. ‘2006’.

Her eyes bulged and her head seemed to be endlessly screaming. There was a fuzzy static sound that ringed in her ears and her breathing became short. Throughout the whizzing of her mind, she remained completely silent and still.

‘Patient confidentiality, don’t you know.’ He said flipping over the paper she had been gawking at.

‘Two-thousand and six.’ was what she muttered beneath her breath.

‘So you really are that deranged. The whole get up is all part of the act. Are you living out a fantasy or something?’

‘It’s 2006? It’s 1928, your document is wrong. I mean this could be a very elaborate joke or is this a film set?’

‘You’ll have to pay me overtime if you keep asking me all these questions. $300 and you’ll get the full package, what d’you say Marty.’

'Are you still insinuating that I am a whore?’ She now began to grit her teeth. ‘And that is not my name-' She was cut off whilst she was reprimanding him.

'I’m the whore here, I’m the one offering my body, Marty. Now, what would that make me? Doc Brown? nah, maybe a generational relative from the future. Really spooky stuff. What have you come to tell me? About my impending death or bad life choices? Because you're a bit late.' Resting his head on his hands he looked up inquisitively.

'I really don't understand-?' She spoke whilst shaking her head.

''Course you don't ' He pulled his lips thin, eyes widening and shrugging his shoulders. ’You think you're a time traveller and I’m here to tell you to head back down those stairs to where you belong, in the psychiatric ward.’

Her face twisted in disgust as he spoke such cruel, unadulterated words. She could feel the tears in the back of her eyes. No one was going to believe her, she barely even believed it herself.

‘What? Am I supposed to play along? Oops!’ His actions were so animated as he lifted a hand to his mouth.

He picked up what could've been a phone and brought it to his ear chatting with someone on the other end and began typing vigorously.

‘Looks like they'll have to book you in. No records here. Oh, tell you what, let's Google you, see what we can find.’

‘Google?’ She rubbed her forehead with worry.

‘What fun, you're still playing along.’ His words carried an underlying bite. ‘Here we go, nice, so you're daddy's an Earl and you live in a big mansion and have lots of money. I'm not surprised that you picked this woman to claim as your identity. It's full of all those fun parts. You've gone the extra mile too, editing a photo of yourself amongst your fictional family, how sweet.’ He turned the screen around and there was a photo of her and her brothers.

Gasping in shock she spluttered ‘How did you get that?! That’s a private photograph!’

‘How did you do it then, Marty? Did you change the whole of this Wiki page to suit you?’ He tutted.

Standing silent in the emptiness of this office was like torture. She bit her tongue to stop the tears and prevent the endless wrath of words she was holding back. ‘How could you be so cruel, Dr House?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you were going to help me.’ Her words were wavering as she spoke softly.

He raised his shoulders once again lifting his hands up to display mock confusion ‘What is there to help?’.

And with those last few words she turned, flying out of the room.

----

‘World Weary’ - Noël Coward 1928

----

~ It was an early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn ~

#House #Housemd #Housexreader #Gregoryhouse #Gregoryhousexreader #timetravel #1920s #x reader #reader insert #house x reader #house md #house md x reader #gregory house x reader

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ghostlythunderbird · 8 months

Text

I am coming to offer this thot to anyone who wants it because I have no brain juice to even write this.

But my mind has been on some Werewolf!Ghost action for a bit now, not just the regular giant wolf that walks in two legs no no. I'm talking about the Twilight big ass doggos type of werewolves. But only only that; the werewolf’s human form also has ears and a tail (kind of like a hybrid).

ANYWAYS I had a thot about how Price and Laswell could be were keepers parse a and they would recently capture another werewolf (I think of them being a female were because I do a lot of self inserting over here don't mind me lol) that they could potentially pair Ghost with; or whoever your thinking of babe it could be Gaz, Soap, Keegan, or even König the possibilities are endless in the spooky month.

As for you my dear sweet reader, your story is quite different; you were a lone wolf for a long time and you've never really been in a werewolf friendly place. People are fearful of your kind as most think your a mindless creature lingering for their flesh; well soon your found out to be a werewolf and are captured by a “Rehabilitation project” specifically for your kind. Your time there was actually pretty nice, you had shelter, food and you felt safe. The environment itself reminded you of your birth pack’s old hunting grounds.

Well soon after your feeling well and the veterinarian team clears you are in good health, your soon ready to be paired with the boys. But who could be a perfect fit? You needed someone to be strong and quite dominant, they also needed some pretty good genes is you know what I mean *aggressive eyebrow wiggles*

But at the same time could you IMAGINE all the trial and errors of being paired with these boys who have NO idea on how to court you properly. Ghost does show interest but doesn't even know where to start much less make a conversation with you, Gaz and Soap are beyond excited of finally having another werewolf (can guarantee soap will be too head over heels where his brain don't work much), Keegan might become too standoffish and poor König tries his best and you end up being gifted a whole ass moose.

Thanks for coming to my 12 am ADHD Ted talk (I have so much brain rot for this I just had to get it out there for you all to suffer with me please send help)

#mystic speaks #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #keegan p russ #keegan russ #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod konig #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod modern warfare #kate laswell #werewolf #this some real ADHD hours yall #enjoy the brainrot

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bugs1nmybrain · 4 months

Note

L. Lawliet licking honey off female readers tummy and breasts then eating whipped cream off of their pussy- please 🙏

tasty ~ l lawliet x self insert: foodplay

It has taken me a while to get to this, but I've been excited to write about it. L and food play is something I've thought about before, but honestly, I was a little embarrassed to.

Notes about the reader: she/her pronouns, female anatomy, she is blatantly based off of me and is named "Lydia". Her physical features aren't described a lot, though, aside from female sex characteristics

I decided to make the reader me this time because, honestly, writing an ambiguous love interest all the time makes it hard for me to be creative. I hope that's not a bother, but if it is, I apologize and no one is obligated to read this.

Warnings: NSFW (18+ MDNI), self insert, dom L at first but he becomes sub later in the fic, food play (honey and whipped cream), breast sucking, oral (fem and male receiving), nervous reader and L, TEASING, panties fetish, bad POV grammar, established relationship, fatass Beetlejuice reference, no penetration, not proofread yet

"So, what do you think?"

Lydia sat in front of L, dumbstruck by his request. It really wasn't surprising, it was actually pretty L of him. It was rare to find him not downing sweets like no one's business, so this was bound to come. She felt embarrassed, yet not surprised by any means.

Once she could get past how flustered L's question made her, she nodded with a bashful smile.

"I'd be okay with trying that out," Lydia flashed a gentle smile of approval.

"Truly? You seem hesitant."

"I'm not..or-I mean, I guess I am hesitant. It's just because I'm embarrassed."

"If you're feeling self-conscious, I'll assure you that you'd look nothing than gorgeous covered in sweets." While what he said was very flattering, L's deadpan voice made it hard for Lydia not to laugh a little in response.

"It's not all that. I'm just not used to being so exposed."

Taking her anxiety into consideration is something he had already prioritized in this case. However, L had recently paid close attention to her...fantasies. Or at least the ones he was able to find out about. Lydia was a woman with a high sex drive, whether she came to him about it or not was a different story. He had a new side quest to test what aroused her, going as far as to try things they both felt sheepish towards.

The two's sexual relationship was great, however very fresh. Trying more "kinky" sexual activities was new to both of them. Sure, Lydia (and possibly L) had watched a variety of pornography to get a sense of what was erotic to them.

They were currently at a point where the couple would have sex frequently, but it was somewhat predictable. L and Lydia felt great sexual attraction to one another, so chemistry and arousal weren't an issue. But the suspense was starting to lose its pace, something both of them yearned for in times of sexual pleasure.

"We could go completely at your pace and comfortability, love. I don't want to embarrass you (kind of a lie). I just think that this could possibly enhance trust between us. It's also...something that I've, uhm..fantasized about. A couple of times (absolute truth)."

There were already a few ideas in Lydia's head about fetishes L may have had but hadn't been confirmed yet. Seeing him admit to one, though, made her blush and tingle.

"Is that so? Hehe, I thought that you may have."

"Observant as always. That's why you're my dearest."

Lydia didn't respond but instead became flustered to herself and avoided eye contact. Her cheeks were already looking warm, heightening L's arousal when he noticed.

"Would you want to try now?" L asked, scanning her face for any discomfort from his question, or even arousal.

To his satisfaction, her cheeks lit up more, accompanied by an eager smile. She nodded vigorously, with a beam of excitement in her eyes.

"Alright, then. I'm going to go grab a couple of things for us, but I'll be back very soon."

L stood up, about to turn to walk out of the room, but redirected himself back to Lydia. He quickly placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, but turned back around and left the room without any acknowledgment afterwards.

.....

