#it’s been going down periodically all day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starriescythe · 1 day

Text

ʚɞ pairing . . . cooper 'the ghoul' howard x fem!reader ʚɞ word count . . . 1.4k ʚɞ warning(s) . . . porn with smol plot - period sex cause I said so!!!!! so blood is a warning, period spills ig?? I dunno, it's just sex, nothing too rough or smthing, oh and praise... he's praising :3 some squirting too, forgot that ʚɞ summary . . . reservations were made, but quickly discarded 😈 ʚɞ writers notes . . . I was horny 🤷🏻‍♀️ dunno what else to say

soft whimpers flooded the room, accompanied by the occasional groan from cooper as he watched you bounce on his cock, eyes rolling back while his are completely fixated on your chest, hands gripping your waist, holding you close and helping you bounce faster every few seconds.

only a few hours earlier, you and him were awkwardly sitting in the hotel room you two had rented for the night during your travels. it's been a few days since you let him touch you, even just softly, and it's showing in the tension filling the room.

"so... do you want the left or right side?" you questioned, unlacing your boots while sitting on the bed. the ghoul didn't respond, but you could feel his eyes burning you alive from behind you. "what's going on with you this week?" his blunt question took you off guard, causing your head to turn to face him. "what?"

he moved to standing in front of you, eyebrow raised in confusion while looking you up and down. "nope, still the same tasty girl I know." he spoke while grabbing your hand and examining it. "you're avoiding my touch, why?" his eyes looking at you through his eyelids, the gaze both cold and familiar.

"I'm not doing anything of the sort." you reply, moving your hand from his grip to untie the other boot. cooper just looked down at you while doing so, confused but not willing to admit he missed the feeling of you against him.

without another word, he simply moved to the right side of the bed, laying on his back with his hat covering his eyes. "night, sweetheart." he muttered.

guilt seemed to cross your face, thankfully he couldn't see. you didn't mean to put him in the doghouse, but it's not like you can change that now. so you simply lay on the left side of the bed, wiggling under the blankets for some shut eye.

which was promptly interrupted by a sneeze.

it wasn't anything much but the all familiar feeling coursed through your body, dread setting in just as quickly as the sneeze came. muttering a string of curse words, you jump out of the bed, doing a glance at the spot to check for anything before rushing to the makeshift bathroom, worried.

"fuck fuck fuck.... fuck!" you tried to keep your voice down, but the amount of blood currently sitting in your underwear was a little hard to not be upset about.

and like the ever on guard dog cooper is, he came rushing towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he looked down at the bloody underwear, eyes wide with panic until he saw the annoyed expression on your face. "are you being serious?"

"I'm sorry for waking you, and don't worry... I have a thing, I'm not gonna slow us down lik-" you were barely able to finish your sentence before Cooper walked forward, his tall frame completely engulfing yours. "is this-" he motioned to the current scene playing in front of him. "-why you haven't been... acting like normal?" a pout formed against your lips, crossing your arms. "I've been normal."

cooper let out a laugh, visually calling bullshit before he sighed. he seemed to almost say something before a smirk crossed his lips.

"you know darling, i've been covered in blood before, it's not going to freak me out."

your eyes went wide, slowly turning to face him, only to be met by the most shit-eating grin. a flush of pink covered your cheeks, only furthering coopers amusement.

his hand glided against your back, the rough but not unpleasant texture sending shivers down your spine and arousal through your body. "you like that idea, don'cha, sweetheart? no need to answer, I know the answer."

with no hesitation, cooper scooped you up in his arms, bringing you back to the bed with little fight. once laid out all pretty for him, tits bouncing from the impact of being thrown onto the bed, cooper chuckled darkly. "I can't believe this is what got you all in a tizzy. a little blood won't be the reason I don't fuck you into the mattress, darling."

and that's how, for the last hour, he's been fucking you, making up for the lost time. his head now rested against your chest, groaning at the sensation of how warn your cunt was now, squeezing him oh so perfectly with each quick bounce against him.

"that's it, good girl, come on... bounce a little faster for me, sweetheart." a needy moan escaped your lips at his words, the way his voice sounded drunk off of the way you felt above him, his face still pressed to your chest as your hands held the back of his head for support while riding him.

you didn't dare look at his lap, worried the sight of your period blood on him will instantly make you want to backtrack, and anything that would cause this moment to stop is absolutely unacceptable. head thrown back as moans just poured out of your mouth, unable to find any sense of dignity while his cock continued to fuck upwards into your cunt, the only thoughts roaming through your mind where him. only him.

"god, you look so fucking pretty right now." cooper groaned, hands massaging your hips delicately while thrusting his own up against you.

letting out a guttural cry, nails raked against his shoulders, your whole body shuddering as your stomach clenched, the tight feeling snapping almost as quickly as it formed. "cooper-" his name left your lips as a plea, pressing him closer to you as muscles twitched and flexed, trying to not let out a pleasurable scream and disrupting the other guests more than you probably already did.

though that didn't settle well for Cooper, who quickly flipped the two of you over, his arms still wrapped tightly around your body, as if he was shielding you from stray bullets. "again." was all he said before throwing your thighs over his shoulder, moving one hand to hold your hands above your head while the other gripped your hip.

cooper smirked, looking down at the mess he's causing of you. "i'm not stopping 'til you're a blushing blubbering mess." he warns, chuckling while positioning his legs in between your own, causing them to spread even further, your ass almost pressed completely against his thighs for better support.

"you're still holding back, just let go. I got you, sweetheart." he cooed, whispering roughly into your ear while slowly moving his hand that held your hip to your clit, the face paced circles producing a elated scream-like moan, wiggling your hips, unsure if to press them closer to his hand or pull them back.

everything felt dialed up to a hundred. what normally could have been multiple hours seemed to become overwhelming after just two. "please.... please-" the begging coming from you was cut off by his lips greedily claiming your own, silencing any pleas you had. your thighs tightened around his waist as another orgasm washed over you, eyes watering from the stimulation on your clit and the pounding in your cunt.

"fuck- just like that... oh god..." cooper let out a moan of his own, before rutting against your body, cumming. even after both had finished, not a single muscle was moved. thighs still wrapped around his waist as his cum dripped out of you, and his hands still holding your hip. though, he did let go of your wrists, letting them cup his cheeks as you pulled him into a kiss. one both soft and needy.

it was several minutes before he even considered leaving the warmth your cunt provided, but he had too sooner or later. placing kisses along your neck as his hips moved back, trying not to hurt you. "there we go, sweetheart, easy..." he muttered before grabbing whatever towel the hotel provided. quickly wiping the blood off his cock and on your inner thighs, cooper let out a sigh as he looked at the blissful expression on your face.

"you done trying to hide things from me?" he chuckled, tossing the towel behind him and climbing back into bed. nodding, you buried your face against his chest, the ever growing ache of cramps disappearing after your orgasms, finally able to sleep.

cooper laid with his back to the mattress, hands gently rubbing your back as his eyes practically fucked you again, already planning round two...

167 notes · View notes

aikunik · 2 days

Text

Yandere Male idol x GN reader

another view of the writing

warning: yandere tendencies, delusional yandere, nsfw

Sol always had eyes for you, you were his first supporter, even amongst the largest crowds of more than one thousand people he could still sense if you were in the crowd or not, he would panic, and start hyperventilating if he couldn't see you amongst the crowds, once it got so bad that he had to go backstage to avoid the paparazzis surrounding him.

He didn't know how overly obsessive he was with you. he knew but wanted to play hard to get, that was until you looked at someone else or started going to other band's concerts.

It started a while ago, in highschool where you were Sol's classmate, the pretty classmate who sat at the back of the class, always staring out the window. Back then in highschool, he had already developed strong feelings for you. You were the colour to his world, one day, you acknowledged him for his singing and dancing skills. He was ecstatic from your reaction. So much so that he applied for one of the biggest idol companies in the world. Then he trained, for a year or two and rose to stardom, you were his biggest supporter from the start.

You didn't know he was your classmate, since he changed so much, his personality changed and so has his physical appearance, he died his hair a platnium blonde and worked out during his whole trainee period, so there was no way you could recognise him. He wanted to change since you had always regarded him as a mere classmate.

You called yourself Sol's no.1 defender, you would always defend Sol in arguments, like when they called Sol a coward for hyperventilating on stage, being his long-time supporter, you couldn't stand the hate and decided to shut them down yourself. Sol would always see you on social media, commenting and praising him for his dancing skills and amazing charisma on stage. whenever he saw your posts about him or your face he always busted a huge load to it, covering his entire phone screen hot strips of cum, he would always go to the bathroom and jerk off to you when hes stressed.

"m-my darling must love me s-so much! ha... oh!"

Everytime there was a meet and greet he would always look for you, but there was this time when there was no you, he searched through the crowds panicking..

"m-my.. darling.. is not here today?.. ha.. maybe they were too busy with school work! yeah! they're playing so hard to get for my attention"

Sol was just being delusional. You had no feelings for him at all and only regarded him as your role model.

Sol wanted to think this was just a slip up, but his eyes were on the edge of giving out for the whole meet up, he had almost started crying right there on the spot, but his manager told him to go to the bathroom for a while, to freshen himself.

He used that order as an excuse. He wanted to find you. Where have you been? You've been wanting for him to find you right? just like hide and seek. Until he couldn't find you. He started immediately breaking down onto the streets after he checked your instagram and your latest post was at another band's concert. He started suffocating, he started feeling uneasy in his stomach he couldnt bear it he sobbed right in the middle of the busy streets, many fans walking by tried to help him, but he was too lovesick, sitting on the bare concrete floor.

reminder to hydrate

#yandere x reader #possessive love #yandere community #yandere imagines #irl darling #yanblr #irl yandere #yandere male #yandere blog #yandere

167 notes · View notes

theghoulshat · 12 hours

Note

domestic pre-war!cooper, pretty please~ 👀

Unchained Melody

Pre-War!Cooper Howard x F!Reader pinned info — send me a request — masterlist MDNI 🔞 established relationship, domestic fluff, mentions of alcohol use, some suggestive themes, cooper is a divorcee, supportive janey, talks of a marriage proposal, teeny tiny bit of angst. word count: 1,744

Lonely rivers flow To the sea, to the sea To the open arms of the sea, yeah

The sun's rays spill through the gap in the curtains, alerting Cooper to the new day. He wakes up groggily, the party from the night before finally hitting him like a truck. Sometimes being a well-known actor meant you had to go out from time to time, to keep up your public image. Cooper was always willing to meet a fan, but that many in one night? He was socially drained by the time he'd come back home, and into your arms. He was fairly drunk too, but that was besides the point.

Lonely rivers sigh "Wait for me, wait for me" I'll be coming home, wait for me

His eyes gaze over at you, and he can't help but smile at how gorgeous you looked. With the way the light covered you, you looked like an actual angel. Cooper couldn't believe he had been so lucky to find you after his divorce from Janey's mother. He appreciated that you loved him for him - and not for the money that came with his kind of fame. He couldn't help but wonder if you were a gift specifically crafted for him, by God, or if he was just in the right place at the right time when the two of you met.

Either way, he was going to make sure to keep you around for the rest of your lives. The ring that was hidden away in his bedside table was ready and waiting for the right time for him to propose to you. You had been together almost nine months, and he felt like you had been together for far longer than that.

He wanted to tie the knot with you, but he had his doubts. Would you even want to marry a divorcee? There was a stigma about it, but you were not the kind of woman to care about something like that. So long as he loved you, and wanted to be with you, why did it matter that he was married once before, and had a kid?

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered for your touch A long, lonely time

He didn't know that you had seen the box while you'd done a bit of spring cleaning. He was away for a whole month while he filmed on the other side of the country. It was for another Western, called 'The Man from Deadhorse'. He couldn't tell you much about it, for confidentiality reasons, but you had both planned to watch it on its release day in the local movie theatre. With Janey, of course.

You loved that little girl with all your heart. She may not have been yours biologically, but you still considered her your own. You'd recently sat her down, with her father there to listen, as you explained that you were never going to replace her real mother - but you still wanted her to know that you were there for her, if she ever needed you, and that you were perfectly fine with the idea of her calling you 'mom', so long as Cooper's ex-wife was fine with that too.

Janey had been surprisingly supportive of your union with her dad. She just wanted him to be happy, especially after seeing how heartbroken he was after the divorce with her mom. She thought you were an amazing woman, for being able to make her dad smile again after the dark period he had found himself in. It tore her heart apart whenever she'd catch him with the mask off. Especially the way his eyes would lose their light as he stared off into the distance, whiskey in hand, when he thought no one was looking.

His charming smile never felt the same after the divorce, but you brought that light back into his eyes, and the genuineness to his smile, and both Janey and Cooper appreciated you greatly for it. They couldn't really put it into words, but you felt it. You were the not the kind of person to expect anything grandiose from either of them. You loved them, and they loved you - that was all you wanted, and needed, from them.

And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

The moment of silent bliss was interrupted by the soft groan that leaves your lips as you slowly awaken, the sun's rays disturbing you from your slumber. Cooper can't help but chuckle a little to himself as he watches you struggle to wake up. His arms wrap around you and pull you into him, his body heat not helping your struggle to wake up properly.

"Good morning, sweetheart." His morning voice was so sexy. If Cooper didn't have somewhere to be, you would have suggested that you two have a quickie while the two of you cuddled in bed. It certainly would have helped wake you up for the day.

"Mornin'..." You drawl out, nuzzling your tired face into his neck. "How can you wake up so easily?" You whined, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

"Waking up and seeing your beautiful face in the morning... that's how, darlin'." He presses his lips against the crown of your head, and you find your cheeks tingling as you blush at his words. He was such a charmer.

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes, listening out for Janey's alarm clock's jarring chime. You two didn't want to part from each other's arms, but your little girl would need some breakfast and her clothes ironed for the day ahead. Cooper opted to cook, while you opted to iron. The way you both worked in harmony was a sight to behold. And Janey watched you both move around her, and each other, with a large grin of admiration on her face.

I need your love I need your love God speed your love to me

The song 'Unchained Melody' plays low in the background as the two of you finish with your tasks. Cooper dishes up the pancakes with butter on top, while you help Janey get her freshly-ironed clothes on. "Breakfast's ready!" He calls out, just as the two of you emerge from Janey's room. "Are my two favourite girls hungry for some pancakes?" He grins wide as Janey cheers, rushing towards the table with your hand in hers.

As the three of you sat at the table, breakfast in your bellies, you checked the clock on the wall and audibly gasped: "Oh no! You two are going to be late! I best get your hats-" You rushed out of your seat to find their respective cowboy and cowgirl hats. You were careful holding them as you returned to them. They were both standing up from their seats, waiting patiently and calmly - a complete contrast to how rushed you felt.

As you passed Cooper his hat, you gave him a soft peck on the lips. "Knock 'em dead, honey." You both smiled lovingly at each other before you turned to place Janey's hat on top of her head, careful as to not squash her bouncy curls too much. You find your hands brushing at the girl's shoulders as you inspect her blue and yellow outfit. It was the spitting image of her father's costume, and you couldn't help but gush at how cute she looked when she first put it on.

