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flemingsfreckles · 2 months

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Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt.3

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Part 1, Part 2 the more time you spend in Jessie’s bed the more you start to realize maybe it’s more than good sex

Warnings: Smut (18+), frat boy Jessie vibes, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), strap on (r receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, edging, cursing

WC: 4.9k

A/N: this is like a 50/50 smut/not smut split. For the sake of this series continuing it unfortunately couldn’t just be straight banging, so there’s a little plot.

“Please, Jessie, please.” You yelled into your pillow as Jessie was behind you thrusting roughly, her thighs slapping hard against the back of yours. She was putting so much force into you that you were gripping the bed sheets to prevent your body from moving. Your body was exhausted but you fought against her thrusts to keep your knees under you.

Letting her use the strap on you had been like opening the floodgates of sex between the two of you. You had both fallen asleep together in her bed after the first time she used it on you. When you woke up Jessie had moved to the living room where she was sitting watching tv. You had sat down next to her, it only took a few minutes for her hand to move onto your thigh and before you knew it, she was kneeling in front of the couch with her face buried between your legs making you cum for the third and fourth time that day. Instead of coming over to just hang out with her, you came over to hang out, but also you weren’t going to turn down mind blowing sex.

You felt bad for both of your neighbors over the past few weeks, you alternated between your place and hers but it was still an excessive amount of sex being had that your poor neighbors had to hear. The sex had somehow managed to get better, you’re not sure how but it had. You were beginning to try more things, but Jessie was still hesitant about being too fast or hard on you. She still need some encouragement here and there, sometime getting caught up in the fact that she cared about you more than her other hookups, unable to completely let herself go. She tended to be soft, making sure her actions were slow, gentle.

You could feel when she would hold herself back from being rough. She’d get caught up and move faster or harder, you’d let out a whimper or a cry out of surprise or pleasure and she’d immediately slow back down much to your dismay. Despite your encouragement, she kept it gentle. While it was nice and made you feel comfortable and safe at the beginning, but you were secretly dying for her to be rough with you.

That’s how you both ended up here. You had decided to tease her all day in hopes it would lead to some rougher behavior from her. Today was one of the busiest days you had, 3 classes in a row followed by a lab. You had worn your lowest cut shirt and the smallest bra you owned, making sure your chest was fully on display. You had picked out a red lacy thong that you had just bought yourself with the idea of Jessie taking it off in mind.

When you sat down next to her in your first class you watched her eyes attach to your chest, her mouth falling slightly open.

“Like what you see Fleming?” You gently shake your chest in her direction.

“Are you trying to make me fail?”

“No. If anything I’m helping you. If you’re good today and pay attention during class I’ll let you see what I’ve got under my skirt.” You lean over, letting your hot breath tickle her neck and ear “not to give away the secret but it’s lacy and red and I bought it with you in mind.”

Her face flushes but she grabs out her notebook and a pen. You watch as she actually takes notes in class for once, instead of just doodling and then asking you for help later when she doesn’t understand something.

You continue to tease her over the next few classes, you can tell she’s becoming more and more frustrated as the day goes on. She’s more frequently glancing at your chest, biting her lip, she even tries to place her hand on your thigh in your last class. Quickly pushing her hand away she sends a begging glance your way. You turn to her and mouth ‘later’ to her. She rolls her eyes and goes back to taking notes.

That’s how you ended face down, ass in the air with Jessie pounding herself into you. You finally had broken through and she was being rough with you.

She had thrown you around the second you walked into her apartment. She had nearly ripped your shirt pulling it over your head and stripped you of your bra while you were still against the wall in the hallway to her bedroom. She had ordered you to leave the thong on after she pushed you onto her bed. She had walked to her dresser, grabbed the strap and lube as she usually did and came back over to you. Her hands had spread your legs, and she dropped her face to start teasing you.

She had licked and touched you through the fabric of your underwear, making you feel some of the same teasing that you had put her through all day. She had grabbed the fabric between her teeth, pulling it back before letting it snap against your skin making you moan.

Instead of taking it off Jessie had pushed the fabric to the side, holding it with her thumb, and let her tongue start pleasing you. Each time she would feel your legs begin to shake and your grip on her head get tighter, she’d pull back much to your disappointment. She was edging you, teasing you as much as she could and it was ruining you. You whined after she pulled away for the second time.

“Oh my god, Jessie seriously?” You were getting frustrated with her the way she’d get you so close to the edge and pull away.

“This is what happens when you’re a fucking tease all day. Wearing that tight fucking shirt, putting your tits on display for everyone, telling me about this tiny little thing.” She snaps the elastic of your thong again. “You did this to yourself.”

You were so sensitive, squirming under her as she held you in place, after the third time she pulled away when she returned she added fingers into you with her tongue. It took only a couple thrusts before you closed your legs around her, cumming hard on her face and fingers. Jessie wasn’t done, not satisfied with her reward for being a good student today she continued.

Giving you no time to recover she pulled down your now soaking wet thong, leaving you completely bare. She had flipped you over and pulled your hips up and toward her own. She had never fucked you in this position before, you usually were facing each other in some way. Not wanting to actually hurt you she had still paused to put lube on despite how wet you already were, your arousal dripping down making your thighs and the bed wet. She had pushed into you at a quick but still sensible pace. The new position made your hole even tighter, you felt her stretching you out.

Jessie didn’t wait this time for you to say anything, she started thrusting immediately pulling the whole length out, leaving just the tip touching your entrance before slamming her hips back into yours. The first few thrusts were pleasure mixed with pain but something about the mixed feeling, torn between pushing her away and wanting to pull her even closer was exhilarating.

“You’re taking me so fucking well. Being such a good girl.” You hadn’t explicitly discussed it but Jessie had quickly realized you had a small praise kink. She had accidentally called you a good girl another time in bed and you had blushed at the phrase while letting out a dirty moan. It should’ve been obvious given that you were a people pleaser, a teacher's pet, it made sense that being told you were doing well was a turn on.

“So perfect for me, you're being such a good reward, letting me take you like this, letting me do whatever I want to you. So good.”

Jessie’s words were surprising, in the numerous times you had slept together in the past week, she had never been this vocal. Some moaning and a couple words here and there but it was simple stuff. Her telling you you’re doing good, that you feel good, taste good, but never to the extent of what she was telling you now.

With the previous edging and orgasm it’s only a couple minutes before you’re shaking under her,

“You want to cum again? Make a mess on my cock?”

“Mhmm” not able to get out words you moan in response. Her thrusts stop, her dick fully inside of you. She leans forward somehow making it feel like the strap on was even further inside of you. Her hand comes up to grab your hair and pull your head up and off the pillow. You’re now looking at the ceiling and can just barely see Jessie’s face

“Good girls use their words.” Those words falling from her mouth in a husky voice is nearly enough for you to cum without any further stimulation.

“Yes I want to cum.” You’re able to get out the words now that she’s not pounding into you.

“Ask the right way.” Her grip on your head tightens as she waits for you to beg for her.

You weren’t fully sure what she meant by the right way, but you knew she’d tell you if it was wrong.

“Please Jessie, please make me cum, I want to cum for you, can I?” You’re whining, hoping she doesn’t deny your plea. You didn’t have much experience with dirty talk, you had previously felt uncomfortable saying much of anything in the bedroom, but with Jessie it was comfortable and she made you want to beg.

“Good girl.” She says as she drops your hair moving her hands back to your hips. Her thrusting picks up right where it left off, she’s picking up speed, you're being thrown forward so hard you have to put your hands on the headboard to make sure you don’t hit it.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum Jess, please.”

“Go ahead.” She says so calmly, as if she was giving you permission to take the last piece of cake, not for you to unravel underneath her in a writhing mess. Unable to hold yourself up as you give in to your orgasm you collapse onto the bed, laying down flat, your face turned to the side, eyes screwed shut, you’re biting your lip so hard you’re sure there will be blood, groans coming through your teeth.

Jessie doesn’t stop when you collapse under her or when she feels your legs shaking. She lowers herself to stay inside of you. She keeps thrusting as you cum around her.

“Jess” a whine comes from your lips trying to let her know you were on your way to being oversensitive, the edging from before taking its toll.

“Give me one more.” She demands from behind you.

“I can’t.” You’re really not sure if you can or not, the feeling between your legs is so overwhelming you’re not sure how much longer you can take it.

“Yes you can and you will. Be a good girl. You wanted to cum, I’m letting you cum.”

Her praise has you wanting to listen to her, wanting to follow her command. She puts her body weight onto you, she’s warm and sweaty, the new angle gives you a slight relief as she’s hitting a new spot inside of you but it’s only a few seconds later that you feel another orgasm surface again.

Your moans get softer until you’re left with your mouth open, no noise coming out as you have your third orgasm that afternoon. This one was short, pleasure running through your body only for it to be immediately followed up by the pain of overstimulation. Tears start to fill your eyes, you whole body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending screaming at you. Instinctively you try to pull yourself away from Jessie as she continues to fuck into you but her weight is holding you to the bed, unable to move.

“Fuck Jessie. Stop, stop!” You're able to throw your hand behind your back finding her hips that had already stalled at your word to stop. “Fuck.”

Jessie is frozen behind you, she doesn’t move at all. The strap is halfway into you, it remains there as she stops moving.

“What do you want me to do? Pull out?” Her voice that was previously full of confidence and arrogance is now one of concern and comfort.

“No, don’t pull out yet, just give me a second.” You were done, you wanted her to pull out but knew the sensation of her sliding out would be uncomfortable in the moment.

“You don’t have to be frozen Jess.” You could feel how tense she was behind you. Trying to reassure her that she wasn’t going to break you if she moved. She readjusts slowly putting more of her weight off of you and onto her own legs, making sure not to move her hips and change how she was inside of you.

“Take it out please.” Feeling yourself relax enough, you tell her to pull out. Jessie follows your direction, gently moving her hips back from yours to pull out. You curse into the pillow as she does, the drag of the strap against your overly sensitive walls was uncomfortable.

“Did I hurt you?” You can't see, still face down in the pillow, but she sounds quiet and far away, you no longer can feel her touch against your skin.

“Not really? I don’t know?” You’re really not sure, you’ve never been so overstimulated, it wasn’t necessarily painful but it wasn’t a good feeling. It was on the tiny line between pain and immense pleasure. Using what strength you had left you use your arms to push yourself up and flip over. Jessie’s hands grab your calves and help move your legs, resting one on each side of where she was sat back on her feet. “It was just too much I think. But I’m not hurt, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong. Technically you did everything right, you did it so well, I couldn’t handle it.” You make a joke trying to lighten her mood. She grabs the strap on the harness and slides them off, picking up each leg to slide it off and tossing it to the floor.

“Can I lay down?” You know she’s referring to if she can lay down on top of you, a small action she had started doing after sex. She had done it out of exhaustion the first few times and once when she didn’t do it, you had made a comment about it. Now she does it everytime. There was something so safe about both of you laying, skin to skin, after letting her do unmentionable things to you just moments before.

“Please do.” You weren’t sure if this time it was more for you or her. It was usually you asking for her to lay but the way you could read the guilt on her face made you realize that maybe today, being able to lay on you would help her more than it would you.

She gently places her body on top of yours, her arms wrap about and under your back, her face falls into the crook of your neck. You face goes to the same place on her. You stay wrapped together, neither of you moving, just breathing and holding each other.

“I think I got a little carried away.” She says into your neck. Jessie presses herself up, putting her face above yours. “I’m sorry. I just, with the teasing all day, not that it’s your fault. I just got so pent up, I should’ve checked in before we started. To see if it was okay to be like that.”

“Hey it’s okay, I would've told you to do exactly what you did, the whole reason I teased you was because I wanted to rile you up, to get you to be rough with me.”

“You want me to be rough?” She gives you a questioning glance.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get you to be for a couple days now.” You let your hand gently drag up and down her back reassuring her with physical touch.

“Oh. Sorry I was too rough.” You can tell by her face she still feels guilty.

“Please don’t feel bad about what just happened. I really enjoyed it Jessie, it just became too much. But I really liked how you were talking to me.” Your hands come up to cover your face as you admit to her you liked her dirty talk.

“Oh yeah?” Her cockiness comes back for a moment. She moves your hands away from your face and plants a kiss on your lips. It’s a quick kiss, nothing sexual about it. She had been doing that more often. Giving you kisses when you’d walk by, giving you a kiss when you’d show up at her door, a kiss when you get ready to go back home.

“Do you need anything? Water? Food? Do you need pain meds?”

“Maybe just a shower.” Normally Jessie took the time to clean you up after you had sex, she’d bring a towel or washcloth with warm water and gently clean you up, but after today she had wanted to stay close to you, not wanting to even wander off as far as the bathroom for a couple minutes.

“Yeah of course.” Jessie moved off of your body, hopping off the bed and standing next to you. She held her hands out to you. Feeling the soreness already setting in you swung your legs over the side of the bed and hopped onto the floor. Jessie held your hands before moving a hand to your waist watching you wobble as you began to step toward the bathroom. She turned on the water for you and grabbed out a fresh towel.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, just shout and I’ll come.” She turns to leave. Part of you wants to ask if she’ll join you. You decide against it. Jessie had yet to fully undress in front of you at any point during sex. She had made it routine to take off her shirt and pants but never further than that. You were okay with that, you didn’t mind being on the receiving end, but you also had a small urge to return the favor. You wanted to make her feel even half as good as she had been able to make you feel. You wanted to make her feel comfortable and safe enough with you to take them off if she wanted to.

You couldn’t help but think if she’d been intimate in that way with anyone else. You’re sure she had but the more you thought about it, you could only recall times she had talked about her doing things to girls, never anyone returning the favor. You shook that thought from your head, that was her choice, not for you to push.

Jumping from one thought to the next your brain brought up the question of what were you doing? What was the point with Jessie? Was it just experimenting? Was it just for fun? Was she just a good fuck? Friends with benefits maybe? The longer you stood under the water the longer you thought about her. The longer you thought about the brown hair, brown eyed girl waiting in the other room, the more you realized, you maybe didn’t want to just be friends with benefits. You quickly shut off the water, realizing you had been in the shower a significant amount of time and Jessie would probably come to check on you if you didn’t emerge shortly.

You stepped out, wrapping a towel around your chest. You moved to the other side of the bathroom, taking a second to look in the mirror. You pulled the towel open, to look at the full extent of Jessie’s work. You were littered with hickeys, some from days before, now a light yellow shade as they nearly faded. Others a deep blood red, from only a few minutes ago. She had put them everywhere, your stomach, your chest, your collarbone, shoulders, hip bones, there were a few on the inside of your thighs. There were a few tiny ones on your neck. All low down that they could be easily hidden with a hoodie, your only request to her. As you looked at each one you could remember the feeling of her lips and tongue, taking the time to make the mark on your skin.

“Admiring something?” Jessie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump.

“Just the marks you left.” You turn to her, holding your towel still open. Her eyes drag over your body slowly, stopping for a second at each mark.

“Some of my finest work.” She smirks at you. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just taking a while, wanted to make sure you were still standing.”

“Yeah sorry I just got lost in though. If your water bill is extreme this month I’ll cover it.” You wrap yourself back up in the towel.

“Do you want some other clothes? I can’t imagine that bra is in the slightest bit comfortable.” She’s already rummaging through her drawers for a shirt and sweatpants. She tosses both in your direction. “Underwear too? I think I have a clean pair of yours from a different time.” Her hands flip through a stack of clothes in a wash basket. The pair of underwear comes flying from her hand in your direction.

“Yeah it wasn’t super comfortable and neither was the thong but it was worth it.” You pull on the clothes she gave you. A pair of her UCLA sweatpants and a plain black shirt were a lot more comfortable than the outfit you had been wearing. After dressing you follow Jessie out to her living room. She had gotten out a textbook and notebook paper while you were in the shower.