Lydia sat pretty on the bed, unsure if she should be undressing or not. She decided to play it safe and just stay put for now. Not very long after, L opened the door. He only had two things with him, surprisingly. She almost expected him to bring the whole nine yards with him. All he had with him was a jar of extra-sweetened honey and a can of whipped cream.

L made his way over to the bed, placing the containers down as he sat in front of her, sitting in his traditional position.

"You look very pretty today," L compliments. Lydia looked up at him, to see what she thought was a flustered look (it was hard to tell with L). He reached his hand to gently brush her hair with his fingers.

She blushed which made L smile, making no effort to hide his expression. Making Lydia flustered was one of his favorite things. The fact that he, someone so weird and off-putting, could make her feel this way struck a bit of pride in him. Though, perhaps it only made sense, given she was rather strange and unusual herself. Her unhinged demeanor was one of the reasons L found her so adorable.

"Thank you."

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes.."

As always, his lips were incredibly soft and inviting. He was also excellent with his tongue.

The kiss became heated not so shortly after, and L's hands had begun to roam. His delicate, long fingers found their way up Lydia's stomach, pulling her shirt along with them. He kissed her neck up to her jawline as he pulled the shirt off. Soon after came her pants.

"Mmm..." L adores. His fingers immediately rub themselves gently on her clothed clitoris. They caressed her gently, causing Lydia to whimper in pleasure.

"I love you," he continues. His affirmation was much appreciated by the butterflies in Lydia's stomach, fueling her arousal.

"I love you too."

L reached for the honey. He had brought a spoon with him to help put it on her easier. He dipped his spoon in the jar after opening it, causing Lydia to tense up anxiously. L recognizes her timid body language and stops.

"Are you alright? Are you comfortable?"

You smile at his consideration and nod your head.

"Nervous, but I'm comfortable and trust you."

"I appreciate that. "

He made sure to lean down and give her a gentle kiss for reassurance. Right after that, he dipped his spoon in the jar, swirled the spoon around to help with the consistency, and held it above her. When the honey fell on her stomach, she cringed at the cold sensation. L realized that perhaps he should've warmed up the honey.

"Sorry.."

"It's ok, love," Lydia assured him.

The honey began drizzling on her breasts. The sticky substance fell over her skin, causing Lydia's clit to twitch. L smirks in response, though he tries to hide his face.

L puts the spoon back in the jar and screws the lid back on. He looks back at Lydia as she is exposed on the bed, only covered by her panties. She was absolutely gorgeous to him, and the sight made him clam up. He swallowed as discreetly as he could and redirected his attention to what the goal was.

"May I?" He asks, catching her eyes in his, holding out the contact for approval.

"Yes."

He oogles her for a moment before kneeling on top of her. Seeing her full breasts covered in honey was making him very embarrassed, especially because all he wanted to do was put his mouth all over her right now.

"You look incredible..."

Lydia buried her face in her hands and giggled in embarrassment. L started by running his hands over places that weren't covered in honey, trailing his soft fingertips along her sides up to her shoulders. With hesitation, he leans forward to attach his mouth onto her breast. The honey tasted great, and her tit was supple and soft. Lydia felt a shameful arousal build up and her thighs started squeezing together in response. L gave both of them equal attention and then began making his way down her tummy.

The flavor of the honey made this much more comfortable for L. Thid made him a bit nervous admittedly, as the act was so vulnerable for the both of you. It made it easier to lick and suck at your skin with something sweet to distract himself with. He could feel himself growing hard already.

He finally made it to her panties. He looks up at Lydia with neutral but lustful eyes before asking her, "Are you ready for the next part?"

"Y-yes."

"You sure?"

"It's okay," she giggles in response, appreciative of his consideration. Though it wasn't like he hadn't already seen her nude many times before. "You can go ahead."

Lydia's hearts throbbed in her chest while L pulled her panties off. He looked at the mess inside of them with amusement. Her secretion of wetness was always fascinating to him, and her scent was a turn on her him if he was honest.

"Can I keep these for a day or so?"

Lydia laughed at his request, but not offended by any means. "Yes, love."

He gave them a brief whiff, trying to define every detail of her scent. He could tell she had showered recently by the lack of musk, aside from her wetness. His attention returned to her pussy, which was visibly drenched in arousal. The sight made L lightly bite down on his lip.

"You fold so easily for me," he remarks with a cocky tone.

"I do not!"

"Mhm, sure," his fingers return to her clit, stroking lightly for a little bit, actually forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be incorporating food.

L took the can of whipped cream and shook it to make sure it came out consistently. Remembering the incident with the honey before, he directed his attention to Lydia.

"This might be cold."

"Okay," she smiled at him bashfully, keeping her gaze up at the ceiling as he sprayed the whipped cream on her cunt. He was very generous with the amount he put on her.

"Alright.." L moved Lydia's thighs further apart and dipped his head in between. He latched his mouth on her pussy, licking and sucking all over, actively avoiding her clitoris on purpose. L was known for being a tease like that.

He focused on the taste of the sweets, diving to wherever he could find more of the substance. His mouth sucked along her lips and the sides of her cunt.

"L.."

"Hm? What is it, love?"

"Mmmrrhh," her desperate whines were clearly trying to tell him to put his mouth in the right spot, but he feigned ignorance like always.

"I'm afraid I don't understand gibberish, Lydia." He looked up at her with a face covered in the white cream and sticky consistency.

"Please...?"

"Use your words."

"My clit.."

"What about it?"

She scrunched up her face in annoyance. Not that she didn't love his playful banter with her, but she was aching to be pleasured.

"Please, it's sensitive."

"I can imagine, love. Let me help with that, hm?"

"Mhm~"

To her bliss, he gave her exactly what she needed, wrapping his mouth on her clit. He couldn't see what it looked like due to the whipped cream, but he could tell by the feeling of it on his mouth that she was swollen and yearning.

He placed a little more cream on her cunt, and continued praising her pussy with his skilled tongue. He sucked on her nub as he enjoyed the sweet taste of the whipped cream and flicked his tongue accordingly. He was attentive to how it would pulse against his tongue and how Lydia's hips would jerk when she liked a particular motion. It got to the point where L had to hold her hips down to keep her still.

Her moans caused his cock to strain, making him muffle and grunt against her cunt.

"Fuck, you taste so good."

"It's really just the cr-"

"Shhh.." he continued lapping at her sensitive cunt to silence her, though she only wailed in pleasure. He buried his face closer into her cunt, reaching over her thighs to fondle her tummy while he did.

"Mm~ I'm.."

"Mhm. I know, sweetheart. Go on.."

He didn't stop his attack afterwards, repeating her favorite motion of his tongue as much as he could until her muscles began contracting and her legs and hips squirmed.

"Aaahh~!.☆.☆.♡♡♡~"

As she came all over his face, he sucked at her cunt more, extending her orgasm as much as he could. When her body finally gave out and went limp, he gave a couple more kisses to her cunt before coming up for some much needed air.

"How are you feeling, my love?" He asked as he rubbed gentle circles onto her inner thigh.

"G-good.." she was a little shakey from her orgasm but had a very blissful smile to accompany her. Seeing her surrender to him like this made him horny beyond belief.

"I'll go get some things to clean you up and then we can cuddle, alright?"

"Wait.."

"Hm?"

"Um..what about you?"

"What about me?"

Lydia laughed softly, amused that he didn't ask himself. "Couldn't I do the same to you?"

"Wha-oh! Uh--I.."

L hardly stammered like this, it was a treat to Lydia to get to see him obviously flustered like this.

"Do you want that?"

She looked at him intently, watching him trying to hold back a blushy smile.

"I'd-uh-y-yes. Yes. I'd love that, Lydia."

Lydia sat upwards, waiting for L to situate himself. Despite his awkward and blunt composure, L was gentlemanly in the sense that he typically didn't ask for things like a blowjob often, usually leaving that decision up to Lydia. He saw it as extremely vulnerable not only for him but for Lydia as well. He wasn't big necessarily, but his cock was longer in length and so he didn't want her to feel pressured about her performance. Though tonight, he was definitely grateful she had initiated this.

L sat awkwardly on the bed with his thighs spread as he sat like he always did. Lydia approached him, still nude and not fully cleaned up yet. She rested in between his legs and placed her hands in his chest, motivating to get him to lay down. She unzipped his pants and took them off. His cock sprung out, flushed at his tip and looking painfully hard.

Lydia reached for the whipped cream and doused his cock in it. It made him embarrassed underneath his deadpanned pink-faced stare, but as soon as she began sucking the consistency off his glans, he couldn't have cared less about his embarrassment.

