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#but i had so much fun sewing anyway so its worth it
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forgot to post about him here BUT I finished my silly little Vashraptor fursuit just before Emerald City Comic Con (and Vancoufur)
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except he's not actually "finished", just finished enough for me to wear him to those cons for a bit. he still needs a few more details, namely feetpaws, the stitches on his torso, a more raptor-like hand for his prosthetic, and claws. plus I'm not totally happy with his ears so I might redo them. I'll make legs and different prosthetics eventually, but that probably won't be for a while.
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as per usual of raptors, he looks pretty silly at any angle other than side profiles, so its a little difficult to get good photos while im actually wearing him.
more ramblings + WIP shots under the cut because this was the most complicated project ive ever done and im insane
so far, he's taken about $700 worth of materials and 150 hours but I'll make another post with updated numbers when he's fully finished.
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the headbase is made of EVA foam, with a hinge from WeaselsOnEasels (covered with that pink fabric because I accidentally put it on the inside, rip) and 40 teeth from DreamVisionCreations. the eyes and antorbital fenestrae have .5mm computer fan pvc mesh-- his vision and ventilation are fantastic, rivaling my suit with a 3d printed base, but fine details like writing and text are lost as per usual with vision meshes (that's not normally much of a problem for me with the furry conventions I go to annually and know the layout of, but it made navigating ECCC a nightmare since ive never been before and the venue is HUGE. I imagine ill have the same struggles if I go to sakuracon-- anyone wanna be my handler for that? lol). the unfurred section is coated with Plastidip and spraypainted dark brown. most of his mane is zippered on both sides so I can remove it and make interchangable versions (I plan to make spiked-up hair in yellow, half yellow/black, and fully black) while the tip of it is magnetic so it lies flat against the base. his tongue is also magnetic. I was originally going to make magnetic eyelids, but in all honesty, I might prefer to make them velcro as they tend to be easier to adjust + more secure than magnetic ones.
the part I hated making the most was his tail, not because it's bad, but because when I was almost done with it my dog got to it and chewed it apart.
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you can see there's an awkward little bump along the top near where the light yellow and black fur connect-- when im wearing the tail that bump makes it look broken. but since he's so mangled anyway it can just be considered part of his design since I didn't add any scars to it
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the tail feathers were a bit of a nightmare to make but the progress shots are cool
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the part I loved making the most, and that im most proud of, is the bodysuit. I thought the scars were going to be a nightmare to sew, but they were actually the most fun and I love how they turned out!! he will be getting an interchangable mane down his back as well but I didn't have the time to finish it. I might also extend the shoulders a little for a better fit, particularly the left as theres a noticeable gap between the suit and the prosthetic as it is.
I showed this video of the pattern to a friend at When Furballs Strike a few weeks back and she told me I was insane. she is correct, and I'm fairly sure me actually finishing the bodysuit in a week only proves it further. but I did it anyway, and I had fun doing it.
Fur used: Yellow (Hair/Mane, Tail Feathers): HowlFabric Buttercup Luxury Shag Light Yellow (Main Body/Face): MofuMofu Mi Yellow Long Fur White (Neck, Top Surgery Scars, Tail): BigZFabric White Short Shag Brown (Ears, Tail Feathers): HowlFabric Fossil Grey Luxury Teddy Black (Arm, Tail): HowlFabric Natural Black Luxury Teddy Scars: HowlFabric Salmon Minky Tongue: HowlFabric Banana Minky Inner Mouth: HowlFabric Vanilla Minky Inner Ears: BigZFabric White Minky
note about the mofumofu fur: it's pretty thin, if you trim too much you can see the backing through it. HOWEVER. this proved to be a positive for the bodysuit, as it's MUCH more breathable than thicker furs like howl's and bigz's. (for the one day I could make it to ECCC and two days of Vancoufur, I wore this suit for 10-12 hours straight with a sweatshirt underneath and never felt like I was overheating, the minky scars most likely helped with it but STILL??) it also doesn't get as matted. whether or not it's worth the $55/yd price depends on what you need it for, if it's within your price range and you're particularly sensitive to heat, I'd say go for it. I only needed a yard for this as I'm kindof a little guy (5'5", 120lbs) so it was worth it for me.
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omgkalyppso · 2 months
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21. Does a partner in the ship have a favorite [something] that their partner(s) had never considered before? Like a constellation, rock formation, or hair ribbon material, for example. Do they start to develop opinions that agree with, or contrast, or compliment, their partner's or do they remain indifferent?
for etoile and their partners!
(´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡ thank you for the ask!
I think that most people have preferences like this even if they're unaware of them (I am unaware of my own), so I tried to come up with something for each partner.
Since I am from the northern hemisphere, for Étoile I am picking a constellation, either in modern au or some fantasy equivalent of Orion and Canis Major. They're only visible in winter, and only at certain times of the night / nightly walks would let one watch how they traverse across the sky. Their legends of hunter and companion are iconic, their patterns are eye-catching, and the brightest star in the sky is contained within. So their partners may realize that they prefer a constellation associated with a legend more familiar to them, or their deity if their deity has a constellation; or with Astarion, I think he would go back and forth between resentment for the night sky and renewed appreciation for the light of the stars, and a preference for the north star, for its consistency and for its purpose.
Halsin, as we know, favors ducks, and while I'm not sure that he'd have a favorite duck, if asked why he preferred ducks to other water birds that he'd mention their waddles, their bills and expressive faces, and that they mate for a season, taking on each year anew against the challenges and blessings that nature sets for them. I've selected the Spectacled Eider as a duck that might have a fantasy equivalent in the Earthfast Mountains, where Étoile is from that Halsin might one day want to see / meet (an interesting concept for druids). Astarion has the strongest (contrary?) opinion, far preferring colorful ducks like the wood duck or the mandarin duck; when ducks all have predators anyway, he feels that they should at least awe with bright plumage, and they are nice to look at, even in the dark. Étoile confesses to having little preference between water birds, liking birds more when they have claws like hawks, eagles and owls.
Astarion being gifted something with a embroidery of inferior stitch — or worse, having his own work mistaken for the same, brings attention to his odd favorite thing, which is split stitch. The threads are neat and clean and lend well to legibility, and they're fun to sew though he'd probably not admit to the last bit in so many words. I think Astarion's preference feeds into his partners', who otherwise might not have noticed a difference or given it much thought.
He Who Was has a favorite fake haunting. Stories told of a mansion with little to no spiritual associations but tales that claim horrific things of nightmares and visions and vanishing horrors. If something untrue is worth a ghost story, his opinion is that it should be exaggerated and magnanimous in its own falsehoods and contradictions; or else it's untrue AND boring. I think Halsin, Komira and Locke are not yet ready for ghost stories after his time with the shadow-curse, but Astarion is easily swayed to this opinion, if someone tells a ghost story of a woman who stalks a hallway that even if He Who Was wasn't present that Astarion would be prompting the storyteller with variants of "And then?" Because what does it matter if there is a ghost, real or otherwise, moving about doing absolutely nothing. If there isn't a curse involved, it's irrelevant. Étoile meanwhile can't bring themself to have any enthusiasm for fake hauntings at all, having been so close to true ones in their youth.
Locke has a favorite type of flooring, wood. I imagine he's lived in places where the floor was nothing but packed earth, and where stone flooring has caused both death and serious injury as a result of a fall, especially with tiefling horns. Wood has an appropriate amount of bounce and give, while still being refined and suitably easy to clean, while stick clacking underfoot to the tune of fine heeled shoes. This doesn't come up a lot, but if someone were moving into a new residence, I think he'd ask after the flooring. I don't know how many partners would agree with him, I think most would dismiss his concerns out of hand, only changing their mind if they had a living senior or babe in their care. In a relevant AU Étoile would be sooo cognizant of this when the vampire settlement in the Underdark is using Stone Shape and drow masonry techniques to cut out their homes in the rock.
Komira has a favorite type of shoes — open-toed footwear. She finds them comfortable and pretty, and she can often tell a lot of her neighbours, tiefling and otherwise, about how they feel about the presence / visibility of clawed tiefling feet. They weren't good for travelling, but for occupying a house or working a shop, or attending a party, having one or two pairs of open shoes or sandals to choose from would suit her. Étoile would joke about wearing sandals in winter if no one would balk (Astarion would be outraged, proving their point). Astarion wouldn't have a preference, too much variety / spoiled for choice. Halsin would agree, closest to being barefoot as is acceptable. He Who Was would prefer a closed boot, to wade through the despicable places of the world in more comfort; Wyll is the same, but with more of a heel and any style one can manage. Locke and Zevlor would each have a preference for more sensible shoes that bring no more attention to themselves than necessary.
Wyll has favorite types of dip pen, with preferences for wide feeds and flexible nibs. I can picture him drawing in the margins and writing his perspective on his own adventures and those of his friends, as well as the practised slog of his paperwork. Astarion definitely prefers thinner feeds. I don't think Étoile or their other partners used dip pens with enough frequency to develop an opinion prior. If it became more common then they and Zevlor would agree with Wyll. They all dislike scroll nibs.
Zevlor has a favorite type of window curtain — patterned with flowers. He finds it uplifting to see the sunlight filter through bright colors and that the curtains might be a little bit more unique than a solid grey or another color. Astarion might've agreed under some circumstances, as it is he requires black out curtains, and at least if they're red they have some class. Halsin, Wyll and Komira agree with Zevlor. Locke would take it a step further and appreciate curtains with even more individuality or sense of home, if they were stitched with specific imagery, like a tale or an interesting creature. Étoile likes curtains with patterns, but not florals.
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nerves-nebula · 1 year
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yeah childhood neglect just.. sucks. I agree emotional neglect hits harder because like, you can always learn how to drive but you can't get back those years of being emotionally worth nothing (heavy quotations there because everyone is important).
I get you so much on the self taught stuff, like any skills I've learnt are things I taught myself (minus things I had to do for parents). Sewing, writing, drawing, cooking, cleaning, minor knitting, etc I learned by watching someone do it once or twice and copying it with whatever materials I could find (stray strings from clothes, stuff found on the ground, etc). I researched things when I could so I could be all my homework help, never asked for advice or whatever. Even taught myself how to tie my shoes (something my parents are proud of).
It's stupid adults are out here having kids they have no plan to raise and then dumping them into the wild with trauma they shouldn't have to deal with. I hope you get all the support you need and that you never find yourself in such a situation ever again. Best of luck too with your homework too!
YEAH. To all of this. My parents taught us the basics of reading/writing (and by taught i mean gave us books and got mad if we didn't do it right)
Like I'd never say I taught myself to write in front of my mom cause she'd get pissed about all the time spent forcing me to copy letters, or whatever, but in all the ways that really matter I DID teach myself to write. BECAUSE I WROTE STORIES FOR FUN.
ALSO like i've said before, sometimes I'd just not learn shit. I didn't know how to tie my shoes for forever cause everyone kept insisting on some bullshit with a bunny and a rabbit hole like... i just told you i didn't understand why are you trying to show me again???? I think I didn't learn to tie my shoes until I was like ...9 to 12? ( its hard to remember cause I didn't know my exact age for a while)
and when I finally did learn, it was cause someone- I can't for the life of me remember who- was FINALLY like "oh there's a wayyyy easier way to do it let me show you!"
AND THEY WERE RIGHT. AND I LEARNED IT BASICALLY INSTANTLY.
AND YET. MY DAD WAS STILL PISSED, cause to him I hadn't REALLY learned to tie my shoes???? I was doing like a fake EASY way of tying shoes which is fucking INSANEeEEEeeEE. BECAUSE YOU CAN BARELY TELL THE DIFFERENCE ONCE THEY'RE TIED. AND IT GETS THE JOB DONE.
BUT when he noticed me tying my shoes weird he gave me this death glare like I was doing something wrong, like MAN do you just NOt want me to know shit?? clearly this is what works for me!
anyway sorry about the ramble about shoelaces uhhhhhh this ask just sparked something in me.
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revivisection · 2 years
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its night time you know what that means! this is my diary now. very long week recap ahead.
my teeth are cool and good kind of now. they're actually still pretty awful but my front are work in progress they look mostly fine now and im not so vigilant at hiding my mouth :) not without a week's worth of pain and agony recovery but. you knoow. i will have to go through that again at some point oh well thank god for ibuprofen except it wears off before i can take another one. my upper lip was incredinly inflamed for a few days, bad experience.
you know you never really think about hpw much you use your mouth or just like. feel your mouth generally experience the life experience of having a mouth until there's problems with it. crazy how that works. i for one would have a much better time not having a mouth it's rather disgusting. ideal form i simply absorb energy through airwaves, or perhaps plug myself in to charge
after that i had to enroll in courses i was like surely i will have a fine and okay time. <-full of hubris. i slept through the first hour of course enrollment because i went to sleep at 6am and it opened at 9. so im now on two waitlists which probably wont let up. going to take latin though, going to become more pretentious just you wait. i think this is what you would call a "dark academia moment" but i dont think i actually know what dark academia is. school hasn't started yet but im having the biggest fucking imposter syndrome everyone who has ever told me how smart i am is a fucking liar.
had a fun lil trivia club day with some trivia club buddies. believe it or not, we did trivia. exciting, i know. anyways scratch what i said before whenever i get the right answer in trivia club i am literally the smartest man alive. why do all my friends have absolutely ancient editions of trivial pursuit (the words of someone who doesn't own any board games)
and yesterday i hung out with my dear friend @threecirclingbuzzards!! she let me scavenge through her big bag of miscellaneous patches it was very fruitful. my vest is very empty because i have to make everything myself and i simply do not. so now i have more things to put on it, the real question is when im actually going to sew. it was also cool because we are like brain linked we are like that image of clown-to-clown communication dont need to speak coherently because like. i get it. she gets it. we get it. the clown part is especially true because we were like. what to teens do. hang out at the mall. genius. and then we got there and it was two minutes from closing. genius. at the dollar store i got minecraft stickers god i love minecraft i will be forty fucking years old and not tire of minecraft
over the course of my mouth recovery time i listened to youtube videos to try and distract myself when falling sleep and i listened to a video about the evil within 1. i dont need to give background information but i will anyways.. back in like whenever of this year early this year some time this year i was scrolling through the discussion page of the tumblr sexyman wiki and there was a suggestion post for stefano valentini and i was like. woah. ive seen that man before. ive watched my fair share of oxbox/oxtra vids in my lifetime. and then i proceeded to go crazy. something about him makes me go absolutely nuts like awooga etc. who fucking knows. anyways i was content to never know anything about the evil within beyond that stefano valentini is like absurdly attractive until i watched that video about the evil within 1 while mildly Out Of It and i developed a very sudden crush on ruvik so now i know some things about the evil within. how was your day. another fucked up evil guy who i am compelled by. i cant fix him i cant make him worse but i CAN look at him from afar. all ive been able to draw lately is just ruvik faces idk man he's my latest fixation i guess. got him on the mind (except for when i was catching up on the patho tag today. i love my weekly spam reblogging from the patho tag except this time it's two weeks worth of posts becuase by god i was having a bad time)
perhaps i should actually watch a lets play of tew so i can know like. what the game is like in full properly and shit. shhhhh you dont see my incomplete patho2 save. i would play more horror games if i werent a little bitch, but im not so instead i just play stupid long fantasy rpgs. the sole reason i havent finished pathfinder kingmaker is because of that stupid goddamn darven quest oh my god i hate that man i hate that quest i need to speedrun it get it over with so i can enjoy the rest of the game but i simply cannot take it when the FUCK is he going to show up how much fuckng time needs to pass where are you bitch i need to xget this out of the fucking way so the hellknights stop crashing my place fucking my shit up i hate it her.e.
i wrote all of this because i am insuch! a mood today. idk whats up last nigh t i passed out instantly fell asleep died went to purgatory the moment i laid down on my bed like in an instant ive never been so sleepy in my life. and today i am incredibly humid but more than that the time actually melted away. like pretend time is a stick of butter in my hands except i preheated my hands in the oven for several minutes and the butter didnt even bother to melt so the preheating didnt matter it just slipped off my stupid little fingers. i woke up blinked now its night time. now nearly twelve hours have passed what the fuCK was i doing. nothing. i have no idea how this time passed i feel out of it (different) a different kind of out of it who knows maybe this is my natural tooth recovery time but instead for going outside two days in a row and having fun. this is my body and mind telling me to have less fun. wlel fuck you body and mind im hanging out with friends AGAIN tomorrow. see how you like that fucker. or maybe im just a little baby and its because i forgot to sleep with my stuffed animals last night. i have a build-a-bear longhorn i love him with my life i named him after my wife (artemy) he keeps me company because all i do is sit and rot.
also we havent read new pages of this dark endeavour in like11 days oops. the review WILL happen eventually okay i have so much to say about that wretched novel just when the summer book club completes it
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thedianadiary · 11 months
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0011.
When someone sneezes, do you say “Bless you,” or “God Bless you?” God bless you Do you ever look at someone cute, and automatically make a move? automatically? no lol. but i might make a move or two.  How many times have you been to Wal-Mart/K-Mart in the past week? uhhhh neither. i dont even know where the nearest kmart is anymore.  What are two things you are excited to do in the near future? travel!!!!! Have you ever seen the movie A Walk to Remember? Cliche’ or worth watching? so good. man i used to love that movie.
Do you ever put condoms in old people’s buggies at the store? that is so ridiculous. no, ive never lol
Name one reason you go to a pharmacy regularly for? i dont regularly.  What radio station could you not resist turning it to in the vehicle? 99.5 Do you live in a house, apartment, or another type of arrangement? house Do you wear sweaters in the Winter or hoodies, more often? ooooo usually sweatshirts. this last year was definitely sweaters tho Are you kind of a loner? Do you like being alone? i love being alone! i think my own personal company is top drawer lol. but im not a loner incapable of seeing other people or enjoying their company. Are you one of those people who like to spell out numbers? ummm it could happen. Is there an animal in the room with you right now? What kind? yes. benny, a cat. Did you or do you still have a Furby? Was/is it annoying? i did have one. it was extremely annoying lol Whats one event your town has that you don’t like to participate in? there are none that i dont like to participate in lol Are any of your siblings married? What are their spouse’s names? my older two siblings are both married, their spouses are Karla & Dustin. my other brother gets married in just over a month and his fiances name is Jessica. Do you hate nosy people who ask too many personal questions? only if theyre trying to get information that im not looking to share. but no, overall. Name one lyric from the song you’re listening to/the last one you listened? i actually dont know what song was the last one i heard most recently.  Do you have a fax machine? Do you ever use it anyways? not anymore its been many years since we have had one lol. but back in the day i used it often Does your kitchen table have placemats? If so, what colors are on them? no not currently. we own some for occasions but no we dont leave them up  Do you know how to sew? Whats your favorite thing to sew? yes! artsy fun things Have you ever owned a turtle? Did it ever bite you when you owned it? yes! ummm not much i mean turtles can bite hard for sure but when i had been bit it was a small size so it wasnt a problem Does your father have any creepy or scary friends you dont like? i dont know my dads friends anymore Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? david Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? i dont What color are the walls in the room you’re in right now? like a gray mauve-y brown ish combo. one is much darker  Has your school ever had a lockdown? If so, for what reason exactly? lol i was homeschooled so no. in college not really. we had someone who made a threat so school was closed for a day. Do you enjoy it when your school has drills? (ex/fire or tornado drill?) never did one.  Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? uhhh i mean it doesnt really matter either way. im sure they wouldnt love some of my shows because it isnt their preference of media but not because theyre bad  Do you have any siblings who still believe in Santa, and are over age ten? nope What color were the last pair of headphones/earphones you bought? i havent got a clue. K usually buys that sort of stuff for me so its been a hot minute since i have lol Do people call you a big mouth sometimes? Or more than sometimes? no lol
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totiredtowrite · 3 years
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Hey can I pls request an Asahi x reader where We agree to go to our house as a casual hang out after practice but what he doesn’t expect to see in our room is this creepy looking plush(appearance up to interpretation) that’s turns out to be yn’s childhood toy that they adore very much.
So like the whole fic would be Asahi’s internal struggle to either leave his crush’s house or stay with the terrifyingly petrifying abomination that yn has no problem hugging and kissing.Hed try to stay strong and continue talking to us but at times he would take bathroom breaks so he could build up his courage again lmao.
Maybe our mom would notice the amount of bathroom breaks Asahi would take and idk make some assumptions 🤨(she could become important if you decide making her ask Asahi what’s wrong and the whole silly conflict would be resolved by her telling us to bring the toy to another room so poor Asahi doesn’t have to be petrified)
Anyways thank you!💕
Rico
Warnings - Asahi being afraid of your bear :(
Note: Sorry I didn't get this out yesterday oml. This was one of my favourite requests so there's no way I could let this sit in the ask box any longer. The gif has noya in it cause why not and I couldn't find any other ones that fit ig :'). Little thing about the bear, I tried to describe it in a way that makes it seem like it looked cute as some point in time, so let me know if that was good <3
Male Reader
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'Oh my god, did it just move?'
There really wasn't a good way to describe Asahi's predicament right now. Seated curtly on the floor of your room, while you were talking about something and pulling a video up to show him on your laptop.
There shouldn't be a problem here. In fact, Asahi should be nervous for completely different reasons. He honestly wasn't even sure how he got here in the first place.
~~~
"Azumane!"
Asahi turns at the sound of your voice, his face heating up as he spots you sprinting towards him. He slows to a walk to allow you to catch up, growing increasingly more fidgety. Why were you you approaching him? You don't talk to him too much outside of practice or class, so why were you running towards him with such a bright smile?
Then a horrible thought struck him. Did you find out? Were you going to make fun of him? You, the most beautiful, handsome, gorgeous boy he'd ever met? No no no, that couldn't be the case right? Somehow the smile on your face looked more sinister to him.
He was still worrying when you took up a place at his side. "I was wondering," you huffed, "if you wanted to hang out?"
His eyes widened, nerves fading quickly. "Sure! I- sure." He stammered out. He really had a habit of making something out of nothing, didn't he.
~~~
Oh yeah, that's how.
On any note, he should be nervous because he's sitting in his crushes bedroom. Not because of the absolutely terrifying bear seated in your lap.
There really isn't any other way to describe it accurately.
It looked like a normal bear from the back, the matted patches of fur and occasional stitches being normal for any childhood toy. You had walked in after him and saw him staring at the bear, so you had picked it up and showed him the front, beaming.
"Meet Rico!"
What was he even supposed to think? The bear had a little animal skull where it's face should be. The matted fur was a reoccurring thing, but in the front there were little patches of leather that looked dangerously like human skin sewed in to keep the bear from falling apart at the seams. There were little red threads sticking up in random spots, and Asahi was 100% sure there was an all too realistic eye in one of the skull sockets.
When he asked you about it in the most non-threatening, meek voice ever, you said that his other eye fell out a while back, and the leather actually did very well with not ripping or tearing. You also explained that your uncle helped you patch Rico up before he passed away, as he was good with leather.
So, here he was in the present. You were talking happily about something that interested you, sitting cross-legged with Rico on your lap. It was everything he had hoped for, but for some reason Asahi just couldn't focus on your angelic voice. Well, he knew the reason full well. He seriously thinks Rico was watching him. It felt like his weirdly realistic eye was glancing at him no matter where he moved, and oh god did its leg just twitch?
"... ahi... asahi... Azumane?"
He jumped and tore his attention off of the bear, instead opting to meet your (e/c) eyes. "You were spacing out, are you okay?" You asked with a warm smile.
"I- uh- yes! ...Could I ask where the bathroom is?"
~~~
Really it's pathetic. This is the fourth time he's gone to the bathroom in an hour, and he was sure you were starting to notice. He can't even think of any reason to defend himself, aside from the fact that the longer he stayed by the bear, the heavier the tension fell on him.
Taking a deep breath and meeting his own eyes in the mirror, he steeled himself to head back to your room. What's the worst that could happen right? At the very least, the bear wouldn't decide to off him while you were in the room.
Asahi, now determined and ready, opened the door and prepared to head back down the hall to your room when he was stopped by a woman's voice.
"Oh! You're (y/n)'s friend, right?" He stopped, turning around slowly, only to relax when his eyes landed on a friendly looking woman. She held a smile clad with a bit of concern.
"Yes! I- yes, that's me," he quieted down, bringing a large hand up to scratch the back of his neck. There truly was nothing more awkward than meeting your crushes mother. Alone.
She smiled a closed eyed smile at him, before opening her mouth to speak once more. "I can't help but notice that you've been taking quite a few breaks?" She was clearly trying to ask him about it in the most non-confrontational way possible, like approaching a scared animal.
And she was starting to get a little suspicious. More often than not has she spotted Asahi making a run towards your bathroom with a red face, and she at least wants to know what his relationship with you is before assuming anything crude.
"Well- I- Can you keep a secret?" He blurts out in defeat. She nods. "His bear- Rico- kind of scares me." The deflated aura around him was almost funny. In Asahi's mind, that bear was definitely not normal. After all, you mentioned that your uncle patched it up before passing away. As stupid as it was, he swears that bear is haunted.
Before anyone else could say anything, you chuckled from Asahi's back. "That's all? I really thought you hated me!" You laughed, Rico under your arm. He turned bright red and your mother chuckled.
"Well," she said, "How about we move Rico to another room so that our guest doesn't get too scared." She smiled softly. You nodded with a grin, and took off to set Rico down somewhere else.
Once you were out of earshot, your mom turned to Asahi.
"I always thought that bear was creepy too."
~~~
In the end, Asahi supposes, that awkward little encounter was worth it. You had your head on his lap, going on about something that you learned about earlier in the day. Maybe he was still a bit afraid of your weird childhood toy, but it kind of did help him get a boyfriend.
While his adoring eyes were on you, he failed to notice Rico's arm shifting, his little sewn mouth turning up to smile just a bit wider.
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red-writes · 3 years
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Career oriented 
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Escort! Bakugou x Reader
Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 
cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)
a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.
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The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 
While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.
 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.
“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 
“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.
“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 
“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 
Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 
Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 
His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 
“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up
“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”
You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.
“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 
Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”
“Certainly ma'am” 
+
You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 
You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 
His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.
Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 
+
You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 
Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.
Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 
“S-So..What- um..-”
“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 
“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 
He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 
You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.
“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.
“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 
“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 
You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 
“Okay, I have an idea” 
You cock your head to the side curiously.
“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 
“What do you say?”
“Alright!” 
+
The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 
Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.
“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.
“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.
“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 
“No, just realized somethin’” 
The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 
He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 
“You look pretty when you're having fun” 
A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 
“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 
+
Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,
‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 
After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?
Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 
You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 
The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 
You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 
+
Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.
You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 
“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.
“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.
“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 
“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile
“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.
“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 
When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.
“Check, please”
+
Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 
The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 
His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.
“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 
“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”
With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 
When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 
“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 
“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs
“You asked for this”
You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 
You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.
“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 
He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 
He whistles, “Nice place”
“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.
“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.
“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 
“That’s my hard working girl” 
you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 
“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.
“Yes, if you want” 
“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 
“Goodnight love” 
“Night Kats..”
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icerosecrystal · 3 years
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The Love We Give To You
Mominette Month 2021
Day 02: Signs of Affection
Masterlist
Author's Note: Hey everyone! Day 2 was a lot of fun to write! I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, to make sure that no one is confused, I wanted to let you all know that this is not a continuation of Day 1.
It has been three months since Marinette married Bruce and became a part of the Wayne family. Bruce's and Marinette's had a great relationship. Bruce showed affection through cuddles and kisses. Not that he would ever admit to doing it. Alfred and Marinette had bonded over their love of baking, cooking, and mother-henning the children. They showed their affection when they offered to help each other. Whether it be with work in the kitchen or little hobbies. All of the children loved Marinette and showed their affection for her in various ways.
Dick loved hugs. The moment he spotted Mari in the room, he would bound over to her, a smile on his face, and squeeze the life out of her. She would always let out one of her tinkling laughs in response before returning the enthusiastic hug.
Tim liked to give her hugs and kiss her cheek in greeting. But for him, it was more his actions than anything. He would get her a cup of coffee and then babble to her about really anything. In turn, Marinette would patiently listen, adding her input when necessary.
For Jason, he didn't appreciate physical affection as much as his other siblings, but he still would allow some of it, but only ever from Mari. Jason would show his appreciation for Mari every time he helped her out with whatever she was doing. He would sometimes talk about he was feeling also. But his favorite part would be when Mari would indulge in his thrill-seeking activities with him. He loved that she didn't try to change anything about him, and he always did the same for her. He even tried to make a leather jacket with her help.
Cass liked connecting with people on a soulful level. So she would usually sit by Mari when she was designing something and meditate or even only watch her work. They would also meditate together at times. Due to Cass being born into the League of Shadows, she found a lot of physical affection to be strange. But she sometimes did hug Mari.
Stephanie was as enthusiastic with her affection as Dick was. She would bounce over and hug Mari every time she entered the room. She would also constantly cling to Mari and would urge her to make waffles with her.
All of Mari's new children showed her different signs of affection except for Damian. She didn't think that Damian should be as blatant with his love for her, but she wanted even the slightest bit of confirmation that he loved her.
A Week Later
Damian flopped down onto his bed in misery. He had just witnessed another hug session between Dick and Mari. Damian wanted that same love, but he was confused about what to do. He felt like he was betraying his birth mother by trying to show Mari love, even if Talia wasn't the best mother ever. Besides, why would Mari even want a former assassin child as her kid? She's probably happy with the rest of them. At least they were somewhat ordinary. Even Cass, the only other one that had only ever been an assassin, was a lot more passive than him.
He continued to mope about his problems before he suddenly had an epiphany! What if he tested her? He needed to make sure that she was worth loving. And so, the next day, when everyone but Marinette, Alfred, and himself was out of the house, he went to the Batcave. He then started sparring against some dummies. He was hoping that Mari would attempt to bond with him and offer to spar with him. And sure enough, after a few minutes of sparring on his own, a melodic voice behind him called, "Damian? Why are you sparring on your own?"
Damian, in turn, replied, "I had nothing better to do. Would you like to join me? I could teach you."
He watched as her face lit up with unspoken happiness before she stepped onto the mat. They both positioned themselves into a starting position for the spar. He then counted them down, "Three, two, one, go!"
He had barely uttered the words before Mari ducked down low, whipped her leg out, and swung it towards him, hooking the back of his ankle with her foot. The action resulted in him falling to the floor. He quickly jumped up and kicked her leg from behind, causing her to hit the ground. Before he could tackle her, she rolled on the ground and jumped up, punching him as she went. He quickly recovered from the hit and followed with his own, which she caught and flipped him over, putting him back on the floor once more. Before he even got the chance to try and get up, she clambered over him, putting him into an armbar hold. And with that, Mari had officially won the spar.
Damian stared at her in awe as she climbed off him, beaming in excitement. Mistaking his silence and awe for embarrassment and hostility, Marinette frantically tried to make him feel better, "I am so sorry, Damian! I didn't mean to be so aggressive! I know that you wanted to teach me, but I already knew how to fight! But I thought that I would pretend that I didn't! But you were giving me a challenge, and I accidentally started treating it as a real fight! You are an amazing fighter! I am so, so sorry–"
Before she could continue with her spiel, Damian interrupted her with a whisper, "You're awesome." Realizing what he said, he ducked his head, attempting to hide the blush that had made its way onto his cheeks. He quickly gave Mari a tight-lipped smile before running to his room, ignoring Alfred's questioning gaze. He had to think. Right now!
He quickly slammed the door and leaned his head against it. Okay. Things that he had learned today. Number one, Mari knew how to fight. Number two, She knew how to fight very well. Number three, Marinette was awesome. Number four, she was much better than his mother could ever hope to be. And number five, he wanted Mari to be his mom! And he knew how to do it.
Two Weeks Later
It had been two weeks since the spar between Mari and Damian, and much had changed since then. And everyone in the family knew it. But no one, except for Marinette and Damian, knew why.
The first thing that changed was Damian's attitude towards Marinette. Before, he would try his best to never be in the presence of his stepmother. But now, he didn't mind. Everyone could tell that he would try to delay his time spent with her. Not many people would realize it, but the Wayne family wasn't just everybody.
What changed next was how he responded to her words. Before, he would roll his eyes, ignore her, or huff. But now, he would still grumble, but it was always half-heartedly. And one time, they caught him smiling at Mari. The dramatic gasp that Dick let out didn't help anyone in figuring out what was going on.
Then he started doing little things, like pecking her cheek before he left for school. He would smile at her, give her a tiny compliment, paint while she designed. They were such small actions, but every time Damian did them, Marinette's heart swelled with happiness. She was in disbelief that Damian was showing his love for her! Yes, he wasn't as blatant about it as his siblings, but he still did it, and that made her all the happier.
But the day that things finally changed completely was when Damian Al-Ghul Wayne walked up to Marinette Dupain-Cheng and cuddled her. It was an ordinary Saturday. Everyone was up early except for Damian. But then Damian came in yawning and looked around. He saw Mari sitting on the couch stitching something. Damian trudged over to her and sat down next to her. He put his legs up on the couch and buried his face into her chest. Marinette smiled gently at his actions and put down her sewing things before putting her arms around him. She then started stroking his hair, and as if he was part cat, he preened at the attention and pressed his head to her hand in want of more strokes. Damian then mumbled, almost incoherently, "I love you, Ummi. You're amazing."
Marinette stopped stroking his hair in shock, and Damian looked to her worriedly, thinking that she was mad with his declaration. But instead, her face broke into a huge smile, and she hugged him tightly, breathing out, "I love you too, Dami."
All while this was happening, the rest of the Wayne family looked at the pair in awe. Finally, Jason spoke, breaking everyone out of their stares, "When did this happen?! And what did happen?!"
Damian looked over at Jason with a scowl and said, "I found out two weeks ago that Ummi is amazing. She beat me in a spar. Now, she's my Ummi, and none of you imbeciles can take her away from me!"
Everyone except the pair continued to be bewildered over the situation. That was when Dick spoke up, "Ummi?"
Damian looked ready to murderer them for not allowing him to cuddle with his Ummi, but all the same, he replied, "I heard a lot of children call their mothers 'Ummi' in the league, or at least in private. But Mother never permitted me to do the same, alone or in public. She said that I was the heir of the league and should, therefore, be as nonsensical as possible. But now that I have Mari, I finally have someone to call Ummi."
By the end of his speech, Marinette looked to be close to tears, and everyone else was looking at him in surprise. Marinette started clinging onto him, whispering, "I love you so much, mon cheri. I'll always be there for you."
Damian blinked back tears and clung back, saying, "I know you will. I am your favorite anyways." When Damian saw his siblings realize what he said, he jumped off his Ummi's lap and ran out of the room. Behind him, a herd of footsteps was heard, along with shouting from each of the children (except Cass). Each of them trying to convince him as to why he was wrong and why they were the favorite.
Back in the living room, Alfred had left to give Marinette and Bruce some alone time. Marinette beckoned Bruce over to sit beside her. She pecked his mouth before seeing the adoring stare. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "And what is it that you are staring at?"
Bruce pulled her closer, inhaling her jasmine scent, and mumbled, "Oh, nothing. Just looking at my beautiful wife that I can't believe I managed to marry."
Marinette flushed a deep red before punching his arm, "Sap."
"Your sap," he retorted back.
"Yes, my sap," she whispered before giving him a deep kiss.
As Bruce pulled away from her, he mumbled against her lips, "Besides, we all know I'm your favorite."
Marinette smirked before saying, "Oh, I don't know. Your son seems to be just as charismatic as you."
"Exactly–," Bruce started saying before he realized what she said. "Hey! Come back here you!" Marinette giggled as he chased after her trying to tickle her.
The rest of the family came into the room, trying to find the cause of the noise. But they stopped at the scene of their parents laughing together on the ground. Dick then yelled, "Cuddle time," and jumped onto his parents, the rest of the kids, even Alfred joining.
As they all laughed together, Marinette looked at every member of her new family. They were all so different, and that was what made them unique. Even their signs of affection were unique to themselves. But at the end of the day, she knew that they loved her and that she loved them. And that was all that mattered.
2011 words
Day 2 is done! And on time! I wonder how long that'll last!
~ ❄ Crystal ❄
@mominettemonth
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Golden Thread
Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon
 Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon
Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot
Read on Ao3
Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad
Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide
Word Count: 5874
There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.
 Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.
Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.
 Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?
 Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.
 Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.
 Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.
 It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.
 And he…
 Well.
 The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.
 He doesn’t have much of a choice.
 He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.
 Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.
 “They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”
 Well…they don’t. Not really.
 Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.
 The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.
 He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.
 They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.
 And isn’t that just his saving grace?
 Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.
 Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.
See? It’s already working.
 It doesn’t keep working, but you know.
 The effort was there.
 They’re talking again.
 The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.
 “Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“
 Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.
 “Yes?”
 “Did you hear what I asked?”
 “Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.
 “…so what do you think?”
  Honestly.
 “He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.
 Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”
  Oh, Patton.
 “I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”
 Right.
 There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.
 Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.
 “I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”
 “It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”
 Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”
 “You don’t know that, Virgil.”
 “Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”
 “What does that have to do with anything?”
 “Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”
 “That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”
 “You miss Facebook?”
 “You know it does still exist, right?”
 “Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”
 “The color palettes were nice!”
 “You mean they were blue.”
 “Yeah, that’s what I said.”
 “…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”
 Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”
 “Shut up, L.”
 “I’d rather not, actually.”
 Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.
 Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.
 He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.
 The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.
 “Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”
 Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”
 “Remus?”
 “You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”
 Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.
 “…Janus? What about you?”
 The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.
 Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.
 No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.
 “I don’t know.”
 Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”
 “I will.”
 The thread takes longer to undo that night.
 Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.
 When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?
 The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.
 He started caring more about the others.
 The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.
 He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.
 The thread groans.
 Janus curses.
 He can’t.
 “The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”
 The thread pauses.
 “I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”
 It starts to run back out along his tongue.
 “Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”
 His tongue starts to taste sweet again.
 “I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”
 The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.
————————————————
Something is wrong.
 Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.
 The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.
 The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.
 They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.
 Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?
 “Virgil!”
 “Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”
 The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.
 “I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”
 “I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”
 “We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”
 “Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”
 “Remus!”
 “That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”
 “Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”
 “I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”
 “We can’t find the others.”
 “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”
 They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.
 Nothing happens.
 They just keep barreling down the corridor.
 “Patton! Logan! Roman!”
 “Where the fuck are you guys?”
 “Can you hear us?”
 “Re? Re, is that you?”
 “Ro!”
Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.
 “In here!”
 A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.
“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”
 “Pat—“
 Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.
 “Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”
 “Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“
 “Snake Face, get your butt in here.”
 “Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”
 A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.
 “Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”
 No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.
 “Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”
 “We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”
 “What’s going on?”
 Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”
 Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.
 “Where are we?”
 “Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”
 “Remy?”
 “He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”
 “Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”
 “Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”
 “I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”
 “I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”
 “I was in the middle of an experiment!”
 Logan perks up. “An experiment?”
 “As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”
 “Of course.”
 “Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”
 All eyes turn to Patton.
 “…Padre?”
 Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”
 “It did what?”
 “Are you hurt?”
 “Let me see.”
 “No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”
 Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.
 They’re stuck.
 “Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”
 “V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”
 “We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”
 “Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“
 “How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”
 “Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”
 “You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”
 Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.
 Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.
 And it clenches more.
 “It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”
 The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.
 Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
 “Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”
 Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.
 “I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”
 “No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”
 “We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”
 “Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”
 Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.
 “Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”
 Purple eyes stare at him.
 “You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”
 “Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”
 The tremors keep settling.
 Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”
 Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.
 “Have we ever told you that we care about you?”
  Bingo.
 Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”
 Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”
 The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”
 “That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”
 Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”
 “…yeah?”
 “No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”
 Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“
 “You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”
 “He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.
 “Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”
 A crack in the wall disappears.
 “Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”
 “We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”
 “O-oh.”
 That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.
 “And where are you going?”
 “I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”
 “But we’re not done.”
 “And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”
 “Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”
 “That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”
 “You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”
 “But—“
 “No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”
 “I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”
 “Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”
 “So did Patton and Roman.”
 “You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”
 “That was obvious.”
 “Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”
 Logan’s mouth drops open.
 “You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”
 He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.
 “You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”
 Logan swallows heavily.
 “I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”
 Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”
 “You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”
 Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.
 “I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”
 “…fuck you, Snakey.”
 Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.
 “Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”
 Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.
 The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.
 The floor wobbles.
 He can’t catch his breath.
 His eyes land on Roman.
 No.
  No.
 No, no, no, he can’t stop now.
 Not here.
 Not with Roman.
 Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.
 No.
 He can’t let Roman fall.
 Not after everything.
 Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.
 “Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”
 The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.
  Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.
  If I had something that would work, I’d say it.
  Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.
 No.
 No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.
 The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.
 “It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”
  At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.
  Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.
 Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.
 He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.
 All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”
 Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”
 He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.
 What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”
 Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”
 Why won’t his tongue cooperate?
 The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.
 He can’t tell the truth.
 He can’t.
 He can’t.
 It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.
 Janus struggles to breathe.
 “There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.
 “Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’
 “We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’
 The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.
 He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.
 Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.
 Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.
 “What the fuck is that?”
 “Why is it cutting into him?”
 “How long has that been there, this whole time?”
 “Janus—Janus can you breathe?”
 What?
 Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.
 “Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”
 “What is what?”
 “This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”
 No.
 No, it’s not real.
 It can’t be real.
 …can it?
 “It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”
 Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.
 “Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”
 “The sky is green.”
 “What?”
 “The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”
 The thread loosens.
 “Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”
 “Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”
 “Blue is made of red and orange.”
 “The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”
 Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.
 “Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”
 “Paris is in Canada.”
 “Books are printed on alligator skin.”
 “Water isn’t clear.”
 “Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”
 “Earmuffs go on your hands.”
 “Hamburgers are vegan.”
 Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.
 The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.
 Roman looks directly at him.
 “I hate you.”
 The thread gives.
 The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.
 The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.
 The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.
 Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.
 “Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”
 “He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”
 “Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”
 “In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”
 “Yeah, yeah!”
 “Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”
 He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.
 “I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”
 The next sob is slightly higher.
 “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”
 N-nest?
 “Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”
 “Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”
 “I understand.”
 A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.
 “You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”
 Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?
 “Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”
 “Got it.”
 He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?
 “Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.
 “Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”
 The horrible thread…is it…gone?
 “Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”
 “He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”
 He’s doing what now?
 Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.
 “That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”
 “What…what’s going on?”
 “You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”
 “But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”
 “You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”
 “That’s what you said, J.”
 “So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”
 “But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.
 Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.
 Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.
 Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.
 Roman, who caught him, and is still here.
 “Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”
 “I’m sorry.”
 “Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”
 He is?
 Oh.
 “Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”
 “Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”
 “I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”
 “Great. Pop Star, budge.”
 “Hey! Kiddo!”
 “Ah. Much better.”
 “Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”
 “In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”
 “Ro-Bro! Get over here.”
 “Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”
 “L, are you coming?”
 “Must you all be so impatient?”
 “Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”
 Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.
 “There. Now we’re all together again.”
 “Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”
 “Shut up yourself, then.”
 “Kiddos.”
 “Sorry, Pat.”
 Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.
 “Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”
 Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”
 “Was what really a lie, little snake?”
 “…you said ‘I hate you.’”
 “Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”
 …sweet.
 It’s sweet.
 Oh.
  Oh.
 Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”
 The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.
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themadauthorshatter · 3 years
Text
OTP PARENT HEADCANONS PART 2
Because I'm bored.
And I want to give myself some serotonin.
And because I've put this off for a long time😅
RED QUEEN:
Shade and Coriane were never afraid of monsters under their beds because Cal would "scare them away" with a really bright flashlight.
Both children have a little bit of buidling and tinkering in them. Shade showed it by switching out lightbulbs and pointed out the ones he was putting in would be better at being adjusted than the ones before and Coriane showed it by fixing a clock.
Mare isn't exactly the best at cooking, but she's at least better than Cal. And her mother; sorry, Ruth.
Both children are excellent swimmers, much to Cal's chagrin.
Coriane remembers meeting her great Nanabel, and the smile she had at the sight of her great granddaughter.
Shade didn't really have a chance to meet her.
Both children wish they could have met their uncle on their mother's side and uncle, grandfather, and grandmother on their father's side.
Both Samos siblings are allowed to see the children, and neither of the children were excited; they'd heard "scary stories" about them and their father, who sounds scary; no, Cal didn't make it clear that Volo was dead, all he said was the Samos patriarch had fallen down and didn't get up, so they assumed that meant he couldn't use his arms anymore.
They were all pretty surprised to meet each other.
Ptolemus was more like a fun uncle than the berserker they all knew.
He did explain that Volo did indeed fall, but couldn't get up because of how high he fell.
The electricons love how entertained the children are with their lightning abilities.
Tyton is a pretty good babysitter. Coriane is allowed to stay up, but only after Shade has gone to bed.
Kilorn is not allowed to teach either child how to swim; there was an 'incident' where Cal tried to be brave and go swimming and Kilorn scared the living hell out of him.
That's fine because neither children like swimming.
Yes. Just because the children are good at swimming doesn't mean they enjoy it.
Mare has told Gisa she doesn't need to make the children outfits, but Gisa did it anyway because she loves her niece and nephew.
The court ettique stuck with Cal, which has led to him raising the children to be very formal.
SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL(I'm naming Tedros and Agatha's son Anthony):
Both parents were kind of scared Anthony was mute because he didn't start talking until he was nearly a year old. He's not mute, he just doesn't talk much.
You have to catch him at just the right moment. Anthony is completely silent around large crowds or assemblies, but with his parents he's half of a chatterbox, at least.
Anthony and Agatha can have full conversations with nothing but facial expressions.
Tedros had a hard time getting Anthony to open up to him, and decided to give the boy space for a little bit.
It was absolutely worth it for the heart to heart they had.
Hester and Anadil hate kids, but Agatha's and Tedros's little demon spawn is the only exception to that statement.
Anadil was won over by how he didn't cry and even 'said' how her rats were cute.
Hester, however, only warmed up to him when she spent a longer time with him, and after getting a chance to watch him because Aunt Sophie kept stepping in.
On one such occasion, where Anthony was surprised by Hester's watching him, the boy was overjoyed to see her, hugging her closely. He then backed up and stepped back, giving her a wave and smile. As she understood his silence better than Sophie, Hester wrote to him on a paper, 'Did you miss me THAT much?' Anthony nodded and wrote back, 'Yes!'
Sophie is not a helicopter aunt, but she loves Anthony a bit too much for his liking.
She NEVER talks about how she'd been hoping he was a girl.
Anthony isn't a fan of pink, but he doesn't hate it. Pastel is fine. Anything more vibrant makes him puke.
Both Tedros and Agatha were surprised to see how good Anthony was on horse back.
Heart attack angst moment: A former supporter of Rhian and Japeth snuck into the castle and made an assassination attempt on the royal family, more specifically Anthony. Tedros threw his son behind him and drew hus sword and Agatha shot a spell at him and proceeded to tackle him to the ground, not caring about her dress or the fact that the assailant was still armed.
Anthony colud not watch the execution because he hates bloodshed. He's a vegetarian/vegan and tries to eat as little meat as possible because he often spends time in the stables and around animals.
Agatha and Tedros are aware of this and are okay with it, though Tedros has him eat a single steak for dinner and teo eggs for breakfast once a month on seperate occasions, just so he doesn't lack any iron or protein.
To clarify, by separate occasions, I mean that Anthony will eat the steak one day and the eggs later another day within the month. After that, he can indulge in as much vegan/vegetarian food as he wants.
Have fun trying to convince Tedros and Agatha to let him attend the SGE; it's not that they have unpleasant memories, they just want him to try and have as normal of a life as possible.
On a walk, and when the Tagatha child was a teen, Tedros noticed some girls trying to flirt with Anthony and that his son barely reciprocated their actions. He pointed out that they were showing an interest in him, and Anthony admitted that he knew and he just didn't really feel the same way; he didn't exactly see why they were so flirty when he didn't feel like giving it back to them.
NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS(The triplets I'm naming Jacob, the eldest boy, Luna, the middle girl, and Daemon, the youngest boy):
Jacob is 98% the triplets' father; he'd be a spitting image if it weren't for his mop of hair, he's sharp as a whip, but still puts the E in idiot(please tell me you git that Jenna Marbles reference!!!).
Luna is arguably the smartest, but good luck getting a, 'you don't say' out of her. She won't tell you she's smarter than you, she will show you. Good thing Jack and Sally keep her in check.
Daemon is the family's "underdog." He has the last minute, 'this will work,' Jack Sparrow plans. He's quiet, he sews, he sings, and if he's not trailing behind Jack, Sally, or his siblings, he's probably touching up his clothes.
Jacob was the idiot kid that got electrocuted to the point his red hair turned black. He barely remembers it, but now all he tastes is cold peanut butter. Daemon has often suggested and offered to do it again, but Luna stops him. Pro: he's spending more time with Luna and Jacob is safe. Con: he's spending time with LUNA and Jacob still doesn't remember.
Jacob, as the oldest, attends 'meetings' with Jack and the Mayor. It doesn't bore him, he just gets tired of the Mayor's whining.
Jacob doesn't get Christmas. Luna has the basic idea of it. Daemon is the only one that understands, but doesn't explain it fully out of spite; Jacob called him scatter brained because of an incident where, at the table, a cockroach crawled out of his eye socket.
Daemon is the only one of his siblings to have eyes.
Even though she's literal bone, Luna has stitches that are very close to Sally's.
Neither Jack nor Sally have nicknames for the children, besides terms of endearment.
You know you're in trouble when Jack looks at you and looks ready to dig your grave himself.
All three triplets have Jack's fire power, but no one's gotten hurt because of it, even though Jacob and Daemon had one close call.
Neither parent would ever even dream of raising a hand against the children.
It's safe to say that Luna and Sally use common sense the most out of all five of the family members.
Daemon smells like pumpkin and cinnamon. He finds both himself, cinnamon bark and small, apple-esque pumpkins, and eats them like skittles and popcorn.
Another result of the electrocution, Jacob is hard of hearing where is left ear would be, if he had ears. He can't hear at all in the "ear." Not even a ringing sound.
The only reason Jacob doesn't like something is because he doesn't get it. At all.
Luna sees the glass as half full, Daemon sees the glass as half empty, and wonder if it belongs to someone who drank out of said glass, hence its being hald empty, and Jacob just sees a glass of water, now can he just drink the rest?
Luna, the best with herbs, has poisoned her brothers. Sally found out and she was grounded.
Daemon, to see how much he could take, dived off the roof of Dr. Finkelstein's tower. It took Jack, Sally, Luna, Jacob, and Zero all day to collect all of him. He was grounded and locked in his room.
Jacob got grounded for a few things: setting his sister on fire(no one knows who started that fight.), hiding in a morgue to scare people only to end up falling asleep, even as they tried to cremate him, and then waking up in front of the humans, pretending to be one of the hanging men on The Hanging Tree, and dancing on top of the tallest Pyramid in Egypt.
The children do misbehave sometimes, but their parents love them.
Jack and Jacob don't see eye to eye exactly, but they still get each other.
Luna loves both her brothers, but she will hang out with Daemon more than Jacob.
Daemon has a lot of glow sticks he collected and they all still glow when it gets dark. Jacob used his thinking cap and had a moment of big brain time, and drank some of the glow stick juice.
One more thing he got in trouble for.
Daemon also got in trouble, but he was allowed to keep his glow sticks.
Luna is a good singer, Daemon is a great dancer, and Jacob is the best at succeeding their father
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snelbz · 4 years
Text
What Happens In Vegas... {6}
An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.
Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.
@snelbz​ / @tacmc​ collab
What Happens In Vegas Masterlist
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“Hey.” Rhys padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I’d planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.
“Nothing much. There was a delivery for you.” I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day, I’d pondered the problem of us. The only thing I’d come up with was that I didn’t want our time to end. I didn’t want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted to try with Rhys. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.
The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I’d gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the shore and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I’d played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I’d picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I’d tried damn hard to remember all of it.
“A delivery?” He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.
“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I asked.
“Feyre, you don’t need to ask. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Thanks.” Joey and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the butt-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.
“This one’s for you.” He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I’d never heard of printed on the side. “Ah, this one too, by the look.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. I asked Amarantha to order some stuff for us.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? No.” Rhys shook his head. Then he kneeled down in front of me and tore into the brown package in my hands. “No ‘oh.’ We need clothes. It’s really simple.”
“That’s very kind of you, Rhys, but I’m fine.”
He wasn’t listening. Instead he held up a red dress the same thigh-baring length as those girls at the mansion had worn. “What the fuck? You’re not wearing this.” The designer dress went flying, and he ripped into the shopping bag at my feet.
“Rhys, you can’t just throw it on the ground.”
“Sure I can, I paid for it. Here, this is a little better.”
A black tank top fell into my lap. At least this one looked the right size. The thigh-high red dress had been a size-two joke. Quite possibly a mean one, given Amarantha’s dislike of me back in LA. No matter.
A tag dangled from the tank. The price. Shit. They couldn’t be serious.
“Whoa. I could pay my rent for weeks with this top.”
In lieu of a response he threw a pair of skinny black jeans at me. “Here, they’re okay too.”
I put the jeans aside. “It’s a plain cotton tank top. How can this possibly cost two hundred dollars?”
“What do you think of this?” A length of silky blue fabric dangled from his hand. “Nice, huh?”
I ignored his question, still staring at the tank in my hand. “Do they sew the seams with gold thread? Is that it?”
“What are you talking about?” He held up the blue dress, inspecting it closer, turning it this way and that. “Hell no, nevermind, it’s backless. The top of your ass will probably show in that.” It joined the red dress on the floor. My hands itched to rescue them, fold them away nicely. But Rhysand just ripped into the next box. “What were you saying?”
“I’m talking about the price of this top.”
“Shit, no. We’re not talking about the price of that top because we’re not talking about money. It’s an issue for you, and I’m not going there.” A micromini denim skirt came next. “What the fuck was Am thinking ordering you this sort of stuff?”
“Well, to be fair, you do normally have girls in bikinis hanging off you.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “In comparison, the backless dress is quite sedate.”
He kept digging through the bags, but he looked up at me again. “You’re different. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I didn’t entirely believe the tone of my own voice.
His forehead wrinkled up with disdain. “Damn it. Look at the length of this. I can’t even tell if it’s meant to be a skirt or a fucking belt.”
Laughter burst out of me and he gave me a hurt look, big, violet puppy-dog eyes of extreme sadness and displeasure. Clearly, I had hurt his heart.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you sound like my father.” He shoved the micro mini back into its bag. At least it wasn’t on the floor.
“Yeah? Your dad and I should meet. I think we’d get along great.”
I blinked. “You want to meet my father?”
Shrugging, Rhys said, “Depends. Would he shoot me on sight?”
“No.” Probably not.
He just gave me a curious look and burrowed into the next box. “That’s better. Here.”
He passed me a couple of sedate T-shirts, one black and one blue.
“I don’t think you should be selecting nun’s clothing for me, friend,” I said, amused at his behavior. “It’s vaguely hypocritical.”
“They’re not nun’s clothes. They just cover the essentials. Is that too much to ask?” The next bulging bag was passed to me in its entirety. “Here.”
“You do admit it’s just a tiny bit hypocritical, though, right?”
“Admit nothing. Hybern taught me that a long time ago. Look in the bag.”
I did so and he burst out laughing, whatever expression I wore being apparently hilarious.
“What is this?” I asked, feeling all wide-eyed with wonder. It might have been a thong if the makers had seen fit to invest just a little more material into it.
“You said I was dressing you like a nun, so I’m dressing you like a nun.”
“La Chaleur.” I read the tag, then turned it over to check out the price.
“Shit. Will you not look at the price, please, Feyre?” Rhys dove at me and I lay back, trying to make out the figures on the crazily swaying tag that was bigger than the scrap of lace. His larger hand closed over mine, engulfing the thong. “Don’t. For fuck’s sake.”
The back of my head hit the edge of a step and I winced, my eyes filling with tears. “Ow.”
“You all right?” His body stretched out above mine. A hand rubbed carefully at the back of my skull.
“Um, yeah.” The scent of his soap and shampoo was pure heaven, Lord help me. But there was something more than that. His cologne. It wasn’t heavy. Just a light scent of spice. There was something really familiar about it.
The tag hanging down in front of my face momentarily distracted me however. “Three hundred dollars?”
He smirked. “It’s worth it.”
“Holy shit. No, it’s not.” It wasn’t, there was no way it was.
He hung the thong from the tip of a finger, a crazy cool smile on his face. “Trust me. I’d have paid ten times that amount for this. No questions asked.”
“Rhys, I could get the exact same thing for less than a tenth of that price in a normal store. That’s insane.”
“No, you couldn’t.” He balanced his weight on an elbow set on the step beside my head and started reading from the tag. “See, this exquisite lace is handmade by local artists in a small region of southern France famous for just such craftsmanship. It’s made from only the finest of silks. You can’t get that at Walmart, baby.”
My eyebrows bunched together. “No, I guess not.”
He made a pleased humming sound and looked at me with eyes soft and hazy. Then his smile faded. He pulled back and scrunched the thong up in his hand. “Anyway….”
“Wait.” My fingers curled around his biceps, keeping him in place.
“What’s up?” he asked, his voice tightening.
“Just, let me…” I lifted my face to his neck. The scent was strongest there. I breathed him deep, letting myself get high off the scent of him. I shut my eyes and tried to remember.
Something. Anything.
“Feyre?” The muscles in his arms flexed and hardened. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“We were in the gondolas at the Venetian. You said you couldn’t swim, that I’d have to save you if we capsized.”
His Adam’s apple jumped. “Yeah.”
“I was terrified for you.”
His chuckle was rough. “I know. You hung on to me so tight I could barely breathe.”
I drew back so I could see his face.
“Why do you think we stayed on them for so long?” he asked. “You were practically sitting in my lap.”
I felt stupid, but I still asked, “Can you swim?”
He laughed quietly. “Of course I can swim. I don’t even think the water was that deep.”
My eyes narrowed. “It was all a ruse. You’re tricky, Rhysand Lunasa.”
“And you’re funny, Feyre Archeron.” His face relaxed, his eyes softening again. “You remembered something.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s great.” He smiled, a true, handsome smile, one that he’d only blessed me with a few times. Anything else?”
I gave him a sad smile in return. “No, sorry.” 
He looked away, disappointed, I think, but trying not to let it show.
I hesitated. “Rhys?”
“Mm?”
I leaned forward to press my lips to his, wanting to kiss him, needing to. He pulled back again. My hopes dived. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Feyre. What are you doing?”
“Kissing you?” I thought it was obvious.
He said nothing. Jaw rigid, he looked away.
“You’re allowed to kiss me and cuddle me and buy me insanely priced lingerie and I can’t kiss you back?” My hands slid down to his and he held them. At least he wasn’t rejecting me totally.
“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he asked, his voice stern.
I studied our entwined fingers for a moment, getting my thoughts in order. “Rhys, I’m probably not ever going to remember everything about that night in Vegas. But I thought we could maybe make some new good memories this weekend. Something we can both share.”
He didn’t reply immediately, and after a minute, I looked up into his handsome face. “Just this weekend?”
My heart filled my throat. “No. I don’t know. It just… it feels like there’s meant to be more between us.”
“More than friends?” He watched me, eyes intent.
“Yes. I like you. You’re kind and sweet and beautiful and you’re easy to talk to. When we’re not always arguing about Vegas. I feel like…”
His violet eyes were bright. “What?”
I didn’t want to stumble over my words. I didn’t want him to think I was doubting this decision, doubting him. “Like this weekend is a second chance. I don’t want to just let it slip by. I think I’d regret that for a long time.”
He nodded, cocked his head. “So what was your plan? Just kiss me and see what happened?”
I blinked. “My plan?”
He smirked, leaning closer ever so slightly. “I know about you and your plans. You told me all about how you make a plan for everything.”
“I told you that?” I was an idiot.
“Yeah. You did. You especially told me about the big plan.” He stared down at me, eyes intense. “You know… finish school then spend three to five years establishing yourself at a midrange firm before moving up the ranks somewhere more prestigious and starting your own small consultancy business by thirty-five. Then there’d maybe time to get a relationship and those pesky 2.4 kids out of the way.”
My throat was suddenly a dry, barren place. “I was really chatty that night.”
“Mm. But what was interesting was the way you didn’t talk about that plan like it was a good thing.” He looked at me and the way those eyes were looking at me, I couldn’t have hid anything from him, even if I wanted to. “You talked about it like it was a cage and you were rattling the bars.”
I had nothing. He read me like a book and I had no idea what to say.
“So, come on,” he said softly, taunting me. “What’s the plan here, Feyre? How were you going to convince me?”
“Oh. Well, I was, um… I was going to seduce you, I guess. And see what happened. Yeah…”
He snorted. “How? By complaining about me buying you stuff?”
“No,” I said, clearing my throat. “That was just an added bonus. You’re welcome.”
He licked his lips, but I saw the smile threatening to break through. “Right. Come on, then, show me your moves.”
I hesitated. “My moves?”
“Your seduction techniques. Come on, time’s a-wasting.” I hesitated and he clicked his tongue, impatient. “I’m only wearing a towel, baby. How hard can this be?”
“Fine, fine.” I held his fingers tight, refusing to let go. “So, Rhys?”
“Yes, Feyre?”
“I was thinking…”
“Hmm?”
I was so hopelessly outclassed with him. I gave him the only thing I could think of. The only thing that I knew had a track record of working.
“I think you’re a really nice guy and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come up to my room and have sex with me and maybe hang out for a while. If that’s maybe something you’d be interested in doing…”
His eyes darkened, accusing and unhappy. He started to pull back again. “Now you’re just being funny.”
“No.” I slipped my hand around the back of his neck, beneath his damp hair, trying to bring him back to me. I pressed my forehead to his, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “No, I’m very, very serious.”
Jaw tensed, he stared at me.
I breathed, “You asked me this morning in the car if I thought you were scary. The answer is yes. You scare me shitless. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I hate the thought of leaving you.”
His gaze searched my face, but still he said nothing. He was going to turn me down. I knew it. I’d asked for too much, pushed him too far. He’d walk away from me, and who could blame him after everything?
“It’s okay,” I said, gathering what remained of my pride up off the floor, about to grab my Rhys-approved tank, jeans and t-shirts and run upstairs.
“Shit.” He sighed. “You’re kinda terrifying too.”
I breathed, “I am?”
“Yeah, you are. And wipe that smile off your face,” he teased.
I did no such thing. “Sorry.”
He angled his head and kissed me, his lips firm and so good. My eyes closed and my mouth opened. The taste of him took me over. The mint of his toothpaste and the slide of his tongue against mine. All of it was beyond perfect. He lay me back against the stairs. The new bruise at the back of my head throbbed in protest when I bumped it yet again. I flinched but didn’t stop. Rhys cupped the back of my skull, guarding against further injury.
The weight of his body held me in place, not that I was trying to escape. The edge of the steps pressed into my back and I couldn’t care less. I’d have happily lain there for hours with him above me, the warm scent of his skin making me high. His hips held my legs wide open. If not for my jeans and his towel, things would get interesting fast. God, I hated cotton just then.
We didn’t once break the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands curved around his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt this good. My ache for him increased and caught fire, spreading right through me. My legs tightened around him, muscles burning. I couldn’t get close enough. Talk about frustrating. His mouth moved over my jaw and down my neck, lighting me up from inside. He bit and licked, finding sensitive spots below my ear and in the crook of my neck. Places I hadn’t known I had. The man had magic. He knew things I didn’t. Where he’d learned his tricks didn’t matter. Not right then.
“Up,” he said in a rough voice. Slowly he stood, one hand beneath my ass and the other still protecting my skull.
“Rhys, no.” I scrambled to tighten my hold on his back.
“Hey.” He drew back just enough to look into my eyes. His pupils were huge, almost swallowing the iris whole. “I am not going to drop you. That’s never going to happen.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“You trust me?” He asked.
“Yes.” I meant it, too.
“Good.” His hand slid down my back. “Now put your arms around my neck.”
I did, and my balance immediately felt better. Both of Rhysand’s hands gripped my butt and I locked my feet behind his back, holding on tight. His face showed no sign of pain or imminent back breakage. Maybe he was strong enough to carry me around after all.
“That’s it.” He smiled and kissed my chin. “All good?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He simply asked, “Bed?”
“Yes.” I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.
He chuckled in a way that did bad things to me. “Kiss me,” he said.
Without hesitation, I did so, fitting my mouth to his. Sliding my tongue between his lips and getting lost in him all over again. He groaned, his hands holding me hard against him.
Which was when the doorbell rang, making a low, mournful sound that echoed in my heart and groin. “Nooo.”
“You’re fucking joking.” Rhysand’s face screwed up and he gave the tall double doors the foulest of looks. At least I wasn’t alone. I groaned and gave him a tight full-body hug. It would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much.
A hand rubbed at my back, sliding beneath the hem of my tank to stroke the skin beneath. “It’s like the universe doesn’t want me inside you or something, I swear,” he grumbled.
“Make them go away. Please.”
He chuckled, clutching me tighter, but then he groaned and kissed my neck. “Let me answer the door and get rid of them, then I’ll take care of you, okay?”
“Your towel is on the floor.”
He smirked. “That’s a problem. Down you hop.”
I reluctantly loosened my hold and put my feet back on firm ground. Again the gong-like sound filled the house. 
Rhys grabbed a pair of black jeans out of a bag and quickly pulled them on. All I caught was a flash of toned ass. Keeping my eyes mostly averted might have been the hardest thing I’d ever done.
“Hang back just in case it’s press.” He looked into a small screen embedded beside the door. “Ah, man.”
I tensed. “Trouble?”
“No. Worse. Old friends with food.” He gave me a brief glance. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be hurting too.”
“But—”
“Anticipation makes it sweeter. I promise,” he said, then threw open the door. A hand tugged down the front of his T-shirt, trying to cover the obvious bulge beneath his jeans. “Drakon. Miryam. Hey, good to see you.”
I was going to kill him. Slowly. Strangle him with the overpriced thong. A fitting death for a rock star.
A couple about my parents’ age came in, laden down with pots and bottles of wine. The man, Drakon, was tall, muscular, and, surprise, covered in tats. Miryam was one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen. They both wore wide grins and gave me curious glances. I could feel my face heat when they took in the lingerie and clothing strewn about on the floor. It probably looked like we’d been about to embark on a two-person orgy.
Which was the truth, but still.
“How the hell are ya?” Drakon roared in an accent I couldn’t quite place, giving Rhys a one-armed hug on account of the Crock-Pot he held in the other. “And this must be Feyre. I have to read about it in the damn paper, Rhys? Are you serious?” He gave my husband a stern look, one brow arched high. “Miryam was pissed.”
“Sorry. It was— ah, it was sudden.” Rhys kissed Miryam on the cheek and took a casserole dish and a full bag from her. She patted him on the cheek in a motherly fashion.
“Introduce me,” she said.
“Feyre, this is Miryam and Drakon, close friends of mine. They’ve been taking care of the house for me.” He looked relaxed standing between these people. His smile was easy and his eyes were bright. I hadn’t seen him looking so happy before. Jealousy reared its ugly head, sinking its teeth in.
“Hello.” I put out my hand for shaking, but Drakon engulfed me in a hug.
“She’s so pretty. Isn’t she pretty, hon?” Drakon stepped aside and Miryam came closer, a warm smile on her face.
I was being a jerk. These were nice people. I should be profoundly grateful not every female Rhys knew rubbed her boobs on him. Damn my screaming hormones for making me surly.
“She sure is. Hello, Feyre. I’m Miryam.” The woman’s coffee-brown eyes went liquid. She seemed ready to burst into tears. In a rush, she took my hands and squeezed my fingers tight. “I’m just so happy he found a nice girl, finally.”
“Oh, thank you.” My face felt flammable.
Rhys gave me a wry grin.
“Okay, enough of that,” Drakon said. “Let’s let these lovebirds have their privacy. We can visit another time.”
Rhys stood aside, still holding the casserole dish and bag. When he saw me watching, he winked.
“I’ll have to show you the setup downstairs sometime,” Drakon said. “You gonna be here for long?”
“We’re not sure,” he said, giving me a glance.
Miryam clung to my hands, reluctant to leave. “I made chicken enchiladas and rice. Do you like Mexican? It’s Rhysand’s favorite.” Miryam’s brows wrinkled. “But I didn’t think to check if that was all right with you. You might be vegetarian.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not, and I love Mexican,” I said, squeezing her fingers back, though not as hard. “Thank you so much.”
She let out a release and grinned.
“Hon,” called Drakon.
“I’m coming.” Miryam gave my fingers a parting pat. “If you need anything at all while you’re here, you give me a call. Okay?”
Rhys said nothing. It was clearly my decision if they stayed or went. My body was still abuzz with need. That, and we seemed to do better alone. I didn’t want to share him because I was shallow and wanted hot sex. I wanted him all to myself. But it was the right thing to do. And if anticipation made it sweeter, well, maybe this once the right thing to do was also the best thing to do.
“Stay,” I said, stammering out the words. “Have dinner with us. You’ve made so much. We could never possibly finish it all.”
Rhysand’s gaze jumped to me, a small smile of approval on his face. He looked almost boyish, trying to contain his excitement. Like I’d just told him his birthday had been brought forward. Whoever these people were, they were important to him. I felt as though I’d just passed some test.
Miryam sighed. “Drakon is right, you’re newlyweds.”
“Stay. Please,” I said. Miryam looked to Drakon. Drakon shrugged but smiled, obviously delighted.
Miryam clapped her hands with glee. “Let’s eat!”
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permian-tropos · 3 years
Text
discourse about fiction? what discourse? I am just a humble fiction writer? anyway I wrote a very short story about dolls
-
Once upon a time there was a little boy and a little girl clinging to each other’s hands as they stood in the doorway of a sickroom, where an old man lay motionless on the bed. A stranger twice or thrice the size of the children in a long dark coat and a black bag full of unspeakably strange tools stood beside that bed, as he’d done every two days out of the last few weeks. This time he said, “There’s nothing I can do for him but close his eyes,” and swept out of the house without another word.
After the funeral, the children were left to themselves for a while and they both found they were bored of the games they used to play. They put away the toys they once loved in an old toy chest and buried them, turning the contents of the chest over like they were tilling a patch of soil. Now on top of the chest, that had once been at the very bottom, was a doll of a man in a long dark coat with a black bag sewn to his hand.
The little boy took the doll with him to play first, out in the sandpit in the park, and when he set the doll into the sandpit, a most marvelous thing happened: it stood upright on its own and with wide button eyes it peered around at the world of giants it had found itself in.
“Who are you?” asked the little boy in amazement.
“I’m a doctor,” said the doll proudly, “and a miracle worker. In fact I’m famous for it; I’m the man who fights Death, the greatest evil!”
“Wow! That’s a good game!” The little boy clapped his hands in excitement and began building a magic city in the sandbox so that the doll would have places to see and adventures to go on. The stories they told were like nothing he’d ever imagined before, because of course this was the first living doll he’d ever owned.
Every day the boy ran out early in the morning to play with his doll, and eventually the little girl felt left out. She didn’t know what was so special about the doll yet, but she knew the little boy was having so much fun, while the games she tried to play alone made her angry for reasons she couldn’t explain. Every night she slept quite badly because she saw frightening shapes lurking in the shadowed corners of the room.
One morning she grabbed the doll out of the toy chest and hid it somewhere the little boy wouldn’t find it, and even though he looked all over and cried and stamped his feet, eventually he got in trouble for making a fuss and had to run off and play with his old dead toys for once. The little girl took the doll with her to the sandbox now, and set it down in the middle of it. She gasped when she saw the doll sit up and stretch its limbs.
“Who are you?” she asked it.
“I’m a charlatan,” the doll sneered at her. “I take my wicked bag of tools to sick people’s houses and I poke them and prod them until I get bored with them, and then I leave them to be buried in the ground. I’m Death’s best friend.”
“That’s just what I thought you were!” the little girl exclaimed, and grabbed him in her fist and shook him vigorously, rattling his button eyes. “You’re the bad thing in our house. But this time I’m bigger than you. I’ll stuff you in a marble bag and won’t let you get out.”
She did just that, and tied the cord tight, and put it in her pocket for safekeeping. She played all day in the sandbox, and found that the games didn’t make her angry anymore. At night, she finally slept without tossing and turning, knowing the bag with the wicked doll was knotted up tight in the pocket of her dress.
Well, eventually secrets come out, and the little boy found that the little girl had hidden the doll in her pocket.
“You’re so mean!” he yelled. “We were having so much fun!”
“I’m not mean! Don’t you know it’s an evil doll, and it brought Death into the house? You can’t let it out. As long as it’s stuck in the bag, it won’t hurt us anymore!”
“It’s not evil at all!” insisted the little boy. “When we play, we’re fighting Death!”
The girl tried to grab the bag back from him. “You don’t know about scary things like I do. That’s why it lies to you and tells the truth to me. Because you don’t know the difference.”
“You’re just jealous! I want my friend back!” the little boy cried, and he pulled the doll out of the bag, but the little girl grabbed it by its legs and hung on tight, and the boy fought her and tried to pull her hair, and she scratched him and kicked his shins, and eventually--
With a loud rip.
Of course, the doll was torn in half.
The children both sat down and cried, not knowing what had come over them, because they’d never fought like that before.
Sometime later, on a windy, gray day, the two of them stood side by side in long black coats, laying flowers on the dry earth in front of a granite headstone.
After the visit, they went behind a gnarled old tree in the cemetery and there they dug a shallow grave with the toy shovel they normally used for the sandbox, and laid the doll to rest in a folded paper coffin.
For days and days the boy was sad and silent and wouldn’t talk to the girl at all, and she felt confused and wretched about what had happened. A plan formed in her mind to mend their friendship so they’d play together again someday. She stole a needle and a red thread from a drawer and snuck them out to the cemetery, then dug up the soil under the shade of that old tree. The doll was where they’d left it, lying in two pieces in its slightly crumpled paper box.
Though she wasn’t very good at sewing, the girl sat for hours and stitched the doll back together, making sure that its top half wasn’t twisted wrong or the stitches were too sloppy. When it was whole again, it had a red scar around its belly. The girl laid it on one of the tree’s bulging roots and waited with bated breath. She was still a bit wary of it, and held the needle like a weapon ready to pin it down if it tried to run away.
But when it finally, miraculously, began to move its arms and legs, she couldn’t bring herself to attack it. She’d never brought something back to life before. She might as well have been playing God. Realizing something so frighteningly vast made her eyes prick with sharp tears.
The doll asked her first, before she could speak, “Why did you sew me up, little girl?”
“What’s the point of you?” she asked. “Why did you lie to one of us? You can’t be all good if you’re a liar, but I feel bad for what I did to you anyway. I don’t know why I feel bad!”
The doll straightened its coat out a bit and then opened up its black bag a crack. A very nasty, scary smell came out of it, and the girl pinched her nose and flapped her hand to clear away the air.
“What’s that awful stuff?” she said.
“That’s Death,” the doll told her. “All that time I playing with the boy, I was going out into the cities he built and I gathered up as many little pieces of Death as I could find. I carried them all inside this bag, but I couldn’t destroy them like I so arrogantly promised him I would. Eventually someone had to seal them away somewhere safe where they couldn’t get out. You did the right thing and so did he. You mustn’t cry, pumpkin. I love you both very much.”
The girl kept crying anyway, not sure if she was sad or relieved. She picked up the doll and hugged it to her chest, and shed snotty tears for a few minutes, before wiping her face and asking, “Why do you love us, though?”
“Dolls only come to life because of someone else’s love,” he explained, long-sufferingly wiping a bit of phlegm off his hair. “Before that we’re just cotton and rags. There’s nothing special or loving about cotton and rags, but think about this: when you wrap them over an open wound, they become a bandage. Things can become other things. Dead materials can turn into loving, living beings.”
Even though she didn’t really understand what that meant yet, she nodded. “What shall I do with you now, though?”
And the answer to that question is really up to you; whatever they thought to do together, it was well worth their time.
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blueluneacy · 3 years
Text
Justifications
i was sad so i wrote this. its the cioccolata/reader n/sfw that i planned for Wrong with the Reaper that never ended up happening
warnings: not sfw, non con, knife (scalpel?) play, aphrodisiacs, drugged sex, implied kidnapping, bondage
Also on AO3
“And what is it now that you’re whining about?” Cioccolata asked, rolling his eyes as you still squirmed on the table, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You should be feeling better according to what he injected in you, and by his reaction, it seemed like he too didn’t understand your reaction. Maybe you had an allergy you didn’t know about? Who knew, you weren’t exactly given hospital grade painkillers often. 
All you knew is that your body, rather than calming down, felt like it was getting hotter, your heart rate speeding up and your pupils dilating. You squirmed in your restraints, trying to keep yourself calm enough to not disrupt your fresh stitches. He just wanted to put you to sleep so he could easily move you back to your fresh chains in the corner of the room, now fortified with brand new steel, but you were instead throwing a fit. 
“God, will you calm down? I swear, you need to stop fighting what I put into your system.” Cioccolata pointed out, turning around to finally look at you again, only to pause and raise an eyebrow. As he saw your state, the way you were shaking and your breathing quickened, he actually stepped back over to you, looking you over as he reached up and felt your cheek. 
“Hmm… This isn’t even some of the possible side effects, so why are you…” He looked over to his table grabbing one his syringes, only to…
“Well then. It seems I made a bit of a mistake. What a pain…” Cioccolata chuckled. It didn’t seem like he was bothered at all.
“What…. What the hell did you do to me?” You asked, gritting your teeth in an attempt to try and make yourself seem stronger than you were, but your voice ended up just coming out as whiny and breathy. Cioccolata just chuckled, placing it back down.
“Well, I have this medicine here-” He held up the empty syringe to you. “In case I wanted to have a different type of fun or you became a little underwhelming. What I meant was to use my other vial, which had something to knock you out. What a shame! I can’t just give you the other one for a few hours, there’s a terrible reaction. I suppose you’ll just have to suffer like that.” He chuckled a bit. You gasped, blinking a bit as you tried to take deep breaths. 
“W-Wait, you’re just going to leave me like this? Come on, I… You’re the one that fucked up, and now I just have to suffer more? Fuck you!” You yelled out, only for Cioccolata to pause for a moment, leaning over and letting a gloved hand run from your stomach all the way up to your neck. You gasped, realizing just how sensitive your skin had become, and your eyes widened.
“You really are such a fickle thing. First, you don’t want me to touch you, and then you want me to help you? You need to learn to make up your mind.” He told you, humming a bit as he waved Secco over. You felt your lip quiver a bit and you squeezed your eyes shut.
“I hate you so much. I really do.” You told the both of them, wanting nothing more than to lay down on that mattress and cry until this was all over. But of course, now that you had accidentally drawn the two of them to you, they weren’t going to let you get out of this easily.
“Now don’t be like that, dear.” You hated the tone of Cioccolata’s voice, you really did, swallowing as he leaned into your neck, letting his lips barely graze over it. “If you so desperately want me to help you, I will.” You bit your lip, trying incessantly to ignore it, to try and get yourself together against whatever drug was coursing through your veins. But, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp as Cioccolata grabbed your hip, your eyes shooting open at his face as you felt him adjusting the table you were strapped down to. You swallowed and looked at him as he tilted the thing so that you were almost upright, making it much easier for him to do as he pleased. 
“Hmmm… Now, what is it that you wanted again?” He purred into your ear, reaching down to let a hand to brush against you through your underwear. You immediately bucked up without even realizing it. You gasped, wishing your hands were free so you could cover your face, to hide from what he was doing to you. It wasn’t your fault, after all, it was the fault of the stupid drug that he had injected you with, right? Right, it couldn’t be your fault.
“Shut up. It doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll do whatever you want to anyway.” You mumbled in reply, sounding a lot less confident than you usually would in a situation like this. What were you even supposed to do? There was no way you could wriggle out of your restraints, no way to do anything. 
“Hmm, and yet you still have that mouth on you. You know, maybe I should just sew those lips of yours shut. But then,” He let out a purr as he let his teeth bite into your neck, leaving you to let out a moan. You perhaps expected a scream, or maybe a cry, but that was completely out of left field. But didn’t want that to feel good, and yet it did. There was no way around how you felt, nothing but despair in it all. “How would I be able to hear something like that?”
“Shut up. God, just shut up.” You told him, panting a bit as you felt Cioccolata’s god awful hands start to run over you, trying to keep a hold of yourself the best you could. But it was so hard, with whatever was making you so needy to the point where you were almost admitting to yourself that it felt good. Key word, almost.
“And there it is again. Do you ever just try to enjoy yourself?” He hissed. You just scoffed in return, your eyes shooting up as you felt cold metal against your skin, looking down to see a scalpel just barely grazing your stomach. You swallowed and he moved it down slowly, creating a small red line. You grit your teeth, feeling the delayed sting from such a sharp instrument being used on you, until he finally got to the hem of your underwear, pausing for a moment, before easily cutting it away. You actually sighed in relief when you realized he hadn’t cut you in that motion. Heaven knows what would happen if you were cut down there.
“Ah, well, you seem to be excited, in the very least. What? Are you a masochist now too?” He asked you teasingly, looking over at Secco. You shuddered as you realized the camera was still on, the sounds of Secco panting soft in your ear but probably terribly loud in the camera.
“You forced a drug in me, and couldn’t even bother to make sure it was the right one. This is all your fault.” You told him, but Cioccolata just chuckled, using the time to start working bruises onto your neck, leaving terrible lipstick stains on you that you were sure would be a while until you could wash off. You felt your eyes widen as he let a finger run along your entrance. You gasped as squirmed for a moment, but it was a futile effort, leaving you just to whine as he pushed a finger inside of you. God, why did that feel good? You let your eyes shut as you hung your head, trying to ignore it, but it was no use. Cioccolata, for better or worse, was intuitive, and while he was slow at first, once he had realized what made your tick, he was all over it. 
“I can hear your cute little moans, dear. Come on, you don’t have to hide from me. You already know I’m going to be able to hear and see everything anyway.” He told you, watching closely as he added another finger inside of you. You gasped in return, Cioccolata just laughing at you. You were so silly, attempting to run away into your little world, to find out your own version of the truth instead of seeing what was right in front of you. Cioccolata sighed a bit, pulling his fingers from you as he began to fiddle with his belt. You blinked, pausing before realizing what he was doing, swallowing as you stared right at his cock. Well, he was tall, but that just wasn’t fair! There are plenty of nice men out there, and here Cioccolata was, hung like a fucking horse. 
“I… I am going to have to respectfully decline that.” You said. Secco and Cioccolata looked at each other, before the two of them laughing at you, Cioccolata moving to grab your hips and begin to line up with your entrance.
“You should already know you don’t have a choice in this.” He told you. You swallowed and laughed nervously, desperately looking around for something, anything, but nothing was there to grab onto, a rope to lift you out of here.
“Well, worth a shot, right? Don’t know until you try.” You tried not to sound as nervous as you were. It did not work. 
And god, when Cioccolata pushed in, all you could do was scream. Your screams were probably music to his ears, but you couldn’t help it. It stung so badly, you could nearly see blotting at the edge of your vision. And Cioccolata only held for a moment, a single moment for you to take a breath, before his nails dug into your hips, and he moved with wild abandon. You really did just feel like a piece of meat, right there and ready for this monster to do whatever he wanted to. But god, you hated how good it felt too, the way Cioccolata seemed to hit parts of you that you didn’t even know were there, making you let you a practically endless stream of moans and gasps. 
“God, what a cute little pet I seem to have gotten. You like this, don’t you? You love what I do to you, you little whore.” You shuddered at the way he growled, the way it only made your body clench down onto him even tighter. You were practically losing your mind in the feeling, but you did your best to shake your head. 
“You still have the capacity to lie? I’m impressed, to say the least. I’ll just have to fuck such stupid thoughts out of your head. Wouldn’t it be nice, to just be mindless?” He asked you, leaning in to mouth at your shoulder, unable to control his own impulses. The way he curled over you reminded you of some sort of lumbering monster, all teeth and claws, biting into you and drawing blood. You let out a whine, and you wished your hands were free so you could grab onto something, to try and get a grip on anything that was happening. A small portion of you even wanted to grab onto Cioccolata, to grip the back of his coat until it tore apart, until you felt something make sense with you. 
“C-Cioccolata, please, God, it’s too much!” You found some capacity to speak, but it really was nothing but babbling, wasn’t it? Cioccolata practically purred in delight at the way you were calling out his name, absolutely losing control of your tongue. “I can’t, please, slow down!”
“Aw, but doesn’t it feel so good? I can feel you squeezing down around me. Your body certainly knows what it wants.” He chuckled, before forcing his lips against yours. You gasped, but it only allowed Cioccolata to force his tongue into your mouth, forcing you into submission against him. You didn’t dare bite, for fear of what he might do to you in a state like this. When he finally pulled away, you were gasping, fruitlessly attempting to get a grip on yourself as you moaned.
“P-Please, Cioccolata, can’t take it! God, please!” You cried out.
“I wonder if you really think any God can hear you here.” He hummed, before reaching one of his hands up and tangling a hand through your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Are you close? Does my pretty little bitch want to cum?” His voice was so low you thought you might be fading away. And against your better judgement, you just nodded pathetically. You couldn’t help it. Your body was just so, so sensitive, to the point where the slightest movement made it feel like you were going to burst. Cioccolata just smirked, pushing into you faster, god you didn’t even think that he could go faster, barking out his order.
“Then cum. Clamp down on me and make you cum right inside of you.” He told you. You gasped, trying to shake your head, to try and refuse him, but Cioccolata just gripped your hair tighter, starting to pull. “Don’t make me tell you again, pet.” His voice was so dangerous, to the point where all you could do was whimper and do your best to nod.
And of course, after a few more strokes, you let out a loud cry, your eyes rolling back as you had probably one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Maybe it was the drug, or the fear, or a mixture, but you couldn’t help but consulve as you clamped down on Cioccolata, feeling something that just felt boiling hot fill up inside of you. Something you would have to deal with later.
You gasped, the two of you riding out the feeling with each other, before you just hung your head the moment he let go. It wasn’t even the shame of all, but rather the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion you felt. You let your eyes flutter shut, shuddering as you felt some of Cioccolata’s spent drip out from inside of you and onto your thigh. Cioccolata tutted, picking your head up by the chin, but you just leaned in it. 
“You really have no stamina, do you?” He sighed, leaving you there for a moment to go to the sink, presumably to clean himself up, before coming back to you and starting to pull you down. If any time was the time to fight, it was now. No one would expect it, but well, there was a reason why. The minute your feet touched the ground, you were wobbling like a newborn deer, holding onto Cioccolata and leaning your head against him. He just sighed, scooping you up fully in his arms, leaving you to sigh in a strange relief. 
“But, at least you’re cute afterwards.” He teased a bit. You didn’t have the energy to argue, instead letting your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion overcoming you as you fell asleep in his arms. 
You were just too tired to try and justify this with yourself.
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lucky-sevens · 4 years
Text
mechanisms fanfiction recommendations
this began as a compilation of my own works for my about, but i decided to recommend some others as well!
i have kept this list to 20 of other people’s + all of my own, because i have a lot of mechanisms fanfiction saved and didn’t want to go overboard! in addition, i’ve made sure that everyone i draw from is a different author, vs. several by the same person, for the sake of variation and giving more people a spotlight! i’ve also made sure everything is complete, which sadly means i’ve left out a few of my favorite longfics. i’ve also tried to have a decent balance of album-focused things vs crew-focused things.
a note; i’ve tried to have a variety (of both genre and length), but my tastes skew towards angst and longer oneshots, so that’ll be a lot of that sort of thing. (please mind the tags on some of these fics!) this is also all sfw, as i’m a minor, but it’s not all gen.
edit: i copy-pasted the summary from each of these works over to this post!
no matter what you do it won’t go away by AssyEr
Brian coming to terms with being made of metal.
Hatter and Hare Top 5 Gay Moments!! [NOT CLICKBAIT!!!] by shella688
Majors Hatter and Hare grinned at each other as they shook hands.
Then, all of a sudden, the grins faltered slightly as a realisation went through both their heads.
Oh no, the realisation went. He's cute.
Date Night: New Midgardian Prison Edition by OnceAndFloral
The Mechs cordially invite Lyfrassir to date night in their prison cell. And by "cordially invite" I mean "orchestrate an elaborate scheme".
eternity will see her dead by Garecc
Rose Reds are made to die, and eternity will see them dead, sent off to another bitter end.
cold as numbers by alderations
Ivy starts at the beginning.
Every morning, Ivy starts at the beginning. Rubbing alcohol, scalpel blades, sensations that should be twisting and cutting and crushing, if the words could coalesce into feelings. A subdued voice, a cool hand on her forehead. She is Ivy Alexandria. She starts at the beginning.
beat inside your heart by zinabug
Jonny and Nastya sibling oneshots part two. (Note from @lucky-sevens- they all function on their own.)
And Sew by fracnkie
The benefits of teaching your Toy Soldier to do the following: sew, do makeup, how to cure a sore throat, and how to shoot a plasma blaster.
Ashes To Ashes, Dust To Dust by CloudDreamer
It was the two of them against the world. But then the two of them against each other, and that seemed so much harder than fighting all the worlds combined.
Wayfarers by Oblivion_Wanderer
Nastya and Lyf meet in the cold of space; Nastya adrift after leaving the Mechanisms and Lyf fleeing from the destruction of the Yggdrasil system. Each feeling lost in their own way, they decide to travel together.
No Heart To Break by meteornight
The Toy Soldier was not real. It could never be real, not if it had any say in the matter. The widow had said that the toy was real, that it had once been a real man with a real heart. The toy knew that was a lie, for if it was a man, why would she treat it like a toy?
is it piety is it purity is it virtue by consumptive_sphinx
“Percy’s blunt, not stupid,“ Mordred says when Kay asks why they’re even friends, “and anyway she’s great, she never calculates anything, she just says stuff and makes everyone else deal with it. I could never be brave enough.”
This is because Mordred absolutely does calculate every word that comes out of his mouth, except sometimes when it’s two in the morning and everyone except him and Galahad and Percival has gone to sleep and he can argue as passionately in favor of peace as he wants with the only two people who won’t call him a traitor for it, and while he doesn’t not appreciate this trait of Percival’s, like hell is he going to admit to his real reason.
orpheus, the soldier, and the short-billed dowitchers by alexsandr
orpheus finds rest with an unexpected friend.
No Violins Allowed by Alienea
Lyf had been having a very peaceful and fulfilling few decades, at least in terms of work fulfillment and being able to afford to bail out of the system at the very first moment anything happened.
So of course that was when the Mechanisms appeared over the horizon.
Labyrinthine by DuskDragon39
Your story is a labyrinth.
Your story is built along wandering lines and windings so vague that you, its architect, cannot trace your way out. It is your scream at its center, your pain that fuels it.
(Or: Daedalus and the stories they tell about him.)
Baking With Goggles (Safety First!) by eminorseven
Marius tries to justify bringing Jonny and Tim to the kitchen. Brian daydreams. Jonny stabs many walnuts. Tim gets locked out and explodes things.
Typical baking stuff.
Surprising Salvage by OddmentsAndTweaks
A normal boring morning is made infinitely more exciting by the prospect of a ship boarding. The Mechanisms prepare for chaos and murder and some really good violence. What they get is one very defiantly defended ruined vessel and a morning no one expected at all.
I wanna stay here with you by SnailArmy 
Loki and Sigyn get to be wives, in stolen moments. 
As It Was by i_am_made_of_memoriies
Jonny walked down the corridor, his steps burdened by an invisible force. His face was passive, and where there was usually manic glee, there was only a hint of curiosity–someone was trying to enter through the airlocks, and he was going to kill them.
Nastya returns to the ship formerly known as the Aurora to find the mechanisms at the end of their time.
burned out from a joyride by spiralingcosmos
ashes has a nightmare; as a result, they make a new friend.
In Which Nastya Is The Narrator Of The Deaths by nonbinary_frog
(Note from @lucky-sevens: There is no summary included, but I feel like the title works well enough.)
---
my heart in your hands
How Jonny d'Ville's mechanization came about.
i’ve got a map of your eyes (but i’ve never seen your face)
That’s not the real Rose. All the memories and feelings were merely planted in her head.”
 “Very true.”
 “And given the effective age difference, it’s unlikely they’ll have much of a life together, not to mention the massive amount of trauma they’ve both endured.”
 “Absolutely.”
 “Not only that, but everyone else they’ve ever known or loved is dead and they’re trapped on a planet full of corpses in a vast interstellar empire that is going to suffer the most horrendous power vacuum and associated bloodshed the galaxy has ever seen. Oh, and they’re both known war criminals and will likely be on the run for the rest of their lives.”
“Like I said. I love a happy ending.”
-Ever After
the death of a phoenix
You are Ashes O'Reilly, and you are twenty-three, and you are dying.
an exercise in futility
Post-Lashings.
ballast
The Aurora doesn't have a daemon, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have a soul.
marching ever through the black
Whoever’s uniform you wear No loyalties to hold or share No burning hate, no bitter fear No heart to break, so shed no tear
TMA Is The Mechanisms’ Podcast (series)
The Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by the Mechanisms, a crew of immortal space pirates roaming through the galaxy having fun, violence, violence, and violence. They have an inane distaste for laws, and so refuse to put their podcast under any kind of copyright law whatsoever. Today's episode was cowritten by Ivy Alexandria and Nastya Rasputina and performed by Jonny d'Ville. It was produced by the SS Aurora and directed by Jonny d'Ville- well, no, but sometimes he wants to be in charge of things and the other Mechanisms don't find it worth arguing about. To comment on episodes, make donations, and view links, images, and show notes, simply throw yourself into space and the Mechanisms may or may not find you. Probably best if they don't. Thank you for listening, though why you choose to spend your time like this is beyond the Blogbot's understanding.
thank you for reading! i’d highly suggest trying these!
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chunhua-s · 3 years
Note
hi baby! CONGRATS 🎉 on 200!! HEHE and ur wish is my command— tho, this time, i’ll put off friends to lovers for mafia!au whew 😆 and my favourite boy, mr bokuto koutarou <33 (i think i’m rlly in lovvv w him 🥲) i love u!! hope u enjoy writing this hehehe 💙
atiq, sweetie!! thanks so much for requesting from me!! and thanks for always swapping ideas for haikyuu with me 🥺 i love our interactions and everything you add to our discussions is always so golden!! your mind? amazing, astronomical, built different. and i know how much you love kou so i’ll work extra hard on this request for you!! ilyyy 🥰 and i hope you enjoy it!! i cannot tell you how badly i wanted to write a mafia au for a while and i was actually hoping that someone would request one for me for this event! originally i had three different ideas for this oneshot, but across all three i wanted our reader to be in a oosition of power — a ruler rather than a bystander in the grand theme of things of that makes sense? i just... i really like writing female characters with a strong presence that you can feel pressuring you whenever you’re around her. when i chose this route for the plot, i added a little twist to it since i thought forbidden lovers would be another good fit for this — i hope this is okay with you? it still falls under your original request but with just a touch of another really fun trope! uhhh for the song i did struggle a little with choosing it, but i think the vibe of this song fits better than what i had in mind? it the lyrics capture the whole “i’m helpless when it comes to you” theme that i wanted to put into this oneshot, like it’s a sensation that the other person has so much power over them that they can’t resist. anyways enough with my rambling — please enjoy the story! and as always, don’t be afraid to tell me what you all thought of it 💕 and a big thank you to runa for giving me a hand with writing this when i got stuck! ily wifey 🥰
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WHERE YOUR LIGHT SHINES BRIGHTEST ➽ KOUTARO BOKUTO x READER
genre: drama— tiny bit of angst if you squint
au: mafia au with some hints of forbidden lovers
warnings: none other than the au type if that makes anyone uncomfortable!
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your relationship with him is like something written straight out of fiction — the tale of two lovers whose paths should never meet.
as the rules dictate, a queen should never kiss the hand of her servant. it’s unheard of — the mere thought of it could be called ridiculous had it ever left from your lips. and even you had frowned upon it once upon a time. back then, you would never have even entertained the notion of love within your business. the word love has no place inside a frozen heart, it’s petals without a home on cold northern land. as a woman in your world, you couldn’t afford love, not with your money, nor with your time. to you, all it had ever been was something too expensive and not worth the pain that would trail after its name. and so, the empress closes her heart and builds her throne on the skulls of men who dared to challenge her power, sews her dresses from their flesh and blood and decorates her neck with silver bones, her fingers with rings of thorn. you become a force in the underworld, one that demands respect with your name alone and causes the blood of those who should doubt you to run cold with fear. in the cruel and unforgiving world of pain and bloodshed, you blossom beautifully, and you run your empire on the same harsh principles that you once fought against to get to the top.
but the queen, she has a weakness — one lonely spear that rests right over her heart, piercing the skin there and drawing rivers of blood from her opening wounds. the queen who once spat on that four-letter word and scorned it with every part of her being, she fell in love with her right hand man. you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into golden eyes that shine like the sun itself, you’re rendered defenseless in the face of his light that shines like a beacon in your dark world. you’re a moth to his flame, and you so carelessly let yourself burn on embers of adoration and worship. for him, you abandon your personal code and allow your heart to dance in the palm of his hand. for koutaro bokuto, you allow yourself to bury your crown on a sandy beach, you let him pull you into golden waters and teach you how to swim in his ocean.
music blares outside of the private room, where neon red lights hide the trails that his lips leave across your skin. he fills you lungs with a subtle aroma of sweet oranges and a sort of earthy scent that’s almost lost under the overwhelming smell of gunmetal and blood that clings almost desperately to his clothes— as if to suffocate his fire and leave the both of you cold. when you pull away from his arms, you find his golden eyes already searching for you through black and white strands of hair that you gently brush from his forehead; he leans into your touch with his eyes closed, and his lips come apart to exhale the weight that sits on the both of your chest. the gun in his belt suddenly becomes heavier, as if it would pull him under if it weren’t for your hands around his waist, supporting his body when he tiredly collapsed into you. guilt turns your stomach over with a sickness so powerful that your resolve wavers, flickering like the surface of a calm lake disturbed by a single stone — that stone, you think bitterly, is your throne. the empire you’d created that you can no longer run from.
“you did well for me, kou,” you whisper against his skin, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek and sinking further into his arms as if to permanently mold your bodies together. “you always do so well.”
he pulls back once again to lock gazes with you, golden hues drinking red wine to shine on a sunset blaze. you see his lips pull upwards in the beginning of a smile as your thumb traces the shape of his jawline, his hand coming up to cradle your own when he leans into your touch. “i live to serve you, my queen,” he mutters into your palm, and you swear you feel the devotion behind his words as they rumble across your skin like thunder. “i’ll do anything for you — just give me the order and i’ll get it done.”
you bring his face closer to yours and press your lips against his, feeling his entire body relax above you as his hands lock around your waist, draws you closer into him so that your figure curves into him. what space once existed between the two of you vanishes as you steal his breath from his lungs and lose yourself on sweet ocean waves. your voice of reason goes muted under every hushed gasp that falls from your caving chests chests, codes and conduct vanish beneath the heavy base of the music that blasts from outside the private room. when you pull away, the both of you are breathless, left to drag in slow, heaving gasps as if the air surrounding you both had vanished.“good,” your lips brush against his lips, your eyes flutter closed as your forehead leans against his. and you don’t dare doubt the validity of his words — in your world, an oath bears the same weight as a pound of flesh. false promises are punished in blood and sacrifice, and one would do well to quickly learn to never lie under any circumstance.
your smile softens on its edges as you press your head against his chest, falling into the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. a queen can’t afford to fall in love in such a dark world, but you think that, for koutaro, it’s alright to let your guard down and offer him your heart.
he would never betray you, after all.
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davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕 
taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @tsumue @bootylikepeachy
send an ask to be added!
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st-just · 3 years
Text
Semi-coherent thoughts on Oathbringer
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So, overall probably the most even of the series so far, I’d say? Not to say I didn’t like it – I really, really loved the finale, and there were plenty of great lines, but my god were there a lot of pages spent on nothing happening (honestly it kind of reminded me of the latter volumes of ASOIF, in that sense) – then again, I suppose that is kind of just the nature of these 1000+ page fantasy epics. There were some setting reveals that really were fascinating, and legitimately a bit surprising. Going to have to take a break from the series until the friend I got Rhythm of War for is done so I can borrow it, though I suppose that’s no huge loss compared to the however many years everyone else had to wait in between them.
So in terms of pacing it’s...bad. Or, well, that’s probably a bit unfair. There’s absolutely plenty of fat to cute, but again I do think that might just come with the territory of committing to like a dozen POVs across a tree’s worth of paper (though there were absolutely like 100+ page stretches where I’m not actually sure the plot meaningfully progressed). That said, honestly the main pacing issue isn’t so much the bloat as, like – okay, Dalinar’s arc was a pretty consistent throughline, but for Kalidan and Shallan it kind of felt like there was one whole story in Urithiru, and then from the mission to Kholinar and the journey through the Cognitive Realm felt like its own separate novel? I mean, not sure if that makes any sense, but it really did kind of feel like there was a whole additional first act of table and stakes setting once they arrived in the city.
Though, to argue in favor of bloat for a moment – I was chatting with  @lifeattomsdiner​ bit back about The City We Became, and they mentioned that the size of the cast meant that you don’t actually really get to know any of the protagonists that well on their own. And I suppose that is the advantage of the 1200-page-per-volume epic cycle – even with characters you only really meet in interludes like Szeth, Vargo and Venli (incidentally three of my favorites), you spend enough pages inside of their head that you do really get to see what makes them tick and learn to love/hate them. Speaking of – props to Sanderson as an author, really – it’s vaguely astounding that he manages to keep track of that many internal monologues and actually make them seem distinct from each other.
Breaking things down by character a bit more – this book really did actually enjoy/get invested in Dalinar way more than either of the previous two, which again I’m told is more or less the expected reaction. Given the amount of tumblr brain poison I’m voluntarily exposed myself to, it’s honestly more than a bit of a nice change to see a character on a redemption arc who is actually unambiguously in need of redemption. Because holy shit, pulled, like, exactly two punches in terms of making the guy as genuinely loathsome as possible before he starts breaking. And, well, obviously he was on a redemption arc, but there was a bit near the end there where I really did think that the book was going to cut to black on an ‘end of Act 2, maximum darkness before dawn’ moment with, like, all the Skybreakers and him kneeling before Odium as the city fell. But I suppose that would be a bit much of a cliffhanger for a series with installments this weighty.
This was pretty clearly Shallan’s ‘getting over my personal bullshit’ book, like WoR was for Kaladin and WoK was for Dalinar, though spicing things up with increasingly severe DID as the book went on did make things more interesting at least. Also, I have no idea if this is actually true, but according to the friend who pestered me into reading these when someone asked Sanderson if he’d intentionally written her as bi he just kind of shrugged and said ‘sure, why not,’ which is fun. It was more than a bit, I don’t know, forced?, to have Wit just wander in from stage left and give her a desperately needed therapy session while she was in the middle of a breakdown and propel her development for most of the rest of the book, but on the other hand she’s pretty easily the main POV I’m most invested in by now, and the live triangle the text repeatedly threatened me with never actually became a thing, so I can’t really complain too much. Honestly super curious about the Ghostbloods and what they want out of her given, well, for a shadowy murderous conspiracy, everything they’ve wanted out of her so far has been pretty much entirely benign. Like, of the three major shadowy murderous conspiracies they’re easily the least problematic for the future of humanity at the moment. She should just commit and join for real imo.
As always, Kaladin’s POV is mostly good because it means we get more Syl, who is the single best character in the entire story I’ve decided. But also, I really quite liked his whole sojourn with the newly freed Parshmen and dawning realization that ‘wait these people are basically entirely right’. Also, the delicious delicious angst of spending however many dozens of pages getting to know them and then the wall guard and then the two groups killing each other in a confused melee while he has a mental breakdown. Easily best moment in the book (but then I’m a miserable person).
Adolin is honestly significantly more entertaining to follow than I really expected, though I’m still not like especially invested in him as a character. His relationship with his tailor was quite charming, though, as was the fact that he cares enough about fashion that he learned to sew. Honestly I was rather expecting/slightly dreading his main arc this book to be, like, inadequacy or insecurity over being almost literally the only member of his family that’s not a Radiant, so it’s kind of a pleasant surprise that he seems to have just accepted that (too well-adjust, I guess?). It is however extremely funny that the fact he just straight-up murdered one of the kingdom’s most important aristocrats and the major antagonist of the first two books seems to have resulted in absolutely zero consequences of any kind for him.
In terms of minor characters, the one I’m most invested in by a pretty substantial margin at this point is Venli, as she’s getting a front row seat to all the most interesting bits of the setting, ‘cultist growing increasingly disillusioned about return of ancient and terrible eldritch god’ is a really entertaining character arc just in principle, and because as of the end of the book she represents the morally objectively correct perspective and political line I’ve decided and will fight people about. Curious what sort of superpowers she’ll get. (Vargo and Szeth are still both great though, too).
The Unmade are really fun as a worldbuilding conceit/excuse for weird fucked up monsters. And it really is kind of funny that at least a third of the God of Evil’s nine generals/children/favoured beasts are, like, at conflicted or ambivalent about the whole ‘exterminate humanity and remake the world as a monument to my glory’ thing.  
Really, on an extremely shallow and entirely aesthetic level, between the evil red crystal/lightning aesthetic, the remote mountain fortress as a stronghold of the heroes in the face of the coming apocalypse, tears into the realm of spirits, the quirky evil minibosses each handling corrupting/conquering a given center of civilization, etc, the whole thing kind of reminded me of Dragon Age Inquisition. Which reminded me of how disappointing the story to that game was, which made me like the book more by comparison, but anyway. Yeah, good book.
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