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draconic-desire · 2 months

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Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

#yandere dr ratio #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere #honaki star rail #hsr dr ratio #hsr drabbles #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio #hsr veritas #veritas x reader #yandere veritas ratio

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guessm0del · 9 months

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Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter Two: An Uninvited Guest

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings: cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (later included)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf! reader

chapter one here

chapter three here

chapter four here

Midnight air slips through the town square. The small clearing in front of the monastery lays bare, except for a small crow perched above its tallest wing, scrutinising my every move. The townspeople must be sound asleep in their warm beds. It’d be well past midnight by now, seeing as the way the moon slowly sinks across the stars. I glance to the midnight sky, cursing the way its constellations align so perfectly.

God is taunting me on this night.

He too, has seen my sin.

Perhaps he’s seen all along, and has only chosen tonight as the opportune time to tell me. Observing the empty courtyard to my left, I squint at the quiet townhouses in the distance. No red cloaks hurry through the footpaths.

The fool thinks he can hide from me.

The crow hawks a loud farewell and launches into the midnight sky. I hear it wishing me well as it passes. Smiling, I recount all the times they’ve watched on as I’ve killed the innocent. All creatures of the forest have an equal fealty to werewolves. Even birds know there are loyalties that must never be crossed.

Casting a subtle glance back to the monastery, I watch in silence as the town pastor gently closes the gates.

Shit.

Hearing him approach, I suck in an awkward breath and turn to retreat. His presence will only serve as a distraction.

He hurries forward and touches a gentle hand to my shoulder before I can turn away. “Y/N! I’ve been looking for you!”

Taking in a brief moment of freedom, I release a subtle sigh and turn to face my guest.

Pastor Mikaul has aged fairly since the last time I had seen him. His eyes droop with age, waning on the edge of exhaustion with chunks of hair that seemed to stick to his forehead like a mop.

In Mikeals mind, God was the greatest diety of all, giving sanctuary and hope to all those who send him their precious prayer.

I tilt my head to the side, observing the stern callouses that paint his palms. Some god indeed, stripping his faithful of freedom and leaving them to wander around a chapel all day like mindless fools. Blinded by their faith, High Priests in Avion spend their days locked up without a morsel of food or sunlight. They believe praying is the only thing they need to survive. I suppose it’s silly of me to judge, considering I’ve spent most of my life adapting to the shadows and living by the rules of the forest.

Pastor Mikeal makes an awkward cough as he takes his hand from my shoulder.

Cringing, I watch him shift closer, giving me a stern expression of disapproval. “The Council and I have been wondering why you haven’t been showing up to Church for our Sunday services.” He nearly whispers as he mentions the Council, pointing narrow glances to every corner of the courtyard before proceeding, “I understand your aunt is gravely ill, but perhaps praying for her good health will do better than neglecting your religious duties. You don’t want to break the Council’s trust now do you my dear?” Just as before, the old cripple goes into a hushed tone when mentioning the Council.

I suppress a smile.

Even the pastor fears them.

Under the guise of hiding a sob, I give each eye a firm pinch and wait impatiently for the tears to fall. I spend the next 10 minutes explaining my absences from church, and my dear aunts depleting health that seems to worsen each day. Waving my arms around on occasion, I weave a delicate tale of a hidden antidote, a difficult journey through the Northern treks of Rangaar, and a kind young woman trying to save her only living relative. In this story, and only in this story, I am the kind young woman. I finish my appeal with a long sob and a heartfelt apology thrown in for for his pride.

I watch through the corner of my eye as he stares uncertainly at the ground, catching the way his eyes twist in discomfort.

I’ve been a cold bitch to the him since the day Helena and I arrived in Avion. He wasn’t expecting this heartfelt reaction.

“My dear girl, if it troubles you so, let’s leave it be as it is for now…” he murmurs, briefly hesitating before giving my back a comforting pat.

I force myself into a stuttering mess. “B-but the Council will still be angry-”

“Don’t you worry about them, I’ll let the Council know of your impending troubles.” Giving me a reassuring pat on the back, he sets off in the opposite direction, leaving me to stand alone in the cold. I feel the sad expression on my face wear thin, moulding into the familiar uniformity of a nothingness.

In twelve days, when the winter solstice has begun, he will die. As will most in this town. Nothing has changed.

Our plans are still set, no matter how delayed.

I watch his figure morph into emptiness, chanting the promise once more in my mind.

They’re all going to die.

I turn to continue my hunt, finding myself pushing for any emotion, any small sign of sympathy, but all I feel is my heart sink at the knowledge that it’ll never hold more power over me than my head.

___

The South side of the forest could easily be considered the joyous reflection of the North. Complete opposites in every way.

Ever since Helena and I arrived in Avion, we’ve spent every spare hunting day covering the grounds of the North and West sides of the woods, using their confines of dark solidarity to our advantage while we hunted in secret.

The only few times I’ve needed to cross into the South was to visit Mary, who lives in a comfortable little cottage on the other side of town.

Leaves crunch beneath my feet with weary pace, leaving me to wonder if someone is actually watching me from afar or if it’s just my paranoia. I shake my head, pulling my lavender dress up to avoid a muddy branch in my path. Mary always fusses over my dresses, warning me not to get them dirty or she’ll be forced to do the one thing I hate most; make more of them. While Helena also pushes the importance of dresses as it eases the process of ‘blending in’ with the townsfolk, I’ve never been particularly fond of the discomfort a gown can bring me. Avion may be a quaint and colourful paradise in Summer and Spring, but in Winter the waters soak down through the small winded mud puddles, making it nearly impossible for any young woman to trek through the forest paths. How most Avion women bear the irritation that comes with wearing sun dresses and gowns everywhere they go, I’ll never know. Upholding the social standards of others has never been a concern of mine. Not with my situation.

I look ahead to the narrow stone path closing in, knowing I must be close. Mary usually insists I bring a map of Avion before setting off on my journey to her cottage, as the both of us know it’s not the easiest little place to find. Little does she know, I have a knack for finding people.

The crunch of leaves beneath my boots gradually soften, signalling I’m close. Mary’s cottage is situated in the centre of the most beautiful part of the forest, where the leaves in her garden shine with delicate care as though they’re watered everyday. Knowing Mary, they probably are. Small slivers of sunlight catch a small cottage coming up to my left. Hues of pink and green hover in small spaces of light above the roof. It’s almost as though Mary’s cottage is where the fairies come to congregate. That wouldn’t surprise me, honestly. I can already picture Mary welcoming them with her cinnamon cocoa and warm smile. Unlike the rest of the townsfolk, Mary has a pure heart filled with patience and compassion for the magical elements. Creatures of myth have never scared her, but that’s only because she’s never met a creature of dark magic.

She wouldn’t accept me, and as much as my affection for her stands firm, I certainly wouldn’t expect her to.

The smell of warm chocolate and pastry fills the air as I approach, pushing all thoughts of acceptance aside. Mary usually waits out the front for my arrival, fussing with my coat and boots so that I can enter comfortably, but today, she’s nowhere in sight. Making my way past the small porch steps, I take off my shoes and go to place them neatly by the door, stopping abruptly when I hear voices coming from inside. She must have a visitor. I glance to the small shoe rack by my side, searching for any shoes that mightn’t belong to Mary. I don’t see any.

Strange.

She hates it when people don’t take their shoes off before entering. Pressing my ear to the door, I listen in silence as I hear Mary’s voice accompanied by that of a males. Before I can catch what they’re saying I hear a loud crash followed by a scream.

Mary.

This was no visitor,

but rather an uninvited guest.

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Authors Note:

Sheesh that took me forever haha, sorry to everyone who’s been waiting. I’m really going to try and punch out another chapter this week cause I’m getting too invested in my own story LMAO.

No fr, send help💀

Anyway hoes comment in the comment section if you want to be added to the taglist (for those that haven’t already asked)

Taglist: @ramenoil @moonmoongi

#enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 2 months

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 3, Poll 13

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus-The Locked Tomb

Qualifications:

She's a lesbian and the author Tamsyn Muir has confirmed she's written as schizophrenic, based on her own experience.

Okay SO Harrow is a necromancer nun who is also a huge lesbian. She spends the books of TLT series being super gay and repressed about her emotions for 1. Butch lesbian Jesus and 2. Human Barbie the death of God. She narrates the second book (Harrow the Ninth) and is author-confirmed schizophrenic. She experiences hallucinations thru the whole book and has since childhood. She’s also WIDELY headcannoned as autistic by the fandom (me too) because. Because she IS SO FUCKING AUTISTIC (source: I am autistic too)

Schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Schizophrenic and sapphic

canonically a schizophrenic lesbian. neither word is used in series, she isn't in a position to get a diagnosis and queer identities are so normalised in the universe that labels just don't get mentioned, but she is written as both by an author who is also both.