The way she tended to his cock made it seem as if she was trying to tell him how much she loved him through every suck, lick, and stroke. She moaned and breathed through her nose, occasionally wincing as she attempted to take as much of him as she could. She made his heart flutter ever so slightly as she did so. He noticed how when she couldn't take him as far as she wanted, she'd try to compensate by sucking at spots she knew he was most sensitive at.

She pulled back his foreskin to make sure she got all of the whipped cream, dragging her tongue up to suck his tip after. He could feel himself get close to cumming, she usually was able to get him with very simple displays of adoration for him.

At this point, all the whipped cream was gone and his cock was sticky. She bobbed her head and coated L's cock with her saliva. His hand rested at his face, pulling at his lips while he let out whimpers.

"Mmm.."she hummed on his cock, almost making him cum then and there. L reached down to run his fingers through her scalp, which made her react by pushing her mouth further on his cock. He could hear Lydia choke and wanted to stop her from hurting herself, but she didn't seem to mind as she kept going. Her watery eyes and flushed face drove his cock crazy, as it started to twitch and his balls clenched.

"Lydia.."

"Mhm," she nodded with his cock in her mouth, a strange feeling for him but even so, his arousal only got worse and he ended up cumming down her throat abruptly.

"Hrnnn...." L sighed out, trying to regulate his breathing again. He pet Lydia's head while she released his cock from her mouth, swallowing his cum in the process.

"You didn't have to swallow, I know it's not tasty."

"It's ok. Yours isn't bad. I also have whipped cream residue in my mouth so it diluted the flavor."

"Thank you."

She smiled at him and came back up to huddle up next to him. She looked up at him like she had something to say.

"What is it?" L asked.

"Can I kiss you? I know my mouth was just uh.."

L scoffs. "Don't worry about that. Mine hasn't been anywhere better."

Lydia kissed L softly, and rested her face on his shoulder. He rested his hand on her hip and allowed her to embrace him.

"I think it would be appropriate to go take a shower and brush our teeth, don't you think so?" L questioned her teasingly.

"Yea. I'm sticky."

"Me too. I had a good time doing this, did you?"

"Hehe, yes. It felt very good."

"I thought so, too. I'm grateful you agreed to do this with me."

"I enjoyed it very much. I'd be okay with doing it again in the future."

"Oh we definitely will. Maybe we'll experiment with other scenarios too, hm?"

"Like what?"

"Oh darling, I have quite a few ideas in mind for us..."

#l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #f/o #l lawliet smut #self ship #l lawliet x self insert #l lawliet x oc #canon x self insert #l lawliet x reader smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Note

I promised, promised myself that I wouldn’t read the Roman König x Fee fic until it was completed because I knew i would get absolutely drawn in, wrapped up in your exquisite prose, then get addicted and suffer from withdrawals. Unneeded to say I broke said promise and welp here I am 🤡

Thing that surprised me was how quickly he endeared himself to me? A cock swinging village massacring brute that I was FULLY prepared to hate had me sighing by then end of chapter 3 with the “you care about my head?” ✋😩 YES I worry for your stupid head you adorable monster.

It’s uncanny how similarly Fee and I felt as the plot progressed. I know this is a self insert and though I made an OC for fee, you were able to capture the feeling of hate to curiousity to distrust to budding emotions on the readers side so beautifully and in only three chapters?? What sorcery is this?? I could go on and on about how I’m just… in awe of your writing skills.

It’s the small things too. The effort he went through to understand Fee, learning her language like he desperately wants to be a part of her. It’s just his delight in the simple things like having a woman and buying her pretty things. I AM GOING TO GNAW OFF MY ARM THIS IS SO GOOD!! I don’t know if you’ve watched HBOs Rome, but they remind me of Pullo and Eirene so much! Like you can’t tell me König doesn’t fit that goofy brawdy soldier who’s only hobbies are drinking and fucking and fighting to a T!

Then it got me thinking…. If König is Pullo then Simon is Vorenus. He has that straight laced, no bs aura about him. Now I’m imagining them both in this universe and please excuse me while I melt in a puddle 🫠

This is perhaps the best piece of fiction I’ve read in a while. I can’t wait for part 4, I have no doubt it will be wonderful as usual. Please accept my maladaptive daydream interpretation of Fee (first she was supposed to be a wood nymph, then the earth goddess then a fairy queen?? I’m not sure anymore. There was so much great imagery couldn’t settle on one. Your honor, we lost the plot.)

Oh my goodness OH MY GOODNESS ❤️❤️❤️

You shower me with praise and I’m over here like aaahh... for me? 🥺❤️

And yes I’ve watched Rome like four times at least! Every time I watch it just gets better, the producers and crew really outdid themselves with all the details in that series. I consider it one of the best TV shows ever made and excuse me but you opened a Pandora’s box here, I'm just so pleased you brought this up...

It took so much time for Pullo to grow on me, I was so frustrated with his character but when he killed Eirene’s man because he was so in love with her and was just like: “Oh there's something in the way of our love? Oh well. *there*, solved.” Gosh I was IN LOVE. I’m sorry, I’m a horrible person, but I fell in love with Pullo right that second. And yeah König is kinda like Pullo in that sense! Eirene wails at the corpse of her ex-lover and Pullo is just like “Um, yeah nasty business but… why are you crying? Oh, oh yeah, oops. But hey, we could be together? Oh, you don’t want me? Damn. How come?” I wanted to shake and kiss him for being so dumb and adorable.

And Ghost is Vorenus YES, you get it 100 %! And the tragic love story of Vorenus & Niobe, oh god, took me about a month to get over it. And Vorenus being under the protection of Mars first and then literally becoming Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld… The mythology nerd in me is swooning over here. The only thing about Vorenus that's slightly König coded to me was when Pullo had to explain to him what a clitoris is, and Vorenus is like “How do you know this about my wife?!?!” and almost kills him :D That’s so so Roman!König.

But AHHH let me squeal about your maladaptive daydream adaption next: she’s the most gorgeous Fee ever, so lovely and feminine and yet, strong and possessing that earthly power in her. I love the color of her dress too!! There’s a lot of earth & water elements linked to Fee so that color (green to turquoise?) is the most perfect combination of earth and sea, while König is more like fire & air, coming from the mountains and slow to anger but when the fire rises, no one is safe...

This was so lovely, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story 🩷💋

#answered

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neerons · 2 months

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Hey, how are you?? I hope you are doing great. I love all of your masquerade kiss posts and everything else you write because you put so much effort into them. You explain the MK characters in such a deep, fascinating way that it's admirable, and I kinda miss your analysis, lol. I have a question, tho if you are interested and free to answer. What is one thing you personally hate and love about the MK mc and the LI all 4 of them and if their is anything you would like to change about the game??. Like any route incident or character trait?? I believe their is a lot to say where MK is heading personally for the characters, both good and bad, tbh I would love to know your answer. Anyways, take care and have a great day ❤️

Hey ❤️ I’m doing alright even though I’ve been sick since yesterday, thank you for asking! I hope you’re doing good as well

Thank you for these thoughtful words. You always make my days whenever you say such nice things 🥹 I’m glad if my analyses are appreciated or helpful, I try to be as faithful to the representation of the title as I can while I give my own thoughts. Telling me I do it well and in a fascinating way means so much to me, thank you again ❤️

Things I love and hate about the Masquerade Kiss characters? Anything I’d like to change about the game?

To answer your question, there are many things I love about the characters and nothing I hate, or particularly dislike. Hatred would be a big word to use and if I hated anything about the title, I would find it hard to read it to be honest. I think this title is perfect for me as it has everything I love within it, which is why I’m really passionate about it. The things that tend to be "less good" about the characters are aspects of their personality that represent their flaws, so it’s only natural to like them less, and I have to say, I think their flaws are very well chosen. Maybe I sound like a simp for the title haha, but then so be it 🤣

The Masquerade Kiss MC

What I especially love about her character is that she successfully represents what I had always hoped to see in a MC. I personally was often used to seeing MCs that, while very lovely in their own way, were very "flat" and not especially interesting with their personality. Due to the fact that writers try to make sure the readers can self insert and project onto the MCs, earlier MCs were somehow very bland, or "weak", and submissive in a bad way for the sake of the self insert and LI. With newer titles, this problem seems to be less present though!

When I say they are weak I don’t mean their physical strength by the way, but rather the fact that they are so kind they are completely selfless. I think that if done right, such a representation can be beautiful, but more often than not, I saw MCs who were so "kind" their character was being crushed by their LI and they completely lacked anything that could be relatable to most readers, if that makes sense. It was in my opinion bad writing, because it was very one sided and only served the purpose to go faster with the story to learn more about the LI.

