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lowkeyrobin · 26 days

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Hiiiiii just wanted to put in a request of Trevor Spangler x reader angst where reader is trapped with a hostile ghost, just in the mood for some angst 🤭

ooooo okay okay I see the vision ; thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy! I need gbfe to release on digital bc I'm in desperate need to get new banners/headers. sigh ; post writing robin here, I missed the whole angst bit somehow bc idek how to write good angst so I apologize

TREVOR SPENGLER ; hostile ghost exposure therapy

summary ; youre a scientist in the making working with the ghostbusters squad and expose hostile ghosts and ghouls to human kind. sometimes it can be rough, though

warnings ; language, choking, weird ghost shit

disclaimers ; ik ghostbusters usually focuses on the ghouley types of ghosts but standard ghosts were the idea for this lol. I've been watching The Boys explore haunted places all day so what can I say

word count ; 783

masterlist

Proton barriers this, ghost containment that. Whatever Lars was speaking about didn't matter to you at this moment. What did matter was trying to help this new, very hostile, ghost adjust to being in the presence of a human.

The barrier quickly slips down, then right back up once you step inside the room. Glass surrounds the exterior, then Lars steps away, leaving you to do your thing. Lucky waves a few feet away, wishing you a silent good luck before getting back to work.

Trevor and Phoebe talk about with Lucky, Lars, and Podcast, testing out one of the newer machines in the lab. You face the approximate direction of the ghost, not exactly able to see it without its permission.

You carefully sit down in a chair across from the one left empty from it, bathing in the silence before speaking.

"My name's Y/n, what's yours?" You ask, not really expecting an answer. Thank God this was a standard ghost and not a ghoul. You didn't think you had the patience for that today. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me. I just want to know why you're so hostile to make you that way. I'm not here to judge, I have good intentions. I promise you that"

Step one, build trust and rapport.

Silence.

You internally nod, moving your legs in a criss-cross manner to get a little more comfortable. Apparently, the ghost didn't like this silence and chucked a ceramic vase, which sat on the coffee table between the chairs, towards you. It just barely misses you and breaks on impact with the wall behind you, causing you to flinch a bit. The dusty, broken ceramic clatters onto the floor, creating a million pieces out of the used-to-be one-piece vase.

You keep your composure, not giving the undead the attention that she wanted. You sit in silence, a clear look of 'not taking shit' on your face.

"Stupid bitch" It whispers into your ear, catching you off gaurd. You feel a shiver run down your spine as a wave of coolness washes over you.

You lightly sigh, "We can sit here and insult each other all you want. I'm just here to help" You speak, leaning back in your chair.

Over the course of the next ten or so minutes, you hear petty insult after insult, like this ghost was trying to dig into your skin and was just miserably failing. You'd gotten used to this long ago. When would they ever learn?

Suddenly, you feel a tight sensation around your throat, which you nearly panic at feeling, considering you can feel the air suddenly leaving you. You grab at your throat, choking and gasping for air, trying to get whatever hands were on you off out of pure human instinct.

This has happened a few times, where the ghosts will put hands on you. It's never escalated to immediate choking, though, which was why it worried you so much. This was a very hostile ghost. It wasn't just going to stop. It wanted to hurt.

"Get off of me!" You joke, instinctively kicking out towards the ghost, who's obviously unable to feel it. "I want to help you!"

You feel your face grow cold, and your eyes become heavy. The transparent figure now becomes slightly visible, still very much opaque as it stands in front of you, arms stretched out to squeeze down on your throat.

You hear some muffled shouting outside, then a lot of mechanical wirring and beeping. Lars and Trevor came to your rescue, the older man cautiously pulling down the proton fields while the teenage boy ran in to help you.

You don't know exactly what happened within the next few seconds, but the forceful grip on your throat was pushed away, and you were quickly ushered past the proton barrier again.

Trevor holds you up as you choke and gasp for air, already feeling your throat begin to bruise.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" He quickly asks, sitting you down on the floor.

You nod and cough some more, trying to regulate the amount of air swarming to your lungs. You pound on your chest like you were choking on an actual something, wanting the painful choking to stop.

Once it does end, Trev quickly wraps you in a hug, trying to make sure you were okay.

"I'm okay, I'm fine. Just fucking hurt" You nod

"Are you sure? Phoebe, go get them some water." He quickly speaks, turning back to Phoebe, Podcast, and Lucky, who were concerningly watching from afar. Phoebe nods and quickly jogs out to the kitchen/lunchroom area.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay. Thank you"

#lowkeyrobin #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters x reader #trevor spengler x reader #trevor spengler #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader

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fakesimp · 1 year

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Hii :D

Could you please write a story with the reader (whatever gender) pranking someone from noctyx by saying something like "maybe it was a good choice not to have broken up with you" and the other going crazy over it hahha

"It was a good choice not breaking up with you after all.." , With Sonny Brisko, Alban Knox

Warning !

Fluff ; Crack ? ( Alban ) ; Pranking your beloveds ; Comfort ; Sulky ! Alban ; Soft ! Sonny ; Mentions of Cuddling ; Kissing ; Established Relationship

A/n !

