#What's going on there???? What experiments were done to them?????

[barcaatthemoon]

squirt || ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader ||

you let ingrid and mapi push you a little harder than normal.

minors dni, 18+ only, smut ahead.

"are you sure about this?" ingrid asked as she stood at the edge of the bed. mapi was in bed with you, but the question was directed solely at you. despite your reassurances that you trusted the both of them, ingrid was adamant in checking in with you constantly. you knew exactly what you were getting into for the night, and it excited you far more than ingrid was capable of wrapping her head around.

"yes, ingrid. i am sure about this. i've had a week to think this over, and if anything, all that has done is excite me even more," you assured her. ingrid swallowed back her nerves and finally let her excitement take over.

in an instant, gone was the nervous woman who had been questioning you seconds earlier. ingrid got onto the bed and crawled up to meet you and mapi. mapi's mouth moved down your body as she placed herself in between your body and ingrid's. at that, ingrid pulled you in for a kiss that clued you into just how things would be going.

ingrid masterfully set the pace with a rough kiss. she managed to pull an absolutely filthy moan from you with ease. ingrid used her hands to push your legs apart. she slotted her knee in between your thighs, pressing her own thigh against your cunt.

"shit," you gasped out. ingrid was smirking with her mouth pressed against your neck. mapi's lips curled into a smirk as well, which you could feel as she pressed open-mouthed kisses to your chest. both women felt great pride at how easily they were riling you up, despite knowing that their ultimate goal was not going to be an easy one.

a few too many drinks had some of the girls swapping sex stories. mapi and lucy boasting about their sex escapades was a fairly normal occurrence on a night out. what had surprised you was ingrid and alexia getting in on the discussion. your cheeks had been almost permanently tinted red whenever the two normally reserved women began to talk about you.

it didn't seem to matter to ingrid or mapi that they had spent countless nights with you compared to the handful alexia had. all mapi seemed to care about for the past month was the fact that alexia had managed to make you squirt without the use of toys. ingrid seemed impressed, but hadn't shown a direct intrest in purposefully fucking you like this until mapi goaded her into it.

"i don't want to be the only one naked," you told them as they began to remove your clothing. ingrid didn't make any moves to take her own clothes off, but mapi quickly completely undressed herself for you.

"bien?" mapi asked. you nodded as you reached out to touch her. ingrid huffed as you turned your attention towards mapi, but let it happen anyway. you pulled mapi in for a kiss, and the spanish woman happily returned the kiss. you wrapped your arms around the back of mapi's neck, lightly scratching at her scalp as her tongue swiped past your lips.

mapi's hands grabbed onto your hips, pinning you down as she ground against you. ingrid pulled back, seemingly content with watching for a couple of moments. it wasn't often that she had the opportunity to sit back like this. mapi had a tendency to be very needy whenever it came to ingrid, but tonight, they both needed to focus on you. they had discussed it at length before coming to you about what they wanted from this experience.

"more, i need more mapi." your voice was breathy, and you felt like a mess already. mapi moved her hand in between your legs, angling her hand so that you could grind against it. her fingers softly stroked through your folds, just barely pressing against your entrance as you rocked against her hand.

"how does she feel maria?" ingrid asked as she moved in behind mapi. for the first time since mapi had kissed you, you looked over at ingrid. she stood behind mapi completely topless, but your eyes couldn't focus there for very long. instead of admiring ingrid's body, your eyes were drawn to the way that ingrid's fingers tweaked and teased mapi's nipples.

"so good, ingrid. she's already so wet," mapi answered. you could hear the struggle in her voice. mapi wanted so badly to just melt into ingrid, but she couldn't. instead, she pushed two fingers inside of you. you were wet enough that there wasn't really any resistance, but you could still feel a little bit of a stretch.

"that's right, keep fucking her like that. fill her up. i want to see her stretched around your fingers like the good little whore i know she can be." ingrid's voice sent chills down your spine, affecting you more than her words were. mapi's jaw dropped, as if she couldn't fathom the way that ingrid was talking about you. dirty talk wasn't something that came out of left field, but that was usually mapi's thing to tell you how well you felt to fuck when she was pounding you into the mattress from behind.

"can you take more?" mapi asked you.

"yes, please. i want to be a good slut for you and ingrid," you told her. mapi let out a little whimper, a mix of your words and a rough pinch to her nipples from ingrid. the dark haired woman moved out from behind mapi to position herself over your body.

you wished that ingrid would have taken her pants off so you could have craned your neck up and tasted her. you knew that she would have threatened to tie you down with several reminders that this night was just about them making you cum. still, even the briefest of tastes would have sufficed you for the few minutes it was going to take you to cum.

mapi's fingers were hitting all of the right spots inside of you, and the added stretch of three of her fingers had you well on your way to longing for a thick strap. you opened your mouth to ask for the toy, when you found yourself being cut off. the sudden pressure of ingrid sucking your clit into her mouth had you screaming out. it felt like overstimulation, but you hadn't even cum yet.

"shh, shh. yes, that's it," mapi cooed as she angled her fingers a little differently. you could feel your body begin to tighten as you hit your first orgasm. mapi and ingrid didn't let up at all, pushing you straight into a state of oversensitivity. you wanted to scream out, both in pain and pleasure, but it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of your lungs.

"mapi… ingrid… p-please." you were panting heavily, unable to catch your breath. ingrid's hands came up to rest on your thighs, rubbing soothingly as she continued. the sensations of everything began to blur together as you found yourself being thrown into another orgasm.

this time, you could feel the familiar weight drop from your stomach. it started as a small dribble leaking out around mapi's fingers. the closer you got to a feeling of pure euphoria, the stronger the gushes of liquid spurted out of you. ingrid pulled away from your clit as mapi removed one of her fingers from the mix. you thought for a moment that they'd let up, and you were prepared to beg them not to, but then you felt ingrid push two of her fingers inside of you.

the new stretch had your stomach dropping once again. ingrid offered gentle praises about how well you were being for them as she fucked you. there was nothing gentle about their fingers pistoning in and out of you. mapi pressed soft kisses to your thighs. you felt so good that you were on the verge of blacking out, but ingrid and mapi carefully removed themselves from you before that could happen.

"go start the bath. i'm going to put the sheets in the wash," ingrid ordered. mapi slipped away quickly, leaving you afraid to be alone. you hooked your finger on ingrid's belt loop to keep her from leaving, but the attempt never came. "you did so good for us. thank you bebita."

"you were great, better than great. i love you." you mumbled your way through your words, but ingrid still understood them. she cupped your cheeks and gave you a gentle kiss. she stayed with you until mapi came to get you for the bath. you let mapi cuddle you in the hot water, nearly content enough to fall asleep until ingrid came in to get the two of you. they both helped you to dry off and get dressed before the three of you got into bed together.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso smut #mapi leon x reader #minors do not interact #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader #mapi leon smut #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen smut #ingrid engen imagine #ingrid engen x reader

[utterlyotterlyx]

Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Petty games don't work well with Azriel, but you never learn, do you?

Warnings - angstttt, pettiness, feral Azriel, possessiveness, lil bit of fluff, smut, oral m!receiving, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, shadow play, unhinged Az, basically just smut tbh

Tension and anger echoed about the study, it was so stifling that even Rhys had no option but to dart his gaze between Azriel and yourself as you both stood opposite one another, chest to chest, shouting at one another due to your sheer luck and dangerous stupidity.

It wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself, but you knew you had only returned from your latest mission in tact by the skin of your teeth and sweat on your brow. Azriel had known the severity of the situation when you had muted the bond, and that made him morph into a feral beast.

Cassian had received the initial onslaught of his anger, his cheek throbbing and bruising as he sat lax in one of the armchairs with a rag full of ice pressed to his skin.

Muting the bond was something he had forbidden you to do, no matter what, and you had gone and done it.

"I couldn't risk your tugging distracting me whilst we tried to get out of there," you shot, shouting up at his towering frame that cast a shadow over you.

Even his shadows had retreated behind him, occasionally begging their master to stop shouting at you, that their pretty love was alive and well, they begged him to hold her and love her, but he was too angry to even think of it.

How could you be so foolish? Azriel had told you not to make all of the mistakes that you had, and you hadn't listened to him, not for a mere moment. It was in that moment that he loathed your cockiness and wit.

Clenching his fists, Azriel's nostrils flared, you stood toe to toe with him, an act that not many lived to talk of afterward, new-born fire burned in your eyes, "You're so reckless, y/n. As long as I have a say in it, you won't see another mission until you learn your lesson."

Stoic. Final.

Rhys sucked in a breath at your face, a usually soft thing that had contorted into blind, psychotic serenity, even the High Lord shrank into his seat whilst Azriel slowly realised the gravity of his words, "Am I bad dog, Az? Are you going to rub my nose in my piss and tell me how awful I am?"

Darkness tugged at him, forcing him back a step, but your eyes didn't falter, didn't move from his face for a singular moment. It was too late to take it back, the underlying tone that told he that he was attempting to tell you what to do, so he stood firm. "You both could have died today because of your stupidity. Rhys would be mindless if he allowed you to step foot on another mission."

There was a cut in your brow that was leaking blood, arrows tipped with faebane were shot at you during your escape, one of which had grazed your brow. Dirt brushed against your cheeks, twigs were entwined in your hair, possibly from the fall that caused your scuffed knees; you had walked into the house limping, smirking to Cassian at the near death experience, and that made his anger roar even more.

The gaze of a thousand blades cut into Rhys and he winced, lifting his eyes from the desk to you. He couldn't deny how reckless your actions had been, you could have died, you could have left Azriel without a mate, both of them without you and Cassian.

Rhys' lips curled into a tight snarl, partly due to the anger of being pulled into one of your fights which left the city trembling, "This conversation can wait," he rose from the desk, hands flat and steady on the tabletop, "We leave for Autumn in two hours," he looked to you, "You should go and make yourself look more presentable. But as for you going on another mission, I do believe that you should take a step back for awhile, until you can understand how your actions impact the lives of your comrades."

You went to bark a reply, your shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. Rhys simply held his hand up and you growled at the action, the predator inside of you not liking being silenced one bit before you turned on your heels and flung the door open so hard that one of the hinges ripped from the wall, not before glaring at Azriel like death was imminent on him however.

"Thank you for that, Az," Rhys sighed and fell back into his seat, making a mental note to get the door fixed and reinforced.

You were by far the most fierce member of the Inner Circle, war was your middle name, you relished in your brutality, and it had astounded them all time and time again just how vicious you could be. One winter solstice, many many years ago, Amren went as far as to gift you with a pair of ornate talons like they were pieces of jewellery, the bloodthirsty animal inside of you grinned at them, and you hadn't gone into any battle without them since.

Azriel was the only person who wasn't scared of you, so it made sense that you had discovered that you were mate. It had taken you a long while to accept the bond, you knew that you were a difficult thing to handle, but he seemed up to the challenge, and he slowly broke down every defence you had thrown up around your heart.

Throwing his head back and running his hand over his face, Azriel cocked his head toward Cassian who sat there wearing a shit-eating grin that he wished to wipe from the face of the earth, "You'll be paying for that later."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Each time Azriel stepped one toe over the line you had drawn, that being attempting to control you or hinder your movements, you would react in the pettiest of ways. Sometimes you would wear the skimpiest thing in your closet and walk about the River House in it to tease him, swimming in the dark eyes of Cassian or sultry words of Mor, and you'd continue to wear it until he would forcefully drag you into your shared rooms and fall to his knees before you, begging for a taste. Other times, you'd go as far as to paint the town red with Nesta and Mor, and he would find you grinding against another male in Rita's, drunk off your ass, and the male would freeze and simper away once he realised whose eyes had stalked him from across the room.

Every attempt to rile up your mate had worked, you had always pulled an apology from his lips the moment he was done fucking you senseless. Azriel hated your little games, he made it clear often, but he always played them.

From the fury in your eyes, Azriel knew that you'd be taking your pettiness to a whole new level that evening.

Using the excuse of your cut up brow, you had managed to buy yourself an extra hour of alone time whilst the rest of your family departed for the Autumn Court.

It was Eris' birthday, and the new High Lord had invited you all as a notion to strengthen the newfound alliance between the courts, and of course, Rhys had agreed. Pity for Azriel that Eris had always had a wandering eye for you, and you were certainly going to use that fact to your advantage.

Gold clung to you like a second skin, a tight and sheer strapless corset pulled against your chest, adorned in a design of vines and dainty flowers, the skirt was long and trailed behind your steps and it was just sultry enough that it exposed both of your legs, right up to the thigh, and one wrong move would expose your cunt for all to see, the only saving grace being the golden fabric that just brushed below it.

Nesta had chuckled low at the look in your eye as she had styled your hair into loose curls. No accessories were needed, the dress was a statement on its own. You had been saving it for yours and Azriel's anniversary which was three days away, but such vicious actions had led you to remove the custom made garment from its casing and wear it for the High Lord of Autumn instead.

Adjusting the straps of you golden heels, you floated through the house like a summer wind and winnowed right onto the front lawn of the Forest House, a feline smirk on your lips as you felt the bond sing at your presence. Music and laughter poured from the open windows and doors, fire lanterns illuminated the path, and the guards at the doors didn't even ask for your name as they opened them with their mouths slightly agape.

Eris was sat upon the dais, looking rather bored, and then his eyes found you and he sat upright in his seat. The act made the room turn to you, to the dress glowing in the candlelight, to your exposed skin poking from the sheer material that stuck to you.

Murmurs from the crowd were dim against the music playing from the band in the corner, and you felt all eyes on you, even the ones that were seething. Once you had sauntered to the foot of the dais, you flickered your gaze up through your long lashes and curtseyed, low, low enough for Eris to catch a glimpse at the delicious cleavage at the heart of the bodice.

From the corner of your eye you saw Cassian's mouth move, to which Azriel's head snapped in his direction in warning before it moved back to you. A smirk befell your lips and you rose, "I apologise for the lateness, My Lord," your words were seductive and you skin glittered in the light due to the shimmering oil you had placed on your hands and arms, on the calves that Azriel loved to trail kisses upward.

"Perfection takes time," Eris drawled, his whisky amber eyes fixated on you, you were by far the most radiant thing he had ever seen, and the most vicious, it made his senses sing, "I appreciate the time you spent readying yourself for me."

With a smirk, you walked from the foot of the dais, in the opposite direction of your family, and toward a table adorned with various flutes of sparkling wine, plucking one from the surface and drinking the sweet liquid as the room resumed its previous activities.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Feigning innocence, you peered up at him, doing your best not to grin at the redness of his face. Azriel looked oh so handsome, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone to give you a glimpse of his tattoos, "I'm drinking my sparkling wine."

"Y/N." Azriel's voice was low and demanding, it made your hairs stand on end and a sinful shudder crawl down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry, Azzie," you suck out your bottom lip and turned around, facing the crowd who were stealing the odd glance in your direction.

Azriel moved behind you, his breath hot on the curve where your neck and shoulder connected, "I've never seen this dress," his fingers brushed against the chain-like material.

The look on his face was not one you wanted to miss when the words fell from your mouth, so you craned your head, turning your beautiful face over your shoulder, "I had it made for our anniversary," his eyes darkened, "Thought why it should be wasted in Velaris when it would be so appreciated here."

Light glittered over your face, making the shimmering powder on your cheekbones glow.

Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers gripped your hip, no doubt leaving bruises swelling on your skin, "Our anniversary."

An innocent hum vibrated against your lips, "Yes. Seventy-four years this week. We were going to make it special. Shame."

Then you turned away from him as a familiar presence entered your consciousness. Eris stood before you, eyes low and darkened with desire, a sight that Azriel lowly growled at, "May I?" Eris offered his hand as the floor reset, and you didn't hesitate to take it, ripping yourself from Azriel's grasp and allowing Eris to lead you onto the dancefloor.

No one else dared to join you.

Surely, where fire met fury, people would burn.

Eris' hand stayed locked in yours whilst his other rested low on your hip, barely grazing the bare skin at your thigh, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as the music started, "Don't let anyone take away your shine."