Compared to that, the MK MC is sooo well written in my opinion. She has everything, and without any extremes. She’s an independent and capable woman with a strong and kind personality, but she doesn’t reject others or love nor does she act as a man hater (thankfully, she didn’t fall into that annoying type of feminist writing). She’s extremely strong both physically and mentally, but she can still be sensitive, cute and have her weaknesses at times. She’s all about justice and doing what’s right, but can admit her own mistakes and adapt her judgment when she sees that what she believes in isn’t always right. Despite her intelligence, she can be a bit silly especially with the right crowd. She fits in very well with the 3S’ due to that reason and is often either as exasperated as Yuzu, or takes part in all their weirdness and banter

She’s also extremely beautiful, which is a breath of fresh air for me because the amount of times that I’ve read stories where the LIs often mentioned that the MC was plain looking or ugly at first… I actually don’t think it’s bad to have an average looking or "ugly" MC, but after the other titles or games that I’ve played, it was good to finally have a MC all the LIs could basically admire and compliment like she’s a literal goddess. Especially if the reader is supposed to project onto the MC (it’s nicer to be expected to look like Venus rather than Gollum…🤣) To be honest, whenever I read titles, I always imagine the MC to look like my OC, so it hurts to see the LIs think she’s not especially pretty at first 🥹

As for what I don’t like about her, nothing really in particular, but there are things I wished I could have seen more. In her character introduction in the app, she’s described as a sort of sister figure to other women, but I’ve never seen that yet.

I’ve seen women either be friendly, or jealous, but I’ve never seen her have a sort of sisterly role towards any females. Given her career, it wouldn’t be odd for her to be admired by other fellow agents too so I kind of wish to see that. I actually really hope we can even see her actual family and have her meet her younger siblings. We had a few interactions with her parents and especially her mom, but I hope we get to meet her brother and sister as well. It would bring a lot more characterization to her.

Some people could also argue that in Kazuomi’s route, she’s often left aside to give place to Kazuomi who’s always a few steps ahead of her, and therefore her talents and character isn’t as fully explored compared to other routes. Personally that doesn’t bother me a lot, because it’s already been clear how good she is, and Kazuomi is definitely the main guy with a lot of depth to his own character, so it makes sense that it’s tougher for her to shine when she’s against him. That doesn’t remove any of her greatness. Her being the way she is is already exceptional if we take into account that a lot of other MCs never reached her level of characterization

Kei

There are many things I like about Kei. His story, first of all, which I didn’t expect to turn out this way at all the first time I’ve read his first season. Seeing his growth and changes have felt like going on a journey. If he’s potentially not interesting to read as a LI, I’d say he’s at least great to read simply for the whole character development and story building. He’s slow burn, which may not be appealing to many, but it feels worth it whenever we reach the stages we have wished to see.

I would argue that the writing of his route make him one of the best, if not the best, story among Voltage titles. I say this despite liking Kazuomi’s route the most, because I can only bow down to such a beautiful route. It’s so unique and difficult and confusing at the same time. It’s like you’re experiencing what he feels about love alongside him. He has so many sides to him that give him a lot of depth, and I didn’t expect to witness this type of character before.

His trauma and story telling is handled in a very bold way. I had never seen Voltage write such a tragic background story before. It’s not like I’ve read every title out there, but from everything I could see, it seems like MK overall is very unique. I also love his sense of humor and his playful attitude. He’s a big tease, which is perfect to enhance Kazuomi’s own playfulness and to get on Yuzu’s last nerves

Something I wish would have been different in his story however would be how Caleb was handled at the end of his arrest once they managed to stop him. I just wish it would have been more spectacular. The final fight wasn’t bad, but it could have had more impact, more spice to it in the fighting scenes ✨

Yuzu

He’s great, and so are his flaws. I always think about how his qualities and flaws are perfect combinations, he is pretty relatable and realistic. I once heard something that approximately said that, in a given trait, all our qualities have a "trap", and that these traps basically lead to our flaws. In this case, I always thought how Yuzu’s perfectionism can turn into stubbornness and lead to frustration. Just like his sensitivity is hidden and shut down by his rationality a lot of times. I think he can be very relatable, especially to those who struggle to open up and communicate their feelings, even with themselves.

I really like that he uses his knowledge about technology to face his problems, such as saying that when he and the MC argue, they have a "bug" that needs to be fixed. It’s really cute and adds to his hard working or nerdy nature. He obviously always tries to do his best and while it’s hard for him to admit it, he’s very fond of his closed ones and will always be there for them. I also love how he is intelligent in many ways. He’s not narcissistic or condescending to those who appear less intelligent than him, he always wants to do better and takes others’ opinions into consideration if they matter.

As for what I’m hoping to see in the game for him, I’d say more interactions between him and Kazuomi. Maybe due to having the same writer, it seems Yuzu and Kei are shown to be especially close but we know they all share a deep bond with different dynamics. It would be nice to see more key moments that would show the type of bond they have as well, since Yuzu is said to respect Kazu a lot in his own character introduction

Kazuomi

Of course there are way too many things I love about this man since he’s my favorite. I love how confident he is, how he always manages to stay in control of things, and how fun he can be. He’s the type of character that makes you think everything will be alright in the end. I also love that this personality he has might not be his actual one, and I’m only looking forward to seeing how he really is. He’s really mysterious at times, and his past seems to be deeply present in his mind even now. He’s the only one who is the most discreet when it comes to opening up about it, so it’s really making me curious to know what happened.

What I love the most is how good and unique his relationship with the MC is. They’re at the same time completely compatible personality-wise, and at the same time, their work make their relationship hard to operate like a normal one. I don’t especially wish anything from his route would be altered, but I’m hoping to see he and MC finally reach a sort of stability in their relationship where they can settle down without thinking that what they have might be temporary. With MC’s job and Kazuomi’s tactics that will make him reveal himself to her one day, we don’t know what will happen between them, but I’m optimistic about their future. They were basically made for each other

Seiichi

I absolutely love him, which is why I will take this opportunity to expose my love and rant about all the things I need to rant about. There are a few things that should have been explored before stopping his stories, which is why I’m mad that they decided to stop writing for him. Things such as seeing more of his older sister, who was implied to appear again to fight back against Seiichi and MC, if I remember correctly. In the end, we won’t know what she would have done if they had decided to continue more with his stories. We also needed to know more about him. About how his grandparents raised him, getting more PoVs of his past, etc…

Something that I’ve found very weird is that when you play Kazuomi’s Ultimate Vacation, you can decide to get a PoV of the Boss. If you choose it, Boss then quickly has a thought about his past, about how the island he grew up in had marijuana plantations, and then you learn that his island ended up destroyed as a result. I didn’t understand why they discontinued his story only to reveal things here and there in other routes. I don’t want breadcrumbs about him, I want the whole bakery (and I say that as a French 😡😂)

Really though, I don’t know what was the point of doing this, I love learning more about him, so it’s all fine with me, but why in Kazuomi’s route? Why make a PoV option for him when you’re only going to show a few lines about his past and then move on to Kazu’s story again? I found all this very interesting and mysterious. Maybe they couldn’t follow with his story since he was the least read of the bunch, so they decided to expose what they had planned for him in the other routes for the fans.

Maybe my only wish was that he wasn’t made out to be such a jerk to MC in Kei’s route S1. I don’t mind that he can appear as an antagonist at first, but this really seemed to have killed a lot of readers’ will to try out his route due to that, when he’s actually a great character with good morals. Lacking readers for his route is most probably the reason why they decided to stop writing for him, too.

There’s something else I wish (maybe?) could have been different in his story. There’s the fact that the EAC is, depending on the route, either depicted as controversial in their way of handling things, or as a good agency that wants to bring justice. It would have been good that in the end, MC didn’t become a senior agent for the EAC in my opinion. I was pretty disgusted by the agency to be honest. It was made clear that the EAC higher ups would have never promoted MC to a senior agent position if it weren’t for Seiichi faking his death (and we never knew why they never wanted her to become one in the end), and it was revealed later on that the EAC lacked agents after Seiichi made sure to "take care" of the agents who were rotten.

Technically, we learned that the EAC they were working for had their bad apples as well. Even if Seiichi took care of them after disappearing, I felt pretty bitter to see MC become a senior agent for the EAC when they didn’t have the intention to choose her willingly at first. And of course I was also super sad because Seiichi wasn’t here anymore, which led her to live without him for a few years before finally reuniting again. I loved their reunion, but I just felt sad that things had to turn out this way for them. I’m thinking that this ending wasn’t planned at first, and they they came up with it as a last resort to end his route earlier, because there are quite a few plot holes that were supposed to be filled later on in future stories.

Aside from that, I loved his route overall and only dislike that they treated him "badly" compared to the other LIs. He’s really mysterious which is what made me so obsessed with learning more about him at first, and then made him my second favorite. I also loved how he protected MC against the EAC when they wanted to pin her as a criminal, and how in other routes he also seems to care for her, even if it’s very subtle.