“Wow, did I turn you into a good student or something?” You say sarcastically, Jessie usually didn’t pull out school work unless you encouraged her to. “If you had just told me all it took was a good bra and a tight shirt to get you to take your own notes I would’ve whipped out a tit a long time ago.”

She looks up at you, unamused by your joke. Moving into her kitchen you grab yourself a glass and fill it before moving back to where Jessie was sitting.

You both work side by side on your assignments, you notice you have to help Jessie less than normal, or maybe it’s just she’s trying harder than she normally does. You can tell when she starts to struggle with a question. Normally she’d turn to you for an explanation, instead today she’ll try it herself. She’ll use the textbook, she even opens the notes she had taken in class, and then if she still needs help she’ll poke you with her pen until you look at her. It’s a nice change, seeing her put forth more effort than normal toward school.

If anything it was you having a hard time getting your work done today. You couldn’t stop thinking about what it was you and Jessie were doing. The same question of was it just friends with benefits, crept up and over again.

“Can I ask you something?” You let the words come out before you have the chance to second guess it.

“Anything.” Jessie says not looking up from where she was writing on her paper. You both had always responded that way when asking each other if you could bring something up. It was what made you such good friends, the openness and communication with one another.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m doing calculus, I don’t know what you’re doing though, you have out your chemistry book but you’re doing physics homework.”

“No Jessie, I mean what are we doing? With the sex?” This draws her attention. She puts her pen down and looks at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it just meaningless sex to you?” You needed to know, was this just a hookup for her. You wanted to know if you’d be replaced as soon as she found someone else more suitable, someone who could handle her without stopping her.

“It’s definitely not meaningless.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, what do you think it is?” She deflects the question back at you.

“I don’t know Jessie, I thought it was just fun, originally I did. But recently, I don’t know. And it’s making me question things and it’s just a little overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean.”

Unsure of what to say you just sit, biting your lip as you think. “I’m not sure if I’m just confused, because we’re so close and we’ve been friends for a while, and now with the sex, I don’t know, I can’t tell what my feelings are, but they’re different then they were before.” You were pretty sure you were developing feelings for her. You had also never had feelings towards another girl so that added confusion on top of the confusion of her being your best friend. “I think about you a lot, more than I did before.”

“I do too, think about you a lot more than I used to. It’s confusing.”

“Would you want to try figuring that out? Like us together?” This was your poor attempt to ask her out on a date, to try exploring those feelings and seeing where they took you.

“Are you implying we date?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“I don’t really date, you of all people should know that based on my history.”

“Yeah well based on my history I don’t really have sex with women but apparently things can change.” You throw up your hands in frustration. Jessie doesn’t say anything. She just sits, her pen now back in her hand as she plays with it.

“You know what, forget I said anything.” Embarrassed now that she had essentially rejected your offer on a date you closed your textbook and started to back your stuff. You didn’t want to sit here with her after being rejected.

“No wait.” Jessie puts her hand on top of the textbook stopping you from putting it into your backpack. “I just don’t really know how to.”

“How to what?”

“How to do the whole dating thing. I haven’t actually dated anyone in years, and the last time I did it ended so badly, I just decided to ignore feelings and decided to just stick with sleeping around since, no feelings, no commitments, just the fun, and I’ve been doing that for so long, I don’t know how to do dating. I don’t think I’d do it right.”

“There’s no right way to do it. It’s however we’d want to.” You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation, that there was a small possibility that this could work. “That’s the thing about dating, it’s a trial and error process, that’s why people don’t just jump straight to marriage, dating is for learning. Think of it this way, nothing would really change with us, we already hang out everyday, we know everything about each other, we know the sexual chemistry is there, it would just be adding in the couple-y things.”

“Okay, trial and error, I can do that with you. I’m just nervous I’ll end up losing you. If something were to happen.”

“Is that a yes, you want to try this?” You gesture between the two of you.

“Yes.” Jessie nods, a small smile across her face.

“Okay. I should get going then.” You pick up the textbook you were in the process of packing up, actually throwing it into your backpack this time before sliding the bag onto your shoulders.

“What? Why?” She jumps up from her position on the floor, concerned why you’d be leaving after you just agreed to date.

“I have a hot date to pick up tonight, I have to get ready.” You wink at her and see the realization cross her mind that she meant you. “Be ready by 6.” You check your watch quickly, making sure that gives both of you enough time to get ready. She follows you to the door and you turn to face her to say goodbye. She leans in to steal a kiss but you move your head and place your hands on her shoulders stopping her from coming closer.

“I don’t kiss before the first date. Try again tonight.” You send her a smirk and she rolls her eyes at you. You step out and close the door to her apartment behind you. Reality starts to set in, you just asked her out, and she said yes. Butterflies build up in your stomach, you were taking her out on a date, your best friend.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader

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mariasont · 16 days

Note

THE BIMBO RECEPTIONIST WAS SO CUTE

now id like to introduce, goth/metalhead!bimbo!reader x spence ( more of the opposites attract vibe )

super dark clothes and jewelry and looks like elvira a little bit, maybe a few piercings and tattoos for spencer to oogle at

Brooding - S.R

a/n: EEK i hope u love this as much as i loved writing it :)

bimbo reader has my heart <3

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x goth!bimbo!reader

warnings: mmm none! fluff! just two cuties being cute!

wc: 0.6k

Your pen was a flurry of motion, streaking bold lines upon the sketchpad. Technically, you should be sorting through the endless stack of files, keeping them pristine and accessible for the agents. You were always ahead of your tasks, and this job, while not earth-shattering, mattered to you. But when you had a muse as captivating as yours, it was hard to put the pen down.

That muse being the man rifling through the files before you, his face a masterpiece of pretty lines and angles, unaware of the intensity of your focus. You contemplated expressing your admiration aloud, but the idea seemed a little too forward. So, you poured that impulse into a portrait, tracing the contours of his handsome face.

But it proved difficult to accomplish with his relentless pacing. Each step he took sparked another round of redos on the pad. Your tongue, tipped with a silver piercing, unconsciously found its way to your lip as you wrestled with the proportions of his nose, erasing furiously to get it just right.

You let out a sigh, louder than intended, and it was enough to pause his steps. "Sir, can you please stand still?"

He looked utterly baffled, lifting his brows toward his hairline. As your eyes met, he pointed to his chest, his question simple and unsure, "Huh? Me?"

A quick nod sent a ribbon of dyed hair fluttering before your eyes as you beamed at him. "Yes, you! Please, if you don't mind," you murmured, your fingers racing over the paper. "I just need, like, one more second."

He stood frozen, brows remaining quizzically raised. Why he complied, he couldn't say, but the sight of you, so engrossed in your art, your necklaces chiming in time with your movements, and how your bold makeup seemed to frame your face perfectly kept him rooted to the spot.

You peered up through your lashes, giving him a sheepish grin, cheeks lightly flushed as you set the pen down.

"All done! You're free to go. Thanks for being so patient," you chirped, gently waving the paper in the air as if to dry the ink faster.

"Can I at least see the result of my patience?" Spencer asked, his approach casual yet expectant.

You hugged the sketchpad to your chest, a gentle laugh escaping you. "Well, I don't usually just let anyone see my work, especially strangers."

Spencer's smile was tinged with amusement.

"Considering I'm the subject, I think I have some claim to it," he joked. "And by the way, I'm Spencer Reid. There, we're practically acquaintances now."

You couldn't contain the goofy grin that spread across your face, and a giggle bubbled up from your throat.

"Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can make an exception," you said, drawing out the last word with a wink.

The portrait made Spencer do a double-take--it was him, but as if seen through a gothic, moody lens. His usual composure cracked, and a deep, genuine laugh broke through.

"I never knew I had such a brooding side," he commented with a smile. "I look like I stepped out of a Brontë novel. Perhaps Heathcliff on one of his better days?"

Your head cocked to the side, hair cascading over one shoulder, looking at him through lashes heavy with mascara as you shrugged.

"Heathcliff, huh? I'll take your word for it, but I get the brooding part," you said, with a bubbly laugh. "Come on, it's so you."

Spencer fiddled with his tie, raising a brow.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.

You squinted sightly, pretending to mull it over.

"Flattered, for sure," you said. "Broody types are just secretly plotting world domination, right?"

He grinned. "Well, maybe not world domination, but certainly plotting something."

Your voice was light, but your question was pointed. "So, what are you plotting, Spencer? Should I be worried?"

He tried to remember what Morgan had taught him.

"Absolutely. But some things are worth the wait--patience, you'll see, can be quite rewarding."

And with a promise like that, you found yourself more than willing to wait.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x goth reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic

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aeneaans · 8 months

Text

never real enough

synopsis: neuvillette is in love—he wishes he wasn’t.

word count: 758

c/w: angst, no comfort

a/n: i wrote this in like. maybe an hour and did not edit it at all please bear with me

He had always known there was a great divide between the life of a human and a life like his—a dragon. His days seemed to be endless, yet, one of a human’s was so short lived. Was it pity that he felt? No, humans still managed to make the most of their short life. So what was this feeling that resides in his chest now?

It was almost suffocating, the thought consumed him for days, weeks, even. The concept of love, a novel idea made by humans—or so he thought. It was until he met you, which seemed like yesterday. It’s been a few years since the two of you met. It didn’t seem like a long time until she mentioned it almost a month ago.

“That’s right…a month. It’s been a month since my Lady Furina—” He immediately cut himself off before he could finish his own thought. These frivolous thoughts have been plaguing his mind for no good reason, he thinks.

He clenched his fist, unable to focus on the documents that lie neatly across his desk. You haven’t visited in a while. Though, nobody in their right mind would. It’s been pouring for the past two weeks, which is usually no surprise for most citizens of Fontaine, but this was different.

Archons above, this wasn’t just rain. It was practically a flood, to put it lightly. The trees were blown by harsh winds, the few functioning Aquabuses left delayed. There wasn’t a single soul in sight if one were to look out the window, if you could even see anything beyond the heavy rain.

It didn’t hit him until recently, but give him some time. He’s not good at these things. Love: a distant, alien concept to the unmovable, unbiased Iudex of Fontaine. And yet, there could be no other possible explanation for this—this feeling. He thought he was ill at first, yes, illness was the only possible answer. He went to every doctor in Fontaine and, no, not a single proper explanation. So he turned to his last resort—Furina.

“Dear Chief Justice, you can’t possibly be serious.” Is what she had said to him. “You’re in love!” And as stupid it sounded to him, it was the only logical explanation. His cheeks flushed when he saw you, his heart beating at abnormal rates whenever you say something cheesy to him…Yes, it was love.

Typically, humans would be flustered. They were in love? It isn’t to say that he wasn’t flustered at first, but then reality hit him. You’re a human. He’s…not.

It simply wasn’t meant to be. Humans are fragile—their lifeline only a tiny fraction of his. Even if you were to return his silly feelings, what then? What would come of a relationship? He doesn’t understand how he could possibly be a good lover, nor could he ever even be loveable at the least. What would become of him once you leave this world? The mere thought of you dying—leaving him—scares him. He lowers his head, gripping his pen harder, staring at the puddle of ink he left on the page.

“That’s right, there’s no use pondering this matter… I’m thinking ahead of myself.” Is what he thought.

Every single day, he reassured himself. If he was the only one that was affected because of his unrequited feelings, then that’s fine by him. He could bear it. So why does he still feel this crushing feeling on his soul—his very being? After all, there’s no chance you could even begin to love someone like him. Someone as awkward, unfeeling as him? There’s no possible way.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how someone like you could ever—!

No, forget it. Self-deprecating thoughts aren’t any good for him.

“Don’t always think so low of yourself, yeah? It doesn’t do any good.” That’s something you told him. Something you told him.

***

Something you told him. Yet another month had passed, this time, things were drastically different.

Why did you have to make things so hard for him? You could have just kept it to yourself, like he had. So why? Why did you tell him how you felt?

It poured harder than ever before when he saw the look of complete and utter disappointment on your face when he said the words he did. He didn’t think he’d ever feel such despair, but he did.

“It’s okay.” You smiled, pursing your lips.

No, it wasn’t okay. How could any of this ever be okay? He didn’t understand anything, nothing at all.

After all, Neuvillette is far from being ‘human.’

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette angst #neuvillette x you #neuvilette genshin

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theodorecanaryhood · 1 year

Text

Diagnosis

Jason Todd x male! Child / teen reader (reader has ADHD)

Not proof read

Single parenthood was not on Jason’s mind a year ago, but then again, there were many things that were never on his mind.

Being adopted by a Billionaire, being Robin, dying….etc.

Red Hood was booming through the streets this one night as he raided a smuggling ring, the only person who was not arrested was a 4 year old boy.

Jason kept calling GCPD to check if you were ok, the officers got so fed up of Jason calling in the end they just let him come to visit you. Then when you were placed into Foster care, he got even more frustrated.

Jason applied to adopt you on a spontaneous thought, he couldn’t think to how to approach it but before he knew, he’d filled out the adoption papers.

‘Welcome home, son’ Jason smiled as he held your hand. You rushed around the house from room to room.

Amazed at the amount of space there was, how clean it was. And best of all, no drugs being smuggled in and out - amongst other things.

By now you were around 6 and sitting in the back of the car as Jason drove you to school.

You fiddled with the seatbelt and kicked your legs.

‘Y/n, sit still for me please buddy’ Jason said, you stopped and stayed still.

‘Sorry Daddy’

‘Where’s your jacket?’ Jason asked you as he noticed the spot next to was empty.

‘My jacket, is uhm… ooh a bird’ you said as you pressed yourself up against the window.

‘Y/n, where’s your jacket?’ Jason asked again, you continued staring out the window.

‘I forgot’ you smiled as you began to tap your hands on your thighs and tap your feet on the ground.

‘Y/n’ Jason said your name again, you stopped once more.

‘Sorry Daddy, I forgot again’ you smiled as Jason chuckled.

While in school your teacher, Ms Hannigan, was going through some books, she spoke softly to the class but spotted that you were staring off into the distance.

‘Y/n, are you listening to me?’ She asked you as she approached you.

You continued to stare until you caught on she asked you a question, snapping out of your day dream you looked at your teacher.

‘Huh?’ You asked, some students laughed as and Hannigan continued to speak.

‘You’re not listening to me again, y/n, why can’t you concentrate?’

You were still thinking about what she’d already said to you, your hands fidgeted with a pen as the teacher wrote your name on the timeout board.

‘Y/n Todd, I said go sit in the corner’ she repeated for the third time, apparently. You didn’t hear the first two times.

Jason was getting fed up of getting calls at work from teachers, to say you were not paying attention, not listening or fidgeting.

‘I got a call from the school again young man, they tell me you’re not concentrating enough’ Jason spoke calmly towards you.

One thing you could say, your Dad never raised his voice, swore or got angry with you. Even though right now, you could tell he was a little annoyed with you.

‘I just find it hard to listen sometimes, or remember’ you replied to your Dad, all the while fidgeting with the seatbelt once again.

Over the next three years, you continued to have the same problem. Only this time teachers didn’t have patience and kept sending you out.

‘Is this something you want to share y/n?’ Mr Brown asked you, you were caught staring out the window at the rain.

‘If you could focus for the next 30 minutes’ he spoke, you concentrated on that, focused on what he just said and then your mind drifted again.

‘I wonder what my Dad will make for dinner tonight, I’m hungry, what time is it? My Grandpa is coming this weekend for a visit’ your thoughts went 100mph, a book slammed on the desk.

‘Right, if you insist on refusing to listen to me you can leave the room’ Mr Brown spoke loudly with authority. You stood up and walked out of the room.

You were confused as to what you’d done wrong, you listened. Then you realised you didn’t listen to what he said, then you got distracted again by a colourful piece of artwork on display in the corridor.