Okay this is genuinely weird to write on laptop, Anyways ! I hope you enjoy this anon !

I decided to write for 2 members. Instead of 1. Oops.

➶◜◝➴

Sonny Brisko

You're feeling feisty today, your Beloved VSF Officer was just arrived back home from work. He is currently bathing, while you are waiting for him in the kitchen, cooking dinner for both of you and him. After awhile, you heard him walking to the kitchen. His heavy footsteps make you knew he was on his way, "Baby?" he called out and peeked his head into the kitchen. "Oh, here you are" he approached your figure who's cooking, "What's wrong Sonny?" you asked as you felt his arms around your waist.

"Mmm, nothing, I just missed you" Sonny replied and kissed your cheek, before nuzzling his face back to the crook of your neck. You hummed in delight as you received the kiss. You enjoy the time when Sonny is being undeniably clingy, you enjoyed them the most honestly. You are lying to yourself if you don't enjoy the lazy mornings with him, he would be so clingy that he refuses to let you go.

Those memories made you smile, but the mischievous thoughts you had, made you wonder how he'll react.

"It was a good choice not breaking up with you after all.."

You said, making the VSF Officer, froze on the spot. You can imagine his confused face, "What do you mean by that-" he immediately asked and move away from you a bit. He stared at you, blinking confusedly. "Well, I was thinking on breaking up wi-" "Since when." He cuts you off, you can sense a desperation, also worry in his voice. "It was a long time ago, why? I'm no longer thinking about it now though.." you turned off the stove and look over to him.

both of you stared at each other for a good minute, "Y, you.." he trailed off. "..Have the, thoughts to.. break up with me.. before?.." You can't miss that slight frown on his face as he look down and start fiddling with his hands.

Okay, pranks over.

You immediately pull him into a hug, earning a startled noise coming from him. "I'm sorry it was, a prank. I didn't mean to make you, worried." the way he sighed in relief and immediately reciprocate your hug tighter, "Don't do that..." he whispered into your ear. You shivered at the sensation of his hot breath at your ear, "You... got me there." he hugged tighter. and immediately let you go, he then stared at you.

You noticed the way his eyes soften, and him staring at your lips after made you slightly flustered. "hm.." You leaned dangerously close to his lips, his breath hitched. And then the next moment, both of your lips are collided.

Sonny pulled away, both of his hands on your cheeks, he kissed the tip of your nose and he then whispered,

"I Love You okay? And I will remind you about it everyday.."

Alban Knox

He was relaxing on the couch, playing with his phone. While you at the other hand, is bored. Not knowing what to do, you scrolled through your phone and then an idea came through. You peeked over at your Beloved Thief, that is busy with his phone.

You smirked at the thought, you decided to pull a prank on him. And hoping it didn't end up in a bad way, you then walk over to the male. Sitting down next to him, Alban who notices you are next to him immediately went over to your side and hugged you from the side.

"Hi there my precious gem" He greeted you as he nuzzle his face on your arm, "Do you have plans today?" He asked as he lead you to sit on his lap. "No, why?" you played with his hair, earning a low purr from the Thief. "Well, I was planning to ask you to company me buy something later" he said as he leaned his head closer to your hand.

"Hmm, Sure I can do that." "Yaaay!"

. . .

It was a date.

He invited you out on a date, by saying that he wanted to buy something. Well he did buy something though, but you didn't expect him taking you to a whole tour around the city. "I thought we are buying this, 'something' you mentioned." You said as you look over at your Beloved Thief, "Hey, we both got nothing to do anyway, and I did bought the thing I want." He replied, "And What's wrong by taking out my girlfriend out on a date" he continued as he stick out his tongue at you.

Both of you are currently taking a stroll on the city center, where cafes, pâtissière are served, it was pretty crowded. But you enjoyed the time you spend with him nonetheless, He bought you some sweets, and different type of snacks for both you and him to try.

He even bought some cute cat headbands for both of you, you slowly shook your head and let out a chuckle, "I guess, It was a good choice not breaking up with you after all.."

Alban stopped whatever he's doing and immediately turn to you, "You were thinking about breaking up with me..?!?" He asked you, in a dramatic tone. "Well, If I said no, I would be lying, right?" You continue, making his brow twitched for a bit.

"Hah, Even if you are to break up with me, I will steal your heart again" He said, making you widen up your eyes. "What did I even expect from a thief.." you sighed making the brunette laugh,

"But hey, I Love You okaaayyyy?? I will always looveeee youuu" he said as he hugged you, but the hug somehow felt different. You frowned for a moment, and you noticed how his body slightly shakes. "Oh Alban.." you immediately dropped the prank and gently push him away to look at his face, you can't miss the pout on his lips when you push him away.

"I'm sorry, it was a prank" you apologized, making Alban stared at you in disbelief, "I-It was a prank??? Y-You-" He then looked away from you, arms crossed. Disappointed. "I'm sorry Albaaannn"

He's so cute, you tug on his arm, but he won't budge. You leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek, you can't help it ! Your Beloved Thief is being so cute, you have to kiss him. Alban turned his head to you. Surprised, also flustered. "Hey! That's not fair-!" "I'm sorry Albaann.."