I feel like with his type of characterization, he was made for readers to interpret his acts a lot. He loves to confuse MC at times and they have this sort of banter where they won’t admit their feelings and will unmask the other, which I really love. I love that he yearns for her quietly and will only show her a fraction of it to tease her, and possibly to indulge himself too

Thank you for the ask, and sorry if my answer was long! Take care as well!! ❤️

#ask #kazuomi shido #yuzuru shiba #kei soejima #seiichi setoyanagi #voltage inc #love 365 #otome game #voltage #love 365 find your story #masquerade kiss #mk #otome games #voltage otome #masquerade kiss boss #mk boss

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coralillom · 15 days

Text

Helluverse OC

Helluva boss- Cici (Succubus)

Ozzie’s Personal Assistant/Manager

In charge of Asmodeus scheduling, Working mainly at Ozzie’s, Makes sure everything is running smoothly. Really good friends With Fizz since he started working at Ozzie’s.

Head cannons:

- Around Her neck are Ozzie’s feathers that she ripped off him after he was stressing over Ozzie, Did it as a method of comfort (Well that’s what she said to Ozzie but she took out a hit of anger too)

- Constantly stressed considering Ozzie makes a lot of cancellations and rescheduling to hang out with fizzy “His business partner”

- Always knew about Ozzie and fizz, Honestly just assumed they were married.

Design Choices:

- Wears a Lot of jewelry (even if she can afford it she steals most of it )

- Scars on her back wear her wings use to be, (They were ripped out - who knows by who???) displays them proudly

- Scar across her face, Accident during an Ozzie show gone terrible

- Everything else are birth marks

This OC is new so her story may change around but overall this is my self insert.

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from-izzy · 3 months

Text

that's him, that's just who he is | tbz choi chanhee | new

"At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

PAIRING » tbz choi chanhee (new) x gn!reader (proofread twice—lmk if i made a mistake!) TROPE/AU » friends 2 strangers, highschool au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (chanhee towards the end) GENRE » angsty angst angst, unread messages, comforting friendship, supporting friendship, you both attend the same music academy, you both are preparing to become celebrities/idols! WORD COUNT » 4168 (no seriously, 2k word limit who?) ESTIMATED READING TIME » 15 mins WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!) » financial difficulties, stress relating to: money, music, balancing friendships-work-school, upwards comparisons, failure at achieving dream job (reader's side), unsupportive teachers

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

my third story! i take it back when i said that the second is my favourite story because this is my new (no pun intended) favourite story. i had to stop multiple times because it hit me too many times 🥹👍

well...the self insert is really real here 🫂 and this got seriously personal (let's see how many times i say this with this series 👀)

big respect to chanhee for balancing his education, preparing to be an idol and having a part time job 🫂 i respect him so much

thank you for reading honey bee ☘️🐝 @sanaxo-o and happiest birthday to you!! this story isn't much of a gift since you've read it before but there is the other one hehe 💕

Unlike most of your other lessons, this one passed by as quickly as a blink of an eye. It might be because the air conditioner in the room was set to the perfect temperature or the way the tie around your collar didn’t suffocate you too much or maybe, it was the way that you were practically showered with a bunch of compliments as soon as you took a deep breath from your diaphragm, lifted your cheekbones and sung your heart out.

Swiftly, you smile at the affirming nods that your teacher gave you, writing down her notes to the three-minute performance that you were assigned to for the last month. Across the whole month, you recall the way the tip of the pen scratches the plastic board vigorously, tapping rapidly and furiously throughout the longest three minutes of your life. Usually, you would be assigned a new song every three weeks or have two songs to practice for five weeks. On the times that you didn’t succeed, it would be a hell lot of criticism, tears and punches on the wall as soon as you exited the small studio. Heck, even with the times when the tears made it out in the room, you could tell that even though she toned down her volume, those eyes looked at you no further than disinterest—sometimes she would unmistakably roll her eyes too.

It has always been in short, sickening.

Those were the times that you wanted to just rip out your vocal cords, swear that you would never sing again, not that you even could at that point, and run away from the one thing that gave you life in your tiring days.

“Pick a song.”

The statement made your head slightly crane forward towards your suddenly easygoing teacher. You let out a confusing hum and question to which she responds with an amused smile.

“I can…choose?”

“You can’t truly be a singer if you don’t know what songs fit you best or if you need someone to pick what songs you should sing. You don’t have to choose a challenging song yet. You’ve been singing for the past half year and you’re good at it, but you really only found your style recently and I would rather you focus on further developing it.” She shrugs leisurely after, “It’s up to you though.”

Either way, I’m still going to get paid.

Numerous song titles juggle in your mind, the different lyrics and tunes playing in your head as the memories of your lives flash through their respective melodies. However, it wasn’t easy for your mouth to announce any of the songs, your mind thinking of all the technicalities within each song that would definitely challenge the fragile, insecure side of you.

But art is a special type of hobby.

It’s one of those hobbies that no one would ever be able to ‘perfect’. Somebody would always criticise and pick it apart ruthlessly—and you would always have to pick up their words and carry them deep within your heart.

“Are you sure?” The way that she tilts her head to the side after writing down your choice says everything.

But you stood your ground.

You’ve been in love with this song for so long and all you wanted to do was to learn it properly. Who knows when you’ll be given the chance to pick again? So, with the bravest smile and the most convincing nod that your shaking body could give, she does her final notes on that worn-out notebook of hers. She also recites your homework and expectations for the next lesson before excusing your presence from the room.

You couldn't wait to scream the excitement out of your body, tell your parents and your best friend about what just happened, analyse the song and its technical aspec—

"I just don't think you'll make it."

You halt your steps and your journey. For such a good music academy, these rooms seriously needed thicker walls. You were genuinely surprised that you were still able to focus on your lessons (most of the time) through all the electric guitar, drum kits and unfortunately, other singers who were unable to hit those certain high notes.

It's times like these that you wish the academy could invest in their building more. You were lucky that your lesson room is located at the end of the hallway meaning that your criticism could only be heard by you, the teacher and maybe the two rooms in front and beside yours.

Chanhee wasn't so fortunate, being at the very front, the first door on the left. It left him vulnerable. The voice cracks, the times when he would go off tune or the rare times when he missed his count. It would all mercilessly be heard by anyone who would pass by just to go to the toilet or refill their empty, cold coffee mug.

You stood next to the wall where the glass doors of the lesson door, biting your bottom lip and you noticed how Chanhee wouldn’t even say anything to his teacher’s words. You could imagine how he had his head hung low, nodding occasionally at the words and was forced to repeat the same line over and over and over again until he got it right. You prayed silently in your heart and mind that time would go quicker for him so that he could walk out, breathe in some fresh air and take a break from the suffocating practice room.

When the door clicks open, Chanhee has that tired, sad smile to you that he gives most of the time. Your eyebrows fell a little but you were still able to give him an encouraging one back.

“No?” You asked even though you very much knew the answer.

“No.” He quietly affirms after a short pause.

“I’m still proud of you though.” Just like any other day at school, after lessons or any other time, you lightly punch his shoulder, him chuckling and shoving you back. “I guess…that’s why they’re called ‘lessons’ after all.”

The realisation of your words made Chanhee groan. Lessons that are made throughout a lifetime—one that he has been attending for a year and a half unlike you who only started at the start of the year. He gave up his time with his friends, time to study which most of society thinks is the best way to secure a well-financed job, and gave up his money to buy clothes for himself that he just walked past whenever he knew he would get tempted. All those part-time jobs, ones that would go late into the still busy nights of Seoul or the ones early in the morning before school when most people would still be snoring, were all done with his dream that someday his voice would be heard by the world.

“How did yours go?”

You know that you should just be truthful. You both have been stuck to the hip for the last few years and Chanhee is not an easy person to deceive. Plus, you need to take into consideration as well of lying at this current moment. You didn’t want Chanhee to think that you were trying to make him feel better by potentially pitying him. What good would that bring to anyone right now in this situation? That’s not what friends do.

“I was given a chance to choose a song.” The small genuine, congratulatory smile that Chanhee gives makes you relax your back into the wall further, the tension easing away from your body. “I also managed to get through that vocal run that I’ve been agonising and crying to you about for the past week.” You slump your body against the wall as you recall your homework, “But she gave me more scales to use as runs for practice.”

“Scales really do suck.” Chanhee whispers to you teasingly, once again getting pushed by you.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge shortly after. “But it does help me with my breathing and flexibility which I highly suck at.”

“Hey,” he scolds your words lightly, “at least you have a distinctive sound and know how to put emotions according to the sound. My teacher just said I sound generic.”

Yes. That description for Chanhee—no, just any singer—is weird and you would dare to say, highly misleading.