"Make sure to listen to your father, alright? And maybe try to make some new friends with the kids at the party?" You playfully pinch at her round cheeks, making the young girl groan in feigned annoyance.

"Okay, mommy, I'll try." She says it so nonchalantly, you almost miss it - but you don't. You straighten up, your wide eyes glancing over at Cooper's own, as you process it together. Janey seems none the wiser about the way you want to grab hold of her and cry from the sheer joy you felt at being called 'mommy'.

Tears form at the corner of your eyes, but you blink them away with a wide smile as you watch Janey skip excitedly towards the door. "I'm going to get Sugarfoot ready!" She calls over her shoulder, leaving through the front door of the house. "Be careful, honey!" You call after her, doubting she even heard you over the door closing.

"Coop... did she really just call me that?" You can't help but feel like you were still dreaming. He looks to you and smiles softly at you in an empathetic manner. He leans towards you, his hand on your elbow, as his lips peck your cheek.

Squeezing your elbow, he gives you his signature smirk and winks at you. "I'll be seeing you later... mommy." You let out a hearty laugh, swatting at him for saying it out loud like that.

"Go on, Coop, you're both going to be late! And Janey's handling Sugarfoot all by her little self - she'll need your help." You chuckle and shake your head as you shoo him through the front door.

He stops and turns one last time, giving you one more peck on the lips. "I'll see you after this Roy kid's birthday party, alright? I have a surprise lined up for tonight." He tips his hat at you as he parts from you, and you can't help but swoon a little at the move.

You watch quietly from the open door as they both clamber on top of Sugarfoot. "You better bring some of that cake back with you!" You jokingly call out to them as you wave them both goodbye. "Look after each other!"

You knew what Cooper's surprise was going to be. You had been waiting for it since you'd accidentally found the box in his bedside drawer.

But what you didn't know, however, was that they wouldn't be coming back. Not because they didn't want to, but because they wouldn't be able to. The image of them sauntering off on top of the white horse would be the very last memory you would have of them.

All because it was October 23rd... the day that the world would change forever. And you would find yourself witnessing that change, without the ones you loved most by your side. Fear in your aching heart, as you knew that you would never get to see them again...

#cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard imagine #fallout fanfiction #fallout fanfic #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout

141 notes · View notes

siriuslynutswrites · 24 hours

Text

a cute little oneshot for me to get myself through exams 😖😖😖

T.N. | Shotgun Kisses

theodore nott x f!reader

warnings; light sub!theo, shotgunning; it's mostly fluff

word count: 1.9k

Rain pitter-patters against the many glass panes lining the hall, and your footsteps ring out in accompaniment to the drumming beats. The air is slightly chilly, damp feeling, as if the never ending rain from today has finally soaked into the castle, weighing the air down. Candle light flickers, drawing long, yellowed strokes on the cobbled wall, and there’s an echo of ghostly laughter from a few corridors away.

March is right around the corner, and seniors are starting to feel the exam crunch, with parties coming to an unusual standstill, crowds thinning on the dancefloor only to ebb and flow into a thickened mob of silence in the library. The scratches of quills, pens and turning of pages seems to be the only things heard in the common rooms after nine, save for the snaps of prefects telling the juniors to shut the hell up and leave the revising students at peace.

In all of this stress, Theo has been working himself thin over subjects, the bags under his eyes growing the more nights he spends sleepless at the fire, straining to read just that little bit more about Transfiguration. He’s always tense these days, save for his smoking breaks with Mattheo, and a few first years have suffered his wrath; you’re sure there may be a few eleven year old shaped dents in the walls around the castle.

In all fairness, it’s kind of funny to watch the little kids sprawl when Theo has had enough of their slow pace.

Alas, you haven’t seen him since the last study period, which he had even spent away from you (as much as he could at the same table at least), huddled at the corner of his desk with books piled high around like a makeshift defence against conversation.

His shoulders were way too tensed and eyebrows way too furrowed for him to be enjoying the Rune work he was going over. Now he’s disappeared, and you’re determined to find him, just so that you can convince him that a break will do him good.

Where would a stressed, anxious Theo go? That’s right. The astronomy tower.

For somebody who hates the subjects of Astronomy and Divination with a living passion, Theo spends a lot of time up there, even if it’s just to smoke.

You finally make it to the steps, and walk up the spiralling steps, fingers trailing along the stepping cracks in the stone. You step out onto the floor just beneath the large open air balcony above, and then climb up the spindly stairs to the absolute summit of the tower.

The rain is falling softly from all sides, the kind that doesn’t freeze you to the bone, but caresses you as it slowly soaks your clothes. The wind is chilly, and you wrap your arms tighter around yourself as you glance around the top of the tower.

And there, in the corner, your giant of a boyfriend is stood, elbows braced on the railing as the raindrops seem to slide off an invisible barrier around his body.

You probably should’ve thought of that, but your excuse is that you’re just not as Charms based as Theo is. Your strengths lie in Runes, and decoding secrets, not in remembering the vast incantations the magical world has to offer.

Nevertheless, you step out, not fully soaked yet as you walk up to join his side at the railing.

He doesn’t notice you until you bump his elbow with yours, and his eyes snap to yours, alight cigarette trapped between his fingers.

“Ciao, principessa.” Theo smiles, and you take in his tired eyes, droopy with the effects of study induced insomnia. “I didn’t realise somebody would want to join me with the weather like this.”

“I’ll always join you, even in the rain.” You say to him, and watch as he lifts his hands to brush the individual hairs soaked against your face away.

“I can see that.” He hums, and then with a snap of his fingers, extends his shield around you too. His runs his hands across you, and you feel deliciously warm air dry you off, making you feel cosy and even slightly sleepy.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask at last, bracing against his arm, your shoulder pressed against his bicep. “It can’t be this nice, out in the dark, cold night.”

“It’s better now that you’re here.” He grins, and then lets out a sigh, placing the cigarette between his lips, next words muffled. “But honestly it was just to have a little smoke. I’m sorry, principessa.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper to him, laying your head on his shoulder as he retracts his hand to let out a billow of smoke. “I know that’s it’s stress. We can work on quitting after exams, yeah? We have time, Theo.”

“Ti amo.” He kisses on top of your head, and then takes another drag.

There’s a moment of silence, and then you finally speak up.

“Theo, I think it would do you some good if you didn’t do any school work tomorrow.” You say, eyes trying to pierce through the rain colouring the air grey and desolate. He tenses next to you, and you already know the protest that will come from his lips.

“Y/N, I need to get all Os. I think I’ll descend into a pit of misery if I get even one E.” He says, voice low, and fingers ever so slightly crush his cigarette. “You don’t want to see me being in a pit of misery.”

“I know, you bloody perfectionist. But you won’t get all Os if you go through a nervous breakdown, okay?” You whisper, taking the cigarette away from him. “Just one day break. If you do get an E— which I doubt more than I doubt Draco’s ability to get over his crush on Potter— then you can blame it on me and have a go at me. Just, please, take a break.”

“I could never have a go at you, even if something really were your fault.” Theo admits, eyes softly tensed as he runs his gaze over your face. “But I really can’t, principessa. I just— I can’t risk it.”

The two of you stand there in silence for a moment, save for the rain smacking off the stone balcony and metal railing, before you let out a lilting sigh and turn away, his cigarette still lit between your fingers.

“This isn’t anything to do with your father, is it?” You ask, and raise the cigarette, taking a drag. “He’s an asshole.”

“Getting perfect grades is just one way to get him off my back.” Theo admits, soft, and you can feel his gaze heavy on your face. “Plus, I can’t be getting anything less than the best. I’m Theodore fucking Nott.”

“I love you, Theo.” You say, a gentle smile splitting your lips. “But sometimes, you have such a superiority complex it kinda hurts.”

“At least I can admit to it.” He says. There’s a beat, two, and then he’s talking again. “Are you done with that? I’m not done smoking yet.”

Your gaze flickers down to the cigarette, and then you look back up to Theo, brain ticking away.

At last, you lift the cigarette to your lips, and take a long, strong drag, your free hand reaching up to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers twisted in the brown.

Theo furrows his brows at you, eyes flickering to the cigarette and back to yours, before promptly tilting his head down agreeably when you pull slightly.

Your lips connect to his, and you give him a moment to rewrap his hands around your waist before parting your lips against his, tongue teasing over his mouth.

Theo lets out a shivered breath as his mouth opens, and then you’re pushing the smoke into his mouth, feeling his fingers twitch and tighten as he accepts the smoke like it’s oxygen. He takes it in and takes it in, fingers caught curled around your clothes, and then you break away, a smile already on your face.

Theo flickers his gaze over you, and then a lazy grin spreads on his face before he’s blowing the smoke out into the side, remainders trailing lazily from his nose. He stands there for a beat, two, and then he’s leaning forwards again, lips ghosting over your mouth in an invite.

“Do that again. Please?”

You concede, your mouth already wrapped around the cigarette, and by the time you're tilting your mouth up to his, he’s turned away from the railing, both hands grasped onto your hips as he moulds your body against his.

“Impatient, are you?” You laugh softly, the majority of the smoke spilling from your lips, and Theo simply whines, head pushed down so he can press against yours. You comply, breathing the smoke into his lungs, and you feel him squeeze your hips tightly when you do so, head tilting to the side to deepen the shallow shotgun kiss.

You break away, and watch him inhale the smoke deeper, head tipping back with the movement until he can exhale it all in a cloud of smoke up into the air, contentment colouring the sound from his lips.

There’s a moment where he just breathes, and then he’s looking down back at you, eyes lidded and wanting.

“More.” He simply breathes, and you let out a laugh, tugging his hair softly so that his head rolls back once more as you take in your next inhale.

While you do so, Theo squirms slightly, hands gripping you tightly as he tries to look at you again, only to be corrected by your controlling palm.

“Patience.” You whisper, knowing that you enjoy toying and teasing him way too much. The smoke billows from your lips, and you take in another drag.

“I don’t think mixing my best and worst addictions is a good idea.” Theo lets out, his hands travelling around from your hips to claimingly plant his palms on the curve of your ass. “But I really don’t care. Please, Y/N?”

You hum, and redirect his head to look at you. Your mouth catches another breath of smoke, and then you simply blow it at his face, making him squint through the smoke.

“Promise me you’ll take a break tomorrow.” You say, and take another drag from the cigarette, seeing the way he eyes your lips as you do so. “Then we can talk.”

Theo simply remains silent, eyes on your mouth, at least until you tug at his hair and make him look at you properly.

“Promise.” He mumbles, looking back down, only to let out a pained gasp when you yank his hair.

“Like you mean it, Theo.” You say, and he lets out a frustrated breath.

“Fucking hell.” He says, and then rolling his eyes, forces his mouth down to yours, kissing you despite how you pull his hair. “I promise to take a break.”

“There you go.” You praise, and kiss him back at last, mouth moving against his. You break a breath away, only to murmur into his mouth, “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“I’ll be harder if you kiss me again.” He says unexpectedly, and you burst out laughing, fingers relenting in his hair. His tone was entirely serious, but that doesn’t stop him from grinning when he sees the joy on your face, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“I can’t fucking breathe.” You wheeze out, feebly holding the cigarette as you crumple into his chest. “You’re killing me Theo. You’re killing me.”

”There there.” He says, voice low as his hands gently ghost over your back. “Breathe.”

”I can’t.” You say, despite taking a deep breath at his command.

“Want me to perform CPR or what?”

“That just sounds like an excuse to kiss me.”

“So what? Rather we keep shotgunning as an excuse?”

icl when its fictional, smoking is lowkey kinda hot..... however my motivating factor is fear, and im terrified of lung cancer!!!!

#marcie writes ✭˖*°࿐#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #slytherin boys

86 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 3 days

Text

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 5

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: I've brought Luisia into things because of the timeline and it being 2021. Don't hate on her, or the fact that i've brought her into my writing please!

Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF

Charles stayed on the yacht with you all for a few days. He ended up sharing a room with you in the two single beds.

You spoke all night… every night and for the most part it was pretty platonic. But there was some wavering moments where he was looking at you for extended period of time. Or you’d accidentally looked from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes and he’d shifted in the bed.

But nothing more than that, you’d gone around Monaco sightseeing and shopping and Lando finally told everyone he had a girlfriend. Which was a massive shock to the media.

You guys continued your holiday. Charles left, about two weeks before you and Lando. You had spa days with Luisa and then you would all go to the club at night.

But there was one night, one to the end where Max and Pietra had come from London and you were kind of the odd one out. The only one on their own.

So you danced with as many random people as you could. Some random guys who were probably twice your age, some respectable young Monacan bachelors and even just big groups of girls who were all there for fun.

You were happily at the bar having a really loud conversation with the waiter about your life and everything that had been happening in the last few months.

He seemed genuinely really interested but that could have been all the alcohol you’d drank.

“So then … Max you know Max right?” You say with wide eyes to the waiter.

“Yeah… I think I’m familiar with Max Verstappen” he chuckles loving the doe and excited expression on your face.

“Yeah so he comforted me when Charles, you know Charles too right?”

“Yeah I’m also familiar with Charles Leclerc” he chuckles pouring you another drink, one that you’d been having all night.

“Yeah so he was comforting me after he kissed me, and I was really confused. And I thought he was being so sweet and I - THEN, he was with my best friend!” You say with a shocked expression on your face.

He fakes a shocked look as he slides you your drink.

“No way! That’s just not on!” He plays along with you.

“Right? and I don’t even know what to do now” you whine and the waiter just laughs before wishing you well and moving on to someone else.

You sit there and drink until you feel a hand on your shoulder and you look round in shock.

“Max?” you ask seeing the Dutch man.

“Hey Y/N” he says a hand still resting on your waist.

“Wh- what are you doing here?” You ask, looking at him before your eyes panic dart around the room trying to find anyone to help you.

No-one was around. They weren’t in the booth they’d been in and they weren’t on the dance floor. You gulp the alcohol now getting to your head and making you feel dizzy.

You felt awful …

“I live in Monaco Y/N” he laughs as if the two of you are okay, like nothings happened.

And you hated it.

“I have to go… I’m here with people” you voice getting down of the chair stumbling a little as you do making him catch you in his arms.

“I’ll help you, can’t let you go alone somewhere in this state” he admits, and yes it was probaly just him being honest and wanting to help you but it almost felt like a diss to you…

“I’m fine, I’m just going to go find my brother” you say pushing his hands off you!

You walk away walking through the crowd, not knowing Max is following closely behind you. You walk through the club, pushing past the sweaty body’s trying to find anyone that was in your group.

Your eyes darted round looking for Lando, Max, Pietra or Luisa. But none of them were here. They’d vacated the club. You walk out and find the bouncer.

“Erm hi” you say tugging on the shirt he was wearing. He looks down at you. He was a big man. Way taller than you and way bulkier than you.

“You okay?” He asked, he knew who you were. Not because you came to the club often but because you are Y/N Norris and your are kind of hard to miss.