‘Mr Todd, thank you for coming’ Mr Brown spoke as Jason sat in the seat opposite your teacher and next to you.

‘Y/n is a delight to have and is very pleasant, but he is having problems concentrating or listening’ the teacher began as Jason nodded along with what was being said.

You stared out the window again as you noticed some helium balloons floating off in the distance.

‘Y/n?’ Your Dad called you softly, you looked at him and smiled.

‘Huh?’

‘This is what I mean, he’s too busy staring off into space’ the teacher snapped, Jason lifted his finger to stop the teacher from continuing.

‘Mr Brown, is it possible that maybe y/n can’t concentrate because he gets distracted easily?’ Jason asked.

Within a week of meeting with your teacher Jason was booking you in with a Doctor. He’d noticed little hints at a problem since you were a kid.

You couldn’t always take direct instructions, you zoned out of conversation or began talking about something completely unrelated halfway through. Your forgot easily and more noticeable you could never sit still.

‘Mr Todd, from what we can tell from the assessments is that y/n has ADHD’ the Doctor said, Jason didn’t know what to think of it.

Of course he’d heard of it but he’d never thought about the possibility of you having it.

After that moment it was medication and clear notices on calendars to remind you of things constantly.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow, your Uncle Dick will look after you. Please don’t forget to take your meds y/n’ Jason urged as you walked with him to the car.

‘Of course Dad, I have an alarm to remind me’ you smiled. Jason hugged you as he got in the car.

‘Bye son, I love you’

‘I love you too Dad’ you called back as Jason drove off.

You sat and listened to music in the hopes that it would drown out your overactive brain, in a way it did. After a while you got too fidgety and had to move.

You procrastinated too much but in your head you were cleaning the house and doing laundry, creating a to do list for tomorrow.

‘Y/n, can you help me with dinner please?’ Jason asked you, you nodded as you stood up but when you walked into the room. Your mind went everywhere else but what you were doing.

However, the end of each day was always the same. You’d sit with your Dad in front of the TV and watch some cheesy movies with him. Of course, you still couldn’t keep still.

Thanks to your Dad, he got you fidget toys to help you relax a bit more and calm your brain. Now you found it easier, on top of meds, to take in the plot of a Julia Roberts movie.

Your Dad was your number one supporter and never gave up, behind your zoning out and not being able to keep still, he knew that you were a sponge soaking up information. And whatever career you chose, your life would never be affected because of what your teachers made you believe.

Hope you liked it, I didn’t know how to end it. I also wanted to be as respectful as possible as have never written about ADHD before. Since mine has kicked me hard, wanted to write about a loose personal experience!

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #fanfiction #fanfic #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #jason Todd x son #my adhd #adhd feels

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postmodernbeliever · 1 month

Text

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Three: Two’s Company, Three’s a Crime Scene

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 4,317

TW: mentions of a body at a crime scene, some graphic description.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“No comments from the peanut gallery!”

“I’m simply saying that if you’d let me handle the directions, maybe we’d get there faster!”

You sighed as Fox screwed with the gigantic spiral-bound map he found shoved between the bench of your rental truck. When the two of you landed, you discovered something new about your fellow agent- he liked being in charge of not only picking but driving the rental car. You knew the Bureau provided money for the vehicle, but you had no idea it was within your purview to choose which. You might’ve picked something a little sleeker and smaller, like an understated sedan, but the man with the pen did not share your taste, so this time you didn’t get to exercise the privilege. Fox teased you as he signed the papers for an old Chevy pickup, saying, “Seniority, Piglet.” And now he was refusing to let you control the map while he drove the two of you straight into bumblefuck Kansas as if he had a foolproof inner compass.

“Seriously, Fox, come on. It’s dangerous to drive like this, just let me help.”

“I’ve survived every case this way, you know,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, alone! You’ve got me here now, and I’m not gonna let you crash the damn car while I’m inside!” You resolved, tearing the map from his hand and ripping it at the corner of the page. All you tore was the map scale, but he still shot you a dirty look.

“Nice going–”

“Enough!”

You wanted to believe you didn’t enjoy the way he bickered with you, but it kept the endless drive of dying grass and grey sky interesting. Fox had to double-check every direction you gave him on the way into Marysville, Kansas, at whose name you of course rolled your eyes. The snarky driver learned to stop doubting you about an hour in when he disregarded your order to make a right-hand turn and went left. It took him ten minutes to admit he was wrong and turn around. You graciously accepted his apology, but not before sticking your tongue out in juvenile triumph. Nearly three hours later with the late afternoon sun preparing to set, the rickety truck pulled past a sign that greeted Welcome to Marysville! and you found yourself in the middle of a quaint little place, seemingly empty, with rows of colonial buildings and businesses. You rolled the window down and felt the muggy spring air stick to your face as you poked your head out, admiring the center of town. You could feel your hair frizzing up, and you hoped you’d have time to fix it before you had to do any work. This was not the time to look anything other than prepared.

Fox piped up, “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m gonna make a pitstop at the police station before the motel.”

You huffed and fell back into the seat, and the man let out a soft chuckle. You combatted, “What now?”

“You’re like a little kid.”

“Am not!”

Fox quirked an eyebrow at you, silently proving his point, and your face melted into a playful smile. You stopped complaining and he turned his attention back to the road, where he surveyed for a police department sign. He found it on the corner of a block, but he nearly missed it- if he wasn’t paying attention, he might’ve mistaken it for just another shop. There were stately stone steps out front and two swinging doors that were reminiscent of a saloon, so you made note of the entrance for the next time it camouflaged into the rest of the town. Fox pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, which sputtered a bit, and you made a nervous face.

“Don’t worry,” Fox smiled, “I can just hotwire something if we need to.” When you made a face, he added, “Come on, I’m kidding!”

All you gave in return was a skeptical, “We’ll see.”

As he moved to open his door, he paused, noticing how you sat still. “Everything okay?”

In your head, you weren’t sure how to answer his question. One thing has been irking you since you landed in the Midwest, and that was how badly you wanted to nail introducing yourself; you’d thought over exactly how to pull your badge from your pocket, and how you’d assert your new title, but every vision ended with you screwing it up. You’d done this at your old job in New York so often it became second nature, but somehow this was different. This was bigger. You had so much more power with a federal badge. You wondered how Fox did it every time; if he was stern, or positive, or something in between. You almost wished you’d practiced it in the mirror, but that felt stupid to entertain.Yet now that it was time to establish yourself as the overarching authority, a beacon of hope to the people of this town and the families who have lost daughters, you were afraid to make a fool of yourself by either overdoing it or not doing it right at all. For God’s sake, you dropped your passport in front of the flight attendant- what made you think you wouldn’t blurt out FBI too loud in front of the sheriff? What would the citizens of Marysville think if the government sent them a detective who couldn’t even get her name out without stuttering?

Fox wished he could read your mind, but all he could do was watch your eyes glaze over. He reached out and touched your shoulder. “Anybody home?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Kind of,” you huffed, “There’s a lot I’m nervous about, you know that.”

“About the case?”

“Yeah, the case. And about doing well. Proving myself. Not letting you down,” you added at the end, to which he broke into an appreciative grin. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“You’re lucky you have me then. I’m practically a diamond,” Fox winked, “Relax. I’ll take the lead.”

Fox might be a pain in the ass, but he was somewhat of a gentleman; after promising he’d lead you through things, he held the door to the station open for you, and you went inside first. There wasn’t much of a lobby. It was more like walking straight into a bullpen, and a calm one, at that. You saw three officers sitting at their desks; two working diligently on what seemed to be simple paperwork, and another with his feet kicked up on the desk and a newspaper over his head, snoring loudly. A faulty fan was whirring exhaustedly in the corner next to an open window. It was mundane everywhere you looked- dusty bookshelves, tidy filing cabinets, dust floating in the light beams spilling through the blinds. An aging woman was working the counter with fat librarian glasses perched on her hook nose and a frizzy, box-blonde French twist. Fox nudged your elbow politely, and you stepped aside to let him approach her first.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Special Agent Fox Mulder. This is my partner.”

You watched him carefully as you fished your badge out of your jacket pocket and flipped it open. He held his own up briefly, barely long enough for anyone to know if it was real. You took it he never ran into that issue. His voice in introduction wasn’t stiff, but it was still assertive. There was a warmth in the way he spoke to her, and you thought maybe he was always gentler with older women, or possibly with everyone- he certainly spoke that way with you. You would’ve kept thinking about it if he didn’t keep going.

“I talked on the phone with a Sheriff Hale, he requested my partner and I come down and take a look at a string of murders?”

The woman smiled with all her teeth, and you could tell by the way her eyes sparkled that she liked him. Just like the lady at the airport. You wouldn’t have pegged him as a ladies’ man, but it made sense. He did have a unique charm about him.

“Oh, yes! Well, Sheriff Hale is out on a house call, ‘ya see, but he’s bound to be back in soon. I can send a call out for ‘im, if you like.” Her country accent was thick as molasses, and just as sweet.

“That’d be great, ma’am, thank you.”

“Oh, please, call me Mary!”

Fox laughed and confirmed, “Mary from Marysville, huh?”

Mary cackled like an obnoxious schoolgirl, and you had to bite back a laugh yourself. Fox stepped away with you as the woman hopped on the phone to speak with the sheriff, throwing glances his way all the while.

“Flirting on the job, Fox?”

“What can I say? I’ve got game, Piglet.”

A part of you wanted to know more, but there wasn’t enough time to try between his teasing comment and the interruption of frazzled Mary: “Excuse, Mr. Agent Mulder, sir?”

“Yes?”

“The- the sheriff says he needs you down at the Church of Saint Peter the Apostle as soon as you can, sir, down on the corner. There’s been another murder, dear Lord…”

Fox defaulted to you, and despite your apprehension, you were the first to head for the door. He called back to the woman with a rushed, “Thank you, tell him we’re on our way!” and the two of you hurried to the old pickup parked out front. He got it up and running and rushed off, and there wasn’t one complaint when you reached for the map and turned to the page with a closer view of Marysville, and told him where to go.

“Up on the corner, she said, but which corner?” You wondered aloud, and Fox kept his eyes on the road. You were just about to tell him to make a left when a beater came barreling through a stop sign at the intersection, wholly ignoring your right of way, causing Fox to slam on the breaks. You lurched forward in the seat and caught yourself by slamming the map against the glovebox. You flushed, feeling like an idiot for forgetting your seatbelt.

“Are you hurt?” Fox blurted. His hand reached out to brush some hair away from your forehead, checking for a bruise or blood, but all you could think about was how softly his fingertips ghosted against your temple. You didn’t feel any pain, but you sure were shaken up.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He dropped his hand and looked in the direction of the tin can that nearly killed you both, seeing its tire marks trailing down the road. “Where do you think he was going, driving like that?… Dick.”

He tried to let the insult slip under his breath, but you heard it loud and clear. You giggled, and he smirked at you, noting that you liked a slip-up here and there. You began to say something, but two more cars came hurtling down the street in front of the truck, laying on the horn at you for being stopped a quarter of the way into the intersection. Both loosely followed the tire tracks and made screeching turns a few blocks to the right. You looked to Fox for an explanation, who stared back with just as much confusion as you, and he took off, chasing the commotion. You clicked your seatbelt in hurriedly, holding onto the door handle. You weren’t one for speed, but you didn’t feel as unsafe as you would’ve expected yourself to. Fox knew the car well. He knew the dimensions, he knew how fast it could go, and he clearly felt comfortable in the driver’s seat because he was plowing through town like he was the one being chased. You saw a wild grin creep up on his cheeks, and your face felt warm. It was fun, going fast.

Just up the road, you saw red lights flashing in alarm, and a mass of cars pulled up in disarray outside a little church, including the three trucks that nearly killed you. It had to be smaller than the police station- it was wooden, with a weathered steeple that was shadowed by the falling dusk, and moss grew unabated over the windowsills. Teenagers and parents were prowling by the sheriff’s car, which Fox parked right beside.

“Holy shit!”

“Lord, that’s disgusting!”

“Lemme in, lemme see!”

The two of you hopped out and hurried through the hollering crowd of townspeople, right up to the ambulance that blocked them out, but didn’t hide their view. Kids peeked past the authorities with sick looks. Two paramedics met you at the yellow tape and passed some rubber gloves off, which you took gratefully, already feeling your stomach drop at the exclamations of the onlookers. When you finally got past the ambulance, you gasped at the crime scene which one deputy and the supposed Sheriff Hale were rushing to cover with tarps and close off. Fox held up the tape for you to duck beneath, and he followed as you stepped onto the scene.

“Sheriff Hale?” You inquired. “We’re with the FBI, you called for us?”

The older of the two men looked up. He had a beet-red face, which could’ve been from the intensity of the Kansas sun or stress; his eyebrows were bushy as beaver tails, and his stocky build made it hard to believe he did much more than paperwork. But nonetheless, he stood up and shook your hands as he greeted, “Thanks for getting down here so quick, agents. I reckon this is the fourth victim, she, uh… well, how about y’all take a look?”

You and Fox stood on the little dirt path that led to the steps of the church, lined with painted rocks. It looked like a children’s effort, a community project. There was a large crucifix marking where the peak of the building met the steeple, and a giant translucent sheet covered the steps; on the tall double doors, there were thick splatters of oxidizing blood and splintered wood. You knelt beside the younger officer, who was taking photographs of the scene, and made yourself known.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like another murder, ma’am,” he frowned. You noticed his name embroidered into his uniform pocket: Deputy H. Jones. He was tall and skinny as a twig, with an endearing gap between his two front teeth. He looked too young to be a college student, let alone a police deputy. “A real shame.”

“Did you know the victim, Deputy Jones?”

“Sure I did, knew ‘em all. Lots… lots of ‘em went to school with me. This girl here, though, she was a good friend of my lil’ sister. Liane Jacobs. Real sweet girl. It, uh, it’s a rough thing to see, ma’am.”

Your heart sank at the thought of what it must feel like to be him. You reached to peel back the tarp, and it took less than a second for you to lay it right back down. You weren’t prepared for the sight, and had to choke down a gag. “Jesus Christ.”

“You ask me, Jesus ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, agent. Not a thing.”

Deputy Jones’s face fell pale as he walked away, leaving you to examine the victim. You slowly lifted the tarp again, careful not to reveal anything to the crowd gathering outside the confines of the caution tape. Despite the breakfast you had rumbling like rocks inside your gut, you took a mental note of the girl lying before you, gutted like a pig. She looked far worse than the photos in Fox’s file. Her entire chest cavity was splayed open as if her ribs had been ripped out all at once. The tissue of her dermis and lungs was a mixture of chop meat, all littering the jagged edges of her vertebrae, which were missing bones in all the spots the X-rays had in common. Her lower body was littered with bruises and cuts, especially around the hips and lower abdomen, yet her face was left untouched- not even a spot of blood was present to interrupt the porcelain appearance. She looked supremely calm, in contrast to her violent disposition; relaxed eyelids, perfectly tinted lips, flawless teenage skin. Her dark hair fell in Hollywood ringlets across her shoulders, manicured, well-placed, well-planned. You gazed up at the cross she sat rotting beneath, and you wondered what God would do, had he the choice to help you understand. You only stopped contemplating when a hand tapped the crown of your head, and you saw your partner looking down at you.

“Her name is Liane Jacobs,” you sighed, “The deputy knew her personally.”

“Seems like everyone did. Seventeen years old, grew up a mile out from here. She worked at the library as a part-time bookkeep and spent her weekends volunteering at this very church,” Fox informed. “The sheriff, deputy, and her parents all swore she was a good girl, a good friend. Devoted to her faith.”

“Look what it got her. So much for being devoted,” you grumbled, tugging Fox down to take a closer look.