If we’re talking about musical terms, every single singer has a unique timbre. Even if the note stays the same, every person will have a different tone colour because well, every person is different. Saying that a singer has a generic voice, highly contradicts the definite concept of instrument timbre.

You know how much this troubled Chanhee even though he tries his best to hide it. The comments about his timbre have been repeated so many times that it’s got to him a lot. In the beginning, he would just smile bitterly and indicate that he wouldn’t want to talk about the lesson, kicking the group of stones on the pathway to release his anger. However, as you both grew closer after an assigned duet performance, he was able to open up to you little by little, slowly but surely, keeping the friendship that grew even after you did your ending bow to the audience. He would still hide a little bit of his feelings to himself, embarrassed that he would talk about himself even though you reassured him that it was completely fine.

To him, how others see him is the most important thing for him. From the compliments that would grow the contagious smile on his face, to the heartbreaking crying scenes that he would hide from the rest of the world, all those words he took to heart so that he could improve himself as a person—and in this case, as an artist. In this harsh world, the words that would be spat out by teachers would be so deeply etched in a person’s heart that all of a sudden, giving up everything that they have worked so hard for would be easier done.

It’s during those times that you and Chanhee would lean on each other, reassuring each other not to run away from the weekly lessons and giving comfort after each one. Chanhee is internally grateful for the times that you would hold his shoulders, lightly shaking his frail, tired body before giving him words of encouragement. He would do a similar thing for you when you feel like you didn’t progress, stopping your self-criticism and pushing you to keep going. To you, he would just let you cry on his shoulder as you hug him tight, patting your back calmingly.

The light snowing season greets the both of you as soon as you exit the building. For you, your next destination is home but for Chanhee, ninety-eight percent of the time it would be his job at the barbeque restaurant, the seafood restaurant or even that new Chinese restaurant that he recently just started.

Given the good results of your lesson, you selfishly wanted to have some fun but the words died down in your throat when you slightly turned your head towards your friend. His black hair still peaked out from the beanie that kept both of his ears warm, the scarf that you gifted him hid the slight downturn of his lips and the physical expression of his heavy heart. His eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes in the cold but still bright night and his rosy cheeks only grew brighter and more evident the slower the journey to your next destination would take.

“Just a little penguin in his somewhat natural habitat?” Your attempt to get a response out from him is successful when you see his cheekbones rise—the same way that they would rise whenever he sings his heart out.

“What a way to start a conversation.”

Your heart lightens at your successful attempt, linking your right arm with his as you continue to walk down the still-shared path that makes the distance between all your worries and yourself further away. However, like all journeys, you finally arrive at that one spot.

The one that split into two different roads, unlike the one you have been walking a few minutes ago.

The right road would take you both to safety, warmth and relaxation.

The left road would force you to unlink Chanhee’s arm, sending him to the busy, loud civilisation where he would put on his apron and raise the pitch of his voice fit for customer service.

“Are you…off to work?” He senses the sadness lingering in your voice and the way your right hand tightens around his forearm even through the thick, winter clothes.

“…yeah.”

“I see.” You managed to muster a stable response tone. “Come on, I’ll drop you there.” You turn your body towards the crowd but can’t go too far due to the other set of feet that stays grounded on the worn-down, cold stone floor, “Chanhee?”

“Maybe…” Suddenly, the sky starts to sprinkle down its pretty shapes of ice. “I’m just not meant to be a singer.”

You gasp quietly, the faint white exhale slowly disappearing behind the dark background. Seeing the tears finally slide down his cheeks made you realise one thing: he’s opening up. He’s doing the thing that he has tried to hide from everyone. In tune with his emotions, your eyes started to build their layer of moisture, the wind making it harder for you to keep your tears in. You couldn’t think straight, your free arm wiping your eyes to rid the hardships from your face while trying to give Chanhee words of encouragement.

“You’re going to get ther—”

“What if you had to give up so much,” He cut you off, gasping and inhaling more air to accommodate his crying, “earn so much money, gave it away and it didn’t give you good results? Whatever it may be…An event, a trip, an investment.” His voice gradually trails off as he lists life occurrences.

You’ve thought about the same thing thousands of times, back and forth, no matter where, when and who you were with. In a world where pursuing art can be a hard, long path, what would happen if nothing good were to come out of it? All your hard work, all your money, all your time…you’ll never be able to get those back.

Is it worth it? Is it worth the gamble?

“I would probably beat myself over it.” You tried to keep your whimpers at bay as you confessed the same answer that would come back every time you went on your downward spiral, “I would most probably always question why I did what I did. If I did the event with someone, and for some reason, they were the ones that made the situation bad, then I would’ve gone back and forth, asking myself if it was worth it. Why didn’t I go alone? Why was I so scared? What was I so scared of?”

Should you move to a different academy? But your teacher is well known. Should you still do it anyway? Knowing that you had to go through many processes and hardships to even get lessons with this teacher. Even if most of the time, you felt like giving up music, surely her experience would lead you to someplace good…right?

“But then…would answering those questions lead to happiness?” Chanhee scoffs at his absurd thoughts. Tilting his head to the sky, he relishes the way the snowflakes land on his pale skin, disappearing when they touch his skin, the side branches melting into his warmth. “Even after answering the question, would you be able to know what to do next? What would it lead to?”

Even though Chanhee was the first one to cry and break down, your wails were louder the more his words resonated within you, touching the parts of your heart that you never wanted to say out loud, scared of where and how your unconscious mind would take you. With everything in him, he untangles his arms to wrap them around your neck, patting the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. He also lets his tears soak your scarf, resting his cheek on his arm and his chapped wavering lips rubbing against the delicate wool of your scarf, trying his best to soften his cries.

“I just…” One of his hands pats your back, giving you his comfort—even though he probably needed it more than you, “Music and singing used to be happiness that could fit in my pocket. It felt secure and safe. I could just put on my earphones and I’ll feel happy.” You notice the tighter hold after, “But music grew too fast and too big for me that I couldn’t catch up with it anymore.”

You only nod to his words, knowing how much Chanhee sacrificed to pay for his lessons. Some judged him, calling him stuck up and selfish even though they knew that he was independent in his journey to become a singer. It pains you to hear those words come out as scoffs and laughter and soon enough, you hold his hand and cut ties with them all, leaving their flabbergasted faces behind.

The sky starts to cry with you both beautifully in the form of its unique icy shapes. You both watch the snowflakes disappear on the ground, on each other clothing, on your noses. Finding the strength and breath to continue, you slowly push your body away, wiping the last bit of your tears to face your best friend straight into his eyes.

“You’re going to find happiness that you can rely on, Chanhee.” You couldn’t see his lips but you were sure that it was pouting and shivering, “It may be music or it may be something that music brings you. It may be the stage or maybe people who you will come to work with or maybe the people who will cheer you on but I’m sure you’ll find it soon.”

Even with the bustling environment around you both, there was no way that you could have missed his muttering, especially with the white puff of air, “At this rate…”

He feels the weight and pressure of your palms on both his shoulders but he still looks down to the ground where the snow slowly buries the sides of his shoes, “I promise you that if you keep going, I don’t have a single doubt that you’ll find your style. Regardless of what your crappy teacher says, you’re unique and I love your voice.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Wiping the lone tear on his cheek, “The world is going to be amazed when they hear your voice and I'm sure you'll be a good influence to them.”

For the first time in the day, Chanhee finally smiled. You observe the way his eyes disappear into pretty little upside-down moons. His head tilts back slightly, revealing the upturned corner of his lips behind the scarf that kept him warm and his teeth shine brighter with the help of the light from the marketplace behind you. Your hands were able to finally relax and mirrored the same expression back to your now radiant friend.

“Promise me that we’ll stand on the same stage someday.”

But life plays a twisted fate on you both and loves to put more pressure than you can ever carry. Having to move to a different school and a different region is not on your list of expectations. You argued endlessly about the decision to move, feeling unfair that none of your opinions mattered to them as they relentlessly started to look for moving trucks to hire. With the good offer that your dad received and realising that the youngest in the family had no final say, you tried your best to hold back the tears when telling Chanhee the news.

He cries for you and himself, already imagining the loneliness of walking to the music academy after a long day of school and the drags of his feet across the gravel in the night after each lesson. You assured him that you would call often and unlike you, he promised you the same thing. Time told you both that your friendship was still strong despite the physical distance between you both and with time, so did both your musical skills.

The trade-off for talent in your friendship is the less frequent phone calls and text messages. It was decreasing steadily and slowly until eventually, there was no more red dot beside his name on your phone even though you're sure there would be one beside your name on his. When sadness turned into confusion, then morphed into anger, hate and bitterness whenever someone asked you about him, you still found yourself swiping through your many photos with him. Just like how he cries on your last day, you cry from the silence of him.