Canon schizophrenia

Canon lesbian with canon schizophrenia

She's a schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Propaganda:

The Locked Tomb is pretty popular on tumblr but I might as well submit her anyway

She’s a lesbian necromancer nun. She’s a saint and also woke up the death of God, who is a human Barbie, who she is in love with, tho she’s also kind of married to lesbian Jesus. She’s schizophrenic. She’s scrungly. She puts bread in a drawer. She’s even autistic

Harrow first started hallucinating (visual and auditory) when she was ten years old! The traumatic brain injury and seizures are much more recent. Unironically gotta love a pov protagonist who makes you struggle along with her in sorting out hallucination and false memory to figure out what's going on. Also while Harrow's disability shapes the narrative, the book isn't at all about her being disabled. It's a fantasy/scifi gothic horror novel about being trapped at a work retreat with God.

so many women want her but she’s determined to be in love with the soul of the dead earth trapped in a 10ft barbie doll instead. she’s a lesbian disaster and is trying to deal with both schizophrenia and over 200 actual ghosts haunting her.

a schizophrenic lesbian, written by a schizophrenic lesbian! she's in love with multiple dead women, but she's also a necromancer so that's not as big of an obstacle as it sounds. weird little bone-obsessed necromancer lesbian. I care about her deeply

Author Tamsyn Muir has discussed how Harrow's schizophrenia is modeled after her own experiences. It matters a lot in her eponymous novel, where her inability to trust what she sees and hears is compounded by her self-inflicted lobotomy to save her girlfriend's soul from getting absorbed into her own.

Harrow is one of the protagonists of her series & both her lesbianism & her schizophrenia play major parts in the story. The author has spoken about how she wrote Harrow based on her own experiences, and the authenticity comes through strongly. Beyond that, she's a teenage gothic nun in love with a holy corpse & she's the greatest bone magician ever born. What more needs be said.

She's a lesbian, she's psychotic, she has seizures, she faints regularly and can't rely on her own memory worth shit. And the only reason she's not going to kill god is so she and her girl can escape the cycle of violence. Basically, Harrowhark Nonagesimus is the entire package.

Anything Else?:

Listen. Listen. I’m not doing Harrow justice here. I LOVE her (Submitter 2)

The author is also schizophrenic! Which is pretty cool. (Submitter 3)

The author of the series is openly schizophrenic, and has mentioned in interviews that she's drawing on that experience when writing Harrow :) (Submitter 8)

Tokito Minoru-Wild Adapter

Qualifications:

Experiences flashbacks in response to auditory triggers (including his own name, implied PTSD), allegorical medical condition (his animal hand - canonically progressing in severity, canonically caused by a drug, canonically causes chronic pain), canon amnesiac. Wild Adapter originally began publication in a Boys Love magazine, and Tokito has an ambiguous relationship with his roommate Kubota; they share a bed and are shown to be physically affectionate toward and extremely protective of each other. There's also a couple of mini albums with character songs (some with lyrics by the author) that imply their relationship. Also I'm pretty sure this is official art https://www.zerochan.net/1163520

Propaganda:

He is the world's most pathetic wet cat of a man (he's actually compared to a cat by multiple people in canon), he walks through life with near childlike wonder and immense barely suppressed rage, he thinks about cutting off his own hand, he loves video games, he kills people, he is incredibly traumatised, he has a weird codependent gay thing with his equally traumatised antisocial roommate. There's official art of him handcuffed to a bed.

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 3 #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #tokito minoru #wild adapter

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hannahssimblr · 7 months

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Chapter One

2010

The rain is thunderous on midsummer’s day. It comes down in sheets, whipping against the side of the car as we crawl down a narrow, coastal road that opens out onto the Irish sea. Still, despite the weather there are parked cars snaking along on both sides of us, two wheels up on the footpath as drenched holiday makers weave around them, clinging to sunglasses and straw hats as they retreat from the beach.

It is one of those summer days that feels utterly wintry. The sky became dark suddenly, big black clouds engulfing blue, and a fierce wind whipped through the dunes, tossing sand in the faces of those who had yet to escape back to their cars and caravans. It feels apocalyptic in a comical sort of way; Mothers seizing small children out of sand and seawater motes they’ve spent the morning digging, surrendering teal striped windbreakers, beach towels and sarongs to the gail. Plastic spades and buckets abandoned and overflowing with rainwater.

I feel scammed by this. Kelly had gone on and on about how the weather in the south east was nicer than anywhere else in the country. She actually used the word “microclimate” at least twice while trying to convince Claire and I to spend our summer in her familys’ mobile home, but I’m irked as I look out the back seat window at the dire sights in this resort town. The freak storm had only started when we were mere minutes from the strand and it instantly felt like our holiday had been jinxed.

Kelly’s older brother Shane laughs uproariously as he drives his Fiat Punto through a huge puddle right by a queue of holiday makers somehow desperate enough to hold their place outside the local cafe. They cry out in indignation as a wave of rainwater sloshes over them.

Kelly, in the passenger seat, thumps him. “That’s embarrassing when you do that”

“That’s embarrassing when you do that” he mimics, in the way that an eight year old child would.

She scoffs. “A bit of self control wouldn’t go astray, the only person who thinks that’s funny is you.”

“It’s funny.” He confirms. “More embarrassing to me that people would be that desperate for a cappuccino.”

I don’t have siblings, but watching Kelly and Shane, I imagine it must be liberating to have an outlet for your frustration like that. I sometimes feel like I have an unusual amount of anger swirling inside my body. Recently, after seeing an open window on the third floor locker room at school, I asked Claire if it’s normal to fantasise shoving one of the girls who bullied me in second year out of it, and she said that it wasn’t, which honestly surprised me. I really did think that everybody had violent fantasies from time to time. The window one isn’t even really my worst one.

When I visited the Healys’ house when I was smaller I used to find the way that Kelly and Shane interacted with each other overwhelming. He’d yank on her ponytail hard if she held on to the remote control for ten seconds longer than they’d agreed, and then she’d kick him in the shins with her stiff patent school shoes on and they’d both shriek and claw at each other while I sat watching, frozen in shock on the couch behind them. Things like this never happened in my home. It was just me reading or playing quietly while my parents watched TV.

When we were eight and Shane was nine, I witnessed him accidentally elbow Kelly directly in the eye socket when she tried to grab his Playstation controller out of his hands. I don’t remember why she wanted it, but I still remember her wails. She had a black eye for three weeks, and I don’t think that Shane ever said that he was sorry. I was nervous around him for a while after that.

I feel now that a black eye or two might have done me some good in my life. Knowing Kelly today, she’s aspirational for how she never holds anger inside or bottles up her emotions like I do. When something bothers her she just says it. I wish I could be like that, but I’m cursed with shyness and a terror of taking up too much space. Kelly and I have fought so many times during our long friendship, and yet the confrontation never seems to get easier for me. I feel it like a rock in my stomach, a dizzy nausea and a thumping heart when I know she’s getting ready to confront me. I always end up taking the blame and apologising to her, then spend weeks furious at her and at myself for not speaking up. Kelly doesn’t think like that. When I say I’m fine she believes me, and when I tell her she’s right she agrees. I imagine that to live inside her head is a blissful, anxiety free paradise.

“Do you have the keys to the front door?” Kelly asks her brother as we clamber out of the Punto. The grass under the wheels is so sodden with rain that I can feel the tires sinking into it already, and as soon as my feet touch the ground, they’re swallowed by it too.

“Ah,” I hear Claire exclaim from the other side of the car. “That’s my flip flop gone now. Shane, will you bring my suitcase inside for me? I need to fish my sandal out of the muck” To my great surprise, he actually does it, and makes a big show of carrying as many bags as he can manage, making sure to check if she’s looking at him doing it. Casual. Claire is oblivious to him anyway, she’s used to boys just doing what she asks but I’m amazed that Shane is going along with it too. For as long as I’ve known him he’s been as nasty to Kelly’s friends as he is to her. All of us an extension of his little sister, and each one as annoying and stupid as the last. It feels like only last week that he sabotaged our back garden camping trip by firing stones down at us from the treehouse.

There is less history with Claire though, we’ve only been hanging out with her for about a year and a half. She’s a good person, casual, easy going, and her mother pays for her to get highlights in her hair and use makeup from the expensive department stores, so she always looks exactly the way that she wants to look – perfectly effortlessly beautiful. Everyone loves her too. She’s the genuinely kind and generous type. Finding her among a sea of hormonal teenagers in our all girls catholic school was like a miracle, there was never any drama, she never wanted to gossip or speak badly about anybody else. She’s blessed with pure content and happiness.

I lag behind as Kelly and Claire scurry into the mobile home as I try to wipe the mud from my runners. They’re laughing together and trying to shield their hair from the rain, and when I see them together like that I feel a pang of jealousy. I had been both of their friends first, and lately it feels like they’re closer to each other than they are to me. I have to take my shoes off at the door and leave them out on the deck. Maybe the rain will clean them. This summer is going to be great. I tell myself. I am going to be confident and have fun. It’s become like a mantra to me now. Perhaps if I can convince myself that nothing will go wrong on this holiday then I’ll manifest positivity.

#sims story #sims 4 story #writing #simlit #sims 4 #romance #fiction #sims #sims4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

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youroomwasquare · 6 months

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Hey just wanna pop into your inbox and say: I think your analysis for Marcy really understands the core of Amphibia's theme (change) and the basis of Marcy's arc. I could nitpick with small details I don't agree with (saying that Marcy doesn't have confidence issues (Marcy tends to overcompensate thus coming off as confident but really they're a scared kid) or Marcy doesn't have control issues (Marcy has control issues in the sense that they did feel the need to drag their friends into another dimension (those these control issues do mostly come from a lack of agency in Marcy's life)) but honestly the core of the analysis is spot on. You entirely understood exactly why Marcy's arc went like it did! And I really liked you pointing out in your response to an ask about it that escapism is not inherently bad rather how much we let it take over our life is when it becomes an issue!