The High Lord whisked you into a waltz, his steps perfectly matching and harmonising with your own, looking deep into your eyes the whole time. You had to admit it, Eris was beautiful, not as beautiful as Azriel, but still. For a moment, your forgot about the world as you waltzed in his arms, his fire colliding with the flame burning within you, and the entire room held a breath and could only watch the magnificence of it whilst wishing it was them.

The music slowed as did your steps, and one more twirl later, Eris bowed to you, your hand still in his, and kissed the marriage band on your ring finger, smirking against it slowly before rising and taking another step toward you, "I like your games, y/n," your heart began to race, "Do let me know if you'd like your fantasies fulfilled," his finger twirled your hair around it and he hummed in approval.

Then, Eris moved, taking your arm and leading you back to where he had taken you from, which was away from Azriel as he stood between Feyre and Rhys on the other side of the room, eyes wide and shadows dancing.

It should have been menacing, the look on his face, the crooked, unhinged grin and dark eyes that peered at you. All it did was make your cunt burn with need.

Perhaps you had pushed him too far.

For another hour, Azriel stalked you from the opposite side of the room, he was the predator toying with its prey, and he fucking knew it. The constant intensity of his gaze filled you with excitement and dread, until it had gotten too much altogether.

The halls of the Forest House held a chill, and your heels against the floor echoed about the vast halls and tunnels. You weren't sure how far you had walked, up a few staircases and down so many hallways that you were sure you had gotten lost.

That intensity still lingered.

Exhaling shakily, you stopped your walking and you spoke, "I know you're here," you turned on your heels as another pair of steps prowled down the candlelit hallway.

There he was, hair messy from raking his hands through it too much, eyes zoning in on you, his shadows poking up from his shoulders at the feeling of having you so close.

"As observant as ever," he purred, taking another step, and then another, "Did you really think you could wear that, a beautiful gift for our anniversary, to remember all the time that we have spent loving and fucking one another, for another male. Our enemy. And think you'd get away with it?" Another step, and your breath became caught in your throat, another step, and he was on you, his breath fanning over your face.

Backing into the wall, your heart lurched at the lethal speckles in his eyes, "Perhaps you should stop trying to take away my shine," you tried to speak as calmly as possible, but he saw right through it, and Azriel grinned.

Raising his hands, he caged you between them, then one of them moved to graze against your cheek, then the line of your collarbone, then down your arm and hip, until they lingered where your dress and thigh met, "Shine all you want, my mate, I won't stop you," his fingers dipped under the hem of the skirt, caressing your thigh, "But what I will not tolerate, is you wearing a thing meant for solely my eyes alone before others, and bathe in the sinful thoughts of them."

He was beyond pissed. It was hard to see anything but the Spymaster of the Night Court in those eyes.

Gulping hard, you had no choice but to shrink a little, like a bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf, from the lethal promise in his eyes, "I wanted, for once, to do what I wanted to do."

Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, a feathers touch away from your lips, "And what do you want now?" His voice was rough and low, a hush above a whisper, his fingers continued to rub soft circles into the skin beneath that golden hem.

"I want..." you looked into his eyes, into the eyes that engulfed every piece of you, "I want..." your back slid down the wall an inch or so just to put some space between you.

"I need your words, Angel," he cooed as his other hand moved from the wall to run down the side of your face and neck.

"I want you," the submissive tone in your voice made him melt, he grasped your wrist and pulled you down the hall, wind sifting through your hair at the speed of his steps, until he opened a door and pushed you inside.

The room was humming with the last of a simmering fire, the last licks of flame flickering across the room. Hands roamed your waist before he murmured, "I think I'd like you to keep it on."

Spice and cinnamon faintly clung to the air, mulled wide and ash. Then it dawned you, you were in Eris' room, you were about to be used in Eris' own bed. A sickly tempting realisation.

Azriel rounded your figure and smirked, he was enjoying toying with you, if you wanted to play, then he'd play.

The Shadowsinger moved across the room, sitting on a chair you knew Eris would have spent his nights reading in, and sat down, legs spread and slouched into the cushion. Tapping his foot against the wood in waiting, you stood there, you weren't sure for what, but your chest panted.

"Well? Come to me, Angel," he purred, smirking at you, you moved to take a single step but he tutted, "On your knees."

Fire spread through your entire body and you sank to the ground, dancing your palms along the wood as he watched on with that predatory glare, "You look so good crawling for me," his praise made your core pulse, and you knew that you were already glistening for him.

Kneeling before him, in the middle of his open legs, you felt the world shift, and you knew he was about to devour you. Azriel motioned to the best of his trousers and commanded, "Take them off," your fingers reached for the belt, unbuckling the clasp before untethering the buttons to his satin briefs and pulling them down to see his cock already hard and throbbing for you, your fingers delicately curled around him and he groaned at your touch, "With your mouth, Angel."

Azriel shifted his position, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his chest, to make himself more accessible for you.

Taking him between your lips, you swirled your tongue around the head, flickering the tip of you tongue over him. Deeper he went, and you hallowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, Azriel's head was thrown back, his hand curled in your hair as he guided your movements, "You're so perfect, aren't you? Look at how pretty you look," a soft whine moved through you and you rubbed your thighs together, begging to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs.

Azriel continued to guide your head, meeting every movement to the lazy thrusts of his lips, both of his hands were in your hair now, he moaned, a breathless sonnet that made you moan, making your lips vibrate around his cock.

Within a moment, Azriel had removed himself from your mouth and scooped you up from the floor, not breaking his stare as your thighs pressed around his waist and he moved to the bed, "Do you know whose room this is?" Azriel grinned against you neck, he moved back, his face hovering before your own as his fingers moved between your folds, you jolted at the contact, "It's Eris'."

So he did know.

Azriel pressed his lips to yours and you gasped, his finger entering you, and he took the opportunity to nip your bottom lip between his teeth, "He thinks he can touch you like that, think of you like this?"

He was going to fuck your scents into the foundations of the castle, so that Eris would never to able to escape it, escape the untouchable state of your mating bond.

His lips were on you again, and he shifted his position, resting between your legs as his fingers continued to draw soft moans from your lips. Azriel pulled away, taking his time in removing the satin shirt from his body, unlacing the cuffs and drawing the garment over his shoulders, his wings flexed behind him the entire time to make you remember who exactly your mate was.

Azriel positioned himself and pushed into you, capturing your lips on his to silence your soft groan whilst he stretched you, until he was fully hilted inside of you. Then he began moving, rolling his hips back and forth, mumbling against your lips, "You're mine. All mine."

The skin on your neck was clouded in marks from his mouth, sucking and biting every part of you he could see as he rocked into you, slow and deep, trying to stay in control.

Whimpering beneath him, you took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes; his hair fell over your face and you brushed it away, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "Let go."

It was all he needed.

Azriel pulled out of you, flipping you onto your front, and positioning you so that your back was arching in a perfect crescent moon, he wasted no time in pushing into you again, smirking against the walls that were already quivering around him.

This time, he wasn't gentle.

Your mate fucked you relentlessly, you were blubbering beneath him, feeling your walls spasm as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, moaning so loud that you were surprised no one had come in to investigate who exactly was getting fucked in the High Lords bedroom.

"Az, please, I'm going to-"

A familiar flutter passed over your clit, coiling around it and you clawed yourself right through Eris' feather pillows at the touch. The others flowed through your hair and down your sides, licking and caressing your skin.

Crying out, that white light blinded your senses as you came all over Azriel's cock that was slamming into you whilst his shadows took you to a whole other world entirely.

"That's my girl," his fingers trailed down the curve of you spine, furling in your hair and pulling you up so that your spine met his chest, burying his head into the nape of your neck, "Such a pretty dress, hm?"

Azriel didn't slow down, thrusting up into you, his fist curled in your hair and tugging on it to give him access to your neck and earlobes, "Mother above," you muttered through breaths, clutching onto the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Smirking against your skin, Azriel coaxed another orgasm from your body, commanding his best shadows to stay focused on that bundle of nerves that craved attention, "Eris won't ever be able to escape this, us."

"Azriel," the possessive primal instinct had consumed him, the need to mark what was his, right in the heart of his enemies den, "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Angel."

"I want you. Please."

"How could I deny you when you're being so good?"

This time, Azriel fingers moved over your clit, sending electric white heat through your body, raw and euphoric, and he slammed into you, moving with unwavering pace until you quivered around him tighter than you ever had before and he felt himself slip.

His movements had you begging as he fucked himself deeper inside of you, through his high that had him moaning your name. Then his movements slowed to a stop, and you stayed sat on his still throbbing cock, "I hope that Eris enjoys your message."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to your neck, allowing his hands to float down the bodice of the dress that had got you to where you were, nestled on your mates cock in the room of his enemy, "I'm sure he will," his fingers drifted to your stomach, halting there with a smile, "We may have done it."

Looking down, your hands moved to the same position, slithering beneath his, "Do you think so?"

Azriel hummed against your skin, "I do," It was no secret that you and Azriel had been trying for a child for years, you knew it wasn't ever going to be instant, but you had hoped for at least two perfect glimmers of your love for one another in the entire seventy-four years you had spent together.

"I hope so."

"Me too, Angel. Me too."

Smirking, you pulled away and turned to face your beautiful mate who was still kneeling atop the bedspread, "Are we going to talk about that little scene in the hallway, and on that chair?"

Azriel mirrored your smirk, "What can I say?" he moved to you, connecting his lips to yours, his other half, his everything, Azriel looked to your swollen full lips, to your hair, to your eyes that were glowing in the dying light, he shrugged, "It's the dress."

Author's Note

👀

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[gay-dorito-dust]

How do you think Argenti, Gepard, Dan Heng, Blade, and Dr. Ratio would react to finding their lover crying about how beautiful they are?

Argenti would be honoured that you found him of beauty equal to that of your own.

Truly he was because he was the type to believe that it took true beauty to recognise beauty in all its other forms.

He would hold your face in his hands and try to calm you down with some sweet nothings and kisses as his thumbs wipe away your tears.

‘My beloved rose,’ he’d begin, ‘to be viewed as beautiful by your eyes is an incomparable experience and I am blessed that you think so highly of me because to me, you might as well have been the originator of beauty itself as you make even the most mundane chore beautiful.’ He pushes his forehead against yours, brushing his nose against yours. ‘I am so honoured to be viewed as such in your eyes. I shall Cherish this eternally.’ He finishes as he then proceeds to kiss under your eyes, your eyelids and finally down your tear streaked cheeks gingerly as though you were going to break.

Argenti just spends the rest of the day proving just how beautiful you are in his eyes as repayment afterwards.

You’d probably had to hold onto him and tell him that he doesn’t have to repay you for speaking your truth, but Argenti was adamant in repaying you for doing so and if that meant spending eternity wait in on you hand and foot then Argenti would gladly do so.

Gepard originally thinks that something was wrong when he caught you tearing up and was about to use whatever he needed to resolve the issue, only for you to tell him how beautiful you thought he was.

Now he’s sporting a cherry red face and was at a loss for words.

He was use to people singing his achievements despite thinking that he could do so much more but getting a compliment in general that wasn’t tied to anything he’s done was enough to have the second oldest Landau a little speechless.

‘Really?’ He would ask sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. ‘I mean I wouldn’t think so but that doesn’t mean I’m within my right to tell you whatever you think of me is right or wrong, it’s just something I’ve got to get used to to in due time.’ He adds as he then grasps your hands in his and squeeze them.

‘But I thank you for thinking so highly of me that isn’t in regard to the things I’ve accomplished and more so on me just being…well me, even if I do fail at keeping our plants alive…but still I’m glad that you’ve stayed by my side for as long as you have. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Gepard finishes his statement off by kissing your forehead, down the slope of your nose and finally a sweet and gentle peck to the lips.

Dan Heng

He was quick to come to your aid upon seeing you crying, but the moment you tell him that the reason why was because you thought he was beautiful.

He didn’t hole much of an option about himself but he certainly didn’t think he was beautiful, average maybe, but not once did he ever look himself in the mirror and saw beauty staring back at him. He just saw Dan Heng of the Astral Express, nothing more, nothing less.

So for you to see beauty in him wasn’t something he was prepared for as his eyes widened a tad and his breath caught in his throat before looking away to scratch the tip of his nose out of habit.

‘You truly have a unique way with words don’t you?’ He’d say to himself as he smiles softly to himself, glad that nothing horrible had happened when his back was turned, you genuinely had him going for a bit there and he was more then glad to be wrong on this occasion.

He’ll hold your compliment close to his chest in hopes of absorbing it and committing it to memory, guarding it as though it were a priceless treasure he could not be separated from. He often didn’t think himself as someone special, but the way you spoke about how beautiful he was while crying made him want to appreciate everything you have ever said about him in the past in a remotely positive light. He didn’t know he needed it until you came along to shower him in love for just existing.

Blade is more of an ‘actions speak louder then words’ type of guy.

So he wouldn’t exactly be moved to bits when you tell him how beautiful he is because he knew what his body looked like, he also knew that you knew what his body looked like, so he often wondered where or not you were seeing the same thing as he was.

So unless you were holding his arms, admiring his scars and or tracing/kissing them with adoration like you were doing now, then he wasn’t going to be less to easily believing in words alone.

‘I’m far from it.’ He’d reply but felt the walls he’s built inside weaken the moment you pressed a soft kiss to one of the more larger scars across his inner forearm. A simple act made from genuine affection that shouldn’t have made as much of an effect on Blade it did.

The feeling of vulnerability wasn’t one he welcomed that often but when he does it was more or less only within your presence. In those moments you could tell him anything and he would be lead by the smallest spark to believe in it, including telling him he’s beautiful as you combed your fingers through his hair with tears still blurring your vision.

He’d brush your tears away with calloused finger pads and wordlessly bring you in close to his body, leaching off of your warmth and allowed you to borrow your head into the crook of his neck, and just keep you there as his own special way of saying thank you for seeing beauty within a monster.

Ratio

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or however that saying goes.

Veritas didn’t pride himself on his how conventionally attractive he was but more so on his intellect and extensive wealth of knowledge.

So when he caught you crying over how apparently beautiful he was, Veritas would want to naturally disagree with this statement but due to the fact that you were in a highly emotional state, he just bites his tongue and calmly walks over to you, kneels next to you and pulls out a handkerchief and start gingerly wiping away your tears.

‘I appreciate the heartfelt compliment but I do not think that it is worth your tears.’ He would then say afterwards as he coddles you into his side, making sure you could feel his appreciation for your ability to care for such things in life, seeing as how he was too transfixed on the much bigger, more complex paradoxes of life. ‘And don’t rub your eyes so hard when wiping away your tears, you’re only hurting yourself when you do that.’ He adds fussily but it never fails to make you smile and laugh at how much he cared about you in his own way.

He doesn’t stop mid work to smell the flowers but you did and he knew how even the smallest, minuet things could mean so much to someone, even if he didn’t understand the reason as to why, but he can learn to accept that what you found worth praising and what he found worth praising were two completely separate things and that was okay.

#hsr imagines #hsr imagine #hsr x reader #honaki star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #blade x reader #blade imagines #blade imagine #argenti x reader #Argenti imagine #Argenti imagines #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng imagines #Dan heng imagine #gepard x reader #gepard imagines #gepard imagine #veritas ratio x reader #Veritas ratio imagine #Veritas ratio imagines

[bunnysbrainrot]

A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

#fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #bunny writes #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

[misc-obeyme]

🍄 coming in for laughs So imagine lucifer and mc switching bodies for a day. Satan needs to learn how to store the cursed tomes. Mc makes lucifer swear to behave like nothing happened. At RAD Dia obv figures out mc is lucifer for today, and so mc is excused from work. Meanwhile, lucifer needs to handle all his brothers touching, flirting, suggestions, secrets, not being able to be as intimidating, body is too small, where the fuck are my wings, why is your skin like that. At some point mammon even picks mc up on his shoulder and runs away. Attempted kisses. Total chaos. But he is too prideful to go back on his promise. At evening in the common room, they are back in their bodies, mc sitting on the couch, stifling a laugh, lucifer standing there embarrassed to his core, the rest come in, and find out the truth. A week later, Satan still hasn't come out of his room, Mammon can't look lucifer in the eye, Asmo gets flustered just thinking how close he was to lucifer having him on the table (in his imagination at least), Solomon wishes he asked mc for a pact while he could've, maybe it would work like that What do you think about the rest pf the characters? Ps. I love torturing lucifer, it's a hobby at this point

OH NO poor Lucifer!!!