Thankfully, time did heal your heart even though you couldn’t find a friend like him ever again. Things have changed for you and you were sure that it was the same for Chanhee. You grew taller, changed your hairstyle, hobbies, dreams and aspirations. What time didn’t seem to change however was the delivered sign that never changed with your messages. You let it go and went on with your life.

When you did come back to Seoul, you realised that the city had changed drastically. You wondered if it’s really that or if you were just struggling to remember the city that you once walked around in every day. But unlike your thoughts, maybe Seoul did change drastically. Amid the new but still bustling environment, there was this one cafe that was incredibly packed. Needing to get away from the cold, you entered to be greeted with a well-decorated interior and the gold ‘Happy Birthday New’ balloon shines brightly, especially with the light that is right above it. Many were posing in front of the gold foil fringe backdrop.

You almost didn’t recognise the boy in the picture. You don’t remember when you took your scarf off and picked up a random framed picture in the frame before picking up another one next to it, and another one, and another one. Each showed his growth. You could tell not only from his appearance but also from the bigger stage that he performed along with ten other boys. Suddenly, it clicks and it all makes sense. Hearing everyone else around you talk about him fondly took away the heavy weight that his name brought and a new feeling overtook your heart.

For the first time in a very long time, seeing his face made you smile and it didn’t hurt.

Your phone slides into your shaking hands, swipe open the camera app from the lock screen and point it at the framed picture in your hand, “At least between us both,” the camera shutters and you take a shaky inhale, “one of us took the right path.”

You know from the laughter in the space, the feeling of the radiant energy of those around you and the happiness on people’s faces as they point their cameras to their fanmade goods and the interior of the place, that Choi Chanhee has done it. The stage looked extremely good on him, even if the light was too bright and he looked so pale sometimes.

“I’m glad it was you.”

You whisper somewhat solemnly and with a bit of jealousy. Your clenched fist is a puny attempt in trying to keep your tears from expressing the hurt that suddenly hit you as you recall that moment in your life. The multiple rejections to the companies that you auditioned for, the way people on the streets pass by more frequently as their ears and eyes are focused on other’s performances—the night where you listed all your musical instruments for sale and promised that you would never sing ever again.

“You shy, talented, loveable penguin.” And it would seem that his fans agree with the chosen animal with the pouting blue penguin on top of his head. “That’s just who you are, Chanhee.”

Maybe the fame wasn’t for you. Shortly after moving, you found out that the stage was more of a hobby, especially with how you just wanted to stand on stage but never wanted to practise and study music theory properly. You just wanted to shout out the lyrics and sentimentally sing the lyrics of existing songs instead of having your name in an album or next to the credits and royalty rights to the song. But knowing that it fit Chanhee well, it was more than enough for you. He may not have known it before but you wish with all your being that he knows his capability to make others smile, including you.

Even if your broken smile is within millions that he probably would never see from the podium that rightfully held him high.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...' tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿@sanaxo-o @astrae4

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athanza · 1 month

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Starlett - Final part

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, romance, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2077

That night, after dinner, Irene found Cooper on the sofa with Janey asleep on his lap, watching an old noire film with the volume down low.

"Thank you very much for dinner Mr. H- Cooper." She corrected herself, speaking low so as not to wake Janey. "It was lovely."

He looked up as she walked over. "It was no trouble at all. Janey loved having you here."

She smiled at his daughters sleeping face as she sat down on the edge of the sofa. "You've got a good kid there."

He looked down at her proudly. "Yeah, I sure do."

"She reminds me of my baby sister, she lives with my folks in Sacramento. I don't get to see her much anymore with my work and everything with Frank and Lee. It'll be good to see her again."

"How long has it been?"

"Almost 2 years. I know my sister resents me for how much I'm away, but hopefully that'll change now that I'll be away from Frank, at least until the divorce proceedings." She sighed with uneasiness.

"You'll be fine." Said Cooper encouragingly. "You're stronger than you think."

"Ditto." She smiled warmly. "And don't worry about Janey, you both love her so much. She'll understand when she's older, I promise."

He smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you."

She looked into his eyes and saw something she never had, a good man, a man who loves unconditionally and stands up for his family.

She, just for a moment, imagined what it would be like if he was her husband instead of Frank, if Janey were their daughter, if this was her life and not the daily abuse she had been going home to every night.

She could feel emotions begin to well behind her eyes and she snapped out of it before she embarrassed herself.

"Well, I should get some sleep, I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Thank you again."

The warmness that emanated from her was a welcome comfort in the midst of everything that had happened in the last few months. He almost didn't want her to leave, but he couldn't let himself fall, not now, not for her. They were meant for another time, another world, not this one.

"Irene?" Said Cooper, stopping her before she left. "This whole thing with Vault Tec...something's happening, something I'm not sure we'll ever come back from.

You're free from it now. Whatever's coming...it won't be worth giving up your happiness."

What he said about Vault Tec concerned her, not that it was surprising, but he was right about her happiness, he was right about everything. She wasn't going to be held back any longer.

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly.

2296

The sky was still dark when he left the cave. He'd covered Irene with whatever he could find to try to conceal her from raiders, hoping nothing else would find her while he was gone.

He knew there was a clinic in this area somewhere but whether it had anything left in it was a gamble.

As he made his way hastily through the area, he couldn't stop thinking about her and it just made him angry, 219 years of trying to become the monster that he had to be in order to survive, only for her to show up and remind him of that warmth that he'd long since forgotten. It made him weak, but he couldn't let her die, not now.

He heard movement up ahead, two men laughing drunkenly as they stumbled to find somewhere to relieve themselves.

Raiders.

The cages and skewered bodies around the building were a dead give-away and their little base just happened to be the clinic he was looking for.

Jackpot. They definitely had a stash in there somewhere.

The two men separated to find somewhere to piss but just as one got comfortable, Cooper blast his head off and took the other one out just a split second later.

"Oh HELL no!" Came a voice from the doorway of the clinic.

Without hesitation, Cooper shot him too, a bloody mess left on the door frame behind where he had been standing.

He stormed inside, his pump-action shotgun in hand, willing to use up all of his ammo to get what he needed.

Bullets and wood chips were flying every which way, and he took a bullet or two, but it took him no time at all to obliterate every person in that building.

He searched hastily for supplies, and when he found a first aid box full of stimpaks and cotton thread, he grabbed it and left, picking up several blood packs on his way out.

2077

The next morning, Irene was up early, her bag already in her car when Cooper came out to meet her.

"You weren't kiddin' about leavin' early." He said, the clock in the hallway reading 7:12am.

"I thought it'd be best if I left earlier rather than later."

He knew why. He didn't argue.

"Give this to Janey for me, would you? I noticed she liked it and I know it'll be in good hands."

She handed Cooper a silver locket with a daisy engraved delicately on the front.

He looked at it a bit surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't much care for it anymore. It'll be more appreciated with her." She smiled.

She did one last check of her purse to make sure she had everything and the tention in the air was starting to thicken. When she knew she had everything, she looked back up at him.

"Cooper?" She asked. "Do me a favour and don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak, always remember that, ok?"

She leant forward and kissed his cheek. "See you 'round cowboy."

She smiled at him one last time before getting in her car, and as he watched her drive away he felt his heart ache a little. He would miss her, her warm smiles, and how she made Janey laugh, but it wasn't meant to be, and he knew that.

2296

He pulled off the foliage covering her now pale body and opened the case.

Her breathing was shallow and laboured, a puddle of blood underneath her that had started to coagulate.

He used one of the stimpaks, then another, then another until he had used all six, then pulled out the thread and started sewing up the deep gashes on her side that were sticky with blood.

He remembered the last time he saw her, her smile, the kiss. He remembered watching her drive away and wishing she hadn't. He remembered the last things she said to him.

"...don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak..."

When he finished sewing, he hung up one of the blood bags and attached the long tube to her arm.

He was still and focused, hoping he wasn't too late, his hands now covered in her blood.

When she woke up after only a few minutes, she saw him sitting by the fire beside her and smiled sleepily.

"Hey there cowboy."

The End

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cfs-melkire · 10 months

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FFXIV: WoL, OC, and Roleplay

Since there were some questions and confusion in tags, I figured that an educational/informative post like this might be helpful for some folks, so I'm going to break a few things down for those who might be unfamiliar.

Namely, we're going to get into what "Warrior of Light" means to different people, what "OC" means in the FFXIV context, and what "roleplay" means to different people (and why those distinctions exist).

Since this is going to be a long post, click the "Read Below" for more under the cut!

Warriors of Light

"Warrior of Light," in general, refers to the main protagonist of the critically acclaimed hit MMORPG, Final Fantasy XIV. Lore fanatics will know that this title once saw more widespread use in-setting (to refer to the Twelvesblades but also to historical heroes in general), but put that aside for now. WoL - Warrior of Light for short, in handy acronym format - is the main character, the hero, the person you play as. You even see the XIV devs (Yoshi P & everyone at CBU3) refer to the players themselves this way, as Warriors of Light.