“I was just wondering if you’d maybe seen my brother and his friends out here?” You asked, hoping they’d just come out for some fresh air or maybe one of them, hopefully not Lando had picked up smoking.

“Yeah they left around 45 minutes ago. You need me to call you a cab?” he asks and you nod. Max again was watching on, the bouncer noticed, worried it was a random at first. But once he noticed it was Max just making sure you were okay, there was a silent not between them.

“You’d do that for me?” You look up at him with tears in his eyes.

“Yeah come on hand me your phone” he says and he plugs in the last coordinates that were there which happened for be the marina.

“You on a boat?” He asks and you nod.

“Okay. It should be here soon” he says hanging back your phone.

You were angry and upset that the group had just upt and left you. And no matter how much you’d had to drink it was something you’d be remembering in the morning and you of course were going to be petty as fuck.

And as for Max, you didn’t realise he was watching you, but he was just concerned for you.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

123 notes · View notes

corruptedcaps · 2 days

Text

Bitchy Besties: Bitchy Bonus

Here is a bonus chapter for my Bitchy Besties story. This is the night before Kate arrives to school as Kayleigh. I wanted the audience to not know who was going to walk in the next day, Kate or Kayleigh so omitted the following, but I couldn’t leave it in my drafts so now you all get to read it! Enjoy!

—

Kate stared at her reflection unsure of what to do. Was everything she was feeling just some sort of after glow of being like and respected? For years she had been content to fade into the background and be unseen but now that she had gotten a taste of popularity she didn’t know if she could go back to her old anonymous life.

Her phone began to chirp as more people started to like the post of her and Tanya. Unable to stop herself she picked up the phone and went to Instagram. Her eyes went wide with the amount of likes and comments the pic had received in such a short period of time. She hadn’t even posted anything herself, she had just been tagged. She couldn’t help but wonder how much attention, how many likes and followers she could get from a post of her own, without the boost from Tanya but she couldn’t exactly post as herself though.

That’s when her eyes drifted over to the bag that contained ‘Kayleigh’. Did she dare? Even as she was contemplating it she was already standing up from her bed.

“It could help me decide what to do, I guess? I could see what people think of me outside of Tanya’s orbit. To see if Kayleigh is actually popular. I mean it makes sense right?” She said justifying it to herself as she unzipped the bag, letting the contents drop out. She quickly snatched the hair up and clipped it to her own. Setting it place she looked at herself in the mirror and felt her confidence return.

“Of course this is the right option, it’s the only way to know for sure.” She said more assuredly as she tossed her glasses to the side and started to reapply the sexy makeup. It wasn’t like before when she was stabbing in the dark at what would look right, this time she made deliberate and confident brushstrokes. She puckered her lips and applied the lipstick making them pouty and perfect.

“Of course Kayleigh wouldn’t be seen dead posting in the same outfit as before but thankfully she went shopping.” Kate said to herself as she eagerly took off her boring clothes that hid her body and slipped into the tight black top that Tanya had convinced her to buy.

“Hello Kayleigh.” Kate said with a purr as she looked at herself in the mirror. The reflection didn’t feel foreign like it had before, it now felt like her. Her pose settled naturally into a seductive yet powerful guise as a satisfied smirk curled up in her lips.

Picking up her phone she lay back down on the bed and snapped a few selfies of herself. Each one made her feel more and more like Kayleigh which allowed her to post with confidence.

Almost instantly her phone started to vibrate. A ‘like’ on her picture. And then another. And another before too long they were flooding in. Her eyes reflected the phone screen as she watched the adoration flood in.

Each ping and vibrate seemed to erode her sense of Kate and in turn bolstered her identity as Kayleigh. Slipping her hand into her pants, she moaned as she felt her new long nails against her slit. It felt so naughty and bad to be pleasing herself to the attention she was getting. It felt like something Kayleigh would do.

She groaned as she played with herself expertly. Each vibrate of her phone felt like a vibration in her pussy, sending a shiver throughout her body. She read the comments with glee as they rolled in.

“Hottie!”

“Unreal!”

“I’d like to see you OUT of that dress!”

Each comment filled her vanity and her desire to post more was growing as much as her ego. What was growing the most though was her sense of superiority.

“Mmmm yesss fucking simp me! Simp for your queen losers.” She moaned as she came closer and closer to cumming. She wasn’t sure what turned her on more, her fingers or her bitchy attitude. Before she could decide though a new notification came in, a DM.

It was from Lucas, the guy she had a date with on Friday. She had totally forgot about him, this could be a true test of her resolve to be Kayleigh. Girls like Tanya always had men like Lucas wrapped around their finger, Kayleigh already had a date with him, but could she control him? The wetness in her panties made her click on the notification.

“Wow if you had worn that top earlier I definitely would have asked you out sooner. You’re such a baddie.” He wrote. This would be too easy. She stripped out of her outfit down to her underwear quickly and snapped a pic she would have never done in a thousand years as Kate, but Kayleigh was in control now.

“Is that so? Well how about a private pic just for you then.” She wrote while attaching the image she just took. Biting her lip she slipped her hand back into her pussy in anticipation.

“Fuuuuck! How did I hit the jackpot getting a date with you? You’re driving me wild over here.” He wrote back and she grinned to herself. She had him in the palm of her hand, it made her feel so powerful.

“Prove it.” She wrote back and for a moment thought she might had scared him off before a moment later his message came in with a picture of his hand wrapped around his erect cock.

Kayleigh moaned as she looked at the picture. Kate had never illicit such a response from even her loser boyfriend but now she was turning on a guy with a simple picture of herself. It was a power she never knew she had in her and one she wanted to use further. Her mouth began to water looking at the picture as she had an instinctual desire to wrap her lips around it.

“Mmmm that’s going to taste soooo good.” She typed out as she continued to pump herself. As great as it felt though she made a mental note to go to the mall tomorrow with Tanya to pick up a vibrator, a queen like her doesn’t use her fingers when a man or a machine is available.

“Oh fuck! Just tell me babe to cum and I’ll do it! Please tell me!” He messaged back in record time and Kayleigh moaned loudly as she pumped herself furiously. She had him by the balls and she had never felt so alive!

“Oh fuck yes! This is what I want! This is who I want to be! Kate was just a caretaker of my body and she did a terrible job! That ends today! I am and always have been Kayleigh! A bitchy queen who does what she wants. I’m a spoilt, vain, gorgeous brat and I’m here to fucking stay!” She moaned loudly as she came hard, solidifying herself as Kayleigh.

She felt like a powerful bitch now as she rose from the bed. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw no hint of Kate anymore. Any nagging doubts inside herself was gone, her thoughts were focused on more important things now like how she looked, the boys she would fuck and her bestie Tanya.

However her phone pinged again and she picked it up to find another message from Lucas. “Please Kayleigh I have blue balls here!” It read and she smiled wickedly to herself.

“I command you to NOT cum! I want you to edge everyday until our date on Friday so I have more to swallow. Understand?” She wrote back confidently and coldy.

“Oh fuck yes! Whatever you say Kayleigh!” He replied back and Kayleigh grinned victorious. She was slightly turned off by how much of a simp he was now for her, she’d have to find a stronger boyfriend in the future but for now he’d do.

She sauntered over to the clothes she had bought that day and picked up the most risqué outfit that earlier, even pretending to be Kayleigh at the time, she thought was a little too far. Now she hungrily slipped it on like it was a second skin. She was a different breed now, an involved version of Kayleigh. A better version.

Snapping a picture of herself in the new dress she sent it to Lucas with instructions.

“Here’s a preview of my outfit for Friday. I want you to edge every day looking at it. I want five days of cum in my mouth by the end of the week. Also I want your frat brother that’s coming with us to look up pictures of my bestie Tanya and do the same. We are Queens and we deserve to be worshipped got it?” She wrote back.

“Absolutely! We won’t let you down, Queen Kaleigh.” He wrote back. She re read his message over and over again, causing a pleasurable shiver to coarse through her body. She loved being a queen bitch.

However as she looked around the room she realized that her home wasn’t fit for a queen. She’d have to do something about that and she knew the simp who could change it for her. The simp who started her down this evil path, but she’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #evil bitch #self corruption

66 notes · View notes

if-loves · 18 hours

Text

etude op. 10 no. 4 (torrent)

// Yandere Dr Ratio

Sum: When the rain falls, so too does your tears.

wc: 3278

warnings: implied depression, suicidal thoughts, implied suicide attempt, ooc ratio probably

a/n: sorry for the disappearance LMAO uni was holding me by the neck and not in the way i enjoy

also this was a whole load of yapping ngl maybe i projected too much xd

also pls let me know if i missed any tags!! i’d hate to mistag/forget any cw tags

likes & reblogs are appreciated! asks are more than welcome ❤️

As a student with the honor of studying directly under the one and only Veritas Ratio, you’re more than used to the bluntness of his words and his marking. After all, he’s the Dr Veritas Ratio, arguably one of the most intelligent people, beings even, in the cosmos, and you’re just a mere academic. Sure, you’ve had your theories and whatnot, but compared to someone like Dr Ratio you’re basically a child.

Everyone tells you that you’re incredibly fortunate to be able to have someone as prestiged as him as your tutor, that you would take advantage of the opportunity and use it to further your own studies and knowledge, but you’re not quite sure if furthering your studies is truly what you desire. Coming to university was already an expectation from your parents, who in their right mind would reject them when they’ve already saved all that money exclusively for your studies?

You don’t think yourself to be especially smart or gifted in anything. To yourself, you are just a regular person who will go on to graduate, find a job, and maybe settle down if you were given the chance. You don’t expect much for and from yourself.

However, Dr Ratio clearly seems to think otherwise; or else why would he choose you of all people to be under his tutelage?

It has been almost twelve cycles of the moon, and you have yet to figure out why. The agreed period of mentoring is coming to its end, and he expects a full length thesis and three separate reports from you concerning your studies and experience under him, and you cannot for the life of you think of anything that could ever satisfy him. In the whole period of his guidance, he has never once scored you above a low thirties. The more it happened, the more you thought it was more of a him issue than yours - but that’s what people who can’t take criticism say, so perhaps you’ll refrain from thinking that thought.

The sun had long set, leaving your side of the planet at the mercy of the night. In front of you, a too-bright screen from your laptop glares at you with a blank page, as if demanding you finally do something instead of staring out of the window wistfully as if you were some widow lamenting the loss of her husband.

It takes you everything not to just give up and curl up in the warmth of your bed.

With the nth sigh of the day, you woefully start typing, frustration in the pits of your mind. What in the world could you even write about, anyway? The spinning of the sun? No, you’re sure there’s thousands of papers written about that, similarly for the moon; you’re not one for mathematics either, so that was out of the question. Science isn’t really your forte either, so your options for a paper that would gain Dr Ratio’s approval is about zero. Maybe you should just drop out.

When the world is asleep, you remain awake, and so too does something else.

~~~

There are still a few days left before your thesis and reports are to be submitted, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve written utter nonsense.

What in the world are you talking about? Even you didn’t know. Something about some mythicised substance known as Xuixzedlm, that’s apparently supposed to be what the deep oceans of your world is made of, but none have been able to explore said oceans due to their size, toxicity and the creatures lurking beneath its surface. In fact, almost 99% of the oceans have remained unexplored.

You kind of regret choosing such a substance to be the main part of your thesis, considering how little information there is of it. Sure, the main point of a thesis is to propose a theory to be proved, but for something like this where the research is extremely minimal, you’ve ended up circling back to your previous points due to the lack of ideas and, of course, proven research. Not that he’d care about your excuses.

Your days leading up to the submission date are spent typing, deleting, and referencing your paper. You’re a little less stressed about the report because it didn’t exactly require the same thinking as a thesis did, so you managed to finish those in a week. You’d still need to proofread them a few more times to ensure grammar and whatnot was perfect, but ultimately, its priority was far lower on your list.

However, something odd has happened recently.

One evening when you had finally arrived back home after spending most of the day at one of the university’s libraries, you found a silver key with lilac purple highlights and a strange symbol in the middle. You’d asked your parents, but they hadn’t a clue either, leading to some concern that your room may have been broken into. There were a few off parts about that theory, some being that none of your belongings were missing, there was no evidence of lock tampering on your windows, and most of all, why said person would leave an expensive and important looking key on your table.

The sudden and suspicious appearance of the key led to you keeping it on your person at all times, for a reason you’re not exactly quite sure of other than because it felt right. There’s an inexplicable familiarity to it, as if it belongs to you, but you can never seem to recall where you’ve seen it before, if you ever have in the first place.

Another weird thing has been happening ever since you found the key - you’ve been feeling a strange desire to enter the toxic ocean.

The sounds of the waves splashing against the shore invites you in your dreams, and you always take a step forward, one step after another until the water almost touches your toes. The sun is setting upon you, the breeze gently blowing; the sight in front of you is the picture of ethereal. Just as you take one more step, just as you fall into the abyss, someone pulls you back and you are jolted awake.

Scholars say dreams are the subconscious taking its turn, toying with fantasies and fears indiscriminately. Sometimes they mix, giving birth to hopes that only end in hopelessness, happiness that only ends in despair. If this is true, does your subconscious desire death?

~~~

Veritas Ratio has always thought himself as logical. Most have thought the same of him as well, the rest thinking him some sharp-tongued snake that will not hesitate to bite them should he see fit.

When it comes to you however, he feels an unexplainable feeling in his chest and head, a desire that has only grown since the moment he chose you to be under his guidance for a year. His harshness may not reflect it, but it is merely his way of showing he cares - by being extra critical of your work so that you know how to improve. Veritas Ratio truly wants nothing but the best for a student like you.

Lately, this feeling has grown much in size and desire, leaving him finding trouble in resisting it. It lingers like a persistent headache, and acts up when you are around, leaving him in a constant battle for retention of sanity. His mental fortitude currently leaves him with the upper hand, but who knows for how long.

For someone who prides themself on being logical, he sure feels illogical as he stares at your student ID photo.

It’s one of your least flattering pictures he’s sure, but he finds himself staring at it all the same. The nuisance in his head keeps telling him frankly worrisome thoughts, but he feels no desire to act upon them… at least, the sane part of him doesn’t.

He knows there’s something special about you, and some selfish part of him doesn’t want this mentorship to end, to let you go. There’s no way of being able to guarantee ever seeing you again, so what if…

No. Irrationality has no place in his ideals, let alone in his life.

~~~

You’ve submitted your thesis and reports to him, and now you sit in front of him with your heart pounding in your chest. Is there anything scarier than the judgment of your teacher?

Your hands are laid on your lap, the key in your pocket. The coldness of it transcends the fabric of your pants, a constant reminder of the mystery it holds, and the thoughts it brings. Even now, you find your heart yearning for the sea.

You’re afraid to look at him. You’re afraid of what his expression could tell you, of the disapproval you’re expecting. You’re afraid of disappointing him once again, afraid of his rejection and the harsh words that will inevitably leave his lips. He will berate you once more, and you will be left to silently take it because truthfully, you know he’s right.

The silence continues, and you feel a sudden dizziness and the urge to throw up. You wish the sea would swallow you whole.

“I do not have enough time to finish reviewing everything today, so proper feedback will be given one week from now in person. As for the next few days, they shall continue as normal, as you are still under my tutelage. Do not forget, you still have readings to finish before tomorrow’s class.” He shuts his laptop and takes his alabaster head with him, once again leaving you to drown in the torrent of self-deprecation.

The sea embraces all, doesn’t it? It will lap up all those who dare to offer it their lives, no matter what achievements the person has made in their life, no matter if they are even a person at all. The sea… welcomes all.

(It’ll welcome you, right?)