"Hmmmmmh!!

..You're so lucky I Love You."

©fakesimp . 2023

A/n !

I Hope this exceeds your expectations anon, I apologize if it isn't

(Ｔ▽Ｔ) . . .

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji #noctyx x reader #noctyx #sonny brisko x reader #sonny brisko #alban knox x reader #alban knox #➴ fakesimp writing for you #fakesimp writing #fakesimp replies #luxiem x reader #luxiem

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overandundertarot · 1 year

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PAC; How can you heal your financial trauma?

Pick a pile (1-5)

*Sorry for any grammatical/spelling errors.

PILE ONE

Cards; 9 of wands reversed, The Devil. Pile one you are worn out. You're tired and exhausted and have been working on something for a while but it's draining you. The situation was not even clear, you were just keeping at it because you didn't know what else to do. "I've always done it this way so I should continue, people have always done it this way so it should work for me too." You've been turned this way and that way and you're mentally exhausted too. This is your trauma. The society you grew up in and the people in your family. There's the energy of always having to work hard to earn money. Struggling for money. You can't allow yourself to rest, and when you break down from the pressure and burden of it all you berate yourself for that too. Advice for you is to give into temptation, allow yourself to be seduced by your inner desires; get to know them, get to understand them and get to know what it feels like to loose yourself to the sensations and not think about anything else at all. If it feels not only exciting and new, but dangerous and downright scary because it's something you've never done before, It's the right thing to break you out of this shell. You need to get to know yourself and who you are instead of the worker bee you've been made to live as. Also something sexual related is coming through, work on your dark feminine, seductive energy. If you are interested in human design you may be a generator or manifesting generator. Inner change and alchemisation. Find out what you like by trial and error; obviously don't do anything too rash/dangerous that you would never be able to recover from. This trauma may also be affecting your relationships(you may have relationship issues) There's such a strong and intense energy(I feel like I cant even breathe) in this pile, I think if you find a away to channel your energy into whatever it is you really want to do, you could be unstopable. Symbolism : Webs; spiderwebs, preying mantis, carnivourous plants, birds, aries, mars, pentagram, occultism, galaxy.

PILE TWO

Cards; The Devil, Knight of Swords. Pile two you often get lost in your head. You find yourself indulging in fantasies and creating this safety net of illusion and comfort meanwhile you're not taking any action. I feel like you may accumulate and hoard business ideas that you see on tiktok/youtube/social media or tell yourself that you can do this and that but never take any tangible action. Gambling addictions and small expenditures that add up, you're not being honest with yourself about your financial situation and money is controlling you so much more that you would think. That's your truama, that money is such a big influence in your world and you don't even know it. You're being hypnotised and controlled by money, its sneakily around the corner influencing your decisions and you don't even know it. Worst of all is that its causing you so much anxiety and you've learnt to just live with it. I'm sorry if I'm being too harsh, but the words have to come out. It's not completely your fault, it only becomes your fault if you're aware of the pattern and choose to ignore it. I'm not getting too much about the source of this trauma but it seems it doesn't even have one exact source. It's more a product of living in the world we are in right now, maybe social media. Do some research about consumerism. Minimalism might also be beneficial for you. Try to discern if you trully want something or you've just been influenced. The way to heal this trauma is to cut through the haze with clarity. It's time to make plans, write down your goals and cut through the illusions to the core of yourself and what really matters to you. It's a time to be logical .There are actions that you have to take that you've been putting off. There's a deep fear inside you of not living up to your dreams/expectations. Take it slowly and start wih small steps. It's like wading through murky muddy water and then suddenly breaking through the water into crisp and cool air. Try to do a cleanse of the uneccessary things that you have let accumulate in your mind or even just clean your home. If you have a goal that feels too big and scary break it down into small steps. You can do so much more than you think you can, and make a bigger impact in your own life than you would ever believe. But you have to start somehwere. Symbolism; clear waters, rivers, lakes, sunflowers, light blue.

PILE THREE

Cards; 10 of cups reversed, 6 of wands. Pile three you have a dream. Something that you've always secretely desired but it just never felt like you could get it. It could be a happy family of your own, innocence in life etc. It feels like you've been the mature one from a young age, someone who had to grow up too fast. You may be an orphan/ lost a parent at a young age or you could have simply had a desire for a family from a young age. A desire for strong emotional connections with people. Your trauma with money is not so much connected with money but other people/ the world in general. You understand that money is a tool that can be used to put you in the right situations to get what you want. You view money as a safety net and may get panicky/ stressed/ emotional when you think you are running out out of it. You may be a man and believe that you cannot find love if you are not financially stable.(specific message). To heal this you have to believe that you can get what you desire even without money. You are someone who is charismatic, energetic, level headed and you have leadership qualities overall. You have to be optimistic in your outlook. You need to shift your perspective to heal your financial trauma. You have to believe that no matter what your financial status, you are deserving of love and affection. Of true connection and whatever it is you may desire. You could have imposter syndrome and over criticise yourself. You need to look in the mirror and have appreciation for who you are , what you have, and what you've made of yourself till now. Symbolism; moustaches(?) , fast paced cities, mountains