FFXIV takes a different approach from other MMORPGs by making the story centered around a specific individual: you, as the WoL. This shift really kicks into gear towards the end of A Realm Reborn (2.0), as prior to that, you were just one of many adventurers in the realm of Eorzea (unless you were a 1.0/1.x player; again, set that aside for now). But starting with Operation Archon, your character starts taking center stage in terms of global affairs. By the time you're into Heavensward content, the story of the Scions is, fundamentally, your story: the Warrior of Light's story.

This creates an interesting situation in which players have a shared experience with different takes on how the main character did, should have, and or would have act, acted, react, or reacted. Part of that has to do with our differing selections on race and gender for our characters. Part of that has to do with us projecting our own thoughts and feelings onto the WoL, in effect playing the game as our own self-insert of sorts! Observant newcomers may have noticed that the game progressively gives you more and more dialogue options the further along you get; we had very few of them in ARR and HW compared to later expansions! That has been a good change, and it's really helped players to see how a story could take different twists and turns depending on what kind of person would be at the helm of making those decisions as the main character.

As a result, we've seen a lot of prompts crop up on social media - on Twitter, here on tumblr, even on Reddit - about how people's characters differ from one another. How would YOUR Warrior of Light react, what would THEY have done, but also: what was their childhood like? What do they do for fun? Who do they get along with best? So on and so forth, all sorts of questions. Anyone who's ever been in fandom for any length of time knows that these kinds of questions, these sorts of hypotheticals, are very fun to explore. We've been doing this since we were kids! "Oh but what if this happened instead in my favorite film/show/story?" It's our imagination at work, and it feels great to turn something over in our heads like that.

On Twitter, mainly, these prompts came to be referred to as "WoL prompts" and were often tagged something like "wolqotd" (Question of the Day). But as folks have been fleeing Twitter in droves lately thanks to a certain billionaire manchild being grossly incompetent and generally unsafe, there's been a lot of cross-pollination between social media platforms. Since tumblr has had a historically different approach to FFXIV prompts and our FFXIV friends from Twitter seem to have developed a blindspot, I posted a well-intentioned blurb about how, and I paraphrase, "not all OCs are WoLs."

There was some mild confusion on that point, which brings us to this post. I'm gonna help clear that up right now.

Original Characters

Most of us have probably seen, at least once on the internet, some form of the phrase "OC do not steal" (often humorously misspelled as the meme "OC donut steel"). An OC - short for "original character" - is a common concept in fandom. In fandom specifically, it generally refers to any character that a fan has created for their own use, whether that use be for artistic expression, drawing doodles, writing short stories (read: fanfiction), etc. The character is original, meaning they're not part of the established setting or lore as produced and put out into the world by the makers of the show/series/novel/game/what-have-you, and the character is unique, meaning the character itself (their personality, their history, etc.) is specific to that fan and they're not just Pidgey #2761 caught on Route 1 in the years since 1998 by one out of millions of kids with no other discernible traits, features, or background details.

In the FFXIV context, OC refers to any original character made or created by a fan or player. Often (but not always) this takes the form of their playable avatar, the character they sign into the game with and play as. But there's a context, a MMORPG-specific context, in which "OC" means something more specific to folks in the FFXIV community. The best way I can explain that other meaning is to walk you through the thought process, but in short, a FFXIV OC is a character who is NOT the main character you play through the events of the game as, but rather a character who inhabits the setting and has their own life full of adventures & misadventures, with their own story to tell.

The thought process goes a little something like this: I'm really having fun with FFXIV, but I'm getting real bored of my character. Maybe I'll fantasia them. You know what, I'm tired of seeing what my Warrior of Light gets up to. I'm more curious about what the average person deals with. There's all these monsters out there beyond the city limits! How does anyone get anything done? Maybe they need, like, caravan guards. Yeah, that's cool... but what about Lalafell? They're so small compared to other people, but they get by fine. Hmmm, let me go back to the character selection screen and fantasia into a Lalafell. I'll make something really cool and cute looking. Now, where would they be from? I see a lot of them in Ul'dah, a few in Limsa... you know what, I don't see a lot of them in Gridania or the Shroud. It'd be really interesting to learn how a Lalafell ended up living there. Yeah, let's do that! Fantasia's done, now to find them some day-to-day clothes to wear. I wonder, if they're a caravan guard, where'd they pick up their fighting skills? Are they an archer or a mage? Did their family help them get into a guild? Hmmm.

On and on it goes, in this very manner, with all sorts of characters and stories. This is a FFXIV OC, and even though the player will be progressing through this game with their new Lalafell, they're not really viewing this character (or whatever race they might choose, e.g. Roegadyn or Elezen) as the Warrior of Light. Sure, they'll play to see what the Warrior of Light experiences, but there's a distinction in the player's mind: this is Toro Tororo, of Gridania, they sometimes sign up as a guard to make money but on most days they help out their family at the botanists' guild. They've never once seen or fought a primal.

This is, fundamentally, an MMORPG OC, just specific to FFXIV. This is very much the exact line of thinking that gave us Dungeons & Dragons and other tabletop RPGs! Someone was playing war games, said to themselves, "I really don't care about Napoleon or whichever general I am as I move these armies around, I really want to more about THIS soldier here, this guy, what's THEIR story?" and pointed at a single figurine of an infantryman standing alongside identically uniformed troops (thank you to Dave Arneson and his players). The full story is a bit more complicated than that, but the process itself is central to a lot of our own musings about tales and stories that we then spin out into our own creations.

But who plays FFXIV like this? Who goes through all of that effort to NOT be in the shoes of the WoL, and why?

In short: roleplayers.

Roleplay

Let's get the giggling out of the way. You've probably seen ERP referenced - short for "erotic roleplay" - and that has a long history that spiraled out of playing pretend in the bedroom & early internet chatrooms. But no matter what big streamers or people on Aether datacenter might tell you (I'm looking at you, Gilgamesh), that's not what most people mean when they talk about roleplay. ERP is only a very small facet of roleplay in general, the same way the horror-thriller genre is only one genre among many genres of film.

Roleplay is, fundamentally, writing in a collaborative setting where one or more writers act out the parts of one or more characters and make decisions for them.

You've seen this a lot, and have probably roleplayed without realizing it. Constructing a castle made out of Legos and having the knights fight each other, or setting up Barbie and Ken at the pool for a relaxing day and some barbeque, is roleplaying. You and a friend grabbing notebooks and writing out stories or drawing comics about your favorite characters from a popular series is roleplaying. Sitting around a table and playing Dungeons & Dragons is roleplaying, even if you're not doing character voices like the folks on Critical Role. Exchanging prompts about your WoL on social media is roleplaying.

Roleplaying within the actual game of Final Fantasy XIV is an extension of the above! Some folks really like to use the tools that MMORPGs gives them - character models, emotes, a chat box - to visually play out stories about all sorts of characters. FFXIV is particularly well-suited to this due to some crazy quality-of-life features, like target tracking (not only your character's head but their eyes move to follow whoever you target), multiple idle poses, an enormous range of emotes, being able to sit or lay down on furniture, etc. So when Felicia signs in on Toro Tororo, exits Gridania, and mounts up on their chocobo to head down to Bentbranch Meadows to meet her fellow player, Diego, who's on Heuloix Durendaire in order for Toro to sign up for the latest caravan down to Highbridge in Thanalan... that's roleplay!

There's such a breadth of stories to explore in any fictional setting, and FFXIV is no exception in that regard. It's often easier to make an OC who isn't saddled with the WoL's baggage in order to explore stories like this. Maybe someone wants to roleplay an Allagan who just woke up after being on stasis for 3,000 years. Or maybe someone else wants to play a Roegadyn pirate out on the open seas, and they put into port in places like Limsa and Kugane. Maybe Rockfist and Deathstaff want to host a fighting tournament to figure out who's the baddest of the bunch, or maybe the hardworkin' Miqo'te fellow wants to head into the Goblet for the evening to find a nice restaurant for a good meal and a nice drink, and maybe avoid being pressed for conversation by anyone other than the wait staff and that bartender who used to be their childhood friend.

Roleplayers make OCs to explore settings via collaborative writing, and often times those OCs aren't WoLs.

And sometimes they are!

And sometimes people roleplay via prompts or over Discord/messaging rather than in-game!

All valid. All good.

I could go on ad nauseum, but that just about covers it. If there are questions, please ask. In comments, in tags, via Asks, etc. I'll try to answer... or point folks to people who can provide better answers than I can.

Thanks for reading!

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #rp #ffxiv rp #roleplaying #oc #wol #collaborative writing #having fun

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