It was really refreshing to see someone take a look at the end of Amphibia, and realize that it really did do Marcy justice and personally I feel that it does justice to people who have those same issues in life AS Marcy. Showing us that change will happen showing us that we will never be alone even if there is physical distance even if our relationships change even if things change that doesn't mean that life is over. The end of Amphibia I feel like a is a love letter to the fact that life is not stagnant, change is not an ending it's just a new chapter. And we see Marcy after the time skip have that agency in a world that isn't Amphibia by Marcy CHOOSING what they want to do in life. Hell we see that set up for that agency when Marcy rejects the CORE. Marcy finds healthy coping mechanisms Marcy finds a way to indulge in fantasy that isn't being consumed (or assimilated). It's something that's so wholly them how can you possibly be upset that that's what they did with their life! It's looking kids like Marcy in the eyes and saying "things get better. Throwing your life into fantasy will not save you from change but that does not mean you are doomed."

Marcy's sort of "unfinished arc" is a beautiful love letter to growing up. Just like how Anne and Sasha's arcs are love letters to growing up in their own ways.

I just wanted to say thank you for such a refreshing take :]

this is so 🥺🥺. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I read your message and was on cloud nine the entire rest of the day, this message warmed my heart SO MUCH. aaaa I cannot thank you enough for connecting with it and sending such a lovely piece of writing in response :,) looking back on my analysis, I do agree that some of my points were a bit off ahaha. especially the point I made where marcy was 100% self confident in herself.. oof. during her stay in amphibia, while marcy DID grow into herself, and was truly able to see the extent of her skills and knowledge, she still had a ways to go when it came to other aspects outside of her intelligence. and you brought up a very good point, in that marcy does tend to overcompensate in order to be well liked!! but I've never even thought of the idea that marcy could have control issues. and I love this point!! you're SO right-- marcy had a lack of control when it came to what she truly wanted, so sending them to amphibia was her way of trying to gain back control & not feel extremely helpless. agh, I love how all the girl's issues seem to bleed into one another. I'll definitely think more about this, thank you for the amphibia brain food :) your whole last paragraph, yes, this, exactly. marcy's journey IS a love letter to all those like her-- kids who are (or have been) terrified of all the change that comes with growing up. kids who retreat back into their safe spaces-- the things they've known their entire lives-- for comfort amidst all the turbulent times. kids who will eventually learn, through one way or another, that change will always be present. but that it doesn't have to be a bad thing!! "even if things change that doesn't mean that life is over"-- this, to me, perfectly encapsulates the entire message of amphibia. the epilogue showed that life goes on. amphibia healed-- the amphibians healed, grew into themselves, and finally got the chance to live the lives they wanted to. amphibia honored the impact the girls made on them, and mourned their absence (and still mourn in some ways). but they still kept living. and they still carry all the memories, experiences, lessons, and love as well. the girls continued to live as well-- and they still honor amphibia in their own ways. we see it so much in the epilogue!! to me, it shows that nothing truly ends-- even worlds apart, they all still live on and still continue to love and still let new people in, and are able to let them go if needed. because of that experience they all shared together-- they all still trickle into every friendship, relationship, and connection the others have.

***

the girls learned through their experiences in amphibia that change IS scary. and that it's okay to acknowledge that. and that there are so many people going through the same thing as them. and in that way, they will always have a connection. the girls are not connected forever because of their experiences in amphibia-- amphibia ended. what they are connected by though, is the fact that they will always have a place in each other's lives. and the love that radiates out of all of them-- for each other, and for their friendship as a whole.

"The end of Amphibia I feel like a is a love letter to the fact that life is not stagnant, change is not an ending it's just a new chapter"-- I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH THIS!! and it's actually how I view the marcy from the end of the show. one of the beauties of marcy's unfinished arc is that marcy now has all of the time in the world to choose who she wants to be and what she wants to do with her life. she has so many lessons to learn, people to meet, tears (both happy and sad) to shed, smiles to make and love to share. amphibia may have ended, but for marcy-- it's a whole new beginning. the possibilities are so endless.. and that's such a good feeling!!

growing up is hard to do. we see that all the time in media, reflected in our own experiences of growing up. I'm so happy the calamity trio exists. I relate to them so much already-- I cannot wait to see the ways I'll continue to relate to them as I keep growing.

#amphibia #asks #aaaa I love this fandom SO MUCH #I could write forever about the nuances and lessons this show has-- thank you so much for existing amphibia!!

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noisytenant · 4 months

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BIG umineko spoilers up to episode 4 end stretch - grooming, implied incest/pedophilia mention; talking thru some theories/observations

am i misremembering or wasnt (someone calling herself) beatrice raised from birth in kuwadorian. everyone keeps calling her kinzo's mistress and it's like. oh they don't know...

im sure the ambiguity is intentional because the point is that we can't really pin down her age (or even how many fucking beatrices there are), but it keeps coming back to me. beatrice's drunk furniture talk in episode 4 is like really sharp when you look at all this.

they repeatedly draw attention to beatrice's age, both physically and how she acts, and age-appropriateness in general. it strikes me a lot how everyone treats battler as an adult man, even though he's only 18 and self-admittedly not very mature. arrested by trauma, none of the family members really know how to grow up, and the line between fantasy and reality is blurred.

i wonder if the thing where it seems she (or someone calling herself beatrice) perhaps had some feelings for battler in the past is related to all this. she's trapped in this birdcage, and yet suddenly there's this guy who doesn't accept the family's values. without even realizing the significance of what he's doing, he challenges them and escapes their clutches, seemingly simply because it's in his stubborn nature (and perhaps related to his "true" identity).

but he stops thinking. he doesn't build a case or try to justify it. he doesn't change anything, he doesn't protect or save anyone but himself. in the end, he swallows down the family's poison, thinking he was naive and childish for leaving. and of course, beatrice who knows little more than her cage, torn between contempt and appreciation for it, is going to push and prod at him, trying to make him remember why he left in the first place, and why he left her there. you were the only one who got your head above the water, but you didn't even realize you were breathing for the first time!

just as a matter of my personal opinion about Breaking The Cycles, i feel like a big point is that ultimately you have to be the one to break it yourself. it would be kind of lame if he just white knight saved her--but i think it's extremely understandable that a big part of her wants that.

it's hard to move away from an abusive narrative when your vantage point is so limited (remember the talk about seeing things from multiple perspectives to create a 3D composite?). beatrice's endless magic is the limitless power she has to consider everything that happened and make sense of it. but it's coated in mysticism, in kinzo's magic explanations. because it's endless, it's also inescapable. she's looking for an "out", and battler seems like one, so intent on denial. but i think with her resignation from the game, she's lost faith in him. she's retreating into her role. i'm losing my train of thought here but yeah

i think this is... really missing the specifics of who these characters are, the identity switches and so on, but i do think that it's an emotional narrative that has some credence.

beatrice has multiple selves, some fawning and some fighting, and struggles to resolve the various truths of her existence. reflected in the eyes of someone so intent to challenge everything she is, there's the opportunity that he might cut through and excise the internalized narratives that keep her chained to her role(s). but as we get through episode 4, it's clearer that he simply can't see her, he doesn't even understand the game he's playing--its emotional component, the motives. It isn't about what actually logically happened, it's about what those various speculations mean about who we are and who we can become.

...

...Nice petscop reference

#indexed post #umineko liveblog

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suspicious-whumping-egg · 1 year

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Low Profile Part 13— Going Soft

Cw: flaying

Masterlist here.

“You know that torture doesn’t fucking work! You know it! He’s going to make up the first shit that comes to his head just to make it stop, and we’ll be stuck with no code and— and—” Silas choked back the tears burning in his throat. “Why am I fucking bothering?!” He spat. “It’s not like you even care, you just wanna play out your sick fucking fantasies, you’re not the one who has to see your— who has to see—”

“I have half a mind to tell the boss you’re getting in the way of my assignment,” Viper said coolly. “She chose not to assign you because she knew you’d let your emotions cloud your judgment, and she was right.”

“Getting in the way? You’re the one destroying him for no good reason!” Silas shot back. “He was our ally! He made that drive at his own expense! Is this how you want to repay him?”

“He knew the risks when he made the video, he got himself into this,” Viper shrugged. “Besides, I cross-referenced some of that information, and it was right. Hurting him doesn’t do much for anyone but me, sure, but he fucking shatters at the first kind touch he gets afterwards. He’ll give you anything you want after he’s been hurt.”

He paused, a devious glint growing in his gaze.“You know what? I could tell the boss you’ve been getting soft, hm? So unless you want that, how about you try it for yourself? Get out that pretty little knife you’ve kept clean for so long?”

“It’s not going to work,” Silas bit out firmly. “You’ll be crawling back to me, no code, no drive, just you wait.”

Hale’s head spun from the furious throbbing in his back, but he kept an ear pressed to the crack of the door as snippets of the argument filtered through.

“Do you want in on this case or not?” Viper intoned, softly enough that Hale had to strain to make out the words. “I’m sure we could work out an arrangement if this is taking just too much of a toll on your poor heart. Pluck out a few memories, and he’ll be nothing to you but what he truly is. A tool.”

Silas gasped, softly but sharply.

“Would you rather be locked up with him, then, is that what you’d prefer?”

“You know my loyalties lie with the family, first and foremost,” Silas said coldly. “Just because I have the sense to restrain myself—”

“But it’s not about sense at all, now, is it?” Viper taunted.

“My job is to keep him alive long enough to get the code, and your plans don’t exactly make it a fucking cakewalk. That’s all it is.”

“Prove me wrong, then. Go in, cut him up, get us another set of digits. Or I’ll have to make this a lot easier for us all.”