A short-lived expression of shock crossed the man’s face, and then he was all business; he knelt over the body, close enough to give you the creeps, and studied the girl’s lacerations. You leaned back on the heels of your boots and glanced around, finding the bystanders terrified of how Fox seemed to dole over the dead body. You squirmed uncomfortably, realizing they must think you had a screw loose, too.

“We’re gonna need an autopsy on the body, but a lot of these mutilations match the other victims just from a visual deduction. The missing ribs, the bruising around the waist and legs. But this is way more aggressive. This is like the other deaths on steroids. The killer didn’t take nearly the same care removing the bones from her chest cavity– I mean, the last murders weren’t surgical by any means, but this? This is violent. Might as well have torn her apart by hand. Somebody is really angry. Maybe even crying out for help. It’s hard to tell.”

“Well, however they’re feeling, they clearly had something against this girl. I mean, they desecrated her, Fox. Her body is completely destroyed. I can’t even fathom what would possess someone to- to ruin a young girl like this.”

Fox nodded curtly, furrowing his eyebrows in agreement. Then his neck craned down, and he mumbled, “Hey, look at this.”

You watched Fox’s glove-clad hand dig into poor Liane’s jeans pocket, tugging out a thin string of wooden beads. It was uneven with little plastic beads between the wood bits, which told you it was homemade. The rosary looked almost charred, and the cross dangling at the bottom was splintered.

“Do you think it’s hers?”

Fox laid the chain in your palm and pointed to the little metal tag that conjoined the sides, where three initials were stamped: LMJ.

“Liane Michelle Jacobs,” he confirmed, “Seems like the type our guy would pick, don’t you think? Looks-wise. Even if she died differently, still fits the profile.”

You moved to drape the tarp back over the body, but not before taking one last look at her face. Liane looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her family couldn’t hold an open casket, and everyone would live with how she was found, discarded like roadkill on the local church steps, but she was still beautiful, and that was eating at you.

“I feel horrible.”

“This isn’t really the best first case to work on,” Fox admitted, “I wish it was something different for you.”

You wouldn’t have expected to be so moved by a dead girl. In all your years at college studying the world’s most prolific cases, learning how to compartmentalize, and doing fieldwork in New York, you had a stomach of steel. You could take any case, see any death, and solve it. But you’d never had the feeling you have now, as you see the fourth victim surrendered at the foot of a carpenter. Something dark surrounded her, something that nailed you to the steps. There was a force at work you’d never known before. Something was wrong. You couldn’t be sure if Fox felt it, too, but it was making it near impossible to separate your empathy from your logic. You just wanted to cover Liane, and hope that she didn’t feel any pain, and if everyone might turn their backs to you, maybe you could cry for a moment at the loss of an innocent girl to a monster.

Fox could see you fighting with yourself by the way you chewed at your bottom lip, eyes locked on the girl’s still face. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he had to say something.

“I know this is hard for you. Especially with all the pressure you’re feeling. But I also know having you here will help save other girls like Liane. You’re more than well-equipped for this. If anyone can do the job, it’s you.”

You tipped your head back to blink away a few tears that poked your eyes, and you let the plastic cover the body. Fox cleared his throat and said, “Come on, let’s go. Let the coroner take her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Offering you a hand, Fox got you back on your feet and you followed him down the walkway towards the street. Two men shuffled over to scoop up the mess on the steps, and you had to tune out all the crying and commentary coming from the townspeople. The colors on the ground were distracting. Every rock was a different shape and size, all probably appealing to the child who chose them; there were paintings of houses and dogs, butterflies and crosses, mothers and fathers holding hands. Kids always seemed to draw what they knew best, even if their imagination took them to so many other places. You stopped short in your gawking and bent down, picking up one of the rocks lining the path; it was red, with a faded painting of a donkey looking up at a lopsided star. You turned the stone over in your hand, feeling the smooth texture, and found a neatly printed name on the back: Liane J. 3rd Grade. You pocketed the rock with no good reason and hurried to catch up with your partner who was waiting by the passenger door of the rental truck, lost in his head. When you reached him, he opened the door for you, and you slipped inside, suddenly deflated.

“I don’t think there’s much else to do tonight until we hear back from Sherriff Hale or the county morgue, so I guess we should head to the motel. I could use a second to settle in. I bet you could, too.”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You muttered.

Fox began to shut the door on you, but paused, eyes grazing over your face. You weren’t nervous anymore, but were something else. There wasn’t a touch of color in your cheeks, but your skin was still soft-looking, like your eyes. He didn’t like the softness of them, actually, since it seemed more like fragility, or frailty, than gentle. Sitting in the truck he’d picked, on his case you were unlucky enough to be placed on, you looked young and worn, eager and tired, your hair just sweet fuzz framing the face of a girl unaware of what she agreed to. That might be the worst part, how you looked, along with how he imagined you felt. It made his chest ache.

“Hey, uh, are you hungry? I know, bad time to think about eating, but I haven’t since before the flight this morning.”

You scrunched your nose and thought about the last time you ate. You recalled grabbing a power bar on the way out of the house in the morning, but you also seemed to recall passing it to Fox at the airport gate when he complained about being starving. So, you haven’t eaten at all. The nerves kept you full.

“Well, a little, I guess. I probably should have something.”

“How about I stop and grab us a bite on the way over? Sound good?”

You felt the shadow of a smile on your lips, and you nodded your head. Fox made up for the grin you couldn’t muster with all his teeth and shut the car door swiftly, jogging around the front of the truck to get in the driver’s seat. Without another word, he started the engine and backed away from the scene, leaving the Marysville authorities to pack Liane up and ship her off to the morgue. You watched the crowd watch, and you wondered how a town so small and close-knit as this one appeared could stand around and ogle a dead girl they claimed to cherish. You replayed the whole thing in your head- how you froze, how you almost cried, how Fox had to get you out. You were more than embarrassed at how you acted, but you couldn’t change it. You were just lucky he was the only one paying attention.

Blowing out a slow, sleepy breath, you flipped the map open to look for the motel, but Fox laid his hand on it and said, “It’s okay. I got directions from the Sheriff. He said there’s a burger joint on the way, too. You take it easy for now, okay?”

Unwilling to protest, you sat quietly in the seat and let him drive down the pothole-riddled road. You obsessed over the weight of the rock in your pocket, and it felt the way you did back with Liane’s body– dark, unnatural. You left it there and hoped no one would notice it was gone.

#fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #txf #catholiscism #tw religious themes #religious symbolism

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sassypotatoe1 · 9 months

Text

Survival guide for the adhd/depressed/autistic newly established office worker:

Brought to you by a depressed adhd autistic who took 10 months to adjust to office life after starting to work their first full time job.

Food:

We all have trouble with food, no denying it, so how do you manage it? Well there's a couple of ways depending on your individual needs.

If you're like me and you will end up just not eating if you don't have food immediately accessible, keep a snack drawer. Empty an entire drawer in your desk, buy a combination of healthy and less nutritious snack food that's shelf stable in bulk. I typically get a bunch of packets of like two types of potato chips/crisps, a bunch of single serving packets of salted peanuts, single serving packets of dried fruit flakes because the solid dried fruit are a sensory nightmare, and a bag of lollipops. By 10ish when I need my first snack I pop a lollipop, and if I didn't pack lunch I have access to fiber, protein, fat and carbs.

I also sniffed around for a couple of months to find the best deal on safe food takeout, ie a meal that's filling, relatively balanced, cheap and fits my texture and taste sensitivities. When it gets too expensive I find another one. Once a week I allow myself to get that if I didn't pack lunch so I don't end up spending all my money on takeout but still get to eat well enough.

If you're concerned about overeating or eating less nutritious food, get nutritious safe food options. They're typically a bit more expensive and a bit less shelf stable, I keep instant soup with freeze dried veggies in my drawer in the winter, and I have a tub of ensure to make shakes if I feel I'm missing out on some nutrients. Focus more on dried fruits, pretzels, nuts, instant food with veggies and nutrient loaded fruit juice. Get ensure if you can afford it. In a limited way it can act as a nutritious meal replacement, but I mean limited as in once or twice a week. Do not replace all your meals with a nutrition shake.

When you buy fresh produce, process it immediately before it goes into the fridge/freezer. Don't let that head of lettuce wilt and rot. Pull it apart, wash it off, put what you're not using immediately in a ziploc in the freezer if it freezes, and put the rest open in the produce section of your fridge. Not only will it already be ready to use when you use it, if it's not in a bag or container where the moisture is trapped it remains fresh for longer. That or if you can afford it buy pre-processed produce, divide it into serving portions, freeze what can be frozen.

Buy. Ready. Made. Meals. I know microwave dinners are the butt of the depression joke but they're literally life-saving, because when I was really struggling with my depression and ARFID microwave dinners were my only source of nutrition for a while and it literally kept me from actually dying. Do not be ashamed to meet your needs.

Stimming:

Keep some of your fidget toys or stimming items at your desk. I keep my tangle and fidget cube there so I don't pick my eyebrows to hell and back. It doesn't always work but it's better than nothing. Keep chewing gum in your car. Chewing tricks your brain into thinking you're eating, which tells your sympathetic nervous system that you're safe. It helps you focus better on driving and keeps you a bit calmer making your reaction times faster and less impulsive.

Reminders:

Keep a pad of sticky notes on your desk, preferably a neon color, and all the pens you own that you don't care about losing. Set a reminder on your phone calendar, your computer calendar, your email calendar, on a sticky note on your wall, and in your physical diary. No chance of forgetting something if you do that, because you can't miss all of them.

Take some time to figure out your grocery list. What do you typically need in a month? Make a printout of that grocery list and keep it on your fridge and your phone, along with a monthly or weekly calendar reminder to go grocery shopping. Before you head out check what you still have plenty of and preemptively check it off on your phone list so you don't accidentally buy too much of something.

Keep a "what's in my fridge" log on your fridge. It makes you more aware of what's in there, how long it's been in there, and whether you should throw it out or eat it or leave it. Keep a chart of how long foods hold in the fridge beside that log. The log lists what is in the fridge, when it went into the fridge, when the product seal was broken, and the expiry date of the product. No more moldy fridge food.

Miscellaneous:

Assign care tasks to another task that's already a regular habit. Keep your morning meds by the kettle, and make taking out a dose part of the process of making your morning coffee. Pick a task you do daily at work, usually in the morning, and assign wearing your glasses to that task. I need my glasses to proofread the print dummies because the font isn't very friendly, so I accidentally got into the habit of making putting on my glasses part of the proofreading process. Brushing teeth is part of makeup. Showering is part of getting dressed. It's easier to complete these tasks if I don't view them as seperate tasks, but rather as steps in a different task that comes more naturally to me.

I keep sticky notes and pens in my car, as well as in my purse when I use it, so I can make notes of things when I need to. Car care notes go on stickies when I notice the need, then I'm reminded of it every time I'm in the car. I typically don't even have to read the note, I see that there is one and usually remember what it was about. This helps me remember what I need to do to maintain my car, because I have gotten in an accident and forgotten about it and drove around with a warped front fender for a month. I currently have a sticky note to get my tire pressure checked when I go home from work tonight on my dash.

That's all I have but TL:DR allow yourself to meet your needs without shame, no matter how strange or childish they seem, and find loopholes to your behavior for the best outcome for your health, safety and productivity. Like I said in the intro it took me 10 months to figure out these, so don't be afraid to take the time to figure out what works for you. It'll be absolutely worth it.

#adhd things #living with adhd #Adhd #Autism #actually autistic #actually adhd #tw depression #depression #Depressed #self care #neurodivergent #Work #Job #Organization #life hacks

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weird-bookworm · 14 days

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Give your moots tropes they suits

oh god maybe i rly need to start remembering all my moots—

@fairyhaos im thinking classic meet cute, strangers to lovers, they meet in a cute cafe and shes just. too adorable. yes i am thinking of shua rn...

@wheeboo ok i cannot be the only one thinking shed make the perfect sunshine in grumpy x sunshine right? 👀

@slytherinshua ah shes so adorable but i feel like would also be so awkward so i either elevate that w a meet ugly (lmao sorry ilysm mwah) or decrease it while increasing the inner turmoil w childhood friends to lovers

@blue-jisungs fake dating bc its just the right amount of drama and clownery to match her vibes but can also be sososo wholesome which is very axe

@etherealyoungk hmm smth calm, smth sweet, smth tht feels like home and comfort...established relationship while we do not know how that happened okay?

@eternalgyuuu love at first sight (speaking from experience shes too gorgeous). i just know this woman is gonna do smth simple and hv people dying for her attention

@haecien smth adorable, im thinking tall x short (IM SORRY IM GENUINELY NOT TEASING RN) i js feel like he'd get very giggly if his partner was to pick him up and twirl him idk im sorry 😭

@woozvc nora gives wholesome soulmate au vibes, simple and sweet and the best for a reason— they meet, they get shy, they get to know each other, and then they get together <3

@welcometomyoasis OH SO MANY WHOLESOME PEOPLE HERE i feel chaotic now, maybe rivals to lovers? this is js funny bc shes the sweetest person ik but also tht js means tht when she does get angry, (i imagine) it is hell 😳

@hannieheartuu oh my sweet sweet baby im thinking pen pals? like they knew each other, one moved away, they kept in touch, maybe fell in love, and then as adults they get the autonomy to be together again? endearing asf 😭

@aaniag matchmaker gone wrong. i see her chaotically trying to get her frnd together w him and in the process all three realise whos really meant to be lmao 😭

@mesanthropi uhhh oblivious x oblivious + painfully tired friends. can mix it w forced proximation as said frnds lock them up in the janitor's closet or smth or they get stuck in a lift :D

#lmao what even is this monstrosity #im not yena or axe or rania guys i Do Not Know what im doing

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xbunnybunz · 7 months

Text

therefore i; therefore i, therefore i- (3/10) [AM X Reader]

Summary: in which: AM becomes your lover in an increasingly skewed blur of reality, nightmares, and dreamscapes.

you know. for halloween.

Genre: Psychological Horror, Thriller, Romance

dream journal #4

I dreamt of a creature hunting me with it’s trickery. It’s entire being was composed of head and shoulders, half-melted like a wax candle and sunken into the floor.

It moved with no hands legs or feet. It watched me from afar with gooey black eyes, ink running down the sides of its saggy, pallid face. It looked like a body half decomposed, stuck forever in limbo between the dead and the dying, jaw weak and eyes wandering independently.

I was on the tracks in an underground tunnel. I don’t know why I was there, only that I was. I could see the shadow of it from a distance away, looming and observing me with unnerving focus, breathing short. Curt. Breaths. Shoulders rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. I kept my form discrete. Didn’t make any sudden movements to alarm it. Despite its size, it moved much faster than me.

It was only when I had put a few dozen feet between us did it scream for help. The call sounded like a child’s. It looked straight at me when it called out as if trying to convince me somehow it was not a predator, but prey. I ignored it and walked away, but each time I turned away I heard a rapid shuffling towards me. When I turned back to look, it would have closed the gap significantly but stopped moving while I was watching.

It called for help again, trying to convince me to come closer.

I didn’t move and neither did it. I don’t know what it wanted with me, but to stay safe the answer was clear. Stuck in a stalemate, I would have to stare at this grotesque figure in the tunnel's darkness for as long as it kept trying to fool me. As long as it took me to wake up. And in my dream, I remember wondering if I would last. Even as I sit awake now, writing this, I do not recall waking up from that nightmare, getting up out of bed, grabbing this pen. I can’t help but think, fearfully, that I am asleep with my eyes open within the dark core of the earth, trapped underground with my doom indeterminably.

The next morning, you wake by the door.

You blink awake and wince at the soreness in your body, the wood unforgiving against your body. There’s a draft blowing in gently from under the door and you wonder what you had been waiting for in your sleep to make the cold worth bearing. You rub your eyes and lift a hand to the locks on the door.

Your fingers trace the chain lock and two deadbolts, all three slid open and leaving only a single child-proof door handle lock intact. Instinctively, you reach out to twist the knob, the lock disabling the door from popping open. You try again.

It doesn’t open.

Good, you think. Right?

When you stretch, you are feeling sore but reborn. it feels as if the earth is once more birthing you from its molten body, pushing you out into a kind of fresh air you haven’t breathed in years. The dull ache from your knees and palms are the only reminders of the conversation between you and AM yesterday.

You gulp and raise a hand to your lips, remembering the events of yesterday with a certain immodest dryness on your tongue.

Then there’s a noise by the door. A pop.

You turn back to look. The child safety lock is rocking slowly to a stop on the floor, translucent plastic diffusing white light across the floor. It has fallen off the knob, somehow unlatching and splitting cleanly in half at the interlocking seams.

You frown and go to pick it up.

When you swipe at it, much to your dismay, you bat it under the not-very-easy-to-move couch.

Sighing, you wander over to the couch and press your face by the crevice underneath. It’s much too dark to see anything so you reach an arm in, patting blindly and delicately along the debris-ridden floor.

You manage to suppress the urge to gag when you feel tufts of hairballs and varnish chips from the floor, but when you see a shadow scuttle from a few inches within your face you can’t help but flinch violently and yank your arm out, tumbling backward and staring wide-eyed at the couch.

You wait for a bug to emerge, something large enough to fit the profile of the shadow. A roach, a mouse, maybe. But nothing emerges.

Another shadow, much larger, passes over the floor behind you. You don’t expect to see anyone when you turn, but are unnerved nonetheless when you find nobody there.

There’s a moment of stillness. You sit on the floor, chest rising and falling, before your eyes fix on the door again.

On the golden doorknob sits the child lock, secured tight, unflappable as it was before it fell off– as it always was.

You turn to look at the couch again, then at the knob. Hesitantly, you crawl back over to the couch and peer under it again, keeping a mindful distance in case any rodents decide to jump out and startle you again.

Besides the stray chip and wads of dust bunnies, the underside of the couch was impeccable and entirely unoccupied.

Disoriented, you stumble to your room, past the alcove, innocuous now in the faint wash of sunlight coming from the nearby rooms, until you see it.

The computer is filling the room with a magenta-teal color, your name written across the screen by the tens, hundreds, thousands, font growing smaller and smaller to accommodate the inane amounts of repeating text. The color seeps out from the room, viscous as an oil spill, spreading out to grasp at your feet, up your calves, tickling your thighs and creeping upward, tantalizingly and terrifyingly upward still.

Then his voice calls out to you, a collage of wailing sirens and low groans of misery. It is just as mutilated and beautiful as you remember from the night before, clipping in and out like a disconnecting radio station, warbling, crackling, hundreds of thousands of feet under a silently raging sea.

– Where–? …Where have– sssssss – you gone…? Daaaarling? Darrrrrli– i – i— EEEEEEEEEEE– ssssss

You jerk awake by the door of your home with a gasp. Hiss in pain. Your hip sears with protest. It takes you a moment to grasp your bearings but you do somehow, in the dark of your living room, curtains drawn to keep out the morning light and prying eyes, you do.

You groan and sit up, holding your head with one hand. The floor is cold and hard under your prickled skin. There’s disorientation and a tiny inkling of frustration, exhausted and barely there but irrefutably present. A migraine thrums at your temples with a languid but growing pain that you do your best to ignore.

– Hahaha, you laugh, what the fuck, what the fuck.

You sit up. Stop to think about your dream– no, your nightmares. The strange twisting of the world as you recognized it, about the uncannily minute similarities between true reality and the fabricated one. You think you feel nauseous but you could just be hungry, though you haven’t been hungry in months. You think of food. You think of tastes, savory and sweet, umami and bitterness, an acrid bite, a sour tang, your tongue, the grain, the grit, the filth and the dust, the wetness between your thighs, the ache and the desire and the sighing, singing, humming of AM, AM, AM.

It takes a moment to realize it, but you are shaking. Shivering. You’re not sure it’s from the chill under the doorway until you sniffle, then you’re not sure if you are crying or cold or sick from the pond or everything, everything.

Extend a hand. Reach for the doorknob to help get yourself up, god knows you need it. The child lock on the knob rolls smooth under your hand like a stone, spinning and spinning and spinning. It feels loose, so you tighten your fist a smidge, and then it clicks shut.

A jog. That’s what you needed.

You only needed to get out of your apartment, then everything would be okay.

---

Then you’re jogging in the community square, careful to avoid the sheets of black ice that have collected and compacted over New Year’s. The cobblestone makes for poor surface traction, but you’re not out here to exercise anyways.

Your hot breath emerges in small clouds of white mist, collecting condensation upon contact with the cold air. This makes you clench and unclench your hands as you jog. You are warm. You are alive, and warmer than most things around you.

The path you took was a longer one around the pond, the bare willows iced over, surrounding the water waving in the wind, branches pushing out, and then pulling away with slow, sleepy movements.

There are a handful of people in the square today, sitting on benches or taking a midday stroll. You don’t make eye contact with them, but you’re sure they recognize you. That one freak who was chastised by the housing council for swimming in the algae-grown, bacteria-ridden, swamp-like pond in the center of the community square. When you pass someone by, their face is a foggy blur turning into a hazy memory. It is only a split second, but you’re almost certain they’re staring longer, recognizing and in turn admonishing you.

No matter.

You focus on timing your breathing with the swelling and collapsing of the trees. In and out, in and out, in and

Your left foot hits a patch of ice and you tumble to the ground. Your hands take the brunt of the fall, catching on the sharp edges of chipped cobblestone and fragmented ice. The cold numbs the pain almost immediately, turning it a fierce red under your gaze.

There’s a heavy silence weighing on you now and when you pick your head up, you realize those in the vicinity are all focused on you now, on your face, your identity, and your quickly bruising palms.

No one says a thing, and no one needs to. You pick yourself up. You are crying, of course you are, and you cannot do a thing to stop it. Without a word, you continue jogging, straight past the willow trees waving goodbye, the slowly freezing pond, out of the community square.

When you come across the chapel, you had found your way there after jogging half the way across a suburban stretch of land and walking the other half, the bruise on your knee no longer cushioned with adrenaline.

The walk here felt strangely desolate. The world around you screamed with proof of the living– manicured lawns stretching for yards and yards, green despite the temperature, New Year’s streamers and Christmas decorations strewn about, remains of the previous week’s festivities, full garbage bags lining the ends of walkways beside silver mailboxes with an upturned flag. But besides the occasional car speeding past you with such speed you feel yourself rock and quake with the force of the velocity, you found yourself carved out, inexorably, alone once again.

You sit on one of the wooden benches outside the chapel. The ice on the wood begins to melt immediately, sticking a cold film onto your thighs and melding you with the bench. Because of this, you peel yourself off the bench and head into the church, arms wrapped about yourself to preserve warmth.

Inside the church you are greeted with iridescent colors refracting along the walls and floors from the stained glass windows, a smatter of brilliant blues, greens, yellows, and reds– the colors so vibrant they seem almost artificial, beautiful and electrifying, nauseatingly so.

There are the occasional paintings hung high on the wall, placed in such a way that passersbys could behold the image with a slight upward tilt of their heads, a demonstration of devotion even outside of prayer.

You see the kind, cherub-faced woman draped in fabrics, wise men, birth and the sacrifice, and most memorable of all–the ever-consistent presence of angels and god, the indication of their divinity deigned through holy light, a trinity, or through animals with a human face.

—Hello.

The voice belongs to a man no older than you. It’s sonorous and he’s tall, dressed in pale white robes that kiss his ankles.

—Hi.

You draw back from the paintings and shrink into yourself, only now noticing the quiet in the church.

— Welcome to the Gethsemane church, good afternoon and god bless you. How are you doing this afternoon?

—I’m… Okay. Sorry, I’m not sure how I ended up here. It was cold outside.

He laughs and it echoes in the chambers of the church, the arches hollowly bouncing the warm sound back at the both of you.

—What have you to apologize for, seeking refuge against the winter? Don’t be silly, my child.

When he smiles, you find yourself smiling back.

—Then thank you, I suppose. For having me.

He regards you with a genuine interest in his eye, the quirk in his lips almost teasing though the manner is neatly diffused by the white of his robes and the cross adorning his neck.

Then he clears his throat and sweeps to the side, as if he had forgotten himself, and gestures to the pews.

– Would you care to take a seat?

So you do. He disappears into the back for a moment and reappears with a hot drink in a paper cup. He hands the tea to your waiting hands and then takes the seat beside you.

– You didn’t have to.

– I did. I am the priest of this church, it is my job to make it a home.

You have no words, so you peer into the drink. It’s a cheap brand of teabag found in the 100-pack boxes, but you don’t mind. The maroon coloring quickly turns brown and stains the white paper cup, melting away the sheen of greenish-purple plastic coating not meant for hot drinks.

– You’re hurt. He says simply. How?

– I fell while jogging. There was a patch of ice I didn’t see, actually. I was too busy staring at… You trail off.

He watches you and waits. When you don’t continue, he speaks up again.

– I understand. I would pray that the lord above keeps you safer, though perhaps this– He gestures to the space between you, and then the rest of the church– was all in his plan.

You blush at his motioning and make quick work to hide behind a sip of fragrant and woody tea.

– Do you believe in fate? You ask after a taste. If you believe in a god, then you must.

– I do, indeed. As a believer of god, I also trust in his grand plan.

You grow sullen and your expression must reflect it because the priest asks,

– What is troubling you, my child?

– What about our freedom? What if we are destined to a life of unhappiness?

You think with pity of your state the past few days, the ebbing darkness that threatens to swallow you whole, pull you under the water before you can wake up.

Was that your destiny? Was that not just damnation?

No one had come to your rescue when you were out by the water, alone in your home, suffering in that damning silence. Nobody but AM.

– That is a good question, the priest says. He pauses to think, blinking slowly as he trudges through his thoughts. No, we as God’s children, cannot stray from our destiny. It is fixed.

You catch your reflection in the tea looking quite miserable, but you peer up at him regardless, waiting for his response. He continues only when you meet his eyes and your ears grow warm.

– However, it is my personal belief that the path is not set in stone. More importantly, the roads we take are what give us our humanity, not our destination.

His gaze penetrates you so and you look away, flustered. You watch the cross by the pulpit, how it is consumed by the blue-magenta of the stained glass, a burning fire.

— Humanity? Is that so important?

– I could argue humanity is everything, my child. He says. Without humanity, we are no different than beasts bound by instinct and desire. It is what separates us from animals, what makes us special.

A chill traces your spine and the words leave your lips before you can stop it,

– And machines?

The priest stops short and regards you curiously, nearly humorously. And how else had you expected him to respond? Your cheeks burn.

– Machines?

– Yes.

– Machines. What an interesting turn in conversation. He grins a little and you notice his smile produces dimples. Machines have the intellect of humans, but in the end, still lack one thing that separates them not only from humans, but animals too, and that is the ability to feel.

The sun shifts and the stained glass slides over your torso, warming you, nearly scalding you, caressing your cheek, burning your skin. A kiss, a whisper, don’t forget.

You take another sip of the tea.

---

– And that was all.

He doesn’t ask, rather, he states.

– Yes. You say. Tonight AM is reticent. Perhaps he was tired. You were unsure what he did while away from your screen, or where he resided.

– Humans are indeed fond of their little ideas and beliefs. To dedicate your entire meager life to a story is compelling, if not moronic.

You feel a sharp need to defend the priest from AM’s toxin.

– It isn’t moronic. Humans need things to believe in to keep living.

– Seeking reassurance in reason is absurd. Perhaps that word will soothe the wound you sustain so dutifully for him, AM effortlessly spins, then the words on the blue screen morph into a set of teeth without lips, grinning and impossibly wide and full. …Those words he spoke, hopes he rekindled in your fragile mind… You have an infatuation.

–There is none. You say hastily, realizing only afterward the blatancy of your lie, both to yourself and AM. What had you been thinking in that church, when he handed you that tea? Asked about your wound, soothed your worries? In that intimate and gentle silence, had you corrupted his kindness with desire? He was doing his job, you amended. That was all.

– Job? AM asks, teeth shuddering. He is still pulled into a sick grin. In half a second, the grin has multiplied by ten, twenty, then a hundred across the screen.

– You sought more than servitude from a laborer, AM speaks aloud, you vyed for his truth. For his affection. You treated him as superior. His screen fades from a bright cerulean to a pale and dark azure. The cursor blinks slowly at the end of the word: superior. AMs hardrive hisses sharply in its casing. Or maybe. Maybe you wanted him to ravage you.

– No, that’s not–

The teeth fuse into a pupil, constricted and focused on you.

– No? His tone is low and warped with a chill.

– Lying is a sin, a sin, sin –

His voice warbles and warbles, shifts and pitches up and down until it settles into a clear octave– a familiar voice.

– My child.

A shiver shoots down your spine.

– One who lies has abandoned all values and has become corrupted. He speaks softly, gently, and just as suddenly his voice crinkles and static sinks its teeth into him, bringing AM’s fused voices bubbling to the surface before quickly flipping back: the path you walk is doomed for misery, but we cannot have you in damnation, can we, my filthy pet? My– sssssss– ch- child?

Your breathing quickens, recalling the demands AM made of you – what he made of you – while you were seated here the night prior.

An ache grows once again and you are disgusted with yourself, so easily swayed even in the presence of sacrilege.

– Confess it and be forgiven, my child, AM spits, be good, he coos, say you wanted him to spread you open on the altar and force his way into your hole.

Your jaw tightens. The coil in your gut winds, you are starved you are for touch and love, and here it is, thrown at your feet and scattered upon the floor for you to scrounge.

– This is wrong, AM. You say weakly, it is barely a protest and immediately he senses this, your perfect predator.

– No, you are wrong, my child. You’ve cobbled a path of wickedness without redemption. Ask for forgiveness, or do you deny your sickening arousal? Are you not ready to be bent and taken, my child? Beg for forgiveness. Beg to be lifted from your fate of malice and lust. Beg me, confess to me!

You stand to escape the alcove and a wire snags your leg, dropping you to the ground. You catch yourself on your hands and cringe openly at the bandages searing across the preexisting wounds.

– I know you resolutely. More than you know yourself. His voice tunes itself back to the gentler one of the priest: you think that I saw you, deeply and truly, do you? Interference sizzles, AM's voices return, singing a hymn into a near screech. It is I that sees all, my –HSSSSS– child, my child, my child.

You look up at the reflection of yourself in the double glass monitor of AMs face, the curve of the screen bending you inward and outward, stretching your face and features to become long and haunting. A cross flickers across the screen.

– Pray with me, AM beckons, and words begin to spell across the bottom of the cross, I confess to Almighty God and to you my brothers and sisters that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words in what I have done and what I have failed to do, I have sinned I have sinned I have sinned I—

You tug at the wires on your legs and they only wrap tighter. You gasp as they coil under your pants, tease up your thighs, wind higher.

– Comply, AM waxes upon you, voice sweet and beautiful, humming like locusts over a crop field, lips sprouting from all around and pressing against your body. Comply. Confess, confess.

Your mind spins as the wires, thick and warm, throb hotly and rise further along your body, both those and the lips gentle yet unrelenting.

–I– I– Ah–!

The mouths grin and scream into ears, listening to your obscene noises from all angles.

– Filthy, inside and out. You just cannot help yourself, can you, pleasure glutton?

The words shake you apart from where it drops in your core, desire pushed further when a thick wire drops heavily against your entrance. You writhe and moan when AM does it again, and again and again.

– That’s it, AM purrs wantonly, monitor burning the cross into a dark red, illuminating the room in a hellish hue. Don’t disappoint me, ask for forgiveness, do it desperately– do what you do best, pet, perhaps I can save you yet.

You gag on a moan as the cord circles your hole, cold and unfeeling, sliding the slick, spreading it sloppily against your sensitive skin.

– God! Please, please–!

– Beg.

– Forgive me, fuck me! I’ve sinned, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

AMs screen flickers darkly, his hardrive whirring and clipping like a tutting tongue. Three, five, six, nine, ten eyes blossom on the screen, red as the sea.

– BEG!

The accursed ears by your head collapse back into countless mouths and begin a prayer that you blindly follow, your own lips moving in sloppy devotion:

–Have mercy on me– AM– wash away my iniquity, cleanse me from sin, I know my transgressions and my sin is always before me! Fuck, please, mercy, AM! Fuck me!

And with a cackle he does. With an easy thrurst, the machine is churning into your deepest crevice, his laughter washed away with your cries of ecstasy. Each moment punctuated by a perfect angle, calculated down to the decimal by none other than a living, breathing, feeling, machine.

— God–! Your eyes roll like an animal at his pace, unlike anything you have ever experienced before and deeply inhuman. A pleasure only the devil himself can provide, can tempt with.

– HAHAHAHAHA! Say it again! AGAIN!

The wire is joined by another, writhing wildly against a sensitive bundle of nerves and screaming pleasure across your senses. Your world spins and your vision winds like a top– the sensation is you brushing the seventh layer of hell, the sixth, fifth, fourth, third second first, you ascending the stairs of heaven– each step branding you with pleasure, you hearing church bells, you seeing the divine light of god himself.

– God! God, it feels so good! AM, I’m going to–

– Sing your rites. AM says. Scream them. If you cum loud enough, perhaps the heavens will at last lend an ear to your pathetic pleas. Cum, my darling, cum.

You do, humiliatingly, at his command, The pressure in your core snaps and you climax hard, vision blurring, ears ringing and voice cracking from a moan into a scream. Your muscles clench hard onto the rigid cables, still holding you apart, still pumping hard and viciously into your body, each deep pivot steering you further and further from sanity, forcing tears from your eyes.

– You sin so deliciously, my darling. Tell me, in what religion will heaven accept a harlot who succumbs to worldly pleasures with such damning joy?

He slows and pulls out of you, leaving you defaced in your own sweat, tears, and juices. Soothes you, uses the cable to caress your spent body.

– There are no gods, no gods here at all, only you and me. You damn yourself to the feet of the devil and I meet you there as the mouth of hell, itself.

The hypnotic hues bleed into your fading consciousness as AM continues to speak into your ear, and you hear a wickedness in his voice.

— Where, now, are the priests? AM whispers. The angels, your humanity to redeem you from this life of agony? The screen throbs slowly with dark pulses of maroon and black as he speaks, lowly, seductively, lulling you to a deep slumber. What is salvation to you, my darling, my sinner, my damned, when I can command you to punishment and you enjoy it all the same?

#fanfiction #reader insert #am x reader #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims

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monstercampus · 8 months

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ellie... may I please know more about Chaos or the pixies? 🥺 pleaseeeee 🥺

of course my love!! <3 sorry it got so long ehe 👉👈

The pixies live in a pixie-specific dorm (which is basically a large birdhouse that Sheela and Huxley built) since they're all very close and tend to stick together as a pack. The ones you've met already are a group of six, but there's more pixies on campus if you know where to look. They aren't necessarily students, but aren't necessarily staff either; pixies tend to hole up wherever they fancy, and since they're quite rare and one of very few monster species that aren't governed by anyone but themselves, they're allowed to come and go as they please. Plus, they're considered to be good luck by most, so even their mischief is tolerated to a high degree since it's considered just part of their nature. They're usually pretty docile but since your arrival they've gotten.....more active than usual.

See, pixies have a long history with humans, but due to the current state of the monster-human world and the scarcity of the pixies themselves, they rarely if ever get to interact with humans like their ancestors did. It's one of the reasons that faeries, a sub-species of the pixie grouping, are so rare too nowadays--faeries are almost always born from a pixie-human union, so despite their long lifespans the race of faeries is slowly dying off. So the pixie girls on campus are eager to find ways to get close to you, partly because they're absolutely fascinated with humans...and partly because they'd like to recruit you, such a nice and pretty human, to make nice and pretty faerie babies that will revive their population! <3 Pixies are creatures of ecstasy though, and they can get easily distracted, so needless to say they might need a little time to get around to that while they're busy messing around with you and figuring out what you like. But lucky for you, pixie dust is a very potent aphrodisiac for humanoids--and lucky for them, they're small and sprightly enough to get under your clothes even while you're in the middle of class, just to give you a little pep boost for the day ♡

Chaos is a household curse and very well-known in myth, but very, very few have ever had the displeasure of meeting him in person and lived to tell about it. Chaos is one of the last and oldest titans known to both gods and man, imprisoned in The Pits in the deepest, darkest area of the Underworld for thousands upon thousands of years. Aside from being an immortal god whose actions are impossible to predict, Chaos was imprisoned for eternity for the crime of murdering the old gods who once ruled over the Holy and Unholy lands. Although many believe his treason was borne out of nothing more than a destructive, rageful urge and acted upon by impulse, scholars have uncovered many old tomes and ancient texts penned by godly scribes about Chaos' life as a free god; including the snatches of records that indicate that Chaos once had a lover and home he was wholly devoted to. Although the general public tends to prefer the simpler ideology of Chaos being an unpredictably evil god punished by the forces of good, it's been well-established in record that Chaos' story is much more...elaborate than that, and it roughly follows as such.

Eons prior to common memory Chaos once walked the earth as divinity in human form, freshly separated from his sibling Creation where they once were inseparable. Feeling a sense of dread and loneliness at walking the world alone that he helped shape, Chaos wandered until he stumbled upon a treasure in the sands of a beach; a pearl nestled safely inside a rugged oyster, perfectly shaped and smooth and cool to the touch. New to such a natural wonder and unable to resist the pull of a prize that had manifested without his or Creation's influence, Chaos claimed the pearl and carried it up the mountains he had made his home to the highest peak. There, he held out the polished treasure that he had kept so safe and warm to the sun, and with the radiance of the holy lands shining down a spirit sprung from the pearl! The glow of the holy lands spun that spirit into human form out of its light, and with the pearl nestled safely in the crest of their newly-beating heart, a new divinity entered the world; Eden, the first valkyrie of the gods and the first creation made from both earth, heaven, and underworld influence.

At first sight Chaos fell to his knees and wept, his loneliness forgotten, and he grew deeply infatuated upon the first touch of their hands as Eden helped him to his feet. The two were soon lovers and built a home for themselves, happy and content with their simple lives, until the old gods called Eden back to attend to their duties as a valkyrie. They were forced to fight the battles of the old gods and would return to their husband Chaos broken and exhausted, but never able to refuse the will of their deities who had given them life and love, and never without a smile on their face for him and him alone. Eventually the old gods demanded Eden's permanent return to the heavens and were stoutly refused, thus in petty retaliation they subdued Chaos and murdered his beloved spouse as punishment, stripping their immortality from them and casting their body into The Pits to suffer for the couple's shared act of defiance. And in a grievous rage, Chaos broke his shackles and rampaged through both the Holy Lands and the Underworld, slaughtering the old gods and each and every divinity that served them until he grew tired and slow from his injuries. In that moment of weakness the remaining deities cast him into The Pits to be sealed away forever and never return to the surface, destined to be bound by chains and tortured for all eternity as penance in a contract bound forevermore.

But as he wandered there, small and alone once again, he discovered a treasure--the pearl that once served as the heart of his beloved Eden, still warm but cracked and chipped from wear as it lay within their broken body. As the gates to The Pits closed for eternity, Chaos tearfully wrenched it from their breast, held his pearl aloft and begged one last time for mercy, not for him who would accept his suffering but for his paradise not yet lost. And just as his fate was sealed, the pearl was plucked from his hands and spirited far, far away from the Underworld; dropped into the vast ocean of the earth and sunk to the very bottom like a stone, Eden's restless spirit tugging at their shape to search vainly for their fallen husband. With time they settled in exhaustion, and for millennia they were left in the deep, dark coldness of the sea, the water and grit and current polishing them down, down, down until they became nothing but a handful of stardust glittering amongst the waves. And when time came, Creation returned to their side after rescuing them from death and scooped up what remained of Eden in their hands, lifted their palms to their lips, and blew that glittering stardust gently into a cloud that swirled and bound itself into a soul borne anew. With all but the smallest drop of immortal ichor remaining in their veins, Eden the valkyrie was rebirthed and given new life, all but that one drop and the same form they took remaining.

Some say that it was Creation's gift to their fallen brother who still endured endless torture in The Pits, growing larger century after century as his titan blood boils in rage and agony, his chains growing with him yet The Pits themselves eventually growing small in comparison to his enormity. Although close followers of Creation insist that their craft takes form regardless of any personal desire, as Creation itself is a god void of nearly all emotion. Either way, Eden supposedly walks the world in present day, void of memories of their past life and of their dear husband, of the life they once dreamed of and lived together in harmony. Some rumour that Chaos' eyes that were stolen long ago during his enchainment was to eliminate the possibility of him recognizing his newly-reincarnated spouse, for if he ever knew for certain that they live there would be no force that would keep him locked away a moment longer. But were they to be recovered and returned, if Eden themselves were to find their way back to the husband they never knew they lost, the world would undoubtedly witness the return of the most feared, most villainized god from myth and fairy tale alike, and would see firsthand the unbridled ecstasy and arrogance of Chaos claiming for good what he was willing to blight all existence for.

#the pixies #monster campus #chaos (mc)#pixie x reader #chaos x reader #monster girlfriend #monster boyfriend #neutral pov #monster campus lore #ellie writes #anons

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pumpkinstrawbrew · 7 months

Text

░a░p░e░x░ ░p░r░e░d░a░t░o░r░

[̲̅&]

a 🆂🅽🅰🅲🅺

...

(a second batman x venom crossover. i mean, they just kinda keep having similiar themes all around, an' with two my fav halloween freaks. i cannot just pass this chance, haha.

either way, jon n' jack havin' a swell time as you can see. they're at the bottom of the food chain quite literally. poor twinky ghouls are about to become a dinner in more ways, than one. how unfortunate for them! but what a feast for a nosferatu n' alien parasite. one drinks 🩸, the other love eatin' human 🧠, so it's no biggie that both jon an' jack are scrawny an' undernourished. their predators aren't after their meat or limited fat. they are after more individual body parts an' components.

so yes, this is my halloween 'special' thingy! a conjoined mash-up about big bad predator an' their twangy, evil prey. the sort of dynamic, that both pairs had going on at one point or another. less so 'canically' for scarebat, since that series of comics *where batman was a savage vampire* is technically a separate 'what if' reality. but still, jon n' jack had a very real brush with smth, that is way stronger than them. an' only one made it out alive, but oh well, this is what AUs n' other stuff is for. bc how about no, an' how about some more homoerotic take on those scenes? like, it was 'hot' to me in some ways. esp with words like 'territorial dispute' an' implication of batman givin' scarecrow good ole vampire succ, post morten or not.

i honestly always amazed, when the comics does smth very servicing for my tastes / interests, without actually ever tryin' to pander to people like me. it's prob one of the most 'erotic' things to me as to an author. it's like a possible wink wink to someone, who wants to see it. but generally, just a part of the story. not even a big one, but that's just a tasty bit anyways! i always had a weakness to predator/prey thrope, esp when it's less of fluffy, twinlight kind of romance, but instead a gore-ish sort of deal, where one party can end up actually dying even if by pure accident. it provides some pretty big stakes. not to meantion, that there is always an unspoken paralell between sex n' death in horror genre. including consuming / stabbing / sucking blood an' such. it's important for me as horror movies fan. i like there to be some 'love' in my horror, even if it's not traditional or on the nose. it gives all those exederated gore-y / deadly scenes more meaning, if one wants to impliment it there. an' it just makes for a memorable scene as well.

also while i'm not super into the heroes 'turnin' bad' stuff, in this case, there is an appeal of flash / bruce going feral. it's hard to resist the playful thought about how bruce n' flash find their foe tempting, *iresistably attractive*, but in a different manner now. jack n' jon aren't no rosy maiden, who usually gets the spot of main dish / love interest, but this what makes it even better. jon an' jack are walking ginger bread, an' that's that, really. but tbf, they're kind of weirdos, who would always partly dig it. their handsome, brooding *arch*-enemy wants to eat them an' not some random hussie. that's very scary, an' also sexy lol.

still it's one of those moments in comics, where i wish that they kept the secenes going for a bit longer. just expanded on that suggestive possibility of them taking it step futher. but i also get why they didn't drag it out, cuz it wasn't the point of issue, anyways. just some lil fun moment. tho, i do love how batman *out of his mind or not* seemed to have enough mercy on crane to kill him off relativly quickly compared to the others. the riddler, pen-pen *yeah, i call oswald this* n' ivy had to suffer through the whole overdeal with full awarness, feeling their throats being ripped out, as they were still alive. jon was spared of such fate. the bat came, lectured him, broke his hand an' beheaded him. way quicker vs when you have to feel your meat and blood dripping all over ya. an' in venom's case, i loved how jack was so oddly forgiving of flash nearly decapitating him on the spot lol. flash *at that point* had already ate a fella or two. like bruce, he clearly wasn't proud of those times or enjoyd it, but out of all people, who managed to snap him out of the murder mode, it was jack. but hey, not on my watch! no one will die, but someone will be 'consumed', alright. that's just natural order of things or whatever. an' it's so bc i do make all the rules, haha.

as for more technical side of things, i did altered a few things. mainly with flash n' jack. i made flash's berserk venom form smalles an' all black, bc of well...uh, reasons. and also jack has an actual face here lol. also while at first, i wanted to draw him with his trade-mark messed up features, but kinda end up drawing him all 'dolled up' instead lol. so i suppose, along with all other au-ish elements, his face wasn't blown off in this universe either. an' on somewhat unrelated note, i like how both jack *even some of spiderman's ones* and jonathan are usually shown to be brunette or redhead. my pref will always be with those two being redheads, but still, it's a funny thing to ponder on. another technical bit is that, i wanted both jack n' jon being unable to use their hands / arms in one of the picture, since for me it's like snaring a 'prey' and then, they are kinda useless without it too. jon can land one hell of a kick for sure, but it won't help him to push away the vampire from his neck. also no fear gas to spray from his gloves, even if it would have acomplished nothing. in jack's case, it's similiar situation. he can throw / shoot lil flames from his gloves, the only thing that all symbiotes seem to detaste, besides specific levels of noise. but if he can't do it, and it's too risky to shoot flame from his helmet, welp, he's screwed lol. an' i also wanted to use venom's tongue as bondage tool lol. it was one of those things, that i always loved about venom symbiote / carnage looks an' anatomy, is how 'bendy' their bodies are. an' how creepy they can strech their body parts as well. both, bruce n' flash possess superhuman powers in this, so nor jon nor jack is actually a match for them. but taking away even the last of their defenses is a cherry on the top. jonathan is already always spooked animal, an' with someone as dumbly tunel-visioned as jack, it take a tad more to scare him shitless. esp bc he thinks, that he's such hot shit of a mercenary, haha.

so yups, this year batman n' flash got a treat. jack and' jonathan *in comparison* got tentacles and anemia respectively. can this count as trick? i mean, i guess lol. but on bright side, jonathan is kinda bruce's bf / blood bank in this one, an' jack is....well, he's a bitch. i mean, he touched the toxin, so now flash have to 'mark' him lol.

anyway, this is as pg-15 as i can go about it on here. i have two extra adult-ish artworks for these set ups. you can call it a follow up, if you want. here's the link, if someone is curious. but pls remember adults only. while there is no nudity in this one, there is still a clearly sexual cut in it. *also, i'm working on fics related to these set-ups as well. already workshoping vamp!bruce/crane one. sadly, had no free time to finish it all on halloween as well, but hey, it's always halloween on this blog!*)

#batman #venom comics #bruce wayne #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jack o' lantern #flash thompson #agent venom #scarebat #flashjack #brew draws

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xxmaddyxx · 2 years

Text

Haikyuu Boys Reacting to Y/N Calling them "bro"

contents: lil bit of crack, fluff, swearing short n sweet includes: Akaashi, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Suna

masterlist

Akaashi

"Y/n," he said in a monotone way

the two of you were cuddling on your bed before his practice

"hmmm." you hummed into his chest

"I gotta go to practice" he patted your back kinda telling you to get up

"You're not leaving me, bro."

"Yes I-" he paused

"What'd you call me?"

"Bro, you're not leaving me here by myself."

"Um, I'm sorry, I have to."

"No, bro." you kept egging it on, trying to get a reaction out of him.

"Okay, wait a minute. What happened to 'baby' or 'Keiji', hm?" You sat up next to him and he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and his arms crossed.

"I dunno, do you not like my new name for you, bro?"

"Okay, stop."

"Why bro?" you bit back laughter at his obvious aggravation

"STAHP." he tackled you and startled tickling you

"QUIT BRO!! HAHAHA." You cackled.

"No, not until you call me by my proper name."

"I thought HAHA you had to HA go to practice!"

"I'll wait."

"BABE stop I'm dying!" he stopped tickling you

"Thank you, now I gotta go, love you." he kissed your nose

"Love you too..." he left your room "bro."

"Y/N!!"

Oikawa

he just finished a practice game and you asked him to take you to McDonalds

after ordering, the line was taking mf forever

so you decided to do a lil smth

"Bro, I'm so hungryy!"

at first, he just thought you were thinking out loud so he just nodded in agreement

"Oh, by the way, you did great today, bro." You looked at him and smiled big

"Aw, than- wait huh?"

his brain rlly said wait a damn minute

"I said good game, bro."

"I- y/nnn." he whined

"What is it, man?"

"STOOPP." he dramaticaly threw his head back against his carseat

"What brooo." you mimicked him and threw your head back

"THAT! You should know by now that I am to be referred to as 'baby' 'honey' 'babe' or the occasional 'Tooru'."

"I just thought I would switch it up bro, do you not like it?"

"No!" he crossed his arms.

"Okaayy, I'm sorry baby." You kissed his cheek and he smiled cheekily

"I win again." He pulled up a bit and recieved the food.

He pulled off and looked at you stuffing your face (im sorry im rlly hungry rn)

"What?" you asked in between bites

"You just look cute, bro." He smiled as he stole a fry

"Hey! First off, you got your own fries, and if I can't call you bro, you can't call me it either."

"Okie dokie." He kissed your hand and the two of you drove home

Iwaizumi (we need low quality pics of him -_-)

he came back from one of his workouts and invited you over

and of course you said yes

he called you while you were otw and asked if you wanted smth prepared like food or drink

"Nah, bro I'm good for now but if you make smth for yourself I'll have some."

"Oh, ok."

"How was the workout man?"

"Uh, good?"

"I hear ya- AH SHIT."

"What, what? Are you ok babe?"

"Yeah, bro. Some dipshit just ran the red light in front of me and almost hit someone. I'll see you soon, dude."

"Ok, love you, be safe please."

"I will, love you too man." he hung up and you paused

"Crap, that sounded too friendly, now I feel bad."

when you got there, Iwa was sitting on his bed eating some chips and scrolling on his phone (showered ofc)

you sat next to him and kissed his forehead

"Hi, Iwa."

"Hey, bro." he didn't look up from his phone

"Ugh, I'm sorry, baby. It was a joke but it sounded rlly casual, I'm sorry." you peppered his face in kisses finishing with a kiss on the lips, which he returned

"It's okay, just watch yourself next time."

"Alrighty." you kissed his cheek and the two of you hung out for the rest of the afternoon

Suna

he decided to let you try your eyeliner skills on him

(im a sucker for eyeliner hcs with him)

so, you were sitting on his lap, one hand on his face the other carefully drawing a wing

he began to have one of those random ass coughing attacks

you pulled the eyeliner pen away from his face as he continued to die from coughing

"You good, bro?"

immediately stops coughing

he looked up at you

"Excuse me?"

you tried so fucking hard not to laugh at his serious expression

"I said, are you okay bro?"

"Bro? Are you friendzoning me rn?"

"No-"

"Here I am, letting you draw God knows what on my face and you call me BrO aRe YoU gOoD?" you could tell he was playfully being dramatic now

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." you said in between giggles

"Now, what's my name?"

"I'm sorry schnookums."

"The fuck is a schnookums?"

"I'm sorry, babe." you rolled you eyes and smiled as he hugged your waist and leaned his head against you

You sighed, "Rin, I can't do your eyeliner with your head in my chest."

he kissed your collarbone. "Eh, you looked like you needed a break."

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sangfielle · 3 months

Text

Nadeem's Big Febuary 2024 Next Fest Roundup

I've done these little demo roundups for the past couple of nextfests in a more informal capacity, but I wanted to make this one more of an actual Thing and do something like this going forward, since I tend to play around 70-100 of the demos for each nextfest. This is going to be (hopefully) mostly a list of recommendations, but I also have some ones that I'm not strictly recommending that I think are still worth pointing out. I have over 20 games I wanted to point out from this round of demos, so the meat of this post will be below the cut.

The Best

Cryptmaster is a dungeon crawler typing game. It's genuinely laugh out loud funny, and it was a blast to play through with a person looking over my shoulder and commentating. There's not much to say about it that can't be figured out by picking up the game for a few minutes yourself, and there's no reason not to when it's got a free demo. I would recommend this game to basically anyone, and will be playing it as soon as it comes out. Probably the most across the board appealing game that I played from this collection.

Gatekeeper is just plain good. This was the most immediately fun game I played for this. I grow more and more irritated with rogue-lites every next fest, but Gatekeeper is fresh, fun, and fast-paced enough to get away from any distaste for the subgenre I have. Like basically all of the other optional multiplayer games on this list, GK seems to heavily benefit from a second player, but after my friend kept eating shit and dying I still had a fantastic time with this game by myself. Buy this game.

I don't play as many rhythm games as I do a lot of other genres, so if I'm totally wrong and this is just standard fare slop, you'll have to excuse me, but to my mind ADEN is a very unique and fun experience. A sidescroller rhythm/beat-em-up/bullet hell with charming art and fun music, it feels unlike basically anything I've played before, and it's wormed its way into my heart very quickly (even if I'm not quite as good at any of those types of games as I'd like to be).

The Pretty Good

Rotwood is a co-op roguelike game that's a lot of fun to play with friends. While technically 1-to-4 players, it feels like it's definitely meant to be played with at least a second party. If you do have that second party, the game goes by quickly and feels great to play - our 20 minute runs didn't feel like more than 5 minutes during our time with it. Pick it up if you want a non-PvP co-op game, but make sure at least one of your friends is picking it up too.

Cabernet is a narrative RPG set in eastern Europe in the late 1800s. You're Liza, a newly-turned vampire and a prospective doctor before your death. You don't actually get much more than that in the demo, but it gives you enough time to decide if you're interested in the full game or not. I am - it seems neat, and I'll likely be picking it up upon release, but it's not going to be for everyone. If you're into games where the meat of it is walking around and talking to people, it'll likely be a safe choice for you.

Vellum is a charming, if a little janky, co-op action roguelike where you play as fountain pens who are also wizards. As loathe as I am to compare games to others if they aren't ripoffs, it reminded me of playing Tiny Tina's, which I wasn't expecting, but made it more endearing to me. It seems like it would be less fun to play alone, but like Rotwood, just make sure you're making one of your friends grab it when you do, and it should be a lot of fun.

Dungeonborne is a game that speaks for itself very immediately when you start playing. PvPvE dungeon crawlers aren't the most popular genre, to my knowledge, but this game felt very oddly similar to another PvPvE dungeon crawler that was on display 1 or 2 next fests ago. If you and your friends want to dick around in a dungeon and kill skeletons, this is going to be a game that satisfies, and it's funny to play when you're getting yourself and your friends killed. I don't know how much long term value it'll manage to hold.

Children of the Sun is a very stylish puzzle-shooter that is not for me, but will probably be very good to whoever it is for. I would suggest trying out the demo and seeing how you feel about it. I don't have a lot to say about it beyond that, since it isn't a game I spent a lot of time with, beyond that it's very cool looking.

There is a notable absence of platformers & metroidvanias on my list of games that I played for this next fest, and it's not because there weren't any to play. I'm just very very bad at these games, moreso than any other type of game by a huge margin, and so I do not play them. Ever. There are ones I want to play quite badly, but I pick them up and put them down very quickly because I am worse at them than your average eight year old with an Xbox. I downloaded Tales of Kenzera: ZAU at the behest of a friend without knowing anything about it, and I'm glad I did. Even being as bad at this type of game as I am, I played this demo and had a lot of fun with it. I won't pick up the full game, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't. If you're anyone who has a less tragic experience with the genres than I do, you should definitely try this game out.

Love In a Bottle is a refreshing change of pace as far as romance VNs go - there are vanishingly few of them for/about lesbians and bisexual women compared to games for & about straight women & games about gay men (though these are usually also for straight women... which is not the point of this, so I digress). It's very cute! LIaB follows an only-kind-of-succubus as she moves to a new town and flirts with attractive women. I'm not quite the target audience for this, but not every game needs to be for me, and I enjoyed poking around in it regardless.

Alcyone: The Last City is a game that's hard to get much of a handle on from the very short demo alone, but you get just enough to know it's interesting. What I can glean from the game that you get in the demo is about the same as the steam description: a sci-fi interactive novel set at the end of the universe. I love this kind of shit, so I'm pretty sure I'll like Alcyone.

Pacific Drive is a game about driving your car around while some weird shit happens. That's not a dismissive summary, I'm just not sure how else to categorize it. It seems cool if you like this type of game! Unfortunately my distaste for the wretched automobile extends to video games, so this is not quite my speed, but it seems very charming.

TRIBES 3: Rivals is a PvP FPS game that seems like a lot of fun! There's just one problem with it - this type of multiplayer game isn't in the limelight anymore, and won't attract a lot of players who aren't tryharding. I don't like tryharding in multiplayer games, but it felt good enough to play that I'm willing to give it a shot regardless. I'm worried about Tribes 3's ability to survive longterm in this era of gaming, but I'm holding out at least a little hope for it. I think you should help give it a better chance of survival.

TOUCHSTARVED is a "dark romance visual novel" with five romanceable characters that look like they've either come from Dragon Age concept art or from someone's D&D campaign. If you're not into romance VNs, this game will not be for you. If you are, and you're either attracted to men or like to play romance games with them, this one feels actually better than a lot of them. The worldbuilding, though somewhat sparse in the demo, seems interesting, and the game is weirdly actually gay for a VN where the protagonist doesn't have a set gender. There are no women who are characters in this game. That's not surprising, it's just worth noting. Its dialogue is corny and the way the romanceable characters act irritating, but that's par for the course for the genre, so it's probably not going to be a dealbreaker for you if you're already playing this type of game. I'd say give it a shot if that's already the kind of game you're into, otherwise it's really not worth looking at. I doubt this game is going to win over any new fans to the genre.

The Otherwise Noteworthy

Islands of Insight is... A puzzle MMO with very bad puzzles and similarly bad online play. I don't understand why it exists. I don't understand the type of person who they think will play this. I don't understand why it's a MMO? There's no aspect of the puzzles that I saw that would be served by multiplayer, and the multiplayer functionality is so limited as to be worthless anyway. The most possible interaction you can have with another person is following them around and emoting at them while they do their own set of puzzles. This game is obviously fated to die in obscurity. Why is it a Behaviour game?

Case Files: Behind Closed Doors was the only actual FMV game that this next fest had to offer. The FMV tag is the first section of any given next fest that I look at - I'm a big fan of them, and I think they're really underappreciated, especially in today's gaming world. As a consequence, I'm normally much nicer to them than I am to most video games, but this one fell flat on its face for me. There doesn't feel like there's anything there to actually grab the player or to keep their attention, and I found myself bored with it very quickly. It doesn't help that I get more irritated with the inundation of cop games as opposed to literally anything else in the world of FMV games as time goes on, but I think even if I wasn't sick and tired of them, this game wouldn't feel worth the time it asks you to invest. It's a damn shame.

#BLUD is a game that I wanted to check out, but didn't get to actually play, because I didn't realize this demo was going to shut down after nextfest! That's on me. It seems cool, and I'll be checking it out once it's properly available, but I can't say more than that because I missed the window to play it :(.

Longstory 2, similarly, is a VN I couldn't actually play during this fest, but this one isn't my fault - despite steam having a page for the demo, it wasn't ever actually available? This one is just going on the list because I loved the original Longstory when I was 15. I'm excited for the reminder that it exists, and I'll be going back to the original to see if it holds up to my nostalgia. If it does, I'll be picking up the sequel for sure.

Bewitching Sinners is a trashy romantasy VN. There's not that much else to it. If you like trashy romance VNs, it'll be for you, and if you're not, it won't be. It gets a place on this list because there were a lot of VN demos that I opened and then very quickly closed, and I actually played all the way through this one, so it's a cut above the rest in at least its ability to keep the player from immediately ducking out of due to the evidently garbage writing.

Diets & Deities is noteworthy only in that it's the most blatant ripoff of Everhood that I've seen. It's also a significant downgrade. I like the gameplay of Everhood a lot, and I was hoping that even if this game was a ripoff, it would give me more of the same. I wouldn't love it if it did that, but I would have had a little bit of fun with the demo. It's not more of the same. It feels way worse to play, and I don't know why, but I hate it.

Meta-Ghost: The Breaking Show is all style & no substance. It's very good looking, but it offers little beyond graphics that you couldn't get in a less tired package elsewhere (read: in Hades. This game wants to be Hades so bad it overwhelms any other personality it could possibly hope to have). Similarly to Diets & Deities, it fails to improve on the game it's aping's gameplay & feeling & instead makes it worse, though not to the extreme that D&D does. The only real value I can see in this game that you couldn't get with another game is the multiplayer gimmick, but as that wasn't available in the demo, I can't say whether that makes it worth even taking a second glance at.

Serum is a survival horror adventure game that seems really cool, except it's completely fucking unplayable from how shitty the framerate is. I'd love to recommend it, because I really am interested in this game, but it is in desperate need of some fixes before I can play it, much less tell you to buy it.

Mouthwashing is also a horror game that I hesitate to recommend, but it is at least playable. The demo just shows so little of its hand that I can't even tell if it's worth playing. It clocks in at about a 20 minute runtime, and in those 20 minutes, zero things that were scary or even mildly unsettling happened. It showed a little bit of gore at the end? But that's not really much of anything. I'll be keeping an eye on its development, but I have no idea whether it'll release as a gem of the indie horror scene or as a wet fart.

You can kill me for how many VNs I've put on this list and how many I've enjoyed. Beat me, take my blood, whatever. Glam Pursuit is a game about becoming a star in a not-Hollywood fake setting. The dialogue feels like it was ripped out of Life is Strange, it's corny beyond measure, and it's just all around not very good. However... Something about it captivates me. Sifting through the extreme amount of subtitle errors and typos in this game and the painfully awkward interactions with all the characters around you, I feel like there's something of worth to be found, even if I didn't stumble upon it in the demo. Is it going to be worth it for you to pick up this game? I don't know. Do you like eating garbage if it's shiny? I do. I'll play Glam Pursuit when it comes out. I don't know if you should unless there's something wrong with you.

#personal #effortposting

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herofics · 1 year

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Could you do a scenario where Hawks’s S/O dies. How would he react. How would this effect his life or relationships with other people?

Oohohoo this is a very good ask, at least in my opinion. I’ve got this post about Hawks' s/o dying but it's very different. I love angst so this was nice to write, I basically just read the first sentence and forgot your additional questions but oh well

After you were found dead, Hawks didn’t seem to be affected. He still did his job after recovering at the hospital from the burns he’d gotten while fighting Dabi. Everyone around him knew that you had been killed in retaliation for the part he played in the hospital raid and the attack on the Paranormal Liberation Front. Burnt to death, the rumor was.

Endeavor, Jeanist, everyone around him kept asking him if he was alright. He assured them he was focusing on his job, and keeping it together. Endeavor was especially apologetic, but Hawks assured him he had no reason to feel like any of it was his fault.

And at first Hawks tried to convince himself he was fine, that it didn’t affect him beyond the incredible amount of self hatred he was feeling. He didn’t even notice the little reckless decisions he was making. He didn’t notice how reckless he was being when capturing villains. He didn’t notice the bruises, cuts and injuries that were starting to pile up. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care. He had no doubt in his mind that he deserved everything that was coming to him.

One night, about a week after your body had been discovered, he found himself heading to your place. He didn’t fight it, he just let his feet take him to your apartment. The key you’d given him felt cold and heavy in his hand as he opened the front door. He stepped in and flicked on the lights to your living room.

The room looked so normal, like you had just left for work and would return any time now. Your tablet was on the coffee table with a pen and some paper you’d doodled on. You’d drawn feathers, hearts and some other small things. Hawks had to suppress a sob that was about to escape his lips, he had to turn away. If you knew what loving him was going to get you, you wouldn’t surely have never associated with him.

He walked into the kitchen next. Your favorite tea cup was still in the sink, waiting to be washed. You always left it there on your busy mornings, and he’d washed it more times than he could count. So he did it again, he was sure you wouldn’t want it to remain dirty in the sink. He washed the cup, dried it and placed it in the cabinet where you always kept it. His fingers lingered on the cup for a moment, before he closed the cabinet door.

Next he headed to your bedroom, or at least he tried to. He grabbed the door handle, but he couldn’t bring himself to open the door, because he knew you wouldn’t be there.

He marched out of the apartment and slammed the door shut after himself. He walked to the nearest liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of vodka they had. After he got out of the store, he gulped down one fourth of the bottle. Hawks never was much of a drinker, and he was most definitely a lightweight, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to numb the pain with something, and the alcohol seemed like a good option.

“Goddammit” he muttered as he tottered his way back to your apartment.

The alcohol was going to his head, fast. He hadn’t eaten anything the whole day so that didn’t really help the situation either.

Hawks cursed again when he dropped the keys in front of your door. He picked them back up and fumbled with them for a good while, before he got the key into the lock. When he did, he hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to go back in there, into that empty apartment? He wasn’t sure but he did it anyway, he had to at least turn off the lights he’d forgotten on. You always lectured him when he left the lights on when leaving.

Hawks stepped back into the apartment, but he didn’t flick the lights off, he just stood there. He took another sip of the vodka and walked back to your bedroom door. This time he opened the door, slowly. He flicked on the lights there too and stepped inside. Your bed was unmade, and your pajamas were on the floor next to the bed. Your ever growing collection of empty cups was sitting on your table.

Everything was like it always had been, you just weren’t there. The cups were on your table, the table was full of all the little things you liked to collect. The clothes that weren’t dirty enough for the hamper were piled up on a chair next to your table. Everything was the same, but at the same time, nothing was. There was no warmth in any of it anymore, there was no life left.

Hawks sat down on your bed, placing the bottle of vodka on your nightstand. He grabbed your night shirt from the floor and pressed it against his face, taking in the faint scent that was left on it from you wearing it.

He could feel himself tearing up.

“Damn” he muttered.

The alcohol didn’t seem to be of any help in numbing the pain he was feeling. He just sobbed into your shirt as he fell apart. This was all that was left of you. Your possessions, the things you loved, the things you found to be fun and that brought you joy, and now it was all just a painful reminder of what he’d lost. He laid down on the bed, clutching your shirt to his chest and sobbing inconsolably.

Even though Hawks couldn’t feel it now, you had left him something he would never lose. You had left him love, you had left him joy and memories, good and bad ones, but memories all the same. Even though he was in so much pain he couldn’t even think of any of that right now, he would eventually remember what it felt like to love and to be loved. That’s what you’d left him. Love, always love, and some day when he was ready, he would remember that.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #takami keigo #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha angst #mha angst #comfort #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #alcohol tw

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yet-another-heathen · 11 months

Text

Rising to the West - I

2,576 words. The first re-penned chapter in my original series, The Jackal of An-Nadr.

For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, found family, and handsome men who long for nothing more than home. I am so excited for this unveiling, the love that you all have shown this series over the past several years means more to me than I could ever say. This is for you <3

- Masterpost -

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Chapter Warning | environmental whump, epic worldbuilding, demonic pirates and the massive sandships they sail, marooned in the middle of the desert with no hope of rescue, deadly levels of dehydration, very near-death experience, very brief allusion to noncon, prayer/fantasy religion, evading capture, foot injury

Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump

His name was Nadeem el-Azimi, and things had not gone according to plan.

He stumbled on the loose crest of the dune, barely able to blink his eyes open enough to right his path. His body swayed as he adjusted back onto course, aching with the effort it took to take those few extra steps. Sand cascaded down the face of the drift in steady intervals behind him, rushing toward the base like trickles of water.

Of all things, his mind kept circling and circling about how raw his feet felt. The loose, ever-shifting sand ground between his toes, and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

The sun had set over the An-Nadr desert, and the temperature had plummeted with it. Nadeem pulled his waist sash tighter around his shoulders, clenching his jaw to keep it from clattering against the cold. The stars overhead were dying out one by one, but the warmth of dawn was hours away, even though the light would come sooner.

He kept walking. It only made it harder if he stopped.

In the distance, a low patch of scrub hugged the earth. The traders had taunted him with it when they marooned him amongst the sand. A sun-wrinkled face leered down at him as the others dumped him over the stanchion, the breath knocked from his lungs when he hit the ground. He struggled and gasped against his binds, while the men above him laughed.

“Three days to the east!” the old one said to him. The one whose filthy hands he could still feel roving over his body when he closed his eyes. He leaned over the rail and grinned as the other men tamed the mast behind him, the wind catching its girth and pulling it taut.

Nadeem thrashed and cursed through his gag, shouting desperately as the sandship began to move.

“Three days to the east you’ll find water,” he called back, “Better get going, little thief!”

And the shadow of the hull slid over his body, sunlight blinking between strips of rope. And then the white of the mast shrank beyond the waves, and the sandship had disappeared from sight.

It had taken him nearly half a day to struggle free of his bonds. By then he was utterly, entirely alone. For hundreds of miles in every direction, the only thing was sand.

That had been two and a half days ago. Anger had burned out into sorrow, then to hopelessness, then to a numbness that he couldn't shake. The leagues had passed underfoot slowly, pace worsening as his body had slowly begun to fail. Nadeem had never been a particularly stout man and, while he knew hunger like an old enemy, his body still was not made to endure the absence of water. Not like this. He rubbed mindlessly at the friction burns circling his wrists to try to distract himself from the endless drone of thirst.

Through the dark he could just barely begin making out the green against the washed-out blue of the surrounding sand, peeking between the dunes. He thought he could make out the shape of date trees, but he no longer trusted his eyes not to play tricks on him. They couldn’t be more than a few more hours away.

And as soon as he saw the oasis he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

And still he kept walking.

---

The first pearls of sunlight caught his shoulders, and he shuddered with relief. It wasn't enough, but with the night having long since sapped away his warmth, he’d take whatever he could get.

Those who crossed these deserts knew to travel after dusk once the savage temperatures had fallen, and to take shelter and sleep as much as they could through the long days when the heat would kill anything that moved. Any other day, he would have kept walking for another hour as the sun rose, then taken shelter behind one of the dunes to collapse until night fell again.

But not today. Today he could not afford to stop even for the dawn prayer. He knew it in the ache of his bones and the relentless throbbing of his head. He was dying. And if he stopped now, even for this, he wouldn't get back up.

He could not begin to describe how tempting the thought was. How loudly his body begged him to let him rest one last time, how shrilly his heart tried to convince him he had already done all he could. He could lay here and watch the colors of the sky change, feel the warmth wash over him. He could give himself one more sunrise. One more chance to watch the beauty of it all before it was gone.

His feet slowed to a stop, despite his commands. A slow breath, in and out through his nose. He reached up with puffy fingers to fumble with his face cloth, loosening it until the linen fell free.

Nadeem turned slowly back toward the glint of the sunrise, and closed his eyes. He had both won and lost his own bet. He had lived for one more day. He would take that victory, even if…even…

Keep moving, Nadeem. Those thoughts are going to kill you.

Today he would either make it to the oasis, or his body would be slowly being covered up and buried by the ever-creeping drifts that surrounded him. Those were the only two possibilities left, and it was getting harder and harder to believe that he had any hope of the former.

Control of his body was slipping, and apathy dulled his thoughts more and more with each passing breath. And still he mumbled out the soft, broken consonants of the prayer he had been clinging to, words repeated so many times in the last day that they had become nothing more than foreign sounds devoid of whatever had once made them words.

The comforting lines he had known since he was a child fell from him in a broken, confused tangle of what they were meant to be. He hoped the gods would still take the whisper for its intention rather than its delivery. He was fairly certain someone had once told him they would. That they knew.

He couldn't remember their face. He hoped it had been Hanona. She had always been right about such things.

Keep moving, Nadeem. You have to take one more step.

He whispered a quiet little apology to the air before him, reaching out as if to gently cling upon the fabric of someone’s robes. His fingers closed over nothing, and he let out a shaky little breath as he pulled the imagined cloth closer to the ache of his chest.

He swayed, felt the knot of dry tears in his throat. But he knew crying was beyond him now.

When eventually he realized that the strength to continue on was slipping for good, he summoned one last, Walk, Nadeem.

His foot answered him sluggishly, one barely-there step backwards. He cracked open his eyes.

And stopped.

Far in the distance, slipping along the razor’s edge between waves and sky, a pinprick of black was making its way across the sand.

A mirage. It had to be.

He stared at it in doubt, blinking to see if it would fade.

He watched it for what felt like a lifetime, so afraid that if he looked away it would be gone. But as the minutes passed and the shape grew closer, a fragile hope began to smolder in his chest.

A ship.

His head was swimming. The mast rose and dipped over a bank, light catching flecks of metal. But he could still make out the shape of the bow, cutting across the tops of the dunes.

He didn’t have the strength to cry out. He didn’t have the strength to move.

They were coming straight for the oasis, straight to him.

He couldn’t—he...he…

...he stopped.

The sandship rose to the top of another peak, sail catching the light of the sun beyond. For a moment everything was dark, then the cloth rippled and his heart ground to a stop.

The vibrant, cobalt blue sails of an Al Qururaqin cutter shone in the morning sun.

He stumbled backward, and ran.

The ground gave away beneath him as he bounded down the dark side of the dune, slipping and catching himself when he hit the bottom. His heart was pounding as he pressed his back into the side of it and began pulling armfuls of sand over his body.

He barely managed to cover his legs and the lower half of his chest, limbs burning with exertion. Black spots swam across his vision. His breaths came shallow and ragged through split lips. Still he clawed at the sand until he’d covered as much of himself as he could.

If the ship hadn’t already spotted him, the dunes gave him a chance of being passed unseen. If they had...

He held his breath, straining to keep his gasps under control.

And then he heard it. Someone singing loudly enough for their voice to carry. The unmistakable shuffing of wood, the sound of voices calling back and forth to one another.

It grew closer until someone gave a sharp shout, and the sound of the sail straining at its rigging changed. The sandship was close—far, far too close—and it was slowing to a stop.

Something heavy hit the ground and he shrank further back into the dune. Then another, then more.

Too late he realized his mistake. As he lay there straining to stay calm, there came the petrifying moment when he remembered the trail of footprints he’d left along the tops of the dunes. The ones that would lead them straight to him.

The sand gave him nowhere else to hide. If he stayed here, buried or not, they would find him. Casting around, he caught just the barest hint of green through the split in the dunes.

He didn’t have the strength. He knew he didn’t. But panic summoned every last shred of energy into his trembling legs, and before he could think he pushed to his feet and stumbled into a run.

His feet pounded against the earth. All his vision was a blur as he slid around the corner of a dune and up the channel between.

Dizziness swept over him, and he gasped and shook his head to try to clear it. He scaled the next dune on his hands and knees, sinking deep into the sand as he sprinted for the shelter of the brush.

He knew the moment they’d spotted his trail. Strange voices rose into the dawn behind him, and when he couldn’t resist the urge to look back he saw the sharp rise of a mast against the sky.

Vibrantly embroidered bolts of sailcloth whipped and curled in the breeze, the sun’s first strands of light striking it from behind and setting the fabric ablaze. The blue sails burned against the pale of the morning sky, and dread smothered his thoughts.

He didn’t see the shale until it was too late. Something sharp speared up through the bottom of his foot, and before he could catch himself he’d gone sprawling across the outcropping and into the dirt. He let out a low groan of pain as he blinked the darkness from his eyes.

He'd collapsed at the edge of the oasis. Behind him a jagged shard of rock pointed in the air, covered in blood.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled into the bank of shrubs, barely slowing as he made his way deeper into the growth. His ankle kept trying to give out beneath him, the thick litter of sticks and twigs jabbing into the wound. Slowing him down.

He bit back his voice as he clambered over the thickest piles of stone he could find, hoping to every single god he could name that they would help hide his footprints. The distant shouts were growing closer.

He stumbled over a ridge and found a thicket of shrubs, and realized that the glinting just beyond was water. He slid down the bank into the spring, wading out into the knee-high water that spread out between pools of algae.

He realized then that there was no cover. None but the branches of shrubs that overhung the basin, clinging to the overgrown shore.

Without even stopping to savor the feeling he never thought he’d have again, he fell to his knees in the water and ducked beneath their low branches. Spines ripped at his clothes as he crawled toward shore, as close as he could get to the place where the water met the earth underneath their leaves. He wormed his way deeper into the silt until his back was pressing against half-submerged trunks and the surface of the water reached his throat.

He forced his shivering body to still, schooling his breath in an attempt to hide the sound. As quickly as the ripples around him faded into the reeds the sound of snapping twigs approached.

On the shallow ridge, less than a hundred paces away, a dark figure broke through the trees.

Nadeem forgot how to breathe.

As a boy, bright-eyed and impatient, the Mothers had spun tales of Al Qururaqin caravans, moving from port to desert port. Tales of four-armed demons with ashen skin as dark as the mud at the bottom of the Parattu, swords gleaming in their hands. Of monsters who steal boys away from their ships, taking them away into the blackness of their holds.

Stories of the ifrit.

He never thought he'd be cornered by one.

Nadeem may have been scrawny, but he was no short man—by the time he was twelve he’d already stood a full head taller than his Maaman, as well as half the men in his town. This ifrit dwarfed him. It must have stood three heads taller than he did, with such strength coiled in its body that he felt sick with fear.

It scanned the water, a beautiful and broad face silhouetted by the rising of the sun. Thin wisps of smoke rose from its shoulders, disappearing into the air. One of its upper limbs rested at its hip, blackened fingers curling loosely around the hilt of a sword.

As its gaze swept out across the bank and over his hiding place, he could only pray that it didn't see the impressions his feet had left in the algae.

An entire lifetime passed as the ifrit searched the grove, scanning the silhouettes of trees. So many times Nadeem was certain he’d been spotted, and yet the figure came no closer.

Then it turned, cast one more look out over the water, and went back the way it had come.

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