~~~

After you left the university, you found yourself on the train to the beach. Night is upon the city, but the ocean doesn’t sleep.

People filter out of the trains one by one, until only you are left in the carriage. Announcement after announcement of stops and the sound of the train’s wheels scraping the tracks below it are the only disturbances in the otherwise peaceful silence. Despite the quietness, you cannot hear yourself. The key in your pocket feels like it is burning itself into your skin, but it is also the only thing keeping you awake, a reminder that you are still alive.

You wonder if the ocean too will eat the key, or if it will sink into its depths. Will you sink to the depths?

The train stops at its end, and your legs automatically move. You walk until you hear the sound of waves crashing onto the shore, until you are stopped by a barrier. In an act of madness (or is it desire?), you scale the wall until there is no more to scale, until you see the other side.

There is a certain beauty about the ocean that you can’t quite describe to anyone, that pictures cannot replicate. It brings you a sense of peace, like all will be right in the world. If you could just…

The jump down from the barrier is no easy task. It is a long way down, and the sand can only soften the drop so much; yet, you jump.

Something hurts, but you’re enamored by the sparkling surface of the water. It beckons you, inviting you to a new world beneath its surface, a place to be free of all worries and pains. A place to sleep peacefully, no nightmares or dreams to plague you. It offers you everything the world cannot.

You feel your bag drop off your shoulders, like a weight lifted. A hand takes the key out, holding it tightly as you walk towards the promise of a home. What mysteries will be answered by this new world?

You’d like to apologize to your parents for the disappointment that you are. You had neither the mental fortitude nor the drive to be a success, and you’d like to apologize to Dr Ratio for wasting a year’s worth of his time on an incompetent student like you. His time would have been better spent on honor students, not a mundane, average student like you. You are destined to be just another cog in the wheel, and once you rust, you will be thrown out just like everyone else has and will be.

You find yourself a step away from the water, just like in your dream. You think you see a door. The key in your hand burns hotter. The world pauses. You take a step.

The feeling of the liquid never comes, but being pulled does.

“Just what in the universe are you thinking?!” This voice… is familiar. This voice… Who is it? It can’t be Dr Ratio, no…

But those amber eyes, so familiar, it has to be…

But why? Why?

“I…” Words fail you, just like they always have. What could you possibly say to him? He must think you mad, unfit to graduate, unfit to live perhaps.

“Do you wish to be swallowed by the gaping abyss? For what? To prove the existence of Xuixzedlm? Do you think your life so worthless that you think sacrificing it for nothing is what will make it meaningful?!” He is… angry. You’ve never seen him like this. Dr Ratio doesn’t get angry. “So? Say something, anything, that could possibly help me understand why you’d attempt such an act of foolishness!”

“Why does it matter to you?!” You shout, wringing your arm free from his tight grip. He has pulled you far enough from the gentle ocean, far away from the door. You look back at it, and it remains floating above the water. The key is still in your hand.

“Are you so dull that you need to ask such a useless question?” He scoffs. He moves to grab your arm again, but you instinctively bring the hand holding the key to your chest, afraid that he would take it from you. His eyes, shades of intense amber, follow your hand and lock on to the key you hold. He frowns.

“Yes! Yes, I am! I am so utterly stupid that teaching me is a waste of time, that you should leave me alone! If… if I wasn’t here, then there’d be one less stupid person in the universe! Isn’t that what you want?” Are tears running down your face, or is the sky weeping on your behalf?

He stares at you, and his lips do not move. It goes on like this, until you are both drenched in the rain, clothes wet and only the tempting sound of the ocean, and the pitter-patter of raindrops blending into the dark waters. Moonlight briefly shines upon the both of you, and you see his face clear - there is no anger, only contemplation.

“If you have nothing more to say, then leave me alone.” You turn around and set your sights upon the floating door once more, the key still held to your heart. With a resolved mind, you once more walk towards the beckoning arms of the abyss, the promise of no tomorrow.

Dr Ratio doesn’t stop you until you are one foot in the water. There is a searing pain, but you are one step closer to the door, to a stagnancy that life could never offer you. You are one foot in the water when a familiar symbol appears on the door, like an eye staring at you. You are one foot out of the water when you realize what it is.

“You have lost your mind.” He says, pointedly. You struggle in his grip, but he doesn’t falter. If anything, his hold only tightens. The pain from the water is nothing compared to the pain of losing freedom.

“Let- me- GO!” You desperately push against his chest, legs swinging. Why couldn’t he just let you go? Why did he care so much? What value do you bring to him, other than more evidence that he is far more blessed than the rest of the universe ever could be?

“Struggling will do you no good. Stay still, and I would not have to restrain you like this.” He glares at you from the corner of his eye as he brings you further away from your salvation, and the final straw is when he wrestles the key out of your hand. You’re inconsolable as he takes you past the barrier, brings you to his vehicle, and takes you to the place you can only assume is his apartment.

You let him guide you to the bath and clean your injured foot with a gentleness that is unbecoming of him, and he runs you a bath all while you grieve. Both of you say nothing as he treats you like a child, and you let him bind you to the bedpost without any struggle. To struggle is to fight, to fight is to have a desire to spread your wings; you lost that the moment he took you away.

Dr Ratio, or rather Veritas as he insists you call him, has shown you such a different side of him that you don’t know what to make of it. He holds you at night like you’re lovers, kisses you like he means it. He dutifully takes care of you, and you do not respond in kind. Despite this, he treats you all the same, with no trace of the Dr Ratio you’ve known for the last year, and only of the Veritas that you’ve met ever since that night.

You never see the key again.

~~~

One day, he has packed up everything. You briefly wonder if this meant that he’d be leaving you behind, but to your disappointment, he brings you along. He has cuffed you to himself, a reminder of the rights you have lost when you let him have his way with you.

“Veritas,” his name tastes like poison. “Where are we going?”

“The IPC has assigned me to Penacony, the land of dreams.” He responds without hesitation, turning to face you. “Naturally, you’ll be coming with me.”

You want to say no. You want him to leave you here, to give you back your key, to bring you back to the sea. The scar on your foot is a reminder of what could’ve been, what he has taken from you, and you haven’t - or rather, will never - forgive him. He will never deserve your forgiveness.

“Have… have you told my family?” You whisper, your throat as dry as the sand on the beach. Your hands fidget, and you find yourself unable to look at him; but truthfully, you don’t need to. He has ensured that every part of him has been engraved into the depths of your brain, and carved into your heart.

“…There is no point dwelling on the past. I am your family now. Clinging to such bygones will only serve to erode your mind, and limit your ability to live life.” He is firm, sounding more like the Dr Ratio you knew. He holds the hand that he has chained to his own and brings it to lips, the band of silver gleaming in the sunlight. It is a reminder. A firm, cruel, reminder of who he really is.

Veritas Ratio is nothing more than an illogical, selfish, arrogant, cruel and lovesick beast who allowed his heart (if you could even call it that) to take the reins.

Veritas Ratio is nothing more than a liar.

#honkai star rail #yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #hsr #dr ratio #veritas ratio #ratio x reader #yandere dr ratio #yandere veritas ratio #yandere x reader #cw depression #cw sui ideation #cw sui thoughts #cw sui attempt

65 notes · View notes

whatwewrotepodcast · 3 days

Text

Equestrian Writing Resource

Hi everyone,

I've seen some how to write horses posts going around recently that contain some . . very not true things about horses. As a Certified Horse Girl TM I thought I might clarify a few things for any one out there wanting to write anything that includes horses.

My credentials are that I've been riding for as long as I remember, have owned horses for 15 years and currently compete at a state and national level in dressage.

Facts below the cut!

Travelling by horseback

Horses cannot gallop or even canter endlessly. This is something I see a lot of in movies and games and media like that. Even an extremely fit horse can only really gallop flat out for 10-15 minutes. A steady canter they can go for longer, but if you watch endurance races (where horses are ridden for 100s of kms over sometimes several days), the riders will mix periods of walk and trot to let the horses catch their breath and recover.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Horses do not have strong enough diaphragms to inflate their lungs fully. There are some cursed interior nonsenses going on here, but essentially at a gallop, a horse can only breathe once per stride. This means there is only a matter of time before they are no longer able to get enough oxygen to their muscles.

Which leads into the next thing . . .

Horses get hot easily and can struggle to cool down

Horses sweat, just like humans, but because of their mass, their interior temp can get very high and may need assistance to be brought down. That's why at the end of a cross country course (where horses are galloping for anywhere between 5-12 minutes and jumping fences) they often have buckets of water thrown on them to help them cool down.

A well trained horse can be ridden by anyone

I've seen some posts around recently that said that horses will try and throw off unfamiliar riders and that you can't ride a horse who doesn't know you. This is . . . ridiculous. If your horse has been trained properly anyone can get on and ride it. Ride it well? Maybe not, but if the person is a good rider they'll be able to do the basics. I've ridden my friends horses, and they've ridden my horse. I've put an 8 year old on my horse and let her walk around. If you horse is so insane it tosses anyone other than you, you've done a terrible job training it.

However, if a horse has not been broken to saddle, then yes, if you try and hop on it, it will probably try and get rid of you. If you just try and get on a horse bareback in the paddock, it will probably go poorly. A lot of horses don't take well to being ridden bareback initially, but they can all get used to it in time.

Horses are sensitive but you can just let them graze

It's a common joke amongst horse people that horses will drop dead of anything and this is true to an extent, but they would be entirely unviable lifeforms if you had to inspect every patch of grass before you let them eat it. In general, horses won't eat toxic plants if they have a choice. I'm not sure how people thing mustangs and other feral horses survive in the wild if every paddock needs to be check for toxic plants because horses can't tell what will kill them and what won't. It's usually perfectly fine to let your horse graze outside their paddock. On that note - if you horse breaks into the feed shed, it *can* cause colic, and depending what they eat, it can be an extremely serious circumstance, but also many horses break into feed sheds, gorge themselves, and walk away fine. Mine has done it more than once.

Horse riding IS hard

One thing other posts have gotten correct is that riding a horse is hard. It's not something you can do well from the get go no matter how amazing you are. Riding a horse the first few times will make muscles hurt you didn't even know you had. Riding a dressage test gets my heart rate nearly as high as going for a run.

Horses are kinda smart . . and kinda stupid

Yes horses all have personalities and they can be really clever, but they can also be extremely stupid and this is because they are flight animals. Some are braver, some are smarter, some are stupid, some are flighty. But a horse is generally not as smart as a dog, and some of them are as dumb as a bag of rocks.

Riding bareback is hard and not good for your horse's back

There's a reason we invented saddles and it's to help distribute a rider's weight more evenly over the horse's back. Horse spines are suspended like a cable between their hips and shoulders. There is nothing in the middle to hold it up but muscle, and you sit right on that thing. Riding bareback puts a lot of weight and pressure on their spine and the muscles around it. Riding with a (well fitted) saddle will help distribute the weight. However, well fitted is the key thing here. You can't just put any saddle on any horse. If the saddle doesn't fit, it can cause rubbing, pain, and eventually long term damage. It's best practice to get a saddle fitted every 12 months at least.

Sweat doesn't really make your horse more slippery though and if you saddle slides right off, your girth wasn't done up tight enough or some part of your tack failed.

Horses should be tied up while you tack and untack

Horses are flight animals and they will piss off if something scares them, which can be dangerous if they're half-tacked or untacked. However, if your horse tries to bite you just because you haven't tied them up then you are doing something that is causing them discomfort or you haven't trained them properly. For the love of god don't let your horse bite you?? What is wrong with you?? The girth should not be painful or uncomfortable for the horse. You don't need to do it as tightly as possible, just enough that it won't slide. Most horses have what is called a "girth groove" which is where the girth sits in front of their ribcage. Because their shoulder is in front and their rib cage widens out behind, the girth sitting in the groove stops the saddle moving.

Training a horse does take a while . . . but them liking you doesn't really factor

Training or breaking a horse to take a saddle and accept a bit and aids does take a long time. You can't just jump on a feral horse and expect them to listen to you. Horses are usually backed (sat on) at between 4-6 years old but they may have had a saddle and bit on for short periods before hand. Horses don't accept tack because they care about whether it helps their rider not fall off, they do it because they have been trained to do it.

Crops and spurs

Crops (whips) and spurs are both aids that, when used properly, cue horses to perform certain movements. Both are more than capable of being abused. You can hurt a horse with a whip just as easily as with a spur, however, used properly, a spur allows you to make smaller, more finnessed aids with your leg than using your heel. A whip or crop can be used in a similar way, especially with horses who like to swing their shoulders or hips one way or the other - the whip just extends your reach.

English vs western

English and western are the two main styles of riding that are most common these days.

English riding includes dressage, jumping, and eventing. These sports are complicated so I won't go into them, but generally the saddles are lighter and allow for a closer connection to the horse, and more ability to move in the saddle - to stand in the stirrups, to get deeper into the saddle, etc.

Western riding is more ranch style riding, and include disciplines like reining, barrel racing, cutting and other sports involving cows. Western saddles are what you see in cowboy movies, and tend to be much heavier and more restrictive - they down allow you to move around so much.

Horses can be affectionate

It does depend a bit on the horse, but horses can absolutely be affectionate. They do this by calling out to you, coming over to you in the paddock, and sniffing and nuzzling at you. They do think with their stomach though, and a great way to get your horse to be excited to see you is to always bring them food.

Horses don't neigh that much

This is a big bug bear in movies. Horses really really really don't usually neigh that much. In fact, they don't make a lot of noise at all in general. They will call to their friends sometimes, and they make a range of whuffling, nickering, snuffling sounds, snorts and grunts, but the way movies show horses screaming their heads off all the time is totally false. They're usually pretty quiet.

That's it for now, but feel free to reach out if you have any other questions. I hope this post spreads as far as the other one did because. . .yikes there was a lot of wrong information in there!

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #am writing #writer #write #writers #writing tips #horses #horsblr #horses of tumblr #dressage #equestrian

58 notes · View notes

9w1ft · 20 hours

Note

i need help. i’m so slow at unpacking the songs & their lyrics but you guys seem so confident that Kaylor lives. mind sharing lyrics or interpretations that you make you feel confident?

i think i speak for a lot of kaylors when i say we weren’t going into this album thinking we were all in some make or break situation, where the songs would be what decides whether or not kaylor lives. and we haven’t come out of it feeling different! so for starters, the very process of processing the songs is a bit different, i think, than the process suggested in your question.

this post got kinda long so i’m going to put it under the cut! and just a tl;dr that i am just talking about this aforementioned process. i’ve started writing out interpretations for the songs that have caught my kaylor attention but it’s taking time, so i thought id go ahead and post the other aspect of my answer in the meantime

a big part of kaylor interpretation is taking a look at what taylor and karlie were doing over the period of time that an album was written and the lead up to album rollout, and seeing if it looks like karlie knew in advance about what would be on the album, or how it would be promoted. the fundamental idea is that if taylor and karlie truly hated each other like everyone insists, that they wouldn’t go out of their way to drop hints or allow one another to drop hints.

so for example, karlie started wearing this pair of sunglasses with the product name “poet” before the name of the album (the tortured poets department) was ever known. she walked in two schiaparelli runway shows (the significance being that these days its rare for her to walk a show, and she’s never walked for schiaparelli before although she’s been to their shows in years of late), one of these schiaparelli shows was specifically alien themed, which lines up with the theming of Down Bad, and then next taylor announced the tortured poets department at the grammys wearing custom schiaparelli (i don’t think taylor’s ever worn the house before). so like, these sorts of things don’t make sense until later but they are signs we look to as a backdrop when going into an album. they are a sort of most recent indicator of the state of the union.

historically (especially post 2019 when what i call the scorched earth narrative was disseminated) people looking to disprove kaylor tend to brush off this stuff (twinning, similar theming or messaging in social media, etc) as oh it’s coincidental, but even if it’s not, any kaylor things that happen now are just because taylor is grieving and desperate for karlie and/or karlie wants notoriety because she wants… more money. but as i’ve said and as many have said for the past 5 years, it makes no sense and is such a misread of drivers for karlie and taylor. i beg people to try and put themselves in karlie’s shoes and ask themselves, would you endure all the hate for… more… money?? would you fly across the country and go to taylor’s concert two weeks post-partum, in a state of physical disrepair just to… spite her?? and have millions of people send hate at you for it..?

anyway, i know this is different than lyric analysis but it’s an integral part of kaylor analysis so i wanted to highlight it. i’d also point out that a whole bunch of people are currently analyzing her entire back catalog re: matty context clues in the same ways so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i think it’s a natural tendency for a lot of people— with kaylor though it’s outlawed.

and i want to reiterate that i think observing the time surrounding the album is a particularly worthwhile thing to do because it takes into account a more recent period of time than that of which the songs represent. i think people can get tunnel vision analyzing an album or individual songs and lose sight of the fact that we are here now after the album has been written. the lyrics are not the most recent thing!

another point i feel that needs mentioning is that with kaylor, among kaylors, we are looking at recent albums more for signs of taylor weaving a story of them that leads to them getting back together publicly. the idea that we are probably not going to get some big reveal that oh everything prior was fake! we have always been together! but rather some separate telling of events that preserves the integrity of people involved to some extent. so there are likely several layers going on when looking at songs. a mix of truth and augmented truths. songs can be useful towards meeting an end goal without telling the entire truth, while the fact that they are useful is still an indicator of the meta truth. i know this sounds a little convoluted... but thats alright im not invested in proving it to people 🙈 (nor do i think it should be provable!!)

lastly, while i am still compiling all my kaylor observations from each song, i did want to point out the obvious: that my understanding of the album (and i assume this is true for more kaylors as well) is colored by the inclusion of the song Robin. …i guess i will mince my words a little bit because i consider it a sensitive subject but basically, it’s a song about something that we would expect taylor would be singing about if they’re together in the way we understand it to be, given what we have been shown. and some of the lyrics are so specific to this… far flung idea… and such a contemporary development… that it sort of works to recontextualize any of the songs on ttpd that would otherwise feel breakuppy? because it pushes the story so far forward in matching our understanding. the hardest songs are easier to see as emblematic of the past, and the path that led us here to the present. in this way, at least for me, it makes it easier to appreciate the kaylor easter eggs going on in the songs as emblematic of kaylor, as opposed to litigating them and filing them one by one, because i truly believe taylor would not release Robin if kaylor was actually over. same goes for recurring motifs throughout the album (and midnights, and you might also include folkevermore as well) related to what robin is about. might sound weird to say but you could almost make a drinking game out of the motif, honestly, given how often she does it throughout the album.

i know the whole thing is wild. i have accepted this and im not out here to push it on people 😌 though i do leave the porch light on for people passing by. because for years now, with each new album people continue to say oh this is the kaylor breakup album, oh she’s finally over it, and then i guess they get amnesia by the time the next album comes along and kaylor themes yet again persist. and idk, to me, kaylor just being together this whole time is actually one of the least complicated outcomes.

anyways, in conclusion, apologies for not providing a song by song analysis right away 🙏 but i wanted to put out this part in the meantime. i don’t expect everyone to agree with this premise but i think it’s key to understanding how a lot of us approach this album. i hope it provides a little insight into my perspective! 🫶

47 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 2 days

Text

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Well, not a snippet. A whole durn one-shot. No title yet, so let's just call it "Responsible Adults, or, Damas Wants A Raise"

(This mentions a hilarious headcanon that rose from a discussion of game weapons with @troblsomtwins829 and @segaphantom , one I intend to use from now on, where it was decided that red eco shockwave ammo is what Wastelanders give their kids when they're first learning trigger discipline, and Jak is the equivalent of a kid bringing down a grizzly bear with a plastic baseball bat. Also featuring swears borrowed from Watership Down because rabbit language is a lot of fun tbh)

It should have been a perfectly straightforward event. Fourteen candidates who had finally passed the initial terrain tests to Kleiver's satisfaction, finally able to go at it with weapons. Only Scatterguns for now, of course. Live ammunition would wait for those who passed their first trial. Those left standing would receive their gate pass and first amulet, everyone who had dodged the lava but not their comrades' shockwaves would be scraped off the sand and delivered to the on-site hospital. They would have to wait another month to retake their trial.

It was standard procedure.

They'd done it hundreds of times.

But this time, it was immediately apparent that something was amiss.

One man broke out of the pack before Damas could even explain what was expected of a first trial. He ran between the cover provided by the matter formers like his life depended on it, gun swinging uselessly on his back.

Well. That one probably wasn't going to last.

Damas sighed and checked the tiny screen that showed him the Arena from a closer view. Oh. That was the Krimzon Guard who had turned up at the temple, begging for clemency in the wake of Praxis's death.

Well if he survived this, his record was clean. But if he didn't-

Well that was one less Krimzon Guard in the world.

Behind him, down the stairs leading to the interior corridors of the Arena, Damas heard an alarm siren. He frowned. What could be so urgent as to sound an alarm back there? Was a patient coding?

The king twitched one ear back to listen for details while glancing periodically at the ring.

"All personnel, all personnel, be on the lookout: an unaccompanied minor is missing from Ward 2. Light hair, underweight, believed to be experiencing medical distress-"

Damas blinked. How on earth had a patient gotten out of the children's ward without someone noticing? Oh, Dr. Petros was going to spit fire when he found out.

"It's going to be one of those days," Damas grumbled, rubbing his forehead, "I can already tell."

He was correct.

A chorus of surprised voices began shouting in the stands, and Damas squinted down into the Arena. Amidst the chaos, the tattooed soldier formerly of Haven was still fleeing for his life. He occasionally fired behind him, but focused mainly on looking for a way out of the Arena. And now Damas could actually see his pursuer.

The figure was small -- tiny, compared to most of the candidates in both height and weight. It wove in and out of the combatants with an unusual speed and grace. But something was wrong.

"What the-"

Damas stood.

"Asa," he said into a handheld radio, "Don't activate the lava. Can you get eyes on the field and tell me if I'm actually seeing someone in hospital scrubs out there?"

"If what?!"

The man running the matter formers went silent as he peered out of his booth further down the wall.

"Bloody Frith! That guy doesn't even have a gun! They're not allowed to be unarmed for trials!"

"No, no they are not." Damas tightened his jaw. "But if he's unarmed-"

Then what's the Krimzon so afraid of?

The mystery candidate passed near the drone camera, and Damas almost dropped the screen entirely.

"Embleer Frith!" he swore, "It's that kid!"

It was the boy he'd found in the desert, barely alive, the one with a dead man's beacon in his hand. It had only been two days! Foundlings weren't permitted to take Arena trials until they had been declared medically sound for three consecutive days after their rescue!

Damas suddenly remembered the call from Petros, informing him that the young man was not, in fact, an adult from Haven. That he was in reality a young boy, covered with some deeply concerning scars. And the doctor had been very insistent about the foundling not being of age for combat trials.

The alarm from the hospital continued to blare, and Damas had a sinking feeling that the unaccompanied minor and the kid he'd hauled out of the desert were one and the same.

Who had allowed this?! The foundling definitely hadn't passed the terrain test yet -- he hadn't even reached the minimum age allowed to compete yet! He never should have gotten past Kleiver in the waiting hatch!

"Oh don't tell me," he breathed.

The Arena had been compromised. And that meant that the results of the fourteen candidates' initial combat trial were compromised. If Kleiver didn't have an incredible explanation for this, heads were going to roll.

Below, the boy had caught up to his quarry. Every single blast of the Scattergun, he dodged. Then the former guard shouted something; Damas couldn't make it out, but from the footage his lips seemed to be forming the word "free" or "freak".

Yells of both excitement and alarm filled the stands as the renegade patient just

Changed.

Purple sparks flickered over his body, like lightning. Every part of his body the sparks touched drained of all color. This was not the pallor of the dead, this was the white of bleached bone, and teeth. Black horns rose from ragged hair. Black claws were barely visible on each hand. At this distance, even his eyes looked black.

What. Was. That.

The KG screeched, firing without aiming. But the demonic boy launched too quickly to be tracked by the drone, taking the guard to ground. Damas knew without looking that the man was dying. He didn't even scream. There was only a pitiful gurgle as claws pierced his throat.

Damas turned the volume as far up on his screen as he could, just in time for the monstrous form to recede, to vanish as though it had been a mere hallucination. Spattered with blood, the boy from the desert stood up on shaking legs. Just barely, the drone caught his vicious hiss.

"Not so funny when you're the one with a mouth full of blood, huh, Tyber?"

He spat on the dying man.

And then his knees buckled.

Damas had seen enough.

"Stop the trial!" He commanded, waving guards towards the Arena. "The Arena is compromised! Get the candidates back to barracks, and send Kleiver to me, immediately."

He started to leave the booth, then turned back to the radio again.

"And find whoever was in charge of Ward 2 this week! And for the love of the Precursors get that kid out of my Arena!"

Oh, heads were going to roll.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jak could hear shouting long before the creaking wooden platform reached the top of the shaft. He'd already been tense when the two big Wastelanders pulled him off the cot someone had dropped him on. If one of them hadn't been carrying Daxter, it was very likely that Jak would have tried to kill them, too. Now he started tugging experimentally at his arms, checking their grip.

"Quit!" One of them scowled at him. "The king’s mad as it is, don't make it worse!"

"-Didn't drag that kid off death’s doorstep just for you two to send him right back!" A raspy voice was yelling, "So you tell me, Rezzik, how a patient -- who Petros already told me was a minor based on musculoskeletal scans -- got into the Arena -- unarmed -- during a combat trial!"

The voice that responded was the skinny guy Jak had shoved away from him when he first woke up.

"Sire, the boy just-"

"I didn't ask about the boy! Tell me what you did! You were in charge of the children's ward this week, not the boy! When I want to hear the boy's side of things, I'll ask him myself!"

The other guards holding Jak's arms sucked on his teeth nervously.

"Oh, he's pissed," he whispered. "I wouldn't want to be the nurse right now."

"Or Kleiver. They're in deep weeds," the other agreed.

The elevator locked into place and, for a moment, Jak forgot the shouting. They were inside. And there was water. Water. Inside. Vast pools of it like an indoor oasis. Trees lined the room, dropping the temperature by several degrees. And this had been built by hu'men hands! How?!

"Well there he is." The raspy voiced man -- oh, Jak had seen the guy with the staff on that balcony of that stadium -- made an impatient gesture in his direction.

"Back from the dead, are you? You've certainly caused a fuss, young one. Care to tell me exactly what you were doing unarmed in a combat trial?"

"A combat what?" Jak answered the question with a question.

The man with the staff steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. He inhaled sharply and wheeled to face the skinny medic.

"Rezzik!"

Rezzik put his hands up defensively. "He was unconscious, my lord! He wasn't expected to even be lucid until Se'enday!"

The king dropped his face into his palm.

"Oh my gods," he groaned, "He doesn't even know where he is, does he?"

"Uh, "he" is right here," Daxter snapped.

Every person but Jak jolted.

"It talks?!"

"Oh what the rot what the rot-"

"Oh that's so cursed-"

"Why does it talk?!"

Daxter whistled sharply.

"Yes yes, I'm a miracle of premodern medicine. Moving on! Who are you mooks, where are we, and what's all this about Jak and a combat trial?!"

Jak glowered at the ground.

"Saw Tyber. From the prison. He's dead now."

Daxter's ears drooped and his eyes widened. "Oh..."

He reached down to pat Jak's shoulder.

"The creep had it comin', Jak. You did good."

"Well. Considering you apparently weren't conscious until now, you can't be expected to have known," the man who was probably the king groused, "but entry into the Arena is restricted to those aged eighteen and older for a reason. So. What I need to know is who let you through that gate."

He pointed at the sullen man with the big mustache.

"Did he or did he not make any attempt to stop you?"

Frankly, Jak couldn't remember much about how he got onto that field.

"Wouldn't have mattered if he did or didn't," he muttered, "he couldn't have stopped me."

The king narrowed his eyes at him. Then he seemed to actually see him.

"Ah, what are we doing- Jin, Faro, let go of the kid! Get him some water for the gods sakes, he just passed out on the battlefield!"

Then he turned to look at the guy he'd called Kleiver.

His voice was much quieter now. And somehow that was more frightening.

"Kleiver, you know the procedure for new arrivals," he said softly. "Three days' recovery and approval from Maud or Petros before First Trial. So what made you let a boy in hospital clothes through that gate?"

The big man sneered. "Did you see the anklebiter?! He was out for blood! He ended up fine, di'n't he?"

"Fine?! Look at him!" The king gestured sharply in frustration. "He's wearing pajamas!"

"If he'd passed out two minutes sooner he could've died!" Rezzik gasped, appalled.

"Sire, this clearly wasn't the hospital's failure," he said, turning to the king. "This oaf put my patient in danger and-"

"Enough." Damas held up his hand, face hard.

"You are both to blame for what ultimately derailed the trials of fourteen candidates. Rezzik, I leave your penalty to be decided by your superiors. But Kleiver-"

He glared.

"Your only chance at retaining your position is if that boy had an extremely valid reason for hunting down that candidate."

Jak edged away from the guard offering him a canteen. "What counts as valid to you?" he asked pointedly.

The king paced to the edge of his dais, watching Jak with eyes a little too knowing. He folded one arm behind his back and studied him with none of the fire that had been directed at his own people.

"Newcomer, I will ask you only once, and you need only answer once. The man you killed: did he give you those scars?"

Jak went rigid.

They'd seen his scars.

They knew.

Nausea rocked him, crawling up his throat and tasting of shame.

"Boy?" The king pressed, "Did-"

"No." Jak practically spat the word out. "He kept me from escaping. He laughed. And now he's dead. Got a problem with that?"

The king scoffed slightly. He glanced back at Kleiver.

"You are fortunate today. I will retroactively approve an exception for the boy this once as a case of justified retribution. Do not let it happen again."

"Sire," Rezzik piped up again -- guy just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut -- "Arena exceptions must have signed affidavits from the guardian of the minor, mustn't they? As the attending physician, shall I-"

"Don't be a pot-stirrer, Rezzik," Damas said flatly.

Jak muffled a snort and exchanged amused glances with Daxter. At least he wasn't the one getting yelled at.

"No," Damas said, tense again and gritting his teeth, "Since apparently I am the only reasonable adult in this entire godsforsaken room today, I'll complete the affidavit."

He waved dismissively at the group.

"Do not compromise the trials of our candidates again. Negligence costs lives, and weakens our city, gentlemen."

Kleiver looked like he had a few choice words to say about that, but he dipped his head respectfully and marched away without a word. Jin and Faro cringed at each other, then made to grab Jak's shoulder.

"Come on, kid. You need to go back to the doc-"

Jak shoved Jin away and stumbled back.

"Don't touch me!"

Rezzik raised his hands placatingly, approaching as if the boy was a frightened baby animal.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, we only want to help you! I know you must be scared, but if you'll just let us get you back on the IV-"

Jak didn't hear anything else after that.

They were going to inject something into him.

They were going to strap him down and inject something into him-!

His breath shortened as he ducked Jin again. Faro was surprised enough by the elbow strike to his gut to loosen his grip on his gunstaff, and that was all Jak needed.

He ripped the weapon from the guard's hands and swung it in a wide arc, eyes wild.

"Get. Back."

Daxter snarled next to Jak’s ear. "Nobody touches my pal. Keep your filthy needles to yourself, or better yet, stick them up your-"

"Hey! Come on!" Faro complained, "That's custom, kid! You can't just jack a Wastelander's peacemaker, that's just not on!"

"You're not taking me back."

Jak swung the gunstaff again.

"I'm not going back there!

You can't take me back! I won't go back!"

Damas frowned and started down the steps. "What the bloody bones did you people do to make him do...that?!"

"That's...that's what I was trying to tell you before, sire," Rezzik said meekly as he backed away from Jak, "We didn't release him from care, he had some kind of...panic episode. Ripped out the IV and nearly killed Jessop on the way out."

The grinding of teeth was audible even at the bottom of the stairs.

"Petros is going to strangle you if he finds that you didn't take precautions with newcomer trauma," Damas said sharply.

"But we didn't know-! He was unconscious!"

"Get out."

Damas pointed to the elevator.

"Send Petros up here with his file after he deals with you."

When the guards didn't immediately follow the medic, Damas growled. "All of you get out! I've had enough foolishness for one day!"

"Sire," Jin gulped, "The uh, the boy-?"

"He's fine. I have to ask him questions for paperwork now thanks to at least one of you."

That left Jak and Daxter alone with the really really pissed off Wastelander King. (He hadn't even known there were enough Wastelanders to have a king!)

For almost a minute the man paced, swearing very colorfully under his breath. After six or seven very slow, deep breaths, he finally seemed to get control of himself again.

"How do you see needle scars and not think "hm, perhaps someone should stay with him to explain when he wakes up"? It's not that complicated!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

"Is it the full moon this week? It must be. Everyone's lost their twice-rotted minds around here."

He took another deep breath, and after letting it out slowly, he sat down on the edge of the dais.

"Well, I can hardly think of a worse introduction to Spargus than that, but I hope you won't hold it against me."

Jak kept the staff clutched tightly in his hands, but didn't aim it at the man yet.

"Who are you? And what's Spargus? I know it isn't in Haven. Nobody cares what age you are in Haven."

"Definitely not Haven." Damas buried a curse in his hands.

"Gods I hate that place."

Daxter scowled. "Join the club."

"My name is Damas. I am the king of the territory of Spargus, and the man who pulled you out of the desert that surrounds us. And you are going to be an interesting case, I can tell."

Damas used his staff to drag a box from the side of the throne to just beside him. After some digging, he came up with an oddly shaped piece of metal.

"Ah. There it is."

He looked up.

"This is a battle amulet. Earning three grants adult newcomers citizenship and equal legal protections in the city."

"What if you're not an adult?" Jak challenged.

"Then you're already a citizen, but you can't vote until you're nineteen." Damas dismissed this as if it barely warranted mentioning.

"Now, understand this, boy: I am giving you your first amulet. And I will give you the modular gun. But you will not be allowed to take further trials until you pass eighteen years of age. I will hold your gate pass until such time as you can show me you have learned to survive in the wastes out there."

"You're keeping us here?!" Jak bristled.

"You're a minor. You had heatstroke. It happens. And since my people want to be idiots today evidently, you and I are going to be stuck with each other for a couple years. So you'd better get used to this place." Damas turned and stood up to stretch.

"Frith-rot-it. I have to go get the bloody intake forms, make a whole folder now- Do we even have more guardian ad litem forms?!"

He stepped somewhere behind the throne and seemed to vanish. "Amuse yourselves while I'm gone. No drowning in my throne room.".

And then he was gone , leaving the boys with more questions.

"What...what just happened?" Daxter asked.

Jak didn't have an answer.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #long post #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #free day friday #reluctant dadmas and even more reluctant son #Jak is stuck in the tower because they can't get him back in the hospital #playing with ideas for what would make messing up an Arena fight so serious #Kleiver almost got fired because of Jak and he holds a grudge #Damas thinks he and the kid will stay out of each others way but the kid has night terrors #Damas has been jumpscared in his own hallways 17 times and its been one week #Jak's never had real constructive rules and boundaries before he doesn't know what's going on

34 notes · View notes

narrans · 2 days

Text

My Borrowed Son | 18 | Concerning Claims

Chapter Eighteen | Concerning Claims

Parker woke the next morning from a startling dream. He was running from something that he couldn’t see, nor did he want to see. He was sprinting for his life. Lungs were burning. Tears streaking down his cheeks. Everything felt big and menacing.

Clouds darkened the sky within seconds. Rain came pouring down from the darkness high above his head. There was someone’s voice calling out to him. It sounded so familiar, and yet not at the same time. Waves and water threatened to choke him, filling his mouth and nose as he gasped for air.

When Parker opened his eyes, he sat bolt upright drenched in sweat and chest heaving as he looked wildly around the room.

It had been a while since he had that dream.

It was a reoccurring nightmare where the details felt too real, too close, just to be a dream.

But that’s what they were.

Dreams.

Heaving breath after breath, Parker leaned back and let his heart pound and race until it finally quieted. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and stared at the space sticker above his head while his mind processed the dream.

The digital alarm clock, right on cue, began buzzing against the far wall. It was the alarm humming away without a care in the world. The boxy numbers on the green lit screen illuminated the room in a Matrix like glow, making the waking world fell like it was still part of the dream world.

Parker gave himself ten more seconds before hoisting himself up out of bed. He pressed the hand-sized button on the side of the watch to turn it off before falling into routine. Comb through the hair. Face washed. Teeth brushed. Clothes on.

The familiar padding of his mom’s footsteps came into the room right on cue followed by the signature tap tap tap on the edge of the wall.

“Parker?” His mom’s melodic voice was followed by the sound of the creaking hinges as the wall pulled away.

“I’m up,” Parker called. The wall stopped moving but remained cracked ever so slightly. Parker took the opportunity to head into his classroom and get everything turned on.

Parker’s mom tapped the top of the opening for a moment before asking, “Do you want anything specific for breakfast? I know you’ve got a lot of presentations today. Just some jelly toast?”

Parker smiled. His mom knew him so well.

“Yes, please,” he called. “But in a little bit. I want to go over my notes again. I’ll eat during third period. Thanks mom!”

For whatever reason, Parker didn’t like eating first thing in the morning. In fact, he tended to do better throughout the day if he ate scarcely. It seemed to contradict the behavior of many of his fellow students and friends. Many of them were ravenous in the mornings recently, but not Parker. There were also a few other interesting things that were developing, but Parker wasn’t going to think about it right now.

First things first – notes.

It wasn’t until Parker leaned forward and began flicking on all of his devices that he noticed the drill bit he had brought with him the night before. He had scurried back to his bed so fast that he had almost forgotten that he had brought it with him and threw it on the ground by his computer gear.

The events of last night felt like his dream – real and not real. It was more like a memory than a dream, and this dream was staring him right in the face. The rusty flat head drill bit just laid there as if trying to tell some silent story Parker couldn’t translate.

Where did it come from?

Where did it belong?

An odd sensation of kinship came over Parker as he stared at that drill bit. Some days he felt like those questions could apply to him. Those were thought that usually happened during bouts of loneliness Parker experienced from time to time in the dark nights when he heard about his friends hanging out or going places he knew he could only dream of visiting one day – and never alone.

“Parker? Are you online?” the voice of Parker’s teacher snapped him out of his temporary distraction. He tore his eyes away from the rusty drill bit and focused on the webcam.

“Yes. Yes! Sorry. The connection was acting a bit squirely. Can you hear me?” stammered Parker. The initial startle eventually calmed, and class proceeded as normal. Parker unfortunately had to go first in his presentation because of the initial worry about his internet connection issues, but nothing like that happened.

Tests finished and papers submitted, he and his friends waved a quick good-bye since Parker decided to have lunch with his mom.

“See ya spaceman! Don’t forget! Gaming after school. If you’re late, I swear I’m coming through the screen to get you,” Billie threatened playfully as the screen went to “Please Stand By,” a screen Parker created to pan over his face when he needed to step away.

His bones ached as Parker stretched and stood up from his desk. It was finally time for lunch, and his nerves finally dissipated enough for him to feel it. For whatever reason, Parker was feeling hungrier when he did eat. He knew he operated better without it in the mornings, but recently he always felt hungry.

It was probably something to do with what his mom said about his body starting to change, but that was still on the back burner of Parker’s mind.

Now, another series of questions was keeping the teen preoccupied, and it was making him nervous. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong about what he did. Sure, he didn’t want to say anything about using the line because he knew it would worry his mom and she would probably make him take it down. At the same time, the curious things he saw by the electrical cover and the wall made him squirm in ways he hadn’t before.

Something about the darkness of the wall and how it seemed to beckon him forward startled the young teen, and hopefully his mom would know what he was talking about.

So, packing up the drill bit into a backpack, Parker headed out of his little house and, like a good little boy who didn’t want to get in trouble, climbed down the stairs. The distance from one side of the room to the other felt like an impossible distance and made the hair on the back of Parker’s neck.

The space just felt so empty.

There was nothing to climb on.

There was nothing to hide under.

Parker shook his head as he processed what he had actually just thought.

Where did that come from?

It was ridiculous. Why would he need to hide? There was no reason to hide in his own home. While the sensation of being completely exposed in a mostly empty room loomed in Parker’s mind, he elected to walk calmly across the wooden floor.

He had just made it to the door when he heard a little tap tap tap on the door high above him. Parker’s heart hit the top of his throat and he backed toward the trim, but stopped halfway and corrected his course back toward the door.

What was with him today?

“Parker? Are you finished with class?” his mom called softly as she cracked open the door.

“Hey momma! Down here! Yeah, we’re breaking for lunch,” called Parker. His mom’s eyes flicked from the little house to the floor where she immediately spotted him. He waved as big as he could and stepped back a few steps as she knelt and held out her hand to him.

“Well, perfect timing then,” his mom smiled. Parker clambered onto his mom’s hand and noticed the faint scent of cheese and butter accompanied by the faint smell of spices. If he was right, she made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. “How did your projects go? Good so far? Feeling confident?”

Parker folded his legs crisscross style and braced as the hand beneath him lifted him high into the air. There was always an exciting yet nauseating sensation that came with his mom picking him up from the ground.

He thought about the questions and eventually shrugged as his mom rested her hand on the table for him to disembark.

“I think I did well. I had to go first most of the time since I was worried about my internet connection,” Parker replied. He felt something inside of him squirm uneasily.

“Yeah? Well, better to get it out of the way and then you get time during class to just relax,” responded his mom. Parker had heard that line before, and he knew she was right. Though he didn’t tell her, he had been using some of his spare time in class to work on his own writing.

Now wasn’t the time to think about his in-class activities, however.

Parker sadly had no inkling of how he wanted to go about asking, but the direct approach generally worked out for him. So, that’s what he decided to do.

“Um… actually… mom? Could… I ask you something?”

“You can always ask me anything and I’ll answer as best as I can.”

His palms suddenly felt clammy. Something in the back of his mind felt deceptive, like he wanted to keep this thing about the power and the drill bit a secret.

But why?

Why would he feel that way?

“Parker? You okay sweetie? You look a bit pale all of a sudden.”

Parker snapped out of his temporary stupor and looked up, realizing his brow felt a bit clammy too. He reached up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, shuddering as he realized he had a light cold sweat on his brow.

“Yeah… yeah… I’m fine. I just… well… I got a bit spooked last night from the lights and that whole thing was just… in my mind just now,” stammered Parker.

“Oh… sweetie… I’m sorry. Did you have a nightmare about it?” At his mom’s question, Parker remembered more fragments of his dream. He remembered a hand reaching out and grabbing him. He remembered a voice shouting something at him as the rain pummeled the ground around him.

“N-no. I had a… different dream. Well. Nightmare. It’s the same one… about the storm.”

Amanda’s face immediately filled with sympathy. She knew about the reoccurring nightmare Parker experienced about some raging storm and darkness coming at him from all directions. In her heart of hearts, Amanda suspected her tiny, adopted son was catching glimpses of the past of where he was before, but she didn’t dare bring anything up – not yet.

When he asked the questions, she would answer them.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. You could’ve come and gotten me. Or rang the bell. I would’ve gotten up. You can wake me at any time,” said Amanda. Her heart ached as she thought about Parker shivering sad, frightened and alone in the other room.

“I know, but I wasn’t that scared. It was just a dream,” mumbled Parker as he averted his eyes. Amanda watched as Parker reached into his makeshift backpack and, to her heart sinking surprise, produced a rusty drill bit.

Immediately, a thousand thoughts ran through her head.

Where did he get that?

That doesn’t look like one of mine.

Why is it so rusty?

Wait… if he didn’t get it from me… where did it come from?

Parker’s question, raised by his thoughtful, tiny voice, brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Mom? Is this one of yours?” Amanda set her jaw and held out her hand for Parker to place the drill bit. He surrendered it willingly and looked up expectantly for an answer. Amanda lifted it up, pinching it between her index finger and thumb, and rolled it around. The flathead had small scuff marks that she was sure Parker noticed along the tip which had scraped away parts of the rust.

It had been used – and recently.

What was worse was that she didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t part of her tool kit; but if it didn’t come from there, where did it come from?

“Where did you find this?” she asked as she felt her hands starting to shake, her thoughts now kicking back into high gear.

“By the electrical cover, which was a bit loose,” replied Parker. “And… there was something else too…”

Amanda swallowed dryly.

What was Parker going to say?

Was there any way to stop it?

Was it happening? Right here right now?

“Oh?” Amanda prayed Parker couldn’t hear the strain in her voice.

“Yeah. There was a weird mark on the wood. I… well… I went down to double check that the power cord wasn’t going to blow in the middle of my presentations and everything. I went down and found that by the electrical cover that we replaced. And I know you have a flathead, but it doesn’t look rusty like this so I looked at the cover and it was off slightly.

“So, I gave it a nudge and it came loose and there was this weird pencil mark on the wood. I can show you. It’s kinda small and looks like a little house with a checkmark on the inside. So, anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you know what it is and if this was yours.”

When Parker finished, Amanda felt completely sick to her stomach. Parker’s questions about where this mystery thing came from was part of her worst nightmares, and it was dangerously close to the truth.

Because, ultimately, Amanda’s thoughts went wild and made the dangerous leap that Parker might not be the only small person living under her roof.

If the tool piece wasn’t part of her kit and wasn’t there before when she was working with Parker, then someone had to leave it there; and that someone couldn’t have been much bigger than Parker.

It was only logical.

It was the only thing that made sense.

But… if that’s the case… does whoever it is know about Parker?

Are they going to leave him alone?

Are they going to talk to him?

What if they try to hurt him?

How long have they even been he-

“Mom?”

Amanda took her first breath in a moment and looked down into Parker’s thoughtful brown eyes. There was something in those sweet, innocent eyes that sent a pang through Amanda’s chest.

How?

How could she do it?

How could she tell this wonderful little boy that he wasn’t hers? At least, not entirely.

More importantly, why hadn’t this mysterious other person, if they were still around, come and talked to Parker? Or her for that matter?

Amanda took another deep breath and looked at the drill bit, making the decision of a lifetime.

Ultimately, Parker didn’t ask about himself or where he was from.

He only asked about the drill bit and the markings he found.

Answer the questions he’s ready for. If he didn’t ask, he’s not ready. If he asks follow-up questions after this… so be it.

“It’s weird,” she said after clearing her throat a few times. “I don’t recognize it. I don’t know where it came from. I can put it with my things if you’d like. Maybe it did come from an old kit of mine.”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I don’t need it,” replied Parker. “And the markings?”

“I can’t say without seeing it myself. They don’t look like carpentry marks or construction marks?” Parker shook his head to his mom’s questions.

“Nope. It’s just weird,” Parker stated. When her son didn’t ask any additional questions, Amanda put a pin in the conversation and decided to change the subject.

“Well, we can discuss this a bit more after you finish school. Until then, you need to get some food down. Your lunch break is almost over. Goodness, they don’t give you any time at all,” suggested Amanda as she picked herself up from the table and brought over the grilled cheeses and tomato soup she had made.

“Yeah, right. Thanks mom,” smiled Parker. He took his bowl and plate graciously and began eating his food in little bites, his appetite stunted by this interaction he had with his mom.

There was something in the air that lingered around like a bad smell. There was a tremor to her voice and a tremble to her hand. Parker wasn’t sure what it was. His mom seemed just a little frazzled.

But why?

Parker glanced back up at his mom and noticed her frequent nervous glances in his direction. That little curious voice in the back of his head forced him to surrender and ask once more, “Mom? You sure you don’t know where that came from?”

Parker watched as him mom’s fingers fumbled on her spoon, dropping it with an ear shattering clang as it fell back into the bowl. It made both of them jump out of their skin before Parker’s mom cleared her throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she claimed before biting her lower lip and slowly making eye-contact with Parker. “Where do you think it came from?”

Parker averted his eyes and shrugged, embarrassed to say he didn’t have an answer. That curious part of him wondered once more about what he saw last night when he stepped out of his room.

Was what he saw really a shadow? And, if so, what made it?

Was that what left the drill bit? The shadow?

One thing was certain, and it was that Parker knew shadows didn’t make themselves – and his mother’s curious claim of not knowing wasn’t sitting well with him.

Was… his mom… keeping something from him?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Beginning

24 notes · View notes

belokhvostikova · 2 days

Note

I've been going through your whole masterlist since yesterday and it's safe to say I'm obsessed! You're a fantastic writer <33

I have to say “Interrogations with the unconscious” is my favorite. It was a big ouchie, though... Do you think they did wind up back together (after some grovelling from Eddie 😉), or do they go back to no contact?

Ah, THANK YOU SO MUCH! <3 I love that my page is being ransacked!

And “Interrogations with the Unconscious,” are you kidding?! I feel like out of all my oneshots, that one is not my most popular, but it’s a dear little treasure of mine, I loved writing it! It was my birthday treat! :)

(Please know, if I ever write a story wear Eddie and Reader don’t get back together, I’ve been kidnapped and someone’s taken over my page!) Rockstar!Eddie, of course, grovels to the depths of hell to get back with Reader- well, at least in my head, lol. It’s safe to say Eddie does, in fact, have a face that’s hard to say no to, as—much to their dismay—management would allow him to stay in Indianapolis longer than what was intended.

It was a win-win, those who previously bought tickets to the Indy show were able to attend a show, where Eddie actually stayed to perform, and Eddie got the gift of spending Christmas with you. Of course, it came with much reluctance on your part, but when Eddie promised to bring “the old man” with him, you couldn’t pass up a chance to spend Christmas with Wayne Munson!

He played quite the mediator, enjoying the snippy banter that played out between you and Eddie over the roast. And when needed, Wayne jumped in to take your side, and ensured Eddie was receiving all the playful insults. And maybe, just maybe, when Eddie needed help with kneading the cookie dough, a little spark buzzed within you two, as your fingers brushed to smooth out the mush of flour and eggs.

But, of course, the road called, and Eddie couldn’t spend time in Indy forever. Which is why he exuded the most effort to fly across the country to spend his off days in Indiana. For you? No. Totally not. It just so happened to be a coincidence that during this period one of the biggest playboys in Hollywood wasn’t photographed with any models/actresses, like he usually would be. Total coincidence, ha ha…

And maybe you notice how attentive he’s become, washing off that rockstar facade to showcase the old Eddie you once fell in love with. Something about being back in his home state that really brings him back down to Earth. So, perhaps, one day, Eddie suggests moving back to Indiana. And his team hates it. But what’s his team without Eddie Munson?!

So, yeah, a plot of land is purchased in Indiana- hey, funny enough, only a twenty minute drive from your townhouse, huh? And maybe it’s the close proximity that allows a friendship to bud between you and Eddie. I mean, it’s not like you can avoid him, he’s still in your friend group.

And let’s just say, one, I don’t know, drunken night, you’re feeling just a teensy bit horny. C’mon, you’re a grown woman with needs, happens to the best of us. And Eddie, well, Eddie can recognize that needy face from a mile away, so when he catches those round eyes across the room at the mixer Harrington was hosting, he jumped hurdles to ask if you were okay.

Of course, you weren’t okay! You knew that! He knew that!

And Eddie complied with every stern request from you that this was only a ONE. TIME. THING.

But is it ever really? No.

Nine months later, gossip articles are in a frenzy over the iceberg that’s been spotted on your ring finger.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #interrogations with the unconscious

23 notes · View notes

sunny-mercya · 13 hours

Text

Red Water

Poly! Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x FTMale Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Warning: Mention of Period and Blood,

The clean water, with a bit added soap, in the bathtub, once scorching hot—frogging up the window and mirror, leaving glistening droplets on the tiles behind—had long ago turned cold—creating goosebumps on the naked skin and the red water couldn't be any redder anymore, a strong smell of iron lingering in the air.

The first two days—in your monthly week of still remaining Period, a deadweight to endure till it could be finally removed—were always the easiest to manage with barley any pain nor blood, but once the third day hits the mark, it comes crashing in like a unseen flood.

Skyrocketing high waves of pain, so unbearable and uncomfortable that not even four pills of heavy dosed painkillers seemed to help—letting you go into a hysteria of crying and screaming, wanting nothing more but to stab yourself into the stomach and ripping out that reminder of former—of something which you never were to begin with—anatomy still existing inside of you.

And with the pain, so comes the blood and it surely was way more blood than it should be—causing still a great worry for your older siblings, Doctor and Boyfriends—because the amount of blood you're losing within the next three days—when your period has their actual start—could be almost considered of needing a constant transfusion to keep you stable.

So you thought, because sometimes it seemed to help, a good hot bath could soothe your pain—but today it just didn't work and so you continued to lay in the bathtub till the water turned cold and became a murky smelly red.

~~~

»[Name]? Did you fall asleep in there?« Billy knocked on the bathroom door for a third time, annoyance mixing with worry—as you had been in the bathroom for over four hours now and that was never a good sign to begin with.

Billy thought, when you had announced, hours ago—in a small barley audible whisper—you would take a bath, he could do a quick grocery trip—but like said before, that was hours ago and now he's back in your home and you're still in the bathroom.

Billy knocked again, hand sliding up to the doorknob, ready to burst in—if the door is locked, which shouldn't even be—and for once ignoring the boundary of respecting privacy.

It wasn't like Billy or Stu hadn't seen you naked, just not completely nude as it was always only your chest—which after your breast surgery, you liked to show proudly and with a good amount of self confidence and love—and sometimes your and only your ass, when Stu felt like being a naughty silly little shit—and nothing more, after all you had made it pretty clear to them how much you valued the privacy of your body.

»Still no response? Maybe he really did fall asleep?« comment Stu, leaning against the wall and arms slightly crossed.

»Sleeping in cold water for damn four hours? I don't think so. [Name]! We're coming in now!« Billy turned the knob, opening the door and once the ironing smell comes into his nose—Billy was close to recoil, holding back a gag.

Of course Billy had seen blood before, knew that irony smell well, but this was something else—this smell was more foul and more intense, leaving a taste of disgust behind.

»Pff, looks like the red sea, doesn't it?« Stu snorted a bit at his own joke, getting hit in the stomach by Billy within minutes later.

»Not funny Stu. Not the damn time.« gritted Billy out, glaring at Stu slightly—pushing the lanky tall frame of his boyfriend a bit out of way.

»[Name]? Still with us?« Billy asked, getting near the tub, crouching down and poking a finger at your cheek.

You didn't respond, reacted at all, even though you heard your boyfriends very clearly, you just couldn't answer—brain feeling numb and tongue tied up.

Billy sighed out through his nose, dunking his hands into the murky red water and under your armpits—practically fishing you up and out of the tub, waiting for Stu to put the bathrobe around you, before carrying you into your bedroom.

~~~

The texture of the bathrobe and towels, which grazed your naked skin—especially your ass—felt rough and unpleasant, not so soft as they once were before.

There was no other choice of way though, with the heavy bleeding you do, your older sister had long ago established the rule—after you had stained all your underwear, pants and a lot of bedsheets into a mass pile of red colour—that you have to lay on these large towels and wear—when at home—a bathrobe, because you could stain them as much as you want—as your sister didn't need to wash so often than (or rebuy bedsheets and clothes again)

What's even worse to feel, besides the rough texture, is the knowing flowing wetness of blood—which you could practically feel dripping—down there, making you grimace in discomfort.

Stu, not completely aware of your distressing situation—because that's more Billy's area of knowledge—pressed the two hot water bottles a bit harder onto your stomach, believing the pain is the reason for your grimacing face.

»Did he already took painkillers? Maybe we should add up to like ten, maybe than those cramps are going down,« Stu mused out his thoughts, perking up when something akin to an sniffle or small cry like sound emitting from your lips.

»Sometimes, Stu, I'm really question your ability of mind.« Billy looked absolutely done with Stu's nonsense, raising a brow—scowling in slight annoyance.

Stu had the mind of a gutter, when it comes to human senses and the ability of emotional intelligence (and empathy)—but when it comes to mathematics, physics and science, he's a real genius for such subjects (Billy find absolutely boring)

»Just saying, doubling the medications might do wonders of reduce« shrugging his shoulders, Stu turned his attention back to you, grinning brightly he leaned down—pecking your lips.

There was no doubt though, that Stu was way better in showing affection than Billy—as Stu is more extrovert, a people and party person.

Billy shook his head, taking also a seat next to you—forcing a straw to your lips, knowing very well that you have to stay hydrated and having to intake more sugar into your bloodstream, otherwise you would collapse and being send to the hospital.

»C'mon [Nickname] drink up.« Billy said it like a command and when you took a few sips, Billy praised you with a compliment of „Good boy“

Some week in the months might be hard, but with two Boyfriends, like Billy and Stu, at your side—you knew you're in good hands as these two make sure that you're feeling good and comfortable, treating you like a prince.

Simply because, if you can give them love—showering them in a bliss of affection—they can give you comfort in return.

20 notes · View notes

ekwolfwriter-blog · 1 day

Text

WIP Zutara Month Challenge: Meet Cute/Ugly

Honestly, this one is a bit of a challenge for me. Not that I could not do meet cute, but mostly because I associate meet cutes/ ugly with modern stuff. And while I have dabbled with modern stuff, I have been trying to stay closer to the time period of the characters - at least for me.

Definitely can recommend one or two meet cutes that are pretty sweet and fit that modern feel.

As for this challenge, I think I am going to twist the prompt a bit and show a bit of a meet cute that is a set up for a bigger plot.

For context of this plot: This AU is a no war AU - well not yet at least. A version where the North and South are kinda like the same in terms of a royal class that rules over the rest, and the royal blood must rule - does not matter if male or female. There is on tradition, in order to succeed, one must be married and approve by the council of the water tribe elders to be come the ruler (it is vague because it is a fairy tale). Katara is a princess in this story and Zuko, banished from his home and sent to the Southern Water Tribe for protection, ends up meeting Katara as a young princess.

Eventually, they will grow up together. Zuko becomes her personal knight/ guardian as she gets more rambunctious, but they grow and care for one another; and become close enough that they are in love. But traditions keep them apart... for now. So, here is how their meet cute went:

Zuko looked over at the training ground as he is trying to think of something to cheer his princess up from this news of having to be married to someone else. He saw the new soldiers fighting and sparing and some of them stumbling, but all the while a few laughs. Zuko chuckled as well.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Zuko asked.

Katara glanced up at him from the ground, still had tears in her eyes a little. "What?"

"I was just thinking about the first time we met. How different things were then?" he said as he was recalling the first time Uncle brought him to Madame Kana many years ago, asking the matriarch at the time to take him under his wing after an incident scarred and banished him. Zuko was shut down then, and had a bandage over his left eye so he could not see or hear much.

Katara thought about it as she nodded. "I recall. Sokka and I were trying to see what was going on. And it did not help the grown ups were trying to shoo us away while your uncle and Gran Gran were talking."

Zuko nodded. "I don't remember much of what they were talking about. But there was something that caught my attention that day."

Katara looked up at him softly. "What caught your attention?"

Zuko glanced down at her, his golden eyes seemed to flicker with a teasing look. "A pair of soft blue eyes that was being too fussy about leaving and not missing out on something new."

Katara rolled her eyes and smirked. "Well not my fault I was curious."

"Curious enough to try and sneak glances at me as I was being escorted to the training halls?" Zuko teased as he thought about it.

It was a hard day for him as his uncle basically asked Zuko to hide him away. That much he knew. As he got older, the details were clearer to him as to why, and talks with his uncle and Lu Ten over letters, and even with the matriarch herself explaining to him why, it made sense. But the pain then as a child being left behind in a world so foreign from his own, and with people that did not seem to like him or want him. And yet a waterbending princess seemed to follow and break the rules to keep watching him. Staring at him like she was trying to figure out something about him that drew her to him.

Katara blushed as she turned her face away. "I just wanted to make sure you got there safely. It is only right."

"If that is what you say, my princess," he smirked as he looked away.

Katara returned her gaze up at him as he was looking away. "If I recall, you were not exactly the most talkative and seemed to have more bite to you than what the other guards were willing to put up with. And at least I was the only one willing to face you. Even Sokka would not spar with you until you were finished training."

Zuko chuckle as he nodded as well. "True. Even if I was doing the same exercises, no one really wanted to fight against a fire bender. Given our reputations."

Katara stiffened as she looked away again. She remembered following Zuko out of fear that maybe he would snap at someone, and while he did, Katara did not see him use firebending like the rumors said. If anything, he was just a scared kid, doing his best to not give the others reasons to attack him. Well give them reasons to hurt him more than she knew they did as she would find him in the sick bay, beat and hurt. And how she saw his scar the first time.

Katara took a breath as she spoke: "Firebenders are more than capable of showing compassion and care. You just need to let others see it."

Zuko looked at her and nodded. "You remembered?"

Katara nodded. "Of course, I remembered it vividly," she said softly. "It was the first time you let me heal you. Even if you were snappy."

Zuko chuckled again. "Well can you blame me when an nearly 8 year old comes up and heals you and has more wisdom in her words than half the grown ups? I thought you were mocking me at first."

Katara rolled her eyes. "If I was mocking you, I would have challenged you to sparring."

"You did that too. And then rightfully kicked my butt," Zuko added as he smiled.

Katara smiled. "I still think you let me win then. I was no where near good as I am now."

And going to stop there, otherwise, I will go all night. But this one, I do hope to make into a story. But I just need to figure out when. If people are interested, please let me know!

#zutara #writing #zutara fanfiction #zutara month 2024 #meet cute #day 3 #katara x zuko

22 notes · View notes

sleepyfan-blog · 2 days

Text

Questions

Author’s Note: This is the next fic in Cedric’s Adventures. First. Previous.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: angst, 30k typical anti-religious sentiment, beating as punishment, unreliable narrator, ask me to tag if something bothers you!

Summary: Cedric asks captain Ash’val when morning prayers are.

"Captain Ash'val... I... I've got some questions, if you have the time, sir." Cedric asked, having managed to pluck up the courage to go to the usually warm and kind Salamander Scout Captain. While there were many things he deeply missed about the time period he had been sent to, most of those things - and people - were wholly outside of his grasp. But there were a small handful of things that Cedric was hopeful that he could have in this time period, that he'd had in the time that he had come from. He was very deliberately not fidgeting with his hands, standing at attention as he waited for the older marine to acknowledge his presence in the other's office.

The Salamander hummed, looking up from the machine that Cedric had been taught functioned similarly to a data-slate and gestured to one of the chairs on Cedric's side of the desk. "I've got time to talk with you, Cedric. Please, sit down. There's no need to be so formal, young one."

"If you say so, sir." Cedric responded, unable to keep direct eye contact with one of his superior officers, having been taught by both the Mechanicum and the Black Templars that doing so was both rude and a sign of defiance or challenge. He obediently sat in the chair Ash'val indicated that he sit in. He took in a deep breath, willing the anxiety welling in his hearts to not still his tongue as he asked "Where are the morning devotionals being held, sir? Or are they being held at a different time of the day, sir?”

".... The what?" The older marine asked, a frown appearing on his face.

"Morning prayers? Part of the morning meditation exercises that every marine is supposed to take in? Or at least, the beginning of shift prayers and meditation that each marine is supposed to complete when not in immediate life threatening danger, should he be overheard, sir?" Cedric clarified, genuinely confused by the other's reaction, and doing his best to explain himself. Not every marine had the same work schedule, after all.

"... Prayers to whom?" Ash'val asked, the frown on his face deepening, his voice shifting strangely.

"The... The God-Emperor of Mankind? The being on who's divine mandate we were all created to serve and protect humanity on?" Cedric answered, deeply confused by the other's question. Who else would Loyal Marines be worshiping? The Living Saints were more for mortals, though he supposed that some marines probably would send prayers to the nine holy Primarchs during their devotionals as well, depending on what they were doing for that day.

"You... You believe that the Emperor of Mankind is a god?" Ash'val inquired, his face having frozen in a carefully neutral expression, though there was tension in his voice that confused Cedric tremendously.

"Yes sir. I was first taught by the Mechanicum to worship him in his aspect as the Omnisiah, but that was corrected by my Black Templar older brothers, after I was sent to them, sir. He is the Lord Commander of the imperium, the shining golden light in the darkness, sir. Without His protection we - and the rest of humanity - would be lost. Killed or enslaved by Xenos and Chaos." Cedric answered earnestly, repeating what he's been told over and over again in his home time.

"... I see. This base does not have a morning devotional, nor would you find such things at four of the other bases in this city. The fifth is run by... Hmm. The fifth is a primarily Chaos base and their worship is of gods opposed to yours. I can tell that you genuinely believe in what you say, but I would suggest not speaking of the... The Emperor as a god in this base much. Most of us who live in this base are from a time before and during the Horus Heresy, and shortly after... And-" Ash'val paused, looking Cedric over carefully.

The young apothecary couldn't look at Ash'val directly. He could hear the recrimination and judgment in the older marine's voice. Guilt and confusion hit him harder than Tau ordinance and it took all of his self-control to resist the temptation to slowly ooze out of the chair and onto the floor. Cedric was keenly aware of how uncomfortable he'd made the Salamander, which hadn't been his intention at all. He... He'd just missed going to morning prayers with his Templar brothers. The sense of community, camaraderie and togetherness that the morning hymns and group meditation at the beginning of his shifts aboard the Sigismund, and in the mornings on whichever Monastery he ended up on occasionally had been wonderful. He'd hoped to participate in that again on ancient Terra. "I... I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, sir... and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, sir. I... I'll leave now." He got up to his feet and retreated from the room as fast as he could, the hurt and confusion making his hearts ache and his eyes sting with tears that he refused to let fall. He was keenly aware of the fact that he was likely to face more punishment for the questions that had clearly made the well-liked and well-respected Scout Captain uncomfortable, and he heard the other call his name, but Cedric desperately needed out of that room.

Cedric threw himself into the chores that he'd been assigned to do that morning, frantically scrubbing the floors of the main entrance hall, watering the plants growing in the internal open spaces of the base and completing the handful of minor repair requests that had come in during the night. The fact that he did that while hyper-aware of his surroundings and avoiding every older brother he possibly could - especially Ash'val, who's steps and hearts'-beats he could hear coming from far enough away with his enhanced hearing to (hide from) avoid in order to not upset further - was just a bonus of his primaris physique. He would report to one of the chaplains to pay for his sins later. For now he needed to calm down.

There was only so long that Cedric could evade all of the older brothers and cousins who lived in this base - especially as he couldn't bring himself to disobey the order to stay on base. There was also the terrible misfortune he suffered of being larger than most first-born marines, and there were only so many places he could be without an older marine finding him at some point. Cedric had also not been created and trained for stealth missions either. He had managed to evade them for several days with his concerted efforts, though he was careful to complete each and every one of the punishment chores he had been assigned to, not wanting to make things even worse for himself.

So the young Primaris marine wasn't terribly surprised when one of the chaplains who lived on base - a stern-faced Imperial Fist with steely blue eyes and greying hair - entered the room that Cedric was currently in. The young black templar was kneeling on the ground, scrubbing furiously at a stain on the stone floor with the scrubbing sponge that he'd grabbed after fleeing from captain Ash'val and beginning his punishment-chores for the day. He was acutely aware of the older marine as the other made his way across the anxiety-cleaned and meticulously cleaned floor. He'd stopped running when he'd known that Chaplain Feldarim was searching for him. While his older brothers likely thought otherwise, he wasn't stupid. He knew that running from a chaplain was a bad idea - and running from the highest ranking chaplain in the base was catastrophically worse. His breathing hitched a little, though he desperately tried to keep himself from visibly tensing or flinching at the older marine's approach. He continued to scrub on his knees, struggling to keep his breathing even and normal, hoping that the other wouldn't notice the way his fingers trembled around the sponge in his hand.

Chaplain Feldarim walked carefully across the room, coming to stand in front of Cedric, his ceramite boots within the younger marine's line of sight as Cedric continued to scrub and clean.

Every time Cedric finished a one foot segment of floor and shifted over to the next tile, Chaplain Feldarim would side-step to keep within the young apothecary's line of sight.

Cedric continued to scrub until each tile in this room was not only clean, but shined and polished to a mirror finish. His fingers ached faintly from the amount of strength he had used, and the hours it had taken to get this room's floor properly clean. He placed the sponge back in the bucket he'd periodically been dipping it into, to get more cleaning solution, letting it go. He sat back on his knees, placing his hands down on the floor in front of his knees, head still bowed. There was no way he was going to break the silence by speaking first and waited patiently, penitently.

Eventually chaplain Feldarim sighed. It was a heavy thing, filled with wordless condemnation.

Cedric fought the urge to curl in on himself, to hunch his shoulders to his ears. To cringe away from whatever just punishment he was about to receive from the chaplain, bracing for pain. Physical, emotional, or likely both. He did, to his eternal shame, close his eyes tightly and turn his head to one side, flinching a little as Feldarim began to speak.

"I've heard that you have some questions, lad. You brought them to Ash'val and then ran off. Considering what he told me those questions were, you'd have been better served going to one of the Chaplains, as you had questions about faith." Feldarim chided Cedric. His voice was surprisingly gentle, but Cedric suspected that the other was just getting started.

Cedric said nothing in response, unsure if he was allowed to, or if this was going to be a one-sided lecture. He erred on the side of caution and stayed silent on his knees, gaze firmly on the other's boots.

The Imperial Fist Chaplain sighed again, and an armored hand briefly entered Cedric's line of sight, the gauntlet the gold and black of the older Marine's chapter.

To Cedric's eternal shame, he flinched backward when one of Feldarim's armored hands touched his face and chin. Shame burned his cheeks and he forced himself to still, waiting for the expected for his outward show of hesitation and fear to follow.

The silence stretched, heavy and expectant uncomfortably before the Chaplain spoke again "... Were you expecting me to hurt you, Cedric?"

Fuck. He was clearly expected to answer. He swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat that threatened to choke him "I... I apologize for flinching, chaplain. I will do my best not to do so again." Because what else was he supposed to say? Of course the other was going to hurt him. Pain was a common enough punishment inflicted upon misbehaving aspirants and battle brothers alike. Among Black Templars, Chaplains were most often in charge of the administration and execution of punishments. Cedric found himself intensely grateful that none of his squad had come with him. As an Apothecary, depending on what he had done wrong and the situation he and his squad were in, he did not always receive the physical punishments he had earned. Instead one or more of his squad brothers would be punished in his stead, and he would be the one to patch them up, while apologizing to them for being the reason why they were bloodied and healing.

"That is an answer, but not to the question I asked of you, Cedric." Feldarim pointed out, irritation seeping into his voice. One of the older marine's armored hands was still holding onto his chin and he was desperately trying to keep his breathing even and steady.

He was trying to shove the shameful and un-Astartes-like emotions that were threatening to have him cry in front of a Chaplain about to administer punishment. It would only make what was about to come more agonizing. "It.. Is only be in service of making me a better marine, sir." He forced himself to say, hating the way that his treacherous body was starting to shake from the intensity of the fear and nervous anticipation running through him. As he had been taught before, during and after such punishments.

"I want you to look at me, Cedric. Look me in the eyes, as I tell you something. So you know that I mean what I say." Chaplain Feldarim ordered, the grip on his chin tightening a little. Enough to be noticeable, but not painful.

Not yet.

Cedric let out a shaky breath as he complied, forcing himself to look up into the older marine's face. His eyes darted up to look into the Chaplain's before they slid down to the other's nose - a little crooked, looking as though it'd gotten broken and healed slightly off of center at some point. Probably multiple times, given the bloody and dangerous work of a Space Marine. No matter how he tried, he couldn't keep his gaze focused on the older marine's eyes, though he desperately tried to obey the other's orders.

"I. Am not. Going to beat you. None of the Chaplains in this base are going to beat you. None of the chaplains on any of the bases on Ancient Terra should ever raise a hand to you like that in punishment, no matter if they're Loyalist, Chaos or Renegade. You should never have been beaten, much less beaten as often and harshly as to make you flinch automatically at the touch of an allied chaplain. Has anyone on Ancient Terra beaten you and called it a punishment?" Feldarim asked, his voice shaking with rage and concern.

His words made no sense, but his fury was at least familiar. While Cedric did his best to behave himself, he'd been on the wrong side of a chaplains' wrath more than a couple of times. Some of the first-born older brothers really resented the fact that Cedric and his younger brothers existed. Sure, they had been gifted to the Black Templars by The Imperial Regent to strengthen their fleet... But some of the older brothers were incredibly strict and harsh on them, finding fault in everything they did, and culling brothers who did not conform quickly enough. "No sir." He answered earnestly. No one had lifted a hand to him in punishment on Ancient Terra.

Some of the rage and worry left the chaplain, and he sighed again, eyes softening a little "There's that, at least. And stand up, lad. You've been on your knees for hours. Your knees are going to be complaining at you for a while for being on them for so long. Up you get, there's a good lad." The hand on his chin shifted down to one of Cedric's elbows as the older Marine helped him up to his feet.

Cedric silently stood up, reeling from both the bit of underserved praise he'd gotten, and the fact that the older marine believed that he shouldn't be beaten as part of his punishments. If that held true for Imperial Fists, how then did they keep discipline? Was that why he had been restricted to base and given chores to complete? Was... Was that the extent of his punishment for being "rude" to two allied chaos space marines?

Ancient Terra continued to confuse him on a soul-deep level.

"Follow me, lad. While you've been quite dutiful in doing your chores, I know that you haven't eaten anything since your conversation with captain Ash'val. Missing meals isn't good for anyone, and I'm going to make sure you eat, lad." Chaplain Feldarim ordered, still holding Cedric by the elbow as he guided the primaris marine to the cafeteria, voice gently chiding.

"Yes sir..." Cedric mumbled, ducking his head a little, feeling intensely foolish for how he'd reacted, as he obediently followed after the first born marine.

#salamander #black templar #oc: cedric #oc: Ash'val #oc: Feldarim #Imperial Fist #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer 40k #my writing #cw: beating as punishment #cw: unreliable narrator #because cedric is Scared #warhammer 30k

33 notes · View notes