“I’m more than happy to oblige,” Silas shot back quickly. “Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

Hale flinched. It’d taken the last of his energy to stumble from the flimsy cot to the door. He couldn’t take more pain, he just couldn’t. He began to drag himself away from the door, each movement sending a fresh wave of agony flashing down his back.

He’d barely made it a few feet from the door when he heard the heavy click of a bolt.

Silas was back as expected, an elegant black stiletto knife in his hand. Viper stood behind him, drumming his fingers together as he watched the two of them with bored amusement.

“You’re going to give me that code, or you’re going to regret it,” Silas snarled.

Hale retreated back against the wall on pure instinct, his gaze flicking over the room as he desperately looked for an escape, a window, something. But Viper had already locked the door behind him.

His terrified eyes met Silas’s steely glare.

“Wait— wait— I know you don’t want to hurt me,” he stammered. “We can work something out, I— I’m trying to remember— there’s gotta be a better way—”

His words were choked off by his own strangled cry as Silas slammed his elbow against Hale’s neck, pinning him to the wall. He struck out with the blade in a flash of dark metal, making a shallow slash just under his collarbone.

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t,” he said icily. “But what matters is that you’re going to tell me now:”

He forced the tip of the knife into the cut, and nausea twisted through Hale’s gut with the wrongness of the intrusion. “I— I don’t know— please— I just— Aah!”

Silas had turned the knife to scrape up inside the wound, peeling back a few layers of skin and tearing the edges of the cut.

The pain was sharp and slow and brutal, and Hale let out a shattered scream. Blood streamed down his chest in furious rivulets, and his vision swam.

Yet he didn’t give Hale a moment to rest, readjusting his grip on the knife and continuing to flay the wound.

His screams turned ragged as skin was rent from flesh, as hot tears streamed down his face and neck, burning as they hit the exposed cut.

Fuck it.

“8736— that’s all I remember— that’s all I know— please—” he sobbed. “I— I can’t… please….”

It was the first time he’d lied. The first time he’d just spat out the first string of numbers to come to mind. Maybe the past version of him would scoff at his weakness, rage against his unwillingness to suffer for the cause. But couldn’t care less. If they wanted the me from the past, they shouldn’t have let them brainwash me.

Silas glanced over his shoulder at Viper, who had already scrawled the numbers down. It was the smallest flicker of the gaze, barely noticeable. But it was there.

“This isn’t just about proving you can perform an effective interrogation,” Viper responded to the silent request. “This is about proving you haven’t gone soft. Get back into that dark side you’ve shown me so many times. Show me he really is nothing to you.”

If Hale hadn’t heard their fight from earlier, he never would have noticed the tears shining in Silas’s eyes, tears that were blinked away as quickly as they’d appeared.

His grip tightened around the knife, his forearm digging into Hale’s windpipe to hold him in place. He positioned the knife flat against the tattered mess of skin and dug the edge beneath the wound.

A sharp hiss escaped Hale’s lips, but as Silas started to carve deeper under his skin, he let himself dissolve into ragged sobs. He knew it was useless to beg.

Taglist: @morning-star-whump @whumpkitty @shameless-dumbass @hurtthemgently @gala1981 @avvail

#low profile #blue writes #mafia whump #whump writing #whump drabble #flaying #forced to hurt #merry christmas and happy 8th day of hanukkah to my followers who are celebrating either today

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raventao · 2 years

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So I had a very nice ZukAang dream last night about Zuko and Aang (aged up) having a daughter together and it was just super cute. I woke up at 2:30am, half asleep still needing a shower, which, gave me ample time to dwell more on said dream. Why can't I go back to sleep and finish it? I want more. The best I could do is write down what I remembered after the shower in my notes app though.

ANYWAY! If you're interested, the dream went roughly like so;

If you fudge the timeline around a little bit:

Aang gets frozen with Gyatso after a tactical retreat from the attack on the southern air temple. Sozin was looking for him specifically since he's already been announced as the Avatar to most of the world, so the air nomads haven't been outright slaughtered, but their numbers are not what they once were since Sozin still kills a lot of them looking for Aang after he gets frozen, assuming they're hiding him - he's probably about 20 and already been taught Water bending, was in the process of learning Earth bending but it wasn't going well.

He still meets Katara and Sokka (also aged up, so 22 and 23) when he wakes up, they still help him and they both continue their water bending studying as they travel. Gyatso helps them by being team dad.

Zuko still gets booted from the fire nation for the same reason, probably at the same age too, but by the time he finds the GAang, it's just him and a core group of guys + Iroh that have all pretty much come to the same conclusion - the fire nation is in the wrong and want to help. Zuko is also aged up to 23. He's seen some shit, he is not keeping the title fire nation prince, if someone asks, he makes sure they know he's the ex prince. He meets the GAang after they find Toph. (who does not need to sneak away because she’s a grown ass woman of 20 and made her own choices. Her parents still don't know about her bending prowess and coddle her, but ultimately, they can't actually stop her from leaving.)

Gyatso and Iroh are instant BFFs and co dad the GAang once Zuko joins - which is significantly easier since Ex prince Zuko is pretty publicly anti Fire Nation. But he does usually still go by the Blue Spirit to make things easier. Zuko/Iroh and Toph are teaching Aang Earth and Fire bending, and as a result, are getting closer. The comet isn't super immanent, they have time. (5 years or so? They're preparing, (both sides) but the time frame isn't quite as crunch time.) Zuko and Aang end up getting married quietly and having a kid (and nothing I've read/seen in AtLA canon says men can't get pregnant, and it's fantasy so ... ya' know.)

He dissappears from the public eye for about a year and resurfaces with a daughter. Her other father is not made public knowledge just to keep her safe from Zuko's family. (No name yet, leaning towards Rain?) She turns out to be an Air bender so no one actually can hazard a guess as to who her 2nd dad is. Even if being the child of the Avatar does technically mean she had the same chances to be any other type of bender.

She is about 3 when, while Toph and Zuko are away dealing with a covert operation for the resistance, her, Aang, Katara, and Sokka are attacked (where are Iroh and Gyatso? Dunno, maybe a White Lotus meeting???) by Zhao and his fleet. The fight is intense and being older and wiser, Aang doesn't use the Avatar state as often, but they're still kicking ass and taking names until Rain gets taken hostage and Aang gets seriously hurt, when he notices and gets distracted. Zhao uses her to escape and Aang is heartbroken that his baby is taken. Katara and Sokka are just as upset, not having been strong enough to get to her before she was taken aboard the ship. (Rain had wanted to help, saw her daddy, and aunt and uncle fighting, and said "I'll fight too!" And in typical 3yo fashion, did not listen when Sokka and Katara told her no, and slipped into the brawl of Fire Nation soldiers and proceeded to be a little more than a nuacience to them before she's captured.

Cue Zuko hearing about what happened after he gets back maybe a day or two later and sees his husband very injured (they at least took out the ship's worth of men who had stayed back to slow them from getting to Zhao and rescuing Rain themselves. T'was not an easy fight and some got in decent attacks while they were emotionally compromised.) And hears about Rain's abduction. He and Toph give chase while Katara takes care of Aang. He promises he doesn't blame them, he knows how dirty and underhanded Zhao is, that using a child to gain an advantage is absolutely something he would do. The Blue Spirit pays them a visit and when Zhao asks why the blue spirit is after him someone smartly answers; "well, it might have to do with you kidnapping the avatar's kid."

Which is where I woke up, but I'd like to think Rain was just throwing a tantrum amd flinging tornadoes around shouting for her dads when Zhao tells her she can't go home.

When Zuko and Toph get there to rescue her she probably blows Zhao off the side of the ship while they're escaping just to be petty. Toph would absolutely high five her for it too.

#avatar: the last airbender #a:tla #Zuko #Aang #zukaang #Katara #Sokka #Toph #Gyatso #Iroh #Zhao #cw mpreg #mentions of it anyway #children #aged up #AU

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the-masked-ram · 2 months

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Flawed Hope- Chapter One

CW: NSFW, Fem OC, Slow Burn, Isekai, Vampirism (do I even need to warn this), Canon Divergent, enemies to lovers, mental health issues --- Chapter One: Reality vs Fantasy

Characters and video games were always just a way to escape for Brit. It’s why when she bought the newest big game out there, Baldur’s Gate Three, it wasn’t surprising that she poured hours and hours into it. It was easy to do. It was a game that always had something new to discover, something new to explore. It kept its players guessing, which was exactly why she loved it.

Brit’s life wasn’t exactly boring, but it was ordinary. She didn’t want for much, she had friends, she had a loving family, and she dated on and off. She had a steady job that made her life comfortable, yet still she yearned for the excitement that video games, and especially Baldur’s Gate Three, brought her.

She wouldn’t deny that in the last few months she had become something of an addict. It was funny though; her favorite character was the one she seemed to get along with the least when she played most like herself. Astarion and her soft, gentle personality didn’t exactly make the best of friends. Yet, the most enjoyable thing about video games was that you didn’t have to be yourself, right?

---

That morning started out just like any other, with coffee good enough to make her sigh after a sip, “Swear I couldn’t live without this stuff.”

“You are so dramatic,” Emma said from beside her, scrunching her nose.

Brit looked over at her best friend with an awkward smile. It was true, she was being a bit dramatic, but did Emma need to say it like that? Like Brit voicing her pleasure was a burden. Emma’s words had grown harsher lately and Brit had begun to wonder if perhaps she should bring it up. Perhaps Emma had something going on and needed to talk about it.

She was about to open her mouth, about to ask that question that could shatter the peace of the morning and possibly the rest of the day at work. Yet, soon enough she was snapping her jaw shut as Emma sighed and walked out of the door of the break room, without even a farewell directed at her. It left an uncomfortable pit in her gut.

Brit stared at where her supposed best friend retreated. What was going on?

The day passed like a flash, a blur of too many papers and too much for the paralegal. So much copying over of testimonies, prepping to meet witnesses, and just enough text to make her feel like she was going blind. Brit pressed her glasses further up her nose.

With the recent eye strain of her job, it was recommended to adjust her prescription and now she wore glasses nearly all the time. She still wasn’t used to feeling them on her face every day and almost every hour.

And though the day passed by quickly, it seemed only to drain her more. Brit could only think about getting home. It had been like that a lot the last month. Where she didn’t go anywhere but home to work and back again. She missed her friends, she missed going out to eat, but she also just wanted to sequester herself away in her room and in the world of Baldur’s Gate.

Was it normal to want that so desperately? Was it normal to wish for a day she could just feel the reality of Baldur’s Gate?

“Maybe I just don’t want to be here anymore?” she said as she stepped into her apartment and looked around.

Those words came with something crushing, something that felt painful and overwhelming on her chest. She hadn’t talked to anyone but Emma in so long and she couldn’t find the right time to talk to Emma about what was wrong. And it only seemed like her friend was pushing her farther and farther away.

Brit’s work, which she loved had now become too much. Far too much. Her only joy was a world that wasn’t real. A world that was just pixels and beyond her reach, truly.

She’d started a new game yesterday, with the intention of creating a character she could finally romance Astarion with. Yet as she stared at her monitor, she could only think of sleep to escape the agony coiling around her heart. Tomorrow, she could always start tomorrow. It would be a new day and as she decided, a better day.

She looked at the monitor once more as she laid down in bed, finally freshened up as much as she had the energy for and in her pajamas.

“I just wish it was real,” Brit murmured right before darkness claimed her mind.

---

Brit opened her eyes and things weren’t blurry, did she fall asleep with her glasses on? No… she must be dreaming. A lucid dream? The sky was above her, puffy white clouds mixed with thick grey smoke showing peeks of bright blue. The thick acrid smell of ash, fire, burned metal, and oil permeated the air.

What was happening? Why was she on her back? Fuck something was on top of her, it was heavy, she couldn’t breathe. Dammit, she couldn’t breathe!

She struggled, panic rising in her as she thrashed, and her hands naturally fought with the thing pinning her down. Then her eyes met it. Or should she say, ‘him’. A man she knew too well. This had to be a dream. The press of a knife forced her chin up and she shivered in fear.

Her hands shoved at the arm to stop it from pushing too close to her skin as a set of eyes she once knew as the color of ruby looked at her. But they weren’t that bright, glittering gemstone color she had known them by on her computer screen. No, here, in front of her, they were a rich burgundy. Like a pool of freshly spilled blood that the sun was glinting off of.

But everything else was still the same. The smudge of grey and blood across his face. The wounds from the crash. The white curls of wild hair that she had learnt to love so much. His incredibly pale skin that with him this close she could see the faint traces of veins under it.

Astarion. Astarion was on top of her, his lips pressed in a thin grim line. “Ah, ah. Quiet, not a sound. Not if you want to keep that neck of yours intact, darling,” his lips quirked into a smile before it fell again.

What was this?! That wasn’t the words from the game. And the knife, it felt so cold, so real. The weight of his body was suffocating, the sting of him holding her hair twisted in his fingers caused tears to spring to her eyes. This was a dream, right? Were dreams supposed to hurt? She couldn’t remember.

Her heart thrashed violently against her chest. This wasn’t real. Just play along.

“You were on the ship, weren’t you? Nod,” he demanded.

His words were so similar, but this was the scene Brit remembered most. It was easy to pick up the differences. She nodded all the same. Her eyes flew to the side, checking for an escape.

“No,” he hissed, his face pressing closer, his arms growing heavier. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Now tell me. What exactly did you do to me? You and those tentacled freaks, what did you do?!” he snarled, his lips curling viciously.

“I-it wasn’t me,” Brit swallowed back her anxiety, a dream, she reminded herself. “They took me prisoner too. I didn’t do shit.”

She shoved at his arm, pushing it further from her.

“Don’t lie to me,” he narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not!”

Then they both cried out, Astarion’s face twisted in pain and Brit’s eyes squeezed closed. She could feel it. She knew what was happening. The twisting squirm in her head, it was so invasive, painful, and it left her feeling stripped bare as the tadpole inside her brain reached out to its comrade.

She saw something, something that was distinctly a memory. Something that was not hers. A sensation of unending hunger pulled at her stomach, her mind, causing her to hunt. Dark streets, busy streets that she didn’t recognize. They were old, cobbled, with buildings that stretched endlessly on either side and crowds that wore clothing she’d never seen in her world. Brit scrambled to hold onto the images. But they slipped through her fingers like water, desperate to escape, as if they were afraid of being seen. That sensation in her mind, the twisting pull of the worm was gone for now, but that was what made her most afraid. She’d never felt anything like that. It was so real, so terrifying. Like it was burrowing into her skull, into her brain deeper and deeper. Like it might devour her. It made her feel lost and as if she wasn’t her own.

“What was that!?” Astarion looked panicked. “What’s going on?”

His grip on Brit loosened for a moment and she pushed him away, managing to scramble out from under him and stand. Her breath was heaving, hiccupping in her chest. She was going to have an anxiety attack. Not here, not now, she couldn’t afford it. But this wasn’t real… so why did it matter? She shivered but forced her fears down. Not now.

“I don’t fucking know!” she snarled. Because even though she knew the plot of the game, she didn’t know what was going on right now. This was ridiculous. Just a dream. Still, she stood opposite of him, her fists raised, and teeth clenched. Ready to throw a punch she wasn’t sure was necessary.

He tilted his head, “I saw into your mind… they took you. But… there was something else. It just wouldn’t… no.”

He shook his head, at last seeming at a loss for words, though faced her with a glare that would freeze anyone on the spot. Suspicion bled into his eyes before he smiled that roguish way. It tugged at her heart like it always did yet she wouldn’t forget he’d just held a knife to her throat.

“And to think, I was about to gut you here. Apologies,” he shrugged, as if he didn’t just admit he was going to murder her.

Brit rolled her jaw before finally crossing her arms.

“I-it’s fine, I guess. I wasn’t exactly… the nicest either,” she said though everything told her it wasn’t fine, she shouldn’t just roll over for something like this.

But it was just a dream.

Astarion watched her, taking in every emotion that seemed to be flitting across her face, “I would apologize correctly but sadly I’m out of wine and flowers. Considering our current circumstances, how about an introduction? My name is Astarion.”

He doesn’t mention Baldur’s Gate. Brit titled her head curiously. Maybe her mind was just paraphrasing.

“I’m…,” Brit paused, trying to figure out if she should use the name of her character or her real name. “You can call me Ritlyn.” Play along, she wasn’t Brit here.

“Do you know anything about these worms?” he asked.

She nodded, “They’ll turn us into mind flayers.”

Something passed across Astarion’s face before he laughed sharply, a sound that was full of derision and acceptance.

“Of course. Of course they would,” he didn’t embellish.

Brit tilted her head the other way now and looked over her shoulder when she heard the crunching of footsteps of rock. Shadowheart and Lae’zel were coming over the short hillside on the cliff now.

“It would probably be better for us to travel together,” Brit said, slowly, that’s right just play along with the game.

“You might be right. I was thinking about going this alone. But perhaps it would be better having a few eyes and minds together, to deal with what’s ever to come,” he admitted.

She would wake up soon, right? This was just a sign she should have played that night to get the Baldur’s Gate itch out of her system. She looked over her shoulder as the others fell in line behind her. That was the only hope she had, because this felt all too real.

#astarion #astarion x fem oc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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somethingpoetichere · 3 years

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lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden.

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered.

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra.

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve.

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless. Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it.

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?”

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull.

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you.

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door.

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it.

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything.

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.”

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

698 notes · View notes

baekxytocin · 2 years

Text

Wolf - Chapter One

Fantasy, Fluff, Imagination, Paranormal, Romance, Songfic

Character:

Baekhyun and Reader

Chen

Xiumin

Sehun

‘What if one time you got attacked and you have no chance of survival….’

2341 words

“Please. Let go of me! I don’t do anything!” you are struggling to break free from the werewolves’ claw. “Why? You look delicious and perfect for our dinner” the werewolves laugh among themselves. You are terrified to watch them drooling over you, but you keep finding a way to escape as you don’t want to die without trying. With the strength left in you, you kick the nearest ones, get up and run as far as you could.

“After her! She’s not be going far!” the leader of the pack instructs its followers to hunt you down.

“PETTY HUMAN!! WE ARE FASTER THAN YOU!!!!” and as they say, in no time, one of them manages to trip your left leg, making you stumble down. They surround you once more. You are exhausted to even get up, and now, all you can do is pray. All of a sudden, there is a similar group of creatures; fighting with those who chased you earlier. You see the group who protects you are small in numbers, yet they are stronger than their enemies. The last thing you see is the other pack that is badly injured and eventually retreats. You are deeply wounded and finally passed out.

The next thing you know, you hear something….

“Hyung, I think she’s awake….” you can hear a manly voice greets you. You open your eyes and see three handsome men sitting beside your bed, and one of them standing near the door, arms bandaged.

“She’s awake! So cute! Can I pinch your cheeks?” a curious man touches your face, but then his hands got slapped away and his ears twisted by the man beside him. “Ahh! Ahh! Xiumin hyung! My ears!” You watch both of them go out of the room, you can’t help yourself from smiling. Then, another man approaches you.

“Hi. How are you? I’m Chen!”

You are still cautious with your surroundings and keep yourself quiet. You are curious about how there are humans lived in this environment. Understanding your situation, Chen smiles. “Don’t worry, we won’t be going to harm you. I am Chen, you have been greeted by Sehun, our youngest brother here, also Xiumin who twisted Sehun’s ear, he’s the leader and also the eldest brother here. Oh, and that’s…. Baekhyun” he introduced them one by one, while slightly looking at Baekhyun.

You are now assured; you finally broke the silence. “I am Y/N….” and you could see a smile shines from Chen. “What a beautiful name”, said Chen. He wants to continue the conversation with you when a commotion happens outside of the room. Chen rolls his eyes. “There they go again. I should go down and see what does the eldest and the youngest do this time. Oh, by the way, you are welcome to join us for breakfast” and you nod your head.

Chen is about to go down when he stops nearby Baekhyun. “You should talk to her too. Don’t make her feel uncomfortable here,” but Baekhyun is just calm and keeps silent. He takes a look at you for a moment, and then quickly follows Chen. You are flustered with the situation, but you don’t dare to utter a word. You slowly get up, goes down to the kitchen, and find out they have started their breakfast.

“Cutie! Come sit next to me!” Sehun waves his hand at you. “Sheesh, I told you to behave, Sehun!” said Xiumin. Sehun sulks at his brother, making you smile again. You sit next to Sehun, who eventually sits in front of Baekhyun. “Yay! Cutie is sitting next to me!” Sehun is happy to see you agree to have breakfast next to him. “Sehun, her name is Y/N” Chen corrects him. “What a cute name!” Sehun responds happily. “Y/N…. That’s a very nice name indeed. I shall remember that”, said Xiumin. However, no reactions happened from Baekhyun’s side. The rest of them just shake their head and continue eating as well.

Later that evening….

You saw Chen and Sehun playing a game, while Xiumin is only sitting and watching the two play. You decide to take a seat beside Xiumin, at the same time trying to figure out what happening right now. Your curiosity increased; you wanted to know who are they, and what was happened that night after you were attacked by the werewolves. “So…. You all lived here?” you slowly begin a conversation with Xiumin. “You mean four of us? Yes, we’re the only four left here, in this house” somehow, his answer makes you confused.

“I’m pretty sure you would like to know what happen right?” Xiumin looks at you. You bob your head. “Well, first of all, we all started with twelve, and we were all living happily. Unfortunately, a misunderstanding happened and broke the pack in two, and somehow, during the process, three of us were killed” he started the conversation while looking at your shocked face. “Well, judging by your expression, I’m sure by now your questions are answered; we are werewolves that saved you from the other pack” Xiumin continue.

“We are living quite far from civilisation so that humans won’t freak out by our presence. Although we appear in human form most of the time, when danger comes, we will turn into werewolves. We are not turning into one when there’s a full moon or something. Anyhow…. After the misunderstanding, most of us join the new leader of the pack, and they go evil. They decided to harm all human beings who tried to visit the forest. While we are trying so hard to avoid civilisation, we still need to patrol at night and try to stop the other pack from injuring more humans, including that night that happened with you. I am happy to see that you are safe now. Stay here, and you’ll safe with us” his story goes on.

You finally learn of the situation, when you remember something. “What about Baekhyun’s arm….?” You try to ask about his situation. “Ah, that. When one of the packs almost successfully ended your life, Baekhyun saw it, and jump towards them. He fought them while protecting you. Don’t worry. Since he is a werewolf, he will heal tonight. He heals faster than humans. Hey, do you know you were passed out for three days? You were badly injured. It was Baekhyun who stayed up day and night treating you…. And, based on his attitude lately, I think he’s kind of interested in you” Xiumin explains while smiling.

You are blushing when hearing Xiumin’s words. “Well, he’s good looking though….” you blurted out. “Though? He IS good looking! If you are also taking interest in him, go talk to him! I’m not sure if he’ll ever talk if you don’t start first” Xiumin laughs. “But how? He seems hard to approach. I can’t even have a chance to say thank you to him….” but you are quickly interrupted by Sehun. “Cutie said Baekhyun hyung is hard to approach? Not at all! He’s a very shy guy, but once you click with him, I can guarantee you, you’ll be the one who wants to stay away from him” Sehun grins widely.

“Sehun…. behave” Chen warns him. Xiumin smiles. “Sehun is not wrong after all. As he said, Baekhyun is a timid type, but once you get to know each other, and once he gets comfortable with you, I guess you’ll be the one who needs space” he continues. “Gosh. Guess I need to find out about that” you reply, and they only laugh at your reaction.

After having dinner, you hear a sound from outside and see the four of them just returned from surveying the area. After having a small chat and joking with the youngest of the pack, you go to your room when you suddenly hear a grunt. You try to have a peek and see Baekhyun struggling to change his bandage. However, thanks to his ability, he senses you are peeping at him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks without even looking. You are in shock, and decide not to answer his question. He quickly turns around and looks at you, but you can’t help but focus on his injury. “You still injured? According to Xiumin, you should be healed by now” you slowly take a seat in front of him while staring at his wound.

“None of your business. Get out” while he clears his throat. “It’s one of my businesses, Baekhyun. You saved my life, but it made you injured. I am sorry for this. If this is how you going to treat me now, you should have just let me die” you sternly answer him, but gently take his hand and assist in treating his wounds.

“Wait, this looks new. Don’t tell me you hurt again?” you ask while nursing him. He stays silent, somehow keeping his watch on you. “Sorry….” you feel a bit uncomfortable with the situation. “There….” you smile after finishing treating him. “Just curious, how do you know I was here just now? You don’t even look at me” you implore.

“Your scent” he replies short. “Oh….” and silence roams across the room. “Anyway, thank you…. Baekhyun” you break the silence. “Why?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Because you saved me. Because of me, you got injured….” You stare at the floor, and you could hear his scoffs. “It’s nothing. It’s our job to prevent the other pack from killing more humans….”

“I know, but please. Don’t keep getting hurt. I know you can heal faster and all that. But you are not getting lucky all the time. What if one time you got attacked and you have no chance of survival? It hurts me to see the wounds….” You sighed, while gently caressing his injury. Baekhyun looks at you as he hardly believes what he just heard.

“You…. worry about me? There’s no human ever care about me before” he utters. “Well…. I know you are werewolves, have this, superpowers or- whatever you call it. So, although you got injured and heal faster, the fact that you are constantly attacked by the other pack is still worrying me…. and you are not immortal too, so you still going to die if you are not careful” you express your concern. “So humans call it superpowers? Hmm…. I call it, my charms” he answers while tilting his head while looking at your face.

His action is making you blush, and gradually you flash a smile. “Just, don’t get hurt. You are definitely, not immortal” you concluded, but he decides to escalate the topic. “What if I get injured again?” this time, you already sense his jokes, so you answer while chuckling. “Alright. If you hurt again, I won’t treat you. You treat yourself, or I’ll just ask Sehun to treat you while calling you Cutie. Cutie! Cutie!” your impersonation cracks Baekhyun up. From that moment, you and Baekhyun slowly get to know each other more, and gradually get closer as well.

Since that day, you are getting along well with the four of them. You decided to stay longer at their place. You are really, enjoying their company while relishing nature, making you feel lazy to return to your own home. At the same time, Baekhyun always do anything to make you stay, though he feels danger when you are with them, he still feels harder to let you go away from him anymore.

One late afternoon….

You hear a soft knock on the door. You open and you see Baekhyun standing in front of the door. “Hey. Is there something wrong?” you ask. “Um…. If you are free, would you like to take a walk with me?” he invites you to take a stroll in the forest. “Sure” you gladly follow him.

As you two walk together, you come across a small river. Soon after, you could see a beautiful open view lying before your eyes. “OH MY….. This place is so pretty! I love this place” you sniff the flowers and it smells so good. The colours captivate your eyes as it comes in blue, white, purple, and even the colour of the wood. You also see butterflies right before your eyes, and it is mesmerised by the beauty asunder, and the beauty slowly drifting you to slumber.

While taking a nap, Baekhyun keeps watching you. He is now unable to resist his strong feelings over him; he is now head over heels with you, as your kindness, care and your charm attracted him since you started spending time together. He gradually gets closer and plants a soft peck on your cheeks and your forehead.

You immediately awake when his lips brush against your face. You are stunned by the range between you and him, yet you are staring at each other closely. “Y/N…. You are beautiful….” He cups your face. You move forward by playing with his hair as well, while he lays beside you. “Y/N…. I…. I like you” he stammers. You look at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“I, actually like you too, I never thought that you will like me back” you flushed, directly covering your face from the embarrassment. Baekhyun smiles while uncovers your face. “I promise, I will protect you no matter what will happen in the future. I am willing to put my life on the line to protect the ones I love” you feel content, gently placing your head on his chest and he hugs you back.

He softly strokes your head. “Can I…. feel your lips?” you lift your face, and he takes the chance to kiss you. You close your eyes and kiss him back. The two of you enjoy the romance that blooms within you. “Um…. Can we, go home now? It’s getting dark” you break the kiss, somehow worrying about the time. He nods, and holds your hand, guiding you back home. Little did you know, a pair of eyes were watching you the whole time.

“I see….”

To be continued….

Uploaded on: 3rd April 2022

Notes: Sorry! This fanfic was written in the first batch last year, so the story was a little bit... Well, off, I assume. Apologies for any flaws found in this fanfic!

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friendlyneighborhoodamara · 3 years

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(Edited on July 23, 2021)

So. Luz Noceda.

Quite possibly one of the best written protagonists in a Disney animated show, and easily one of my favorite protagonists in fiction.

Admittedly, if you know me, you may not be surprised I like her this much. I love kindhearted protagonists who are extremely energetic, unorthodox, goofy and proactive, and this describes Luz in spades. Even at her lowest points, she has a never-give-up attitude that’s just so endearing to me. In fact, I’ve described her as a female shonen protagonist to many of my friends in the past, and it’s not uncommon for people to compare Luz to Mabel (while she is also a rather complicated character I adore, this comparison is faulty for reasons I’ll get into shortly.)

If this was all there was to Luz—a warmhearted, generous dork who goes to any lengths to help the people she loves—I’d be satisfied. That relatively short, shallow description describes Goku almost to a T, and I absolutely love Goku, inside and out.

However, the writing staff of The Owl House, thankfully, chose to go the extra mile with Luz and flesh her out far beyond her superficial confines.

While all are extroverted, sweet girls, Luz differs from similar characters like Mabel Pines, Anne Boonchuy and Star Butterfly due to her far lower status on the social ladder: if Camila is to be believed, Luz - prior to entering the Boiling Isles - doesn’t have a single friend. Having a protagonist who is a disliked underdog with low self-esteem is far from new, especially in kids’ media. In some cases, it almost feels like a prerequisite to have the character be the victim of petty school bullies, even when they’re a skater punk high schooler played by a 27-year-old Andrew Garfield. However, in Luz’s case, her past as a teenage outcast (and implied history of bullying), her neurodivergence, and her subsequent retreat into fantasy as an escape informs every single facet of her characterization and cannot be stripped away from her without making her far less interesting.

How so?

Well, for starters, Luz is seen as frustrating or annoying by a lot of people, even the friends she made in the demon realm. In Season 1, even after the lesson she learns in the second episode, she is obsessed with living out her fantasy of being a fantasy hero just like the Good Witch Azura. This is a direct result of her retreating into fantasy and using it as a crutch to get through life. She tries to befriend her rival Amity the same way Azura did with her rival, tries to whip Willow and Gus into an all-star sports team using nothing but her own gumption, and is quick to accept any challenge that comes her way. This, understandably, does not endear her to other people.

Furthermore, as a result of her ostracization in the human realm (the great state of Connecticut, as we learn in the latest episode!), Luz, subtly, sees herself as a burden. This is why she almost never defends herself when people attack her, fairly or not. When Amity, enraged because Lilith humiliated her in her duel with Luz, demands Luz admit to not being a real witch, she acquiesces, despite having no real reason to. Even after she’s become Amity’s friend (and, unknowingly, her crush), even after Amity risked her own job to help her … Luz assumes that Amity hates her because she got fired from the library trying to help Luz … when Amity was the one who insisted they keep looking. Likewise, when the detention kids accuse her of being stuck-up, Luz accepts the rejection without a word of complaint, even though their accusation is based on incomplete information. And probably most heartbreakingly, at the start of Season 2, Luz calls herself a burden on Eda. After bringing so much life to this crusty old witch’s life, to the point of not only saving her from execution but playing a huge role in her reconnecting with her estranged sister, because of the way she’s been treated for much of her life, Luz can only imagine that Eda dreads her presence.

In short, Luz (1) blunders through many of her social interactions, often leading to negative first impressions, (2) takes those blunders on the chin and assumes they’re her fault even when they aren’t necessarily, and both those (3) flaws flow naturally from her backstory. That’s rather solid character writing that a lot of creators for children’s shows take for granted. Luz isn’t determined to fix what’s wrong just because; she’s determined to fix what’s wrong because, often, she believes that she is responsible for whatever has gone wrong. It’s a more realistic, and rather sad, look at a hero, compared to most Disney properties.

But, in my eyes, what makes this all work like gangbusters is how the other characters treat Luz.

Yes, even her friends and family can be annoyed by some of her more eccentric behavior. They acknowledge when she screws up and hold her accountable for those screw ups. But, for the first time in her life, someone (besides Camila, the real MVP) is giving her the unconditional love she deserves. Eda’s response to Luz saying she doesn’t want to be a burden, Amity saving Luz from Odalia and defying her mother for the first time, hell, even the Golden Guard seems to legitimately bond with Luz in their one episode together.

Given Luz’s status as a neurodivergent girl, as an autistic fan of this show, I can only imagine how comforting a lesson that is for the neurodivergent kids watching this: “Even if people don’t value you, even if you legitimately make mistakes, you still deserve unconditional love. You have value, damn what other people say.” Disney may be a shitty, evil corporation, but the Owl House crew really created something special, something richer than the average Disney cartoon, and that puts a smile on my face.

In short, you’re doing great sweetie. :)

#the owl house #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #eda the owl lady #eda the owl mom #amity blight #lumity #luz x amity #willow park #gus porter #king #hooty #the golden guard #lilith clawthorne #the owl house spoilers

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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The Regular: Part 1 - Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re a dancer at a club, but that doesn’t mean you have to put on a show for everyone. Especially not if Geto’s paying.

word count: 2.6K

tw: nudity, small nsfw thoughts

Lipstick? Check.

Eyeshadow? Check.

Eyelashes? Check.

The eyes that stare back at you are your own, but for a minute, you’re lost in your own brown, doe-eyed gaze. Transfixed, you wish you could see what they saw when they looked at you. You wish someone would fix every mirror in your vicinity to display the person people thought you were. Maybe then you’d understand.

“Y/n!” The manager of the club - Mrs. Lampton - bursts through the dressing room door eagerly, pushing against the weighted frame with ease. “We have a lot of new faces out there. Are you ready to go on in ten?” The look in Mrs. Lampton’s eyes had never been brighter, and you blink at her twice, wondering if the woman had forgotten that you walked into the strip club without coercion, and you would do your job just the same.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The rhetorical question makes Mrs. Lampton laugh, her amusement ringing out in the mostly empty dressing room.

“You’re funny, girl. I’ll make sure they play your favorite songs.” Without another word, she leaves, and you’re alone again, placing a single pastie on each nipple. New faces…

You hadn’t seen very many new people in the club since you’d been hired three months ago. It was always the same four men that came to see you during your weekday four o’clock shift, and a mix of the same faces during your ten o’clock dance on Friday evenings, when the club was full of men looking for an escape between the valley of your B-cups.

There was Aiko, the man who had completely given up on love and decided to get his affection from you when he got paid every two weeks with a simple lap dance. Then you helped Kohi with his fantasies: he had admitted to you that he could only fuck his girlfriend with his eyes closed and couldn’t think of anyone else except the girls in the club, you especially. Takeru was no different, just a little more handsy than you had originally expected when allowing him into the VIP room. And finally, you had the pleasure of meeting a new regular named Yuma just last month. Yuma was young, bright-eyed, and had a carefree attitude that also affected his wallet. Out of the four, he was the best tipper and admittedly, the sweetest… but those were your only four regulars.

The rest of the dancers at the club had at least enough regulars to count on both hands, but you were stuck with the smallest group. As such, you were given the shittiest shift, but you didn’t mind. The pay was enough to make up for rent and some extra expenses, but during the day, you were dedicated to working with your aunt in her flower shop.

You saw an array of men there, too, and the regulars there were almost as frequent as the ones here. Thankfully, this club was on the other side of town - the richer side - and you would go unnoticed in your ink black wig and heavy makeup in the dim lights.

You adjust your garters in the mirror, and slide the matching black lace bra over your pasty covered breasts. Tonight, there are new customers, and one of the new faces might potentially become a regular. Your regular.

You swing the door open and walk through the blue-lighted hallway to the carpeted space before the stage steps, watching the girl before you - a tall, thin blonde named Hannah - slide down the pole upside down, earning a few cheers from the gathered crowd. You don’t get to see her finish due to the obstructed view as you gather your towel and spray it with rubbing alcohol, but you do hear the DJ call her name as she exits. Hannah brushes past you without speaking, shaking her head at the wad of cash and solid red bra in her hands.

“Slow night?” you ask, and she turns around to face you, her blonde braid swinging over her shoulder. She raises a brow and then - in a rare show of kindness - mumbles:

“There’s a real spender in that crowd, but he wants nothing to do with me. Watch out for those blue eyes; they’re really distracting.” You whip your head back to look at the pole, your fingers tightening around the damp terry cloth. When you look back, Hannah is disappearing into the dressing room, too far gone to ask about the blue eyes comment.

Barefoot, you step up the stairs, and the DJ croons, “Next up is our loveliest newbie, y/n…” A slow song begins as you work your way around the pole with your towel, cleaning off any and all dirt and grime left behind from the previous girls with seduction. It was simple, really: twirling your hips and dancing around the pole was enough to make even the most stoic man soften. You were every man’s fantasy in that moment: a cleaning whore. When you finish your work, you find the cold, slick surface of the spin pole, and work your way up, feeling the pressure against the tops of your bare feet. It wasn’t unusual for you to leave with slightly bruised ankles or a “pole kiss” at your thigh. But it was all worth the extra money. Bruises faded away. Bills did not.

When you invert and grab the pole behind you, there is a sense of calm as you spin around like a siren, looking for the infamous blue eyes. It isn’t until you’re back on the floor that you see them - he’s across the room, eyes staring directly at you with white furrowed brows perched precariously above them.

As you keep track of the single dollar bills being deposited on the stage in front of you, you notice another new face beside him, leaning in to whisper something while his eyes flick away. When you fan kick around the pole twice, you see the face - black eyes and black hair in a half-bun - turn towards you with a smile. The smile isn’t innocent, but when were smiles in the club anything less? You return the smile with sincerity, finding the two men completely captivating.

But you have other customers to attend to; most notably, Yuma. His cherub face and tender green eyes are watching you from the bottom of the stage, his face in an entranced smile.

“Y/n!” he yells over the music, holding up a one-hundred dollar bill. You dismount from the pole and crawl on your hands and knees toward the youth, whose lips quirk up in a playful smirk.

“It’s good to see you here,” you breathe, dropping your voice an octave to seem more alluring. Yuma buys it hook, line, and sinker - as he always did - and slides the dollar bill between the garter and your see-through stockings. “See any good movies lately?” you wonder, letting him pet your leg tenderly.

“You’ll really like the newest addition to the Hanged Man trilogy,” he begins, eyes roving over your figure salaciously. Yuma hooks a finger around your garter and gives it a gentle snap; you huff out a laugh before rolling your neck around. “I’ll take you to see it, if you want.”

“That would be so nice,” you purr back, arching your hips until he can practically feel your ass pushing into his hand. “I would love nothing more than that.”

“I’ll buy a dance tonight and give you the details.” Yuma knows his time is short and waves a hand over your spine before retreating, his eyes staying with you as you unfurl from the floor. You have no intention of meeting Yuma outside of the club, but you have to admit that if you hadn’t met him in here, you probably would have attempted to pursue him.

A fast song means that you’re coming to the second part of your three-part dance, and your fingers make quick work of your pointless bra. When it drops to the ground, you can feel eyes drawn to your unclothed upper body grinding on the pole. Your eyes flick back to the blue-eyes man in the corner, and you find he’s alone staring at his phone in the darkness.

Why is he even here? you wonder, hooking a leg around the metal before swinging your back leg up. As you swing around with your head leaned back, you catch his handsome companion at the bottom of the stage, arm muscles rippling under his white button down. He’s counting his money, you realize, and take that as a sign that he might be beholden to making a generous donation. It isn’t until he holds out two hundred dollar bills that you stop, and he places it on the stage, patting it twice. You make your way back over to the stranger, eyeing him carefully under your heavy eyelashes as he leans in to speak.

“Very generous,” you note, and he gives a sheepish smile as he tucks the bills into the side of your g-string. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“You can call me Geto.” His voice, calm and strong, washes over you like a burst of fresh air, and you notice he doesn’t seem nervous at all, despite appearing shy.

“You can touch me,” you offer, but he places both hands back on the stage, staring into your eyes.

“I’d rather do that privately. How much for a VIP room with you for the evening?” Your eyes flick to Yuma, who is happily downing a drink at the bar and settling his tab.

“I… have one dance I have to --”

“He hasn’t paid yet.” Another one-hundred dollar bill slides across the stage. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Another bill. “All of this,” Two more bills. “for one night.

Six hundred dollars. That was three times as much as you made on a regular night.

“And take this off.” You think he’s going to tug at your lingerie, but instead, he tugs a strand of your wig, and you frown.

“I…”

“Your real hair is brown.” He offers, raising his brows as if to challenge the denial working its way up your throat. You are a brunette.

“P-pay the red-haired lady at the bar. Tell her you’re requesting the VIP room with me,” you stammer.

“I’d rather make sure all the money makes it into your pocket.” Your mouth dries up, but you have to finish your last song. The man notices your nerves, and jerks his chin at you slightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “No worries. I’ll see you in there.”

As you’re wiping down, you feel your chest constrict slightly. Takeru and Yuma were the only ones who had actually been in the VIP room with you, but that had only been twice in your three months there. They had paid the bare minimum - two hundred dollars - to see you fully naked, touching yourself in front of them and allowing them to spread you bare for observation. There were no holds barred in there except fucking, but if this man could afford to drop three times the amount it cost to reserve the room for himself… Mrs. Lampton would most likely let him do as he pleased. For a moment, you consider Yuma being disappointed and downtrodden that you couldn’t give him at least one lap dance before the end of the night, but you had to go with this new stranger, if just for tonight.

“Hey, y/n…” Mrs. Lampton pokes her head into the dressing room again. “The VIP room is ready for you. Your client is in there; you’ll be alone, as requested.” Not even a fucking security guard.

The stairs up to the absolutely private area are steep, but you somehow wobble your way up there in your red, satin teddy and black robe. When you open the door to the room, the wall maps give a soft golden glow to the space, illuminating the couches and mirror on the back wall. One-way glass separates you from view of the other patrons down below, now enjoying another show from another girl. Usually, a security guard would post himself on this side of the wall, observing the free show with the stoicism of a statue.

But tonight, it’s you and Geto. He lazes on a couch, both arms splayed across the light brown fabric as you enter the room. His black eyes follow you as you pad toward him, watching his every move. You stop in front of the man, locking eyes with him as you undo the tie at your waist and let the silk robe fall to the ground. His lips part and he spreads his legs, beckoning you forward with his right forefinger and middle finger.

Silently, you make your way to him, planting yourself between his long legs and looking down. “Kneel.” Your breath hitches in your throat, but you sink to your knees anyways, keeping your eyes on him. As he leans over you, you think the worst is about to happen and squeeze your eyes and mouth shut. When his fingers find the nape of your neck, you flinch, but feel your hair tie slide off of the braid in your hair. He smells like sandalwood - you note - much unlike the other men you encountered in the club. They often reeked of booze and smoke, or something much grimer.

His fingers work their way through your locks, separating the strands with ease before retracting. Your hair cascades around your face like a curtain, and he leans back, resuming his previous position. “You can dance if you’d like.” Instantly, you rise from the wooden floor and begin running your hands up your waist and to your chest, swirling your hips around to the sensual music playing through the speakers. Geto observes you with a tilted head, squinting his eyes when you play with the feathered hem of your teddy. You don’t lift it over your head, opting to tease him to his limit instead of giving him exactly what he wanted right away.

His black eyes roam over your figure repeatedly, watching your hips sway and fingers wind into your hair without changing. He leans forward when you take a step back, lacing his fingers together in front of him calmly. You step back into his reach, and he shifts suddenly, startling you so bad that you stop moving entirely.

“Sorry,” he hisses, adjusting his seating. “It’s a little uncomfortable to sit like that right now.” You let out a nervous chuckle and resume your movements, unsure if you’re ready to remove your lingerie or not. “I’m not going to ask you to take it off.” The admission makes you pause, but you continue to dance anyways.

“Why?”

“Why would I?” He tosses back, shrugging.

“You get to see everything in here. That’s what you paid for, right?”

“I paid for you to dance for me alone. I want a private show; not something anyone can watch for free.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

“Not yet.”

And he didn’t for the rest of the time he spent there that night. Before he left the room, he pressed a couple of hundreds into your palm then opened the door and walked out. You had never experienced anything quite like it, but with the extra cash in your hand as you walked out of the club, you prayed to the stars that you would see this unicorn just one more time.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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blookmallow · 3 years

Text

hi i binged through all of salad fingers for the first time in like 8 years and im fixating again here are. My Theories. pls talk to me if anyone else has Thoughts or wants to discuss things. this is really long i am sorry :’ )

also shout out to the salad fingers wiki for helping me keep track of details and also for this

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thought: salad fingers is not violent on purpose he did not mean to kill that kid

this is less a theory and more “if you slander my boy with accusations i will Get you” but listen. i see people going “but he mURDERED A CHILD!!” because of the oven incident but listen. listen to me. he didnt mean to and cannot be held to the same standard of morality and understanding consequences as a. person who isn’t..... in whatever situation and mental state he has going on

- yes, the kid getting trapped in the oven was his fault. but it was not intentional or malicious and i sincerely doubt he understands what happened or why.

he was asking for help reaching the fish (there’s no reason to believe he wasn’t just genuinely asking for help. he tears up in gratitude. theres no evidence of him Tricking People Maliciously in any other context i do not believe he would do that) and was distracted by the rusty nail, causing him to let go of the door. it wasn’t “he cares more about rust than about a child’s life” or something, i dont think he can actually hold “hey look at that i gotta check that out” and “i need to hold the door open so the child doesn’t get hurt” in his head at the same time, rust is his favorite stim/an impulse thing that takes over everything else and his perception of reality and the things going on around him changes very quickly and easily. more on that later. but the important point here is it wasn’t a malicious plot, or a neglectful careless action, he literally did not realize letting go of the door would cause harm

he stabbed himself accidentally with the nail and passed out for a while (the fact that he immediately bled that much is concerning too, he probably has hemophilia which is. a medical condition outside of his control, as well) and after all that he had completely forgotten about the child altogether (and says “i must have dozed off” so he doesn’t even understand he passed out. and might not remember the nail thing in the first place)

we don’t see what happened after this, we don’t know how he responds when he investigates the fish and inevitably finds an unexpected charred corpse in there, but i guarantee he won’t remember why its in there or understand that its a corpse. we dont see it again so its. entirely possible he didnt recognize it as a person and either just disposed of it or, uh, ate it. but if he did, it wasn’t with the knowledge and comprehension of it being A Corpse or the memory of how it got there

theory: on salad fingers and memory / comprehension of death and consequences