MC being kinda mean by making him promise not to tell! They had to know he'd suffer at the hands of everyone believing he was them.

Then again, maybe it's good for him to experience a day being MC. He can finally know what it's like for MC to deal with this nonsense every day lol.

I love the idea that Diavolo figures it out almost immediately. Like MC shows up in Lucifer's body, ready to pretend to be him and get work done. At first Dia's like hmm okay.

But then MC does something too un-Lucifer like and Dia's like okay what gives. Who are you and what have you done with Lucifer. And MC just caves.

I can kinda see Levi just being unaffected. Like maybe he didn't even go to RAD that day and he's been holed up in his room playing some video game and missed the whole thing. 'Cause if he thought he was having some kinda sweet moment with MC and then found out later it was Lucifer, I promise the HoL will be flooded shortly thereafter.

Beel takes it in stride. He just goes over to Lucifer and says "Sorry for what I did when I thought you were MC." And Lucifer sighs and looks aggrieved, but he's like it's fine. 'Cause who could stay mad at sweet precious Beel?

Belphie is devastated, but like hell he's gonna let anyone know. Says he doesn't care and goes to sleep. Later finds MC and is like, here's what I did when I thought Lucifer was you. It was terrible. How could you make me suffer like this.

Barbatos would know, I don't think he'd be fooled at all. He keeps the secret, but he's just laughing about the whole situation on the inside.

Simeon is confused. Wait. MC was actually Lucifer? Oh. Oh no. He's gonna be apologizing to Lucifer for anything he did when he thought Lucifer was MC, even if he didn't do anything lol. Lucifer's just like please let us not speak of it.

I love that Solomon is disappointed he lost his chance to try for a pact. Lucifer is just like it's never gonna happen.

Satan receives an unfortunately long lecture about the correct storage of cursed books.

#torturing Lucifer is incredibly entertaining #Anti Lucifer League is like this is funny but we also hate it #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #🍄 anon #uh I know you're not on anon but I'm still using that tag lol #misc answers

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Are Merch Mimics capable of using assimilation offensively against humans, for self-defense and otherwise? Like, if someone tried to break a toy/game/etc they were inhabiting, could the Mimic instead pull them in?

To a degree, yeah. I should mention though that Victor isn't "in" the TV in any magical sense; spoiler alert: he's the controller Vance is holding! Hence, the eye on the controller reacting to the dialogue. The Victor on the screen is actualy a model he rigged for a homebrew game he coded the old fashioned way, which responds to whatever inputs the controller sends to the Wii.

He actually is an active member of the homebrew community, and loves to mess with electronics the old fashioned way. Almost no one on the forums knows he's a toy bird, but are impressed nonetheless with his little projects, various rail-shooter games, and weird obsession with snarky anthropomorphic birds.

Victor could technically "jump into a game" on a tv screen, but it'd be a bit of a weird process if he doesn't know how to mod the game, so it'd look more like a shitty greenscreen effect rather than anything coherent. He'd need to learn in real time how the game is coded, how to inject arbitrary code into the system while it's running, etc etc. He CAN do that because he's a fucking NERD, but it wouldn't be a quick process at all.

I should also mention, mimics have an inherent ability to create dreams, since they come about from processing the thoughts and ideas of humans. If a human bonds with a mimic, such that the mimic now knows how the human thinks, they can pull a (somewhat) willing human into the dream when the human sleeps. So to wrap this all up: what Victor could do for a game he understands inside and out is pull a human into a dream that happens to match whatever he himself experiences as currently going on in the game. Basically the ultimate VR experience, with the mimic as a middle-man. Which might be something that'll happen in the comic soon....!

So that all seems a bit convoluted, right? Here's even more worldbuilding about matter assimilation by mimics below the cut. Stop here if you don't want a headache.

The reason so many hoops would be needed to pull a human into a game world is that assimilation is much easier on inert, inanimate objects that are not currently "in use" by a thinking thing, or something that relies on constant electrical signals to function. This can be something with brainwaves, or some other kind of animation like a normal robot. A mimic can convert a CRT TV that's turned off somewhat easily, but a TV that's turned on, with particles of every kind constantly moving into and out of it, is much harder to convert.

This means that humans and biological creatures in general are also trickier to convert, though it can still happen if done gradually enough. Hence, Victor wouldn't be able to rapidly convert Vance in one fell swoop, it'd be a whole process. It's easier to just pull a human into a dream instead, and if a mimic undersrands a video game, or a story in a book really well, they can basically make the fictional world into an extremely lucid reality for whatever human tags along with them.

I often describe mimics as just "jojo stands if they were corporeal and could just get up and move around on their own with no user"; you know how in jojo stand battles or old stories about magic curses, if you break the curse or kill the stand before its effect becomes permanent, all of the damage is magically undone? Like if you kill Green Day, the mold stand, all of the molding just instantly stops?

Mimics who use their powers of assimilation offensively work similarly; they can project their influence to a certain range, and partially assimilate matter in that range. If you knock out or kill the mimic, however, everything reverts to normal. A human who doesn't want to get converted can basically just turn around and walk away most of the time, or shoot the mimic, so the mimic in question needs to pull off some trick to get the human to stay within range for the assimilation to fully stick. A human can still break free and get out of range even if fully converted, but it's much harder, as assimilation usually means the mimic gaining greater control over the converted object in question. The exact range and effect mimics have is again like jojo stand ranges; it varies.

Different mimics have different affinities for different things. Victor can assimilate cheap electronics fastest because he likes them and understands how they work (it's why he's a toy bird mp3 player). Az can assimilate guns, and turn ammo into weird anomalous ammo with weird effects. Zachary is a genius who can assimilate any matter, including biological matter, faster than anyone... but he's also extremely picky and hates the sight of blood, so he only uses assimilation on things he really, really likes.

If I could somehow make another read more at this point, I would. It's gonna get messy:

What a weird power and setup though, right? Why? The true nature of mimics is unknown to most of them, but the deepest lore is that the first mimics were constructs made by a people long ago, who first made them as highly advanced machines that'd recognize the thoughts of their masters to fulfill any practical desire. Need a road built? Done. Need a ship repaired? Done. With physical needs all met, the people began to turn inward, and use the mimics to illustrate their own artistic ideas. Eventually, the will and consciousness of these people were assimilated and inherited by mimics, who themselves became people. Mimics spread, altered themselves, duplicated, deviated, fused, split, and wandered around. Getting into recreational wars, manifesting horrors and delights into reality because they could.

Somehow, after the dust settled, the strongest mimics, the angels, decide to set their sights to the stars, and observe other lifeforms develop technology and their own art. Did mimics come to earth millions of years ago, and simply watched humans grow, evolving with them in-tandem? Or did humans make the first mimics, and somehow became undone and set back to the stone age? The answer to this mystery is currently known only to the oldest of mimics. Except Zachary. He's old, but didn't care to remember.

This is generally why mimics seem so compatible with humans; they were made by either them, or people who were, for whatever the reason, very much like them, flaws and all. The ability to assimilate is basically the conversion of matter into a more malleable state of information. A virtually magical power, but this was achieved not through prayers and spells, but a very human-like obsession with developing technology to the point of exerting control over molecules, then atoms, then the lowest planks of matter. The obsession with scaling every mountain and crossing through every valley. To rip the natural world apart, and hopefully, put it back together before it's too late. Angels seek to ensure humanity walks the right path there, but with human's own desires and intent honored, for better or worse.

To answer your question: yes. A mimic of Mario can pull you into the game and you can jump with him and eat shitty low poly spaghetti with him.

The process for doing that is just convoluted and complicated, and you need to get to know each other a bit first. If he tries to use it as an attack though, it either won't work, or it might just wind up giving you mild brain damage.

#Victor #Merch Mimic #worldbuilding #Character Design #Fantasy race design

[nerdierholler]

IT'S DONE! I made a book! I never thought I'd ever be able to make a book. Sure mistakes were made but it was still a fun process and I learned so much from making this first one.

This a binding of The Wayhaven Chronicles IF but with my personal Detective's choices included and the resulting text smoothed out to read more like a novel.

Honestly, I thought something like this would be way beyond my skill set but it wasn't as scary as I thought once I got started. Definitely check out @renegadeguild for some book making and typesetting guides and their discord is super friendly and helpful as well.

If you want to learn from my mistakes I'll go into some trials and tribulations under the cut.

I'm not sure how well this book will hold up long term but that's ok! It was more about learning and I'll make some adjustments and try again with the same text probably.

Typsetting

Margins - need to make them bigger. I mostly read paperbacks so I was going for that format with narrower margins but then when I ran into paper problems, I didn't have a ton of room for trimming.

There was an option on the imposer to add dotted lines to the center fold and I clicked that but they're visible still even after binding. Could be that I needed to sew my signatures tighter and that would help but regardless I don't think I need them in the future so I'll be skipping that feature.

The font was intentionally small, along with the margins, because I was trying to minimize the number of signatures I was dealing with for a first project. I'll bump it up in the future.

Paper (so much wrong)

So the grain should run parallel to the spine but I couldn't find short grain paper. I read at some point that someone recommended using sketch books instead because that should be the right grain. It was not, at least not what I bought, so it still ended up going the wrong way.

The sketch note book I bought had perforated pages. It made them easy to get out but I didn't realize that the page widths were inconsistent until everything was printed out. The paper width varied by at least 1/8 of an inch. I wasn't planning on trimming my pages but my top was super uneven because of this so an attempt at trimming was made. It could have gone worse (there was no blood) but the trimming could have been a lot better too.

Should have just used printer paper. The results would have been the same.

Making Book Cloth

Used the Heat and Bond method with some spare fabric and it worked pretty well. The problem was when it came to adding backing. I'd read tissue paper or even plain paper so I grabbed some piecing paper that was close at hand. That was a mistake. It was good quality fabric so it was thicker already and the paper backing made it too thick. I could barely fold it over and it kept wanting to flip up. It's the spine fabric and I'm still concern it's going to do this in the future.

Used tissue paper for the marbled looking fabric and it was much easier to work with.

Book Board

Not measuring right was all on me. The rice box worked in a pinch but I think it will be prone to bending. Got me the experience I needed be wouldn't be my go-to material for a project of this size.

Glue

I used Elmer's All Purpose and it got the job done but, again, probably not going to hold up the best long term. However, I'm glad I didn't buy PVA and basically waste it on this project. Elmer's was good and cheap enough for practice. I'll be getting some PVA for future projects.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #bookbinding #life at nerdy holler #nerdy makes a book #Already poking the typeset for a second attempt #I really and truly am pleased with this though #even if it isn't super fancy or didn't come out exactly like I wanted #so jealous of the fancy htv titles and cover designs people make #but sadly I don't know anyone with a cricut or similar to make it

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 35

Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction

Synopsis : Reader is mad at Em after their heated argument and he does everything he can not to lose her.

Y/N’s POV 

You had decided to sleep in one of the guest rooms after your argument with Marshall. He had tried to reason with you, apologize for the millionth time and tell you he loved you but you just needed to be in a different room and not see or hear him. With him begging and pleading, it was impossible to process your feelings. After you locked yourself in the guest room, you heard him knock and apologize for a while but he eventually went away when he understood that you would not open the door, let alone talk to him. To say you were hurt would be the understatement of the year. How did he dare accuse you of lying ? How did he dare imply that you would not deserve to raise children when he knew full well that it was all that you wanted for yourself ? You understood that he might have said that out of anger, fear or whatever extreme emotion he might have felt in the moment but that was no excuse. And it did prove one thing : after knowing you for nearly two years, having witnessed you work towards recovery, he still saw you as an addict. This made you feel worthless, like everything you had done, all the meetings, the therapy sessions had done no good and that you would always be seen as the stupid girl who made a couple of bad decisions because she had a hard time handling trauma. Before messing with your anxiety prescription and eventually overdosing, you had never done a lot of drugs. You had never been the party type, drinking too much and experimenting with substances. The heaviest thing you had ever tried was smoking weed during trips to Amsterdam with your friends from college. You were not a crackhead, for crying out loud ! Looking at the bigger picture, your experience with drugs was limited and represented a few months. It could have been worse. You did not want to minimize your mistakes, but you also did not want them to be held against you for the rest of your life. You were twenty-eight, you still had a lifetime ahead of you. Three months messing with Xanax should not earn you a life sentence. And if Marshall thought different, to hell with him. 

Having him throw all these things in your face hurt on so many different levels and you cried yourself to sleep. Out of anger, sadness and frustration. And on top of that, you had to deal with the guilt of feeling unable to truly rejoice for Talia. You were feeling more lonely than ever. The last time you had felt this lonely was after you lost your baby. Simon was there physically but nowhere to be found on an emotional level and your friends, despite trying their best, did not really understand what you were going through. Now, things were different but also similar in a way : you couldn’t really talk to your friends and it was painfully obvious that your partner would not be of any support. All you had wanted for the night was to have some peace, some alone time and, eventually, Marshall’s arms to fall asleep in. Instead, you had an argument that led you to sleep in a guest room and a possible breakup on your mind. 

You didn’t want to break up with Marshall. Even after the awful things he threw in your face, you were still in love with him. It didn’t make sense. If anything, you should hate him. And in a way, you did. But you still loved him. The perspective of breaking up was making you sick to your stomach but what choice did you have, when the person you loved the most, the one who was supposed to protect you, be there for you and have your back did not respect you and thought of you as a failure ? Yes, he had apologized countless times and professed his love for you, but what good did it do if he saw you as an addict and a charity case ? 

The only reason you managed to sleep at all was from the exhaustion from crying. You had sobbed so much that your head was hurting when you woke up, your vision still blurry. That’s when you felt a presence in bed, next to you. You rubbed your eyes and saw Marshall laying there, staring at you intently with bloodshot eyes. You had locked the door behind you. What the hell was he doing here ? How long had he been staring at you for ? 

What are you doing here ? You asked in a raspy voice. How did you even get here ? 

Masterkey. Baby… I can’t sleep without you, he said. I don’t want to sleep without you. Not tonight. Not ever. 

So you thought you’d stare at me in my sleep like some sicko ? 

Y/N, I… Please don’t do this, he sighed. Don’t leave me. 

He was staring into your eyes, as if he were trying to read into your soul. He was wearing a white tank top and gray sweatpants. He knew full well that was the clothes you liked the most on him. You had told him countless times how sexy he was in them. And you had to admit that, laying on top of the covers, icy blue eyes and muscles on full display, he was a vision. Even when you were mad at him, he had you drooling and it was painfully unfair. 

Marshall…, you began. 

I can’t lose you, he pleaded. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t live without you. 

You hurt me, you said as you swallowed dryly. You really hurt me. 

I know, baby, I-

No you don’t ! You interjected. You have absolutely no idea how bad it hurts. This is worse than the time you told me I should have overdosed before we met. Losing this baby, it’s the worse thing that ever happened to me. How dare you tell me I shouldn’t get to be a mother ?! How dare you tell me that when it was my biggest dream and the reason for our breakup ? How dare the man I told everything about my miscarriage to, the one who consoled me when I was hurting, say something so mean when I gave up on this dream in order to be with him ?! 

I’m so sorry, he sobbed. I don’t deserve you. I know it. I fucked up. 

And I don’t deserve you either ! You spat.  I deserve better. You said you had my back. You said you were here for me. You were supposed to be my best friend in the world. You were supposed to protect me. You had me believing that I could recover. The man who gave me this fucking sobriety pendant and told me I wasn’t alone doesn’t believe in me and thinks I’m basically a crackhead ! 

No, Y/N, it’s not true, he said. I don’t think that at all. You’re so strong. I know it. I see it. 

Then why would you say what you said ? You cried. What good reason can you possibly have for hurting me this bad ? 

I… It’s hard to explain. 

The both of you were crying, laying in bed, staring at each other. Seeing Marshall in tears broke your heart but, hell, he had broken yours. You were mad at yourself for having so much empathy for him. He reached for your hand and, with the other, wiped his tears. 

Look, I know it’s no excuse, but… When I saw the tests, I freaked out, he said. Because it’s not even that I don’t want kids. I mean, I don’t, because I’ve had three beautiful daughters, I feel like my family is complete and, who wants to change diapers in their fifties anyway ? Or be mistaken for their child’s grandpa ? But really… When I thought you were pregnant, I was terrified. Because there is no fucking way I can be chill with the idea of having another baby when I put mine through so much. I traumatized my daughters. Their mom traumatized them too. Their parents were fucking zombies. They saw us struggle. No child should ever, ever see that. No kid should have to call 911 because their dad is dying on the bathroom floor, or have to wait for their mom to call them from jail. They should not have to say “Mom is in rehab. Again. She was sober for years but she relapsed and now she’s a mess”. I can’t even begin to tell you all about the times my kids didn’t have their parents with them for important events. Or the times when we were there but not mentally present. 

You stared at him in silence as he spoke. He had already told you about his addiction, how he had struggled, but he had never really spoken about the impact it had on his daughters, on his family. Tears were falling down his cheeks as he spoke and you could tell the memories were still vivid. 

And when I say that addicts are shitty parents, I’m just talking from my experience, he continued. No matter how much I’m trying now, no matter how long I’ve been sober, it doesn’t erase everything the girls have been through. And I can’t, in good conscience, have another child. Being an addict doesn’t mean you don’t love your kids to death. But it means that they have to put up with a lot and might end up having to care for you when, really, you’re the one who should take care of them. And I won’t even get into the bad genetics they might inherit. When I got back from the hospital, the girls had to take care of me. And throughout the years, they’ve had to take care of Kim, too. 

I know, you said. And I’m so sorry you had to go through this but… You were mean to me. You were cruel. 

I never meant to say you wouldn’t be a loving mother, he explained. Because there is absolutely no doubt in my mind about this. And I know it’s a sensitive subject for you. What I really meant to say is that, even though you’ve worked so hard, even though you’re doing so good, there is no certainty you won’t relapse at one point or another. It doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be there for you if something happened. It means that it’s scaring the living shit out of me. I wouldn’t be able to handle having a kid with anyone, but if I’m being honest, I couldn’t handle the pressure of having one with you especially, because I’d be even more scared. 

You nodded sheepishly. When he put it in these words, it made more sense. You were still hurt but, in a way, you would see where he was coming from. 

But I realize that… It’s a me issue, for the most part, you know ? He finally said. And I guess that, just because it’s the way I see things doesn’t mean it has to be true for you. I know we’re in different situations. 

Yes, you said with tears in your eyes. Because for me… It was three months, Marshall. I only used for three months. And it doesn’t change the fact that I made mistakes. But I don’t want to be thought of as an addict for the rest of my life. Because that’s not who I am. It shouldn’t have to define who I am. And I will not have you think of me as a charity case.

I know, he agreed. I fucked up. I’m sorry. But I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. For the record, I don’t think of you as an addict. And you are not a charity case. You have never been. Even at the beginning, we bonded over the topic of addiction and I wanted to be there for you, but it was never about charity or whatever. Or maybe it was, but with me being the damn charity case. 

I never saw you like that, you said. 

Before I met you, I was a fucking mess, you know ? He said. I was sober for fifteen years, I was doing good on paper, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t happy. I never really thought I could be. Content, maybe. But happy ? No. You’re the one who showed me what true happiness looks like. You were never a fucking charity case, Y/N. You’re the air I breathe. 

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. He was holding your hand in his and staring at you. Things seemed a bit clearer now but you weren’t ok. Maybe he didn’t actually mean all the things he’d said, but you still took them to heart. You stared back at him, not saying much. And if you weren’t pushing him away, you weren’t exactly making a move in his direction either. You were just sitting in bed, feeling emotionally drained. 

I’m really sorry, you know, he reiterated. I know I’ve said that a hundred million times tonight, but I mean it. Can you forgive me ? 

I… I don’t know, you said blandly. 

I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N, he said. I swear to God, all you have to do is tell me what to do and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll jump in front of a train, I’ll sell a kidney, I’ll take my heart out of my chest and offer it to you. Anything. 

Can you… Leave me alone ? You asked. 

He looked absolutely heartbroken and you didn’t want to hurt him but, at the same time, you didn’t want a sacrifice. What you wanted, what you really needed was time and space. You looked at him as he swallowed dryly. There was a hint of panic in his eyes. 

Please don’t leave, he pleaded. 

I need time, Marshall, you explained. I need space. 

Please, he begged. 

He cupped your face and whispered to you how much he loved you, how much he needed you. “I can’t lose you”, he kept on saying. He then proceeded to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your lips… He seemed virtually unable to let go of you. You burst into tears as soon as his lips touched yours and he held you as you sobbed in his arms, repeating how sorry he was. Your tears were getting his tank top wet but he didn’t seem to care. He kept on spilling soft kisses on your face, holding you close. You let him kiss you as you clutched his top. His hands slowly started to wander, gently stroking your thighs. “Let me show you how much I love you”, he whispered before kissing you. You enjoyed his touch, the warmth of his embrace… But something was still off. You didn’t feel in the right headspace. You knew he loved you, but you didn’t feel safe on an emotional level. 

Marshall… No, you simply whispered. 

Are you alright ? He asked. What can I do ? 

Please, just leave, you asked with tears in your eyes. 

He bit his lower lip but eventually nodded. He stroked your cheek with a worried look before getting up and walking towards the door. He took one last look at you as you muttered an apology. After he closed the door, you let your head fall onto the pillow. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

After leaving Y/N alone in the guest bedroom, Marshall was unable to sleep. He had fucked up big time, he knew it. And now, she might leave his sorry ass. For good, this time. The perspective of her walking away from him again was making him sick to his stomach. He kept on thinking he’d done everything wrong in their relationship, perhaps from the start. All he wanted was to give her the very best in life but he kept on fucking up, on saying the wrong things, on letting his anger and past trauma take over. Perhaps he was right when he said he’d end up alone. He was consumed by self-loathing and self-hatred, with absolutely no clue as to how he could possibly make things right (assuming it was even possible). His mind kept on going to the darkest places. He’d always been prone to weird, dark and intrusive thoughts but it’d been a long time since he had felt this way. Ever since they had gotten back together, life had been sunshine and candy. Now, it was the contrary. He kept on filling pages upon pages in his notebook with words, rhymes, schemes, phrases… If anyone ever found this, they would probably call a psych ward to have him committed. His lyric sheets had always resembled the scribblings of a mad man - something a lot of people made fun of him for - but these pages were something else. They were deeply disturbing. Probably because that’s exactly what his thoughts were. Disturbing. After a night alone in the living room, staring at the ceiling and writing, he decided not to go to the studio. Whenever he was having a bad day, going to work and keeping up with his rigorous 9 to 5 schedule usually helped but, this time, he didn’t have it in him to get ready, get in his car and go to work like nothing happened. Not when Y/N might be gone by the time he would come back. So much for their first holiday as a family. For the perfect future he had planned for them. For all the places he wanted to take her. All the plans he wanted to make. He couldn’t imagine facing his family and telling them that he had fucked up. He could already see the look of disappointment on his daughters’ faces. They had managed for Y/N to get back to him only for him to ruin everything. 

He was laying on the couch when he heard her come down. He immediately went to see her. 

Hey, he said. 

Good morning, she replied. 

Did you sleep well ? He asked in a sad attempt to make small talk and connect with her. 

Not really, she admitted. Aren’t you late for work ? 

I’m not going, he said. Not today. Look… Can we talk ? 

I came to talk to you, actually, she said. I have made up my mind. About leaving. 

For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything and time seemed frozen. He found himself unable to breathe as he stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate and put him out of his misery. He needed to know. These few seconds were absolute torture. The nine circles of hell. 

So ? He asked nervously. 

I don’t want to leave, Marshall, she said. I want to give us a chance. 

Thank God, he sighed as he went for an embrace. 

But, she said intently as she put distance between the two of them, I need time. 

O-ok, he said. Sure. Whatever you need, baby. Whatever you want. I told you, I’ll do anything, I’ll give you whatever you ask for. 

Would you consider therapy ? She asked carefully. 

I already do therapy, he replied with a puzzled look on his face.

You haven’t been to therapy since we came back from Europe, she pointed out. And I know that it’s mostly addiction counseling. With everything you told me yesterday, it’s clear that you have unresolved trauma that you should work on. So that you don’t take it out on me. And so that you can move on. 

I-I don’t think it’s something you can move from, he said honestly. But yeah, sure. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. 

Ok, she said. Thank you. 

Is that all ? He asked nervously. 

And I’m taking over the guest bedroom, she added. 

You want to sleep apart ?! He blurted out. 

I told you I need time, she said. Marsh, I… I love you. With all my heart. And I know you’re sorry. But I’m still hurt. And I have a lot to process. I’ll still be in the house, I’m not moving out. 

Ok, he sighed. 

He wasn’t happy about the prospect of spending more nights away from her, but at least she wasn’t moving out and that was enough for him to be able to breathe properly again. He would just have to suffer through it and do his best not to fuck things up. Y/N went to her appointment and he waited patiently, not too sure what to do. When she came back, she informed him that Talia would be coming over. No offense to Y/N’s best friend, but he had absolutely no wish to see anyone, so he simply decided to retreat in his home studio, trying to at least do something with all the lyrics he had written. Putting together tracks and getting the words out of his head was therapeutic, more so than any amount of time he would spend in a shrink’s office. He’d seen therapists before. When he started addiction counseling, he’d been advised to seek help regarding his childhood trauma, but he wasn’t too keen. So therapy had mainly been focused on his anger issues, his anxiety regarding work and addiction. He wasn’t a big fan of therapy, but if that’s what it took for Y/N to forgive him, he would bite the bullet. When he went back to the living room, at the end of the day, he was spent and his voice was raspy. He had been yelling in the mic a bit more than he usually did but, at least, his mind was a bit clearer. He found Y/N and Talia on the couch, drinking tea and looking at bridal magazines. 

Hi Em, Talia said with a huge smile before hugging him. 

Hey, he said. How’s wedding planning going ? 

Lots to do, she said as she gestured to the pile of notebooks and magazines on their coffee table. By the way… Are you free two months from today ? 

I’d have to check with Tracy about my schedule, he shrugged. Why ? 

Because I’m getting married, she shrieked ! We have a date ! 

That’s… soon, he pointed out. 

Well, I told Y/N not to tell you, and we’re not telling people yet, but you’re Jamal’s best man so you might as well know… We’re having a baby ! 

He looked at Y/N who was standing behind Talia, gesturing to him not to say anything. Obviously he wasn’t supposed to know. He smiled and congratulated her. He could see a sullen expression on his girlfriend’s face while Talia was talking about how Jamal took the news. Apparently, he was surprised but overjoyed and they decided to get married before she started showing. Y/N was smiling but he could see that she was not doing too well. Given everything he knew about how hard losing her own baby had been for her, it wasn’t too surprising. 

So, anyway, we’re going to need all the help we can get, Talia said. Can we count on you, Em ? 

Sure, he sighed. But don’t count on me to help pick flowers or stuff like that… 

Can you at least hook Jamal with one of your stylists so that he has a decent tux ? Oh, and if you know a venue we can use, too… I mean, I bet you’ve visited a few between Hailie’s engagement and Alaina’s wedding. 

None that can fit your guest list, he chuckled. Jamal has told me about it. Nothing that’s available two months from now can accommodate 350 guests ! 

Believe it or not, they have actually agreed to shrink it down, Y/N said with a slight grin. We’re down to 50 guests. 

Only because we’re having a second wedding after the baby is born, Talia warned. This is basically eloping. With a few guests, a party and an actual ceremony. 

So it’s an actual wedding, he said. 

Y/N and Talia went back to their wedding planning. From what he gathered, his girlfriend would have her hands full for the next two months. He went to chill in his office for a bit, listening to some music. When it was dinner time, he went to see Y/N and ask if she wanted to have dinner but found her on the couch, curled into a ball. She was crying and seemed in pain. Talia was gone. 

Baby, what’s wrong ?! He asked as he checked on her. 

Nothing, she mumbled. I got an IUD inserted this morning and I’m having contractions and cramps. They said it’s normal, though. 

I’m sorry, he said. Is there anything I can do ? 

Don’t worry about it, she said. 

She tried to move and pick her phone from the table but even that seemed too hard to do for her. 

You seemed fine, earlier, he commented. 

They gave me pain medication immediately after but it’s starting to wear off, she explained. Plus, I didn’t want to worry Talia, you know ? 

Right, he said. Don’t you have any pain meds you can take ? 

They prescribed some for me but they warned me it was pretty strong so I didn’t pick up the prescription. 

Oh, he said. Do you want me to take you to the doctor ? ER ? 

It’s fine, she said. Don’t worry about it. 

Maybe you should have taken the prescription, he commented. I don’t like seeing you in pain. 

I still don’t fully trust myself, you know ? She said as she nervously played with her sobriety pendant.

You’re stronger than you think, Y/N, he replied. I mean it. 

No you don’t, she huffed. 

Yeah I do, he insisted. Remember, when we started hanging out, when I told you nothing would happen between us ? I thought your sobriety was too new and I was scared But you proved me wrong. You’re doing so good. It’s impressive. 

Thanks, she said sheepishly. 

You never cease to amaze me, you know ? 

She blushed and smiled a little. Watching her act so shy made him realize what an asshole he’d been for failing to protect that smile. She was too precious and she had absolutely no idea about it. All he wanted to do was to take care of her. And that was exactly his plan. 

I wanted to know if you were hungry. Do you want to eat dinner ? He asked. 

Sure, why not, she said as she started to get up. 

Stay here, he said. I’ll cook. 

I can do it, she assured him. 

You’re not in the state to cook, he pointed out. Let me take care of you, ok ? 

Before she got a chance to protest, he went to get her hot water bottle, her favorite blanket, a hoodie and the book on her bedside table and brought them to her before heading to the kitchen and preparing something to eat. They ate in relative silence. He couldn’t speak for her but he wasn’t too sure what to say. At that point, he’d apologized enough times that she knew for a fact how sorry he was. She was a bit distant but, at this point, she didn’t seem too mad either. Ever since they started dating, it was the first time they had an argument that wasn’t solved in the next hour. With anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared too much but with Y/N, he hated it, probably because he realized it was his first serious, loving relationship with someone who had a rather healthy outlook on relationships. No shade to Kim, he had truly loved her but, looking back, he knew they’d been doomed from the beginning, always scheming and playing games. Y/N, on the other hand, had always been brutally honest, when she made it clear that she was attracted to him, or when she broke up with him to stay true to her dreams. He’d always been used to his partners bending their own rules in order to be with him, wanting to be with him at all costs even if it meant that the whole thing would be unhealthy and disingenuous, but Y/N was not like that. She was honest and true. She would rather leave than take bullshit and, even for his fifty-two year-old self, it was intimidating. 

Thank you for taking care of me, she said softly. 

I take my job seriously, he said with a slight smile. I promised to care for you and I fully intend to stick to the plan. 

You don’t have to, you know ? 

I want to, he replied. How’s the pain ? 

The water bottle helps, she shrugged. I think I’ll go to bed, though. I’m tired. 

Before she could get up, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up before carrying her up the stairs. She gasped in surprise but let him. She was securing herself with her arms around his neck. 

You know… I could have walked, she pointed out. 

Oh. Too late, he said innocently - enjoying the contact with her far too much. 

He let her down on the bed in the guest bedroom. For a split second, he considered bringing her to their bedroom but he wanted her to see he respected her decision, however strongly he might disagree with it. He wasn’t sure how he could be expected to sleep well without her. Last night had been a nightmare, just like any night without her. In retrospect, it was a miracle he hadn’t ended up in the hospital in the six months they’d been apart. He had gotten so little rest. To be fair, he had Talia and Jamal to thank for keeping him somewhat sane and healthy. He wouldn’t have been able to release the album and tour otherwise. Hopefully, this time, he wouldn’t have to sleep without her for the next six months. 

So, do you need anything ? He asked as he tried to hide his nervosity. 

I think I’ll be fine, she replied with a soft smile. 

Look, I saw the look on your face, earlier, when Talia was here, he said. Are you sure you’re alright ? 

I’m triggered, that’s all, she said as she looked down. These contractions are bringing memories. So does Talia’s pregnancy. If I’m being honest, I’m having a bit of a… hard time rejoicing for her. 

Tears were welling in her eyes and he could not resist the urge to hold her. He sat on the bed and pulled her in his arms. She looked at him with a sad look on her face. 

I’m a terrible person, she muttered under her breath. My best friends are having a baby and I’m thinking about myself. 

You’re not, he assured her. Considering what you’ve been through, it’s absolutely understandable. And I guess I didn’t really help last night, with my shitty remarks…

Not really, she admitted.

You’re a great friend, Y/N, he said reassuringly. You just need a little time. 

I guess, she shrugged. Plus, they deserve to have a happy family life, you know ? That’s everything Talia’s ever wanted. They’re going to be amazing parents. 

They are, he nodded. And they’re pretty lucky to have you, too. 

You think ? She sighed. 

Of course, he said. You’re always there for people. Look, you’re even putting together their wedding at the last minute. 

That’s the least I can do, you know ? They’ve always been so good to me. I just want to make them happy. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple and she gave him a weak smile. 

I think I should sleep, she said softly. 

Ok, he replied. Call me if you need anything ? 

Sure. Thanks, Marshall. 

They stared at each other in silence. Sleeping in separate rooms felt unnatural and he could tell she felt it too. He reluctantly left her and went to their room, though he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

In the following days, things seemed to ease up a little. Y/N was still a little distant and keeping to herself but, from the looks of it, she could see he was making efforts. He tried not being too obvious and not sucking up to her too much but he also wanted her to see that he was serious when he said he would do whatever it takes. They managed to have small talks and ate dinner together in front of the TV before going to sleep - still in separate rooms. As for physical intimacy, it was sparse. The only thing he got away with was holding her hand. It was incredibly frustrating - having her so close but so far away at the same time while trying his best to get her to forgive him. He was nervously beating around the bush, avoiding the topic but it was driving him crazy. In all of his previous relationships, it would have led to angry sex and the matter would have been settled and buried only to be dug up for the next argument. Not very healthy but, at least, he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. Thankfully, the evening before Thanksgiving, the universe seemed to be on his side. When he got back from the studio, he found Y/N in the home theater, preparing to watch a movie. 

Hey, he said. Mind if I join you ? 

Sure, she replied with a smile. How was your day ? 

It was alright, he said. What are we watching ? 

You can choose, she offered. I just wanted to get my mind off flower arrangements for a minute. 

Horror movie ? He suggested. I bet we can find one where a bridezilla gets killed, that might comfort you. 

Hey, Talia’s not that bad, she giggled. But yeah, let’s go for horror ! 

She seemed in a good mood, which was a good sign. They settled on a movie and he joined her on the couch. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about the movie - all he wanted was to be with her. And the only reason he had suggested watching a horror movie was because he knew she was chicken-hearted and, at that point, he would take any excuse and opportunity to hold her. If that implied relying on a jumpscare scene, so be it. He usually had better moves than that with the ladies, but this felt like a last resort. Sure enough, a scary scene came up and he saw her jump up a bit. He tried to hide a smile and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She muttered a “thank you” and focused on the movie. Every time the atmosphere got tense in the movie, he could feel her squirming and nervously bite her lip. And every single time, he pulled her a bit closer to him, until her legs were practically over his. He was almost brought back to the times when they were just friends and every brush against her took his breath away. Being with her, he had gotten used to the proximity, but now that she had deprived him of her touch, it felt the same as before. She took him by surprise by reaching for his hand and interlocking their fingers. He was feeling like a teenager on his first date at the movies. Should he try and kiss her ? Or would it ruin the moment ? It was stupid how much power she had over him. How nervous she could make him, and her ability to make him fall for her all over again just by holding hands. Another jumpscare scene occurred and she let out a small scream before hiding her face in his neck. God bless horror movies. He couldn’t contain a small laugh. 

You’re enjoying this, aren’t you ? She whispered accusingly. 

I missed this, he admitted. I missed you. 

I missed you too, you know ? 

She looked at him and he could not resist the temptation to capture her lips with his own. She immediately kissed him back, her lips feeling softer than ever. Four days without her touch was way too long. He could feel his heart rate increasing as her lips parted and their tongues found each other. He ran his fingers through her hair while she traced his shoulders with her fingers. Her touch was electrifying and he simply couldn’t get enough. He kissed her over and over again. 

I love you, he whispered. I love you so much. 

I love you too, she said emotionally. 

I need you, he pleaded. Let me make love to you. 

Ok, she whispered, her breath accelerating. 

As soon as she spoke, he did not waste time and got up before taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. Their bedroom. He closed and locked the door behind them, making it clear that she was not going anywhere. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to want to. She was looking at him in anticipation. He went back to her and kissed her passionately before pushing her on the bed. He took his time making love to her, enjoying her soft moans and the sensation of her legs around his waist. Her nails scratched his back as she cried his name when they both reached their apex. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck as they caught their breath. 

You’re incredible, he said lovingly. And I’m never letting you out of this room ever again. 

Really ? She giggled. 

Try me, he said with a grin. 

She gave him a playful look and tried to get out of bed but he held her even closer, causing her to struggle a little. She tried wrestling him, but to no avail. Eventually, she gave in to his warm embrace and let her head roll onto his chest. 

So… I guess I have no choice but to sleep here tonight ? 

Don’t tell me you were seriously thinking about sleeping in the other room ? He groaned. 

Not really, she confessed with a small smile. I don’t like sleeping apart. I hate being mad at you, you know ? 

And I hate it when you’re mad at me, he replied. I’ll do better. I promise. 

I know, she shrugged. Sorry it took me a while to cool off. 

I really hurt you, he said. I understand. But just so you know, I want to do everything I can to deserve you. 

In all fairness, it wasn’t just you, you know ? She explained. It was a lot to process in very little time. I was triggered and brought back to some tough memories. I needed a little time on my own… 

I get it, he said. I missed you, though. 

I missed you too, she said. 

I don’t want to lose you, Y/N, he said in all seriousness. 

I know, she said. I’m still here. 

He nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing a bit as she traced the outline of his tattoos with her index. She let out a small giggle as she looked at his stomach tattoo. 

What ? He asked as he opened an eye. 

I just remembered I’m meeting the woman whose name I see every time I go down on you, she said with a smirk. 

He was a bit taken aback by the comment. She was smiling but it was the first time she commented on Kim’s name being tattooed on him. He’d had these for so long that he tended to forget about them anyway. Now that she mentioned seeing the tattoo every time she went down on him, though, he was feeling a bit self-conscious about it.

Is that a problem ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. The tattoo ? 

Not really, she shrugged. I don’t really see it, most of the time, you know. It’s just kind of funny, when you think about it. 

Right, he hummed. So… You’re not too stressed out about tomorrow ? 

I don’t know, she said. It’s still weird but, realistically speaking, I don’t have anything to worry about, right ? 

Of course not, he said. 

I’ll be fine, then, she replied. I guess I’m curious, though. 

About what ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

About her, she said. You had a complicated relationship with her. 

That’s one way to put it, he said. But, you know, as far as I’m concerned, she’s more like an old friend, and I know it’s the same for her. I’m just good old annoying Marshall. So, really, you have nothing to worry about. 

I know, she said with a smile. And when I start freaking out about it, I remember that you’re not married to her anymore. 

She was smiling softly, visibly at peace with the situation. That was encouraging and a good sign for the next day’s celebrations. However, he was starting to feel his anxiety rise once again. Right when he thought everything was getting back to normal and that he could enjoy Thanksgiving in peace, his past had to come and bite him in the ass. Y/N was looking at him lovingly and he could not find it in himself to contradict her. The only problem was, by saying nothing, he was lying to her face. He was still very much married to Kim.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 3

Summary: Without the red smoke to help you through rehab, you begin to experience thoughts and feelings that you never had before. It gets worse before it gets better, but don't worry. It DOES slowly get better.

Check out the other parts here. Also, check out Part 2 to my Incorrect Quotes if you haven't already. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of murder, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Drug Withdrawal, Drug Addiction, Mentions of Self harm, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

----------

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been imprisoned at the heretics’ main space station for. Based on the lines scribbled in your journal, and what those healers and heretics told you, the closest timeline you could estimate was a month and a half…

Could be more…

In your defense, being in and out of consciousness because of not only healing from your wounds but dealing with your hellish headspace gave you no chance of keeping track. You weren’t sure if you TRULY wanted to know how long it’s been though…

Some of your wounds, at least, have healed. If you weren’t wearing those power mufflers, all your wounds would have disappeared a long time ago. But, no.

Those heretics just HAD to insist you heal the hard way. It is bad enough that those healers and their knights were watching your every move on the cameras. There was no nook or cranny in your accommodation that wasn’t under constant surveillance. They didn’t even try to be discreet about them. What’s worse is that now you had your whole body, head, and face exposed, especially to the people hellbent on killing you. They didn’t even deserve to have a face to associate with the Archangel. It was for your own good, they said. All that did was leave you with voices in your head screaming at you to get out, run, and hide from those prying eyes.

So what if there were a few instances where you tried to scratch yourself until you were satisfied with the red on you? You just needed a way to stop yourself from feeling these weird feelings. It’s leaving you weak. What would the Prototype say if he saw you showing such weakness when you were raised better than this? The scratching never went as far as it did the first time, though and it would never be like that ever again. Not on the heretics’ watch. They would always intervene before the first sign of red.

You spent a lot of time thinking about the perfect escape plan. You would get those power mufflers off, destroy those cameras the first chance you get, create a void, (maybe kill a few heretics along the way to send a message), and make an easy escape back to the prototype. It’s just… you could never muster any energy to go through with your ideas. You hated that you grew so lazy and weak when no prison was able to keep you contained in the past.

What happened to you?

Where was your energy to fight back, to make those heretics pay for what they’ve done to you…?

But…

Why save you?

Probably to interrogate you, torture you for ALL the intel concerning your God, and once they get everything, kill you. They can sure as hell try, but you’d rather die than betray your God and family like this!

You groan, cradling your pounding head with one hand. You slide down against the wall. Even though you've been clean for some time now, but you're still trying to get used to this red smoke free headspace of yours. Now you're just left sitting with thoughts and feelings you never had to sit with before, and you hated how much it consumes you. You wished you had the red smoke to help you through this, to make you forget these feelings, to go back to normal. But the Prototype never came back for you… no rescue parties were made for you as far as you know.

A few healers and knights argued that if he really wanted you back, he would’ve come get you by now, but he didn’t, and none of your “friends or family” did either, so you might as well get used to being here. You reminded them every single time that you don’t have “friends” nor are you selfish enough to need any. The Prototype was all anybody needed. You had that argument about 26 times before you stopped. There was no point in continuing this fight if they just refused to see any sense.

You hated to admit it, but...

Maybe they're right.

Not once, in the entire time since you’ve been separated from the Prototype was he there when you needed him the most. Your chest and the back of your eyes burn. Your vision goes blurry. You clench your blanket draped around your shoulders and take a few deep breaths until the burning sensation is smothered, and your vision clears up. You are NOT going to let weakness consume you.

Not now.

Not ever.

Not as long as you’re at the mercy of the heretics.

----------

Here you are, three months deep into your rehab program, sitting on the floor, and studying another one of Bubba’s “philosophy books” as he called them. He gave you some so that "you weren’t left pacing back and forth in a cell or being stuck with your thoughts all day." Granted you do try to do a few exercises to build your strength back. You discovered it was the best way to distract your mind from the mere thought of desiring red smoke. At least the books give you more to do in your cell.

To you, it was all heretic propaganda to stray the weak-minded away from the divine truth. It was still intriguing to study about, all the same. Besides, if you're going to be staying with the heretics, then now is a good time to start learning about their world and culture. As much as you hate to admit it, you're beginning to understand why many heretics find these kinds of teachings appealing. Not only does it go against everything the Prototype preaches, but there were so many teachings to choose from. How do the heretics even know which teachings are true? How do they know which teachings they should follow for the rest of their lives?

It was all so strange.

Back home, there is only one absolute truth: everything that happens in the galaxy is thanks to the Prototype. He’s the eternal source of happiness, of wisdom, of strength, of a second chance at life. He is in control of all. He gives his people his gifts, and in turn, they serve him. They devote their lives to him. To not believe in this truth would mean certain death.

In the heretic world, it seems it is up to the individual to shape the world in their image. Apparently, to discover the truth, you have to be willing to question everything. But how do these heretics expect to survive if they're expected to find their own happiness? How can they be trusted to take control of their lives when they don't fully know whether they made the right decision or not? How are they able to peacefully co-exist despite their differing beliefs?

Perhaps it's something you can clarify with the Space Riders when they come in for yet another visit. They've visited you quite frequently, but it was all so strange. They never asked you anything about the Prototype or the cult. In fact, the topic of conversation was always about… you. They would ask what you have been doing in “rehab” as they call it, how you are managing your red smoke cravings, what you have learned, how are the books (in Bubba’s case), and possible arrangements that are to be made once you are back in their custody. When they exhausted those topics, then they would make conversation with you...

Er...

...More like they would TRY to make conversation with you and you would give short answers. Sometimes, you wouldn't say anything at all. They never forced you to speak, nor did they ever punish you for being insubordinate. Instead, they just moved on to a different topic. This was something you never understood, but maybe they just want you to let your guard down long enough before punishing you.

The echoing of footsteps gets louder and closer to your cell, pulling you away from your thoughts. The seven Space Riders greet you, make themselves comfortable in front of your cell, and begin with the usual questions about you. You bite the bullet and decide you might as well entertain them.

#poppy playtime dogday #dogday #poppy playtime catnap #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime 3 #poppyplaytime au #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #catnap #space riders au #smiling critters au #onyxriders #hoppy hopscotch #kickinchicken #picky piggy #bubba bubbaphant #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #platonic #x reader #smiling critters x reader #poppy playtime x reader #gn reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort #recovery #platonic relationships #smiling critters

[dr-spectre]

Splatoon 2 Callie Explained - (In my interpretation)

So in this blog post I wanna go over what is going on with Callie in Splatoon 2 because there's a lot of misinformation being spread around due to how unclear the events of Splatoon 2 were. I'm going to provide my own thoughts into how the Hypnoshades actually affect Callie and clear up what hypnosis actually does to a person, because a lot of people think that Callie was kidnapped and then mind controlled but its actually a lot more complicated than that. I've done a ton of painstaking research into this so if you would like some sources to what I'm saying then I'll be happy to provide it in the comments below when asked!

Okay so first off we need to establish one thing right off the bat, no, Callie was not kidnapped in the sense that she was snatched up by DJ Octavio and then brainwashed while she was kicking and screaming trying to stop him. The idea that Callie was snatched up randomly is simply not to true due to the fact that the OFFICAL Splatoon 2 relationship chart states that Callie was willing to hear out DJ Octavio and go with him. Why? Because if you look at Sunken Scroll 21 and 22 in Splatoon 2, it gives insight into Callie's declining mental health as she struggles to put on a happy face as she walks through a huge crowd of people, as well as the fact that she drew a squid with a sad face on it in Sunken Scroll 22 which is a very clear giveaway that she isn't doing well. Also keep in mind Marie was busy with her own solo thing too and Callie even states in the relationship chart that she's busy and lonely. It also explains why Callie doesn't experience any sort of trauma, turmoil or resentment after Splatoon 2 because well, she wasn't kidnapped and the shades were not forcibly put on her. (Also in Squid Sister Stories chapter 7 there's an artwork piece of Callie walking towards DJ Octavio's star mark so there's that too....)

Now I want to get into how hypnosis actually affects a person and what being hypnotized is actually like. Being hypnotized is described as having "heightened attention, increased focus and heightened suggestibility." You do not get put to sleep and become a puppet as popular media shows it to be, but instead you are hyper aware of what is going on around you. It's also said to be highly relaxing and can help with patients who struggle with anxiety and other mental issues, which might explain why Callie kept putting the shades back on, she enjoys wearing them to some degree as it helps her deal with the pain of being a celebrity, kind of like an addiction but unfortunately Splatoon 2 doesn't explore it at all and Marie (CALLIE'S OWN GOD DAMN COUSIN BTW!) jokes about it..... ugh...... at least she overcomes that addiction OFF SCREEN unfortunately....

Now that part about "suggestibility" is important to consider because contrary to popular belief, you don't lose awareness and memories while you are hypnotized and the person who is in charge of hypnotizing you, CANNOT force you to do anything that's against your wishes and you do NOT lose control of your behavior. Meaning that on some level Callie actually wanted to side with the Octarians because her life beforehand was shitty. The shades do not control Callie but instead put her in a hypnotic state that relaxes her and increases her attention and suggestibility.

For example, if DJ Octavio were to tell Callie to kill Marie instead of Agent 4, she would probably have a ton of hesitation about it and probably not follow his orders. Callie doesn't want to kill Marie, but she doesn't care or know about Agent 4 and that's why she had no problems with following DJ Octavio's suggestions. She also didn't try to attack Marie during the final boss when she was flying around and she just wants Marie to leave her alone because guess what, she's suffering from mental health issues!!!!!! And her relationship with Marie got worse and worse overtime as shown with the Squid Sister Stories.

If you were hypnotized and then the person responsible of your hypnotism handed you a weapon and told you to kill your best friend, you wouldn't do it because it's against your wishes (unless you secretly wanna kill your best friend for some reason....)

With all of this information laid out, it actually does make Splatoon 2's admittedly mid story a bit more interesting, it shows that Callie does have these dark traits and flaws about her, and the Hypnoshades bring out the worst in her. The angry, power hungry and harsh side to her, that was even built up from Splatoon 1. If you look at the dialogue from the Naughty vs. Nice, Early Bird vs. Night Owl and Callie vs. Marie Splatfests, you can see that Callie actually got upset at Marie multiple times due to her attitude.

It really does make Tidal Rush more emotional and powerful as a song if you really think about it. It's a clashing of two cousins whose relationship has been broken apart and Marie is desperately trying to reach out to Callie and fix what she has done. Maybe Marie blames herself for why Callie ran away and that's why she sounds like she's on the brink of tears in the song.... And it makes Spicey Calamari Inkantation more triumphant as a song too.

It does make me a bit angry that Nintendo doesn't wanna dive into these topics as well as Callie. She is flawed and has dark traits about her but, she doesn't try to change or grow from them in any significant or well written way, its like they forgot about it in Splatoon 3 which.... sucks man. I'm hoping we get a Side Order type deal with the Squid Sisters for Splatoon 4 and we dive deeper into the psyches of these girls, because what we have is really interesting but it lacks explanation and nuance and everyone keeps boiling it down to "welp Callie got kidnapped and mind controlled!" Which... its more complex than that... With Agent 3 and Marina it's for sure mind control and i would like to talk about them in a future blog but, with Callie? It's different and there's a lot of layers a lot of people tend to ignore because Splatoon 2's story is just... meh.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #callie cuttlefish #callie splatoon #hypno callie #octo callie #marie splatoon #marie cuttlefish #dj octavio #essay #writing

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 6

Yay! Another Boy with a Bat! In this we have Steve and the rest of the seniors finding out if they graduate and Steve getting squicked at his own pool.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Things began to improve between Steve and Nancy but Eddie was still keeping an eye on her. His hackles were up now, and he had no intentions of dropping them any time soon.

Steve was glad that swim season was up and that the basketball team had done so badly their losses far outweighed their wins. And while he was upset he wasn’t starting spring training with the baseball team, it was nice to spend his afternoons with Eddie.

He could see that Eddie was really struggling with his homework, but whenever Steve asked, his boyfriend would blow him off. He was fine. They would graduate together. Just Steve wait and see.

During that last free period of the day, Steve began work on his next comic. He kept it short like he did the other one. Just the part about the junkyard and the dogs. Maybe the next comic would deal with the tunnels, but not this one.

Steve sketched out the RV, changing it from the bus it actually was. He actually enjoying find out ways to hide the details of his experiences into the comic.

What was even better was that he was pretty sure it would even take the smartest members of the Party a couple of pages to figure it out. He had taken out his pen to start inking the page when he felt someone knock into his elbow just as he was about to put his pen to the paper.

He looked up to see a couple of members of the junior varsity team, walking past, snickering.

It had been awhile since he had been a target of someone’s bullying and wondered where the hell it had com from. The idiots were wearing their letterman jackets allowing Steve to read their names. Carver, McKinney, and a couple of others.

Steve shook his head. Billy was a bad influence on the team, and maybe now the coach would see that. Considering how badly they lost this season with the asshole as team captain.

He looked back up at the retreating backs of the juniors as they laughed and whispered insults about Steve as they made their way out of the library.

He knew all too well how they treat people like them, verses outsiders. And now that Steve had thrown his lot in willingly with the outsiders, the other members of the team were going to be trouble.

Billy could call them off, but Eddie’s status as drug dealer wouldn’t faze that lot. They were the church boys. The sanctimonious assholes who would be straight edgers if they liked the violence, but were too soft to get their hands actually dirty.

He looked down at his drawing and sighed. These assholes didn’t know what pain actually looked liked. Still in their ivory towers, looking down on the masses and turning up their noses.

Steve flicked back to an earlier page of the hero and his little brother walking down the railway tracks and ran his fingers over the two figures. He hadn’t colored it yet, but he knew the trucker hat would be red. For the bond the boys shared.

The bell rang and Steve gathered up his stuff. He shouldered his backpack. Just then there was a tap on his shoulder.

It was the librarian, Mrs. Locke.

“Next time, you’ll be meeting with Mr. Cole and handful of other students to know if you have the credits to graduate,” she said, handing him a paper with the information he would need.

“It’ll be here at the library,” she continued. “But be sure to get here in plenty of time because the tables will fill up fast.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Locke. I’ll try to get here as soon as I can.”

She nodded and let him go. Steve hefted his backpack again and made for the parking lot, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach.

****

Steve sat at the same table as Eddie, Janice and Marty. They all greeted him with quiet murmuring. The whole room vibrated with nervous tension. Mr. Cole was going to tell them their future and fuck if that wasn’t the most terrifying thing in their young lives.

Steve envied them.

For Eddie though, this was his second go round and that fear of failure radiating off the older teen in waves.

Mr. Cole walked into the library and whispered something to the librarian. She nodded curtly and walked back to her desk.

He sat on an empty table and pulled out three stacks of folders. A large stack of about twenty or so, a much smaller stack of about five, and a stack of two.

Eddie gulped and Steve took his hand under the table.

“Thank you all for being here,” Mr. Cole began. He hovered his hand over the first stack. “These are all of you who are graduating without a shadow of a doubt. You have the credits as of now to graduate. Congrats.” His hand moved over to the next pile. “This is those that as long as they pass their classes by May 15th, will graduate. But it is dependent on you passing those classes.” His hand landed on the final two folders.

“These two aren’t passing,” he continued grimly. “Do not pass go, do not collect your diploma. For those two, you have three options. Repeat your senior year. Take your GED that will at least be equal to a high school diploma. Or you flunk out of high school. Walk away from formal education for good.”

Steve stared at the second pile with a growing pit of dread pooling in his stomach.

“I will call each of you by name,” Mr. Cole said, “and will talk to you away from your peers. I’m not here to name and shame and if you really want to know you can wait until graduation.”

There was a little bit of grumbling, but mostly from the assholes no one liked anyway.

“Steve Harrington.”

Steve gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze and got up. He followed Mr. Cole to what the students called the Stacks. They weren’t really stacks of books, but it was a set of tables for study that were surrounded by bookshelves to make it secluded. Guys liked to take their girlfriends back here for a little alone time.

“Hey, Steve,” Mr. Cole greeted. “I was happy to see your grade climb back up after your concussion made them take a nose dive.”

Steve nodded, keeping his fingers crossed behind his back. “I tried as hard as I could.”

“Well it really paid off,” Mr. Cole said. “Because you have more than enough credits to graduate.”

Steve stared at him in shock as his guidance counselor handed him his file. He flipped through it and sure enough, he already had all the credits he needed. In fact, he could have graduated early if it wasn’t for Mrs. Hall.

“Thanks to you,” he breathed.

“They aren’t the best grades,” Mr. Cole admonished. “But they are good enough to get you across that stage.”

Steve nodded and handed the file back to him. He walked back to his table.

One by one all the kids were called and while there were happy kids and wailing tears, it was hard to tell the graduating from those that weren’t.

After everyone had been called and told that they could go home, the four of them sat at the table, waiting for everyone else to file out.

“Valedictorian!” Janice crowed. “I made it, baby!”

“I’m graduating too,” Marty said. “Barely. I just have to make sure I don’t fail Mrs. McDonald’s final and I’m good to go.”

“Eddie?” Steve asked instead of giving his own news. Because his didn’t matter. Not when his boyfriend, the best and brightest person Steve had ever met, (and yes that did include Nancy Wheeler) was curled up on himself, staring at the table.

“No, man,” Marty said, “not again...”

Eddie just nodded. “I was doing the work. I was turning it in. I thought the grades I was getting back were enough, but they weren’t.”

Steve wrapped his arms around him and just let Eddie’s tears soak into the collar of his shirt.

His poor beautiful Eddie. He wished he had done more to make sure he graduated.

But now it was too late.

****

Steve threw Eddie a pool party to make him feel better about not graduating again. Something that Steve really shouldn’t have done if he wanted to avoid the question.

“Come on, Stevie!” Eddie called from the side of the pool. “The water is fine. Stop being the babysitter for two seconds and enjoy your pool, babe.”

The kids still didn’t know they were a couple, but they had gotten used to the endearments that Eddie threw out on a regular basis. They all got nicknames and endearments. Max was Red, Dustin was Dusty, Lucas was Strider and so on. So they didn’t even bat an eyelash at his use of ‘babe’ to describe Steve.

Mike rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Steve never gets in the pool. If he wasn’t on the swim team, I would have had assumed that he can’t.”

Eddie got out of the pool and Steve’s eyes trailed down his torso, following each drop of water as they ran for his waistband. Eddie smirked as he got really close. Steve closed his eyes to block out the dirty thoughts that went off in his head like church bells, loud and deep.

Vaguely behind him he could hear Nancy hissing at Mike, but he couldn’t hear what she said over the rushing in his ears of the blood traveling southward the closer Eddie got. He gulped heavily. Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek tenderly and Steve leaned into the touch. He didn’t care who noticed their casual affection. He was starting to shake like a leaf and not just from the way his boyfriend looked like sex on legs, either.

Quietly as though it was a secret between them Eddie said, “Is this about the comic?”

Steve’s lips quivered as he nodded, his eyes still closed. “They all know except...” he waved vaguely at the Corroded Coffin boys.

“Do you want me to kill Mike?” Eddie asked with a grin.

Steve fought to tamp down on his answering smile, but it broke through anyway. “I think one death is enough.”

He paused with a frown and looked behind Eddie where apparently everyone had gathered. In that brief moment, their silence had made Steve’s answer as loud as if it had been had been a shout.

“Shit, man,” Mike mumbled. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not a big deal. I still swim. Just not here. And I act as lifeguard for everyone. It’s fine. Honest.”

Nancy chewed on her lip, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

Jeff winced. “Yeah, I think we all forgot that Barb vanished from here. Not that we forgot about her,” he added waving his hands at Nancy’s dark glare. “It’s just so easy to forget it impacted more people then you’d think.”

Nancy nodded and let herself be comforted by Jonathan.

Steve pushed Mike into the pool causing a large splash and suddenly the tension was gone. The laughter and fun returned. He breathed a sigh of relief and Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist.

He leaned in close, “You gonna be okay, babe?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I guess it’s good they know,” he said, indicating the Corroded Coffin boys. “So I don’t get freaked out and hurt someone.”

“You’d never,” Eddie soothed.

Steve smiled warmly at Eddie and Jonathan and Nancy shared a knowing smile. He bumped Eddie’s shoulder with his own.

“Where did you learn to swim?” Steve asked turning back to sit sit on his lounge chair.

Eddie grinned. “Wayne taught me the first time we went camping up at Lover’s Lake.”

He sat down in the V of Steve’s legs and lifted one so that it was on his lap.

“How old were you?” Steve asked, basking in the attention Eddie was giving him despite the two of them not being out to Steve’s ducklings.

Eddie hummed for a moment as he thought. “I guess I was about seven or eight. My dad was in jail for the first time and my mom needed the weekend to recoup after an especially long week at work. So Wayne offered to take me camping for the weekend. Back when was he was young, wild and free.”

Steve bumped him with his knee. “Which he doesn’t regret exchanging for you a second.”

Eddie blushed. “No, but with me it meant taking a responsibility he never planned. He could have found someone, settled down, had a family of his own. I could have had nieces or nephews if I hadn’t been dumped on his doorstep.”

Steve sat up and turned Eddie’s chin toward him. “And you would have been lost in the system and hurt far worse then if he hadn’t taken you in.”

Eddie smiled. “You just want Uncle Wayne all to yourself.”

Steve laughed. “You caught me!” He began to tickle Eddie’s sides, causing the other boy to jump and squeal.

“Fiend!” Eddie cried as he scrambled off the lounger to get away. He leapt to his feet and then grabbed the lounger and flipped it.

Steve let out a squawk of surprise and landed on the cement with a thud and a laugh.

Dustin swam over to Gareth, figuring him to be the least scary of Eddie’s friends and whispered. “Are they always like this?”

Gareth scoffed. “No.”

Dustin sighed. “Oh thank go–”

“Sometimes they’re worse,” Gareth bit out, before wading back into deeper waters.

Dustin looked over at the pair of them, cocking his head thoughtfully to the side. There was something more to their friendship, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. Then Max splashed him and suddenly the thought was gone.

****

As for why it doesn't bother Nancy? That's because it's not her pool. She can go home while the sun is still out. While Steve has to hear the lapping of the water day in and day out. Has to see it in the dead of night, like the night Barb disappeared.

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911

@birbsauce @acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @kultiras

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

[peacocks-pantomime]

In an empty theatre, teardrops echo like the sound of applause.

All I do is lay down a bet~ It’s out of my control if my opponent decides to lay down their life, isn’t it?

After the chaos, not much was left of Sigonia-IV, yet there were two malnourished children-- Kakavasha and his Big Sis, nearly perishing from the elements on the ruined planet.

One day, there was finally salvation in the form of a light-- a light, and a beautiful woman dressed in elegant clothing peering down at them under a wide-brimmed hat.

She told them that they would be safe, that they could trust her-- and what other option did they have? She looked so different, and seemed so kind compared to the others that have mistreated them... Big Sis had been willing to give her a chance.

And so, Kakavasha was whisked away to another world, offered clean clothes and a room of his own. He fell asleep immediately, curling up on the soft carpet of the floor.

When he awoke, his Big Sis wasn't there. But they said she would be. They told him she would be. So he wanders through the strange building against his better judgement.

It wasn't long before he heard muffled words coming from the ajar door of a bright room. He snuck over to peek into the room and he saw people dressed in simplistic black clothing, taking notes on some sort of devices and huddled around a bed.

And on the bed lay the body of his dead sister. But those people would never acknowledge her as such; to them she was only an experiment. One of the last Sigonians of the Avgin race, a miraculous discovery. And they weren't going to tell him. They were going to hide it from him.

Blinded by the emotions swirling around inside of him, Kakavasha threw himself through the doorway, grabbing the first sharp tool in sight, and ended the lives of all the professionals in that wretched room one by one.

He'd cried the whole time. He couldn't identify the emotion the tears stemmed from-- whether from sadness at the loss of his sister, or from the rage burning bright-- but as the boy stood there, he dropped his weapon, wrapping his arms around himself in horror...

He didn't feel guilty for what he'd done.

That sort of control-- the ability to watch the life of another mortal slip away between his fingers and know that he was the cause...

It was empowering.

Notes from the moderator:

~ Mod also runs the @aventurine-official rp account, so the format is her own and is not plagiarized :)

~ Art (2nd top picture and pfp) and concept credit goes to @darlix747! Their original post is here

~ This Aventurine exists in the same universe as @the-truth-of-nothingness

A famous musical artist and actor, known for masking his true self.

Roams around Penacony but travels the cosmos to perform

Is quite sadistic and will bet others on their life-- resulting in their death, because he never loses.

Longs to destroy the IPC as vengeance for the lies and betrayal from which his sister suffered

The glistening teardrop hanging around his neck allows him to mesmerize others with a glance, if he so wishes-- the glow of his eyes is interconnected

(I might add more details later, or link a headcanon post!)

Guidelines:

~ Keep the asks sfw if you please, suggestive is okay!

~ No random links in asks unless they are links to other Tumblr posts (if they are there, please specify what they are)

~ Be kind, please. Any hateful comments related but not limited to racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism and transphobia will not be tolerated here and you may be blocked.

~ All ships (age-appropriate) are welcome. (I personally believe Aventurine is gay as hell, so he will have a noticeable interest in men versus women).

~ Try to avoid sending DMs to the mod unless you are another mod

~ Anons are more than welcome here! You may have a personalized tag and everything :)

List of current anon signoffs here

Key (if applicable):

" " : for dialogue

* * : for movements

( ) : ooc

Tags:

#ace of spades ♠️ : Art reblogs

#the flip of a coin 🪙 : Random thoughts and calm moments

#trump card 🃏 : Asks from anons and others

#life on the line 🎲 : Interactions with Honkai Star Rail blogs

#melancholy theatre 🎭 : Interactions with other members of the Masked Fools

#dear doctor 🍷 : Interactions with / mentions of the Veritas Ratio in his universe

Masterlist post of Honkai Star Rail-official blogs linked here

#intro post #pinned post #oc #hsr oc #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #masked fools #hsr rp

[bearw-me]

This is kinda dark so if you don't wanna do it it's cool. Can I request Carmilla running into a son reader? [Years before she had her daughters she had a son but she was too strict/serious on her boy which led to him...taking his own life. The experience made Carmilla realize she mightve been too hard on him so when hid sisters come around she showers them with love] The reader thinks carmilla is going to scold him, scream at him or anything but she just hugs him hard and tells him she's sorry and that she loves him

i'd like to put my author's note up here before you guys read what i wrote/make a little disclaimer!

TW: mentions of harm

I wouldn't write the act, per-se, but i had absolutely no problem with your request because it doesn't really involve those details (fic wise) this one is mostly about comfort and a nice reunion!

just before you go, know your best-friend mal is always here for you <3 this and every other fic i write is my silent love-letter to you

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨 — 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x son!reader, odette, clara 𐐒 cw : angst, hugs, kisses, comfort 𐐒 summary : after a few decades in hell, you decide it's time to stop putting it aside and visit your mother for the first time since you've appeared in hell. as anxious as you are, she receives your visit with open arms. 𐐒 word count : 1.1 k

The metal body of the cab rattled against the broken highway, the sights of Pentagon city flashing past you in a pink florescent blur. You sighed, slumping into the leather seats.

Were you really doing this?

The thought made your stomach bubble with new found nerves. Rolling and wrenching the muscles in your stomach so hard you suddenly had to lean forward in your seat. Forced to stare at all the dust and garbage littered about the floor.

"Oh god I'm gonna be sick," you mumbled to yourself.

"Don't throw up in my car kid," the driver growled at you, suddenly adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could keep an eye on you.

You tried not to roll your eyes, taking a quick glance out of the window just in time to witness the change in districts.

"Might wanna keep your head down kid! We're in Carmine's district now," he laughed, a hoarse sound filled with cigarette smoke.

You had never actually been in this part of hell. After all these years you've been here, watching as the districts had shifted between hands in the great soul exchange. . .

All those years until you realized she had fallen here just like you.

And you didn't really know how to process that thought just yet.

The once chaotic district was now more silent.

Shadows skulking between buildings and alleyways, making deals to sell weapons and bartering for money.

You grimaced, opting to let those images blur in your mind and let your head fall against the rattling window.

What possessed you to see your mother after all these year? Who knows. . .

It just felt like it had to be done.

Soon, the tall white building had come into view, a place you heard the overlords of hell met up.

And today, Carmilla would be here, same with your-. . .

Odette and Clara.

You stepped out of the cab, soles hitting the pavement with a tap. You paid what you owed to the driver and waved a quick thanks as he sped off, the devil on his heels.

That left you alone, standing like David against Goliath with the empire she had built.

She's. . . kept herself busy.

It's all you could think about. Staring at the gleaming tiles of the building with hesitance.

What would she say to you? Should you have told her you were coming? That you were here?

The sickness that seemed to be plaguing you had come back in waves.

The last time you had remembered seeing her, you were both alive on Earth, screaming at each others faces.

"One day, mi hijo, you will have to do everything for yourself! You will have to take over the business! YOU have to carry all that burdens us and I NEED you to be ready for that! Why can't you just see that! I won't always be here for you! YOU NEED TO STEP UP TO THIS!"

But. . .

You just couldn't do everything she had wanted of you. The standards, the rules, the burden. . . it was all too heavy for one person to carry.

And now here you were, on the white-waiting room couch unannounced.

To sayy. . . what exactly?

You bit at your nails in thought, leg bouncing up and down as you waited for your name to be called.

It was pretty empty today.

No one was really sitting in here with you.

That was a great thought.

A deep, strung-out exhale shook its way out of your lungs.

Nerves, you figured.

You didn't even know what to do with your hands, running them through your hair and rocking back and forth in your seat, wondering if it was too late to just stand up and leave-

"Um. . ." You stopped completely, turning your head towards the sound of your voice.

Just before the office doors, two small sinners stood side by side, holding a clipboard up to their faces as they eyed you with surprise.

Odette and Clara.

There was no mistaking them.

"That's. . . me?" You rose from your seat like a ghost, not really feeling anything but utter surprise.

It was the first time you've ever seen them. The same cream colored hair, the same eyes, they even stood en pointe like her.

Odette and Clara.

"Come with us," Clara beckoned, her curly hair and grey skin. . . did she look like that too? Now that she was a sinner?

Thank goodness the girls turned away from you quickly, giving you just enough time to wipe a stray tear from your eye. Estranged siblings that you've never even met. . . and you were so full of emotion at just the sight of them.

Did they know who you were?

You watched them wearily, the two exchanging quick glances at each other and occasionally, at you.

"She's right in here," Clara trailed off.

Odette glanced at you through her round glasses, a hint of worry lifting her eyebrows up "She wasn't expecting you today."

"Alright," you shrugged. I mean, it was a fact you already knew, but to hear the two of them say it to you was the final slap of reality you weren't sure you entirely needed.

The two of them opened the doors for you, watching intently as you shuffled into the room, and back at each other incredulously.

"Ay dios mio, I said I didn't have time for meetings. . ." you heard her mumble, face covered by a laptop screen, hunched over and lost in her work.

It was how you remembered her.

"Mamá," you called out, finally taking a seat in front of her desk, unsure of who or what you'd find on the other side of that screen.

With that one word, she froze still, a pair of demonic red eyes peering over the top of that silver screen.

"Mamá," you said again, a choked sound now that you realized it was her.

It was actually her.

A sinner, your mother, an overlord, who was finally before you.

It was like all the things you had planned on telling her had thrown themselves together and crumbled beneath the sight of her.

"Mi hijo."

"Mamá, I know you're mad at me," the tears came without warning, and you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, unable to keep looking at her as the sobs wracked through your body, pleading for her forgiveness "I tried my best! I tried! I-"

"Mi hijo, I'm so sorry," your mother flew into your arms, the familiarity of her love so striking that you became undone in her arms.

She cried into your neck, a sound you've never heard before "Oh mi hijo, no heavens could ever keep me away from you, never, and I and never letting you go again,"

"I love you mi hijo."

#hazbin hotel #imagines #fic #oneshot #carmilla carmine x son!reader #male reader #hazbin carmilla #hazbin carmilla carmine #tw: dark themes #angst #comfort #hazbin odette #hazbin clara #tw: mentions of harm #hugs #sending hugs anon #accidentally posted this too soon lol #tags

[pukanavis]

Fuyume Hanamura Idol Story 2

ーA basic studio within the ES building, two years since the establishment of ES

Fuyume: …

Midori: …

(What am I supposed to do?)

(This new kid…Hanamura-san, was it? The staff told him that I'm going to be using my experience in the field to guide him through today’s job.)

(It’s already been a whole 20 minutes since then and neither of us have said a word to each other..)

Fuyume: …

Midori: (I-I have to do what they told me to and teach him what he needs to do. I know I suck at this stuff but between the two of us, I’m the one who’s more familiar with this type of work.)

(But there’s no way I can bring myself to do it. I really, really don’t want to.)

(This kid is radiating an aura that screams ‘don’t talk to me’...this whole time, he’s been doing something on his phone while occasionally whispering and muttering to himself.)

(I think…he’s even been taking selfies and posting them online…?)

(It feels like he’s in a world of his own making.)

(I’m scared~, I don’t like it~ , I don’t wanna talk to him~...)

(Now that I think about it, he was there listening when the staff put me in charge of coaching him so he must know what’s going on too.)

(He should be turning to me and saying something like ‘Please give me your guidance, Senpai!’. It’s the polite thing to do, really.)

Fuyume: …Um.

Midori: !? Y-Yes? What’s the matter…?

Fuyume: …They’re calling Yume.

Midori: (Huh, what does that mean? Is he one of those people that hear voices that aren’t there? Is he crazy?)

Fuyume: It looks like it’s time for Yume to go up now.

Midori: (Oh, right, the staff are calling for him. Seems like they’re ready to start the shoot.)

(What do I do? I didn’t teach him how to do a single thing.)

(From what I’ve heard, it sounds like this kid is a popular amateur model? I think they call it a cos…player?)

(There’s no need for me to come in acting high and mighty and tell him what to do, right?)

(I bet he’s already familiar with how these jobs work. He seems so confident for some reason…?)

Fuyume: Fufufu. Yume will do his best.

Today, you’re all invited to step into Yume’s world

Fuyume: Sniffle. Sniffle sniffle.

Midori: (What am I supposed to do?)

(All that confidence he was giving off was just a front…)

(He doesn’t know the first thing about professional modelling and kept insisting on using methods from his amateur days.)

(I wonder what that one staff member did to have this kid going off at him the entire time? Just when I thought he’s behaving well, he suddenly started berating and denying that guy’s humanity.)

(Not to mention all the complaints he has about the lighting or the costume...)

(He started telling the staff to take pictures from his cutest angle and even asked to wear the outfit he had brought along himself.)

(After all the back and forth, it was agreed to put the shoot on hold for a while. When this guy realised the staff weren’t going to listen to his opinions, that's when the tears started...)

(The staff asked me to see if I could do something to motivate him or change his mindset but…is that even in the job description? Shouldn’t this be the responsibility of a manager or something?)

(Who am I kidding? We probably wouldn’t be in this mess if I had just done my job and shown him what to do from the start.)

(I’m at fault here too, so I feel like I should at least do something.)

Fuyume: Midori-sama.

Midori: Huh? Yes, what’s…wait, ‘Midori-sama’ ?

Fuyume: Yume has seen you in a magazine before and thought you were as dashing as a prince. Fufu.

So you’re Midori-sama. ‘Cause you’re a prince. Fufufu.

Needless to say, you don’t have what it takes to be called Yume’s prince, since that title is already taken by another.

There is no sin in beauty. Fufufufu.

Midori: (Huh…? What is he talking about…? I don’t understand a word that’s coming out of his mouth. Are all the kids like this these days…?)

(Hey, wait a second? He’s acting surprisingly unfazed for somebody that I thought was crying into his hands just a minute ago? Was he faking it…?)

Fuyume: Melon soda, plum and kelp tea, coffee.

Midori: ? What? Are you casting some kind of spell?

Fuyume: I’m trying to make the drink that Esu found during his adventure. What else was in it again…?

Midori: I-It’s going to taste awful if you mix so many random flavours together.

Fuyume: I’ll be able to drink it. I will drink it. I want to relive Esu’s story for myself.

Bottoms up. Glug glug…

……

Fuyume: …

Midori: Tastes awful, huh…? I warned you not to drink it. You can tell just from looking at it how bad of an idea that is.

Here, spit it into this cup.

Fuyume: Urgh, Yume has a long way to go.

His image of a perfect princess is still far out of reach.

—I’m sorry, Midori-sama.

Midori: Uh, for what? I can’t keep up with this conversation…

Fuyume: Yume messed up again…he couldn’t keep his ego in check and screwed up the job. He even made Midori-sama mad.

So…Yume is sorry.

Midori: Oh, uh, you did cause a lot of problems but…no, nevermind, that’s not true. I should be apologising too. I was trusted to be your mentor but I haven’t taught you a single thing.

I’ve failed as a senpai, huh?

Fuyume: It’s alright. Besides, even if you had given Yume some pointers, if he didn’t like what he heard, he'd probably just get annoyed and ignore you.

He’s always been like this—so egotistical. It’s the only princess quality he has.

Regardless, Yume is sorry. The staff member that Yume was blowing up at was someone he had met before. They'd shown up to one of Yume’s photo shoots in the past with a super bigheaded attitude.

They were giving out business cards and masquerading as a professional. It was seriously the worst, they started taking over and ruined the mood on set.

A photo shoot is supposed to be a part of Yume’s world.

Ever since that day, Yume hasn’t been able to forget all the hate and frustration that he felt. When he saw that they were here today, he couldn’t stop his emotions from bursting out.

Yume can’t stand being in their line of sight. He hates being treated like a toy and having that person making up their own ideas of him…so, uhm, he’s sorry.

Yume honestly never wanted to cause all this trouble for you.

Yume was hoping we could get along…he wanted to talk to you but he was too embarrassed and nervous to know how to.

You looked like you were in a bad mood today, Midori-sama. The vibe you were giving off made it seem like you didn’t want anyone to approach you.

Midori: (Oh…)

(So we both had the same impression of each other…I should’ve known that he’d be feeling nervous about his first professional job.)

(Even I was feeling anxious when I first arrived on set.)

(I know how it feels to be in his position…that’s exactly why they asked me to be his mentor today.)

(I’m terrible, aren’t I? I’m never going to make any growth.)

Hanamura-san.

Fuyume: Yes?

Midori: Let’s go and apologise to the staff once you’ve had a drink and taken a moment to calm down.

Fuyume: Yume doesn’t want to apologise.

Midori: Oh…okay, I understand. If you want, I can go and ask for the staff member that doesn't like you to be removed.

It’s within our right to request things like that. You can even step away from jobs you don’t want to do too.

Fuyume: …

Midori: That being said, if we don’t do our jobs properly, we’ll cause problems for even those that don’t have anything against you, Hanamura-san.

We'll end up being hated and labelled as 'someone I don't want to work with' by the people around us.

Fuyume: Yume hates being hated.

Midori: Then let’s go and give them a proper apology. Once we’ve done that, we can focus on finishing off the job.

It might be late, but I’ll teach you the correct methods to use. Since I’m your senpai, I’ll make sure I put you on the right path.

Admittedly, this’ll be tough for me…I’m not important enough to be bossing people around, and I suck at talking to people too.

Fuyume: Mm…Yume isn’t good at it either. People always seem to get confused when he tries to have a normal conversation with them. It’s weird.

Midori: That was meant to be a normal conversation earlier…? You really do live in a world of your own.

(Crap, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. He’s probably going to get mad at me now. Judging by the way he seems to hate being challenged, I’ll bet that he always had his way in the amateur world.)

Fuyume: Fufufu. Thank you, Midori-sama.

Midori: (Huh? He took it surprisingly well? This kid doesn't make any sense to me…)

Fuyume: Yume wants to put his world on display for everyone to see.

He's grateful that you noticed its existence.

You made Yume happy, so Yume must thank you.

Fufufufu, Yume just had a sudden burst of motivation. He’s going to turn over a new leaf and do the very best he can to make sure this job is a success. 

Midori: R-Right…I’m glad you’ve found some motivation.

I’ll do some reflecting of my own and give it my all too.

Let’s work together to finish this job, Hanamura-san.

Fuyume: Stop saying ‘Hanamura-san’, Yume wants you to call him ‘Yume’ instead. It’s been getting on his nerves all day. Yume doesn’t feel like working anymore.

Midori: Whaaat…?

#Fuyume Hanamura #Midori Takamine #ensemble stars #enstars translation #4piece

[6thofapril1917]

don't wanna be alone anymore [ken lemmons x oc]

A/N: the first in what will (hopefully) be a series of maggie/ken drabbles and one-shots. this one is pretty stream of consciousness and shifts tense so i apologize if it's incomprehensible. in my defense uni has been kicking my ass lately (one more week of the semester left, thank GOD) ken lemmons x oc. word count: 1.3k. crossposted on ao3.

For Maggie Zielinski, romance is something that she watches other people get to experience. She’s long been resigned to the fact that it isn’t something she’s meant to experience herself.

She doesn’t know what it is about her. She certainly isn’t bad looking, she understands that much. Clear blue eyes, full lips, and an even fuller chest. Still, that had never stopped her from becoming the butt of all the boys’ jokes back in grade school.

And it’s not like she’s never had friends. No, Maggie’s always had loads of friends. She knows how to work a crowd, how to say the right things at the right time to set the whole room laughing. Even before she met Vee, Loretta, Mabel, and the rest of the ground crew, she’d had a whole gaggle of friends back home in Detroit. 

Her main circle was a raucous group of six—Ida and Annemarie, Nina, Victoria, Victoria’s brother Paul, and Ida’s cousin Vinny. They’d been friends since the very first day of junior high, maybe more out of the novelty of the experience than anything. For all that Detroit was a metropolis, its neighborhoods could be as insular as any backwater town. In Maggie’s world of newly-arrived immigrants and babcie who watched the streets like hawks, where everyone worked at the same auto plant and everyone knew everyone else’s business, it was nice to see some new faces.

Maggie loved her Detroit friends. She loved their laughs, their smiles, their inside jokes and their secrets. She tried her best to help them out when they needed it, to offer a shoulder to cry on or an ear to talk off. She gave her friends everything she could. It was just a shame that they never did the same for her.

As the years passed, Maggie found herself confronting a terrifying reality—that for all she was devoted to her friends, they would never love her as much as she loved them. 

Sure, things were fine when it was just two or three of them alone. Catching a matinee with Victoria, or going out to lunch with Ida and Annemarie—here, Maggie felt comfortable. Victoria would always riff on whatever movie they were seeing, making her dissolve into giggles. Ida and Annemarie would insist on paying for Maggie’s meal, and they’d stay in their booth for hours on end, just chatting the day away.

But when it was the six of them all together, Maggie couldn’t help but feel that something was off. That there were things that the other five were privy too that she wasn’t—and to which she maybe wasn’t meant to be. There’d be some new in-joke that nobody ever bothered to explain, some party that she hadn’t been invited to, some other get-together that they’d forgotten to tell her about. 

Well, two could play at that game.

When Maggie enlisted as a technician with the Army Air Force, she didn’t tell any of them what she had done.

Nina and Vinny, newly engaged, spotted her the day before she left for basic training. The image of the couple stopping dead in their tracks, eyes wide as they took in Maggie’s new uniform and fully-packed suitcase, filled with a determination that would carry her thousands of miles away from Poletown, was forever burned into her mind.

Maggie wasn’t sad that she’d be missing the wedding. It wasn’t like she was going to be chosen to be a bridesmaid. Money was still tight, after all. There was only enough in the budget to get dresses made for Annamarie and Victoria. Ida, of course, would be the maid of honor.

(She understands, Maggie says. No, Nina, really. It’s fine. She understands completely.)

(She cries herself to sleep into Agnes’ shoulder that night.)

When she meets the Mavens in basic training, she spends the first few months of their friendship waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It’s not that she’s awkward around them; in fact, it’s exactly the opposite. The four of them get on like a house on fire. Loretta with her witty comebacks and shining black curls, Mabel with her dry wit and hands that always smell of chain grease, and Vee with her earnest modesty and the snapping lens of her Kodak 35. For all her faults, Maggie’s never had a problem charming people. It’s getting them to stay that’s the difficult part. 

Is she boring? She doesn’t think she’s boring. Especially not here in the army, where stories of home practically form a currency among the enlisted women and men. Besides, Maggie knows how to spin a yarn, to make even the most mundane story from a life spent in auto plants and dim garages seem like something out of an adventure magazine.

But that’s never enough, is it? It wasn’t enough to keep the people she thought were her friends, the people she loved more than life itself, from leaving her in the dust. It wasn’t enough to keep her from becoming a veritable untouchable among the boys in grade school, the kind of girl you would ask out to the pictures on a dare, only to leave her stranded at the ticket booth. Even the boys who considered her friends were just that—friends. Never anything more. While Ida and Victoria and Nina and Annamarie were busy with first kisses and sneaking out of bedroom windows late at night, Maggie sat in her room and watched them grow up without her.

There’s only so many rejections you can take before you start to think that romance, hell, even reciprocated platonic love, just isn’t something that you’re made for. Only so many missed engagements and plans made behind one’s back until you start to think that maybe there’s something, some reprehensible quality inherent to yourself, that pushed people away. 

So, she holds her breath and waits. Waits for the Mavens eventually grow tired of her. 

But they don’t.

Because it’s there, isn’t it? The love.

It’s in the filmstrips Vee develops late at night after their shifts, holed up in the makeshift darkroom she’s set up in an abandoned storage closet. It’s in the magazines Loretta always passes to her once she’s finished reading them, telling her to use it for the scrapbook, there’s some great stuff in there. It’s in the way Mabel taught her how to ride a bike way back during basic training, shocked that she had never learned, but oh so willing to help her try. Maggie can never forget the way Mabel had cheered when she finally got the hang of pedaling.

And then, of course, there’s Ken.

When she kisses him that night on the floor of Rosie’s Riveters, she burns with shame and tears, shed and unshed for her siblings and for Cleven and for Ken and for herself. She waits for him to recoil, to glare, to tell her not to do it again. At best, she waits for him to let her down easy. But he doesn’t.

That night he kisses her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters, and it just makes her want to cry harder, because she doesn’t deserve it. Her brother is dead, her sister is missing, Major Cleven is God knows where, and she completely lost it at Rosenthal, so what right does she have to be touched like this, to be held like this? None. None at all.

At the same time, she doesn’t have it in her to fight herself. The floor of the nose is cold, and Ken is so, so warm. The kind of warmth she wishes that she could crawl into and live inside of. East Anglia is chilly this time of year.

She shifts, opening her mouth to his, and for a moment wonders what sins she’s committed to have had this feeling denied to her for twenty-one years. Yet there’s no use wondering, is there?

Ken loves her. That much is clear.

She just has to be ready to accept it. And after two decades of loneliness, that’s easier said than done.

#ken lemmons x oc #ken lemmons #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #ch: maggie

[lostfirefly]

Now hush little baby, don't you cry, everything's gonna be alright

The idea for the fic came to me completely by accident. A friend who has a child talked about how she spends time with him. And I have no idea how to communicate with children. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Buggy and F/Reader - Masterlist is here.

Description: You and Buggy have a little daughter. The ship is moored and you go to rest, leaving Buggy with the child.

Warnings: Fun (I have no experience with kids, sorry if there are discrepancies), Buggy is practically hysterical.

Words: 1815

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots

The title is taken from “Mockingbird” by Eminem.

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“Y/N, it’s screaming again!” Buggy growled into his pillow. 

“That's not it, Buggy, it's your daughter.” You muttered into his chest.

“This is your baby, velvet cake.” He buried his face in your hair.

“It’s as much mine as it is yours, Buggy.” You stroked his arm. “We made her together. Remember that night? At the end of sex you yelled that you would become king of the pirates.” 

“It was good!” He reluctantly got out of bed and walked towards the crib that was located not far from your shared bed. 

Inside the crib lay a little girl with Y/E/C and blue hair. Every time Buggy looked at his daughter, he was glad inside himself that she had not inherited his nose. 

“What should I do with her?” He asked loudly. 

“First of all, don't scream. Second of all, rock her first.”

“I'm not very good with children. Can I wait until she turns 18 and then start raising her?” Buggy looked at you as you stretched in bed. “How did I even end up with children?” He scratched his head and took the child into his arms. “So, what is next?” 

“Just rock her. Like this.” You took the pillow in your hands and showed how it should be done. 

“OK.” Buggy swung his daughter one way, then the other, then swung her one way again and the other again. "Seems to work, velvet cake! She cries less.” 

“You see, you're doing great, my love.” You got out of bed, put on your slippers and, shuffling along the floor, approached them both. "You'll learn everything in time, Buggy. Hello, my Lily Gold." You waved to your daughter. 

“It’s easy for you to say - you’ll learn.” Buggy chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re a woman, you know how to do it. It’s in your nature.” 

“Hell, no!” You shook your head. “It just somehow happened that I had to take one under my wing to raise one.” You pecked him on the cheek. “Big.” Smack on his lips. “Capricious.” Smack on his nose. “Child. So, I’ll go wash up and make us breakfast. I also need to go to the store on the island and buy something.” 

“What? Did something happen?” Buggy became noticeably nervous. “Are you feeling unwell? Is there something wrong with the baby?”   

“No, no!” You softened your voice, trying to calm him down. “Don't get me wrong, I love you both, but I want to get some rest. I have a spa appoitnment.” 

While you were making breakfast, Buggy sat next to you, holding your daughter in his arms. He was loudly clattering plates and mugs and yelling at anyone who came into the kitchen and spoke loudly (so it seemed to him, even though everyone was whispering). Buggy and your daughter at breakfast certainly made you smile, but at the same time it was a disaster. They were both constantly dropping things, getting messy in their food, and they both started whining if something didn't go their way. You would just roll your eyes, convincing yourself that he was the love of your life, the love you sometimes wanted to strangle. You got up from your chair, wiped their faces, and continued drinking your morning coffee.

You went to your room, Buggy and Lily followed you. He constantly asked how soon you would return, what he should do and how to get along with children in general. 

“Learn, daddy! You are the culprit of this creature.” You adjusted his bandana and looked into his scared eyes. “For the record, I have no regrets. I love our family. You and our daughter. But since this will be a copy of you, I need to gain strength. That's it, I'm off. Bye, my love. Bye, Lily! I'll be back in three hours.”

“THREE HOURS???” Buggy's eyes widened, but he looked at your slightly tired face, exhaled and kissed your forehead. “Fine.”

“Bye, my captain. I love you!" You pecked him on the lips and left. 

Buggy sat down on the bed, holding Lily in his arms. Fortunately, she was no longer a newborn baby, because that period was a nightmare for you. The baby was screaming all the time, Buggy was screaming all the time. 

“So. What should I do with you?” Buggy took his daughter and turned her over in his hands. She laughed happily and tried to grab his nose. “No, Lily! Not the nose! We don't touch daddy's nose.” He muttered and looked around. “Oh! You're a child. You must love toys, right?”

Buggy grabbed Lily in his arms, walked with her to the toys and put her on the floor. “Who do you want to play, me sweet candy? Pony? Lamb? Pig?" He sorted through the toys and showed them one by one. 

The girl looked at her father with batted eyes and grabbed his nose again. 

“Fuck! Lily Gold! You can't touch daddy's nose!” Buggy leaned back a little. 

“Honk!” Lily said and pointed to her nose. “Dad. Nose. Honk.” 

Buggy looked at his daughter doomedly. “Do you want dad to make a honk with his nose? Maybe you’ll choose the lamb?” 

She shook her head, made a face and crossed her arms.

He rolled his eyes, growled and said a dissatisfied “okay”, squeezing his nose so that it made a sound. “You like your mother, love to do this with me. Well, Lily. What else do you want to do?”

Buggy tilted his head and looked at his daughter. “Thank God you don't have my nose." He took her in his arms and said in a whisper. “But daddy will always protect you. You and your mom. I never let someone hurt you, my biggest treasure." Buggy kissed his daughter on the top of the head. 

Lily got off his feet, took the ball and handed it to him.

“Lily Gold, daddy doesn't know how to make balloon dogs.” Buggy shrugged.  

She immediately made a face again and began to scream, and cry. 

Buggy rolled his eyes and hissed through his teeth . “Mother fuc~. Okay, I'll do it, just stop yelling!" He took the balloon, somehow inflated it and made something that vaguely resembled a dog. He gave it into his daughter's hands, and the balloon immediately burst. And Lily yelled even louder. 

“Fu-u-ck! What does your mother do at such moments?” Buggy grabbed his head. 

At that moment, one of the freaks knocked on the cabin. “Captain?!”

“WHAT?!” Buggy barked and went to the door.

“We are almost replenished, and we know where the Straw Hat's are going.” The freak gave him papers.

“I don't give a fuck about the Straw Hat right now.” He threw the papers back in the man's face. “I'm sitting with the daughter while Y/N is away.” 

“Excuse me, Captian, you're not sitting with your daughter.” The freak shook his head. 

“What? What are you talking about! Here s~.” Buggy pointed his finger at the place where he was sitting a couple of minutes ago. 

“Where? Where's she? Where's the baby?” He grabbed the freak by the clothes and started shaking him. “Where is my daughter?” 

“I don't know, Capta-a-in!!” The freak's head was bobbing like a bobblehead. 

“Oh, fuck!! Oh, fuck!! Y/N will kill me. She will kill me!” Buggy grabbed his head and began to rush around the room. “Get out of the way!” He threw the freak aside and ran out of the cabin. 

Buggy practically ran around the ship, calling his daughter's name in a whisper. He was afraid that you might appear earlier. He turned the corner and saw blue hair flash. 

“Gotcha!” Buggy hugged Lily tighter and picked her up. “How did you manage to escape? For year and a half, you are a very fast girl! Don't scare dad like that again, okay?”

“Richie! Richie!” Lily grabbed Buggy by the hair and began to pull.

“Ouch! No-o-o! We're not going to Richie, Lily! He's probably sleeping.” Buggy carried the girl back to the cabin and sat her on the bed. “I don’t know what to do with you. Do you want to draw? Let’s draw!” He took out pencils and sheets of paper and gave them to her. 

“Richie!” Lily threw everything on the floor. 

“OK.” He scratched his head and looked around, “Do you want to play balll? Let's play ball!” He gave Lily a small yellow ball. “See? Are you happy? Please, my sweet candy, show daddy your happy face!”

“Richie!!” Lily threw the ball in Buggy's face. 

“Damn!” He rubbed his forehead. “What should I do with you?!” Buggy grabbed his head and was ready to scream. “I know! Let daddy show you some chop chop tricks!” He separated his hand and gave it into his daughter's hands. “You see how dad can do it? Cool? Please, say it’s cool!!” Buggy was on the verge of hysterics. 

“RICHIE!!!” Lily stomped her foot and threw her hand at Buggy's face. 

“Fuck!” He attached his hand back. “Okay. Do you want to see Richie? Let's go to see Richie. Maybe he'll finally eat daddy.” Buggy muttered under his breath, took Lily in his arms and walked down the ship. 

They entered the room where the lion was sitting, and Buggy put the girl on the floor. Lily looked at him and smiled. 

“What? Why are you smiling? Finally satisfied, little s~?” He crossed his arms.

“Richie-e-e!” Lily happily ran towards the lion and began to try to climb onto him. 

Buggy smiled and approached his daughter. He helped her climb up the lion and watched carefully to make sure she didn't fall. “That’s my girl! I'm so pr~” 

“What are you doing here?” Buggy heard your voice behind him. “I came to the cabin, and your freaks told me that you were with Richie.” You walked up to Buggy and kissed him on the cheek. “How are you?”

“We’re great. It’s easy to sit with kids. I don't understand why you're complaining.”

“Liar.” You hugged him and placed your head on his shoulder.

“Has it been three hours already?” Buggy wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“No. Just an hour. It turns out that I have a spa appointment for tomorrow. So you’ll have to sit with Lily tomorrow. By the way, I bought you a gift. Whiskey!” You pulled the bottle out from behind your back. “I also thought that maybe we could leave Lily to someone from the crew today and spend some time together? What do you think?” You snuggled closer to him and winked. 

“I like this idea. And you know what I was thinking of, my velvet cake?” Buggy looked at you with the corner of his eye, glancing at Lily.

“About what, my beloved Captain?” You asked softly and ran your fingers along his neck.

“Let’s have another child?!”

#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy live action #one piece live action #buggy one piece #opla buggy the clown #buggy fanfiction #buggy fic #opla buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #buggy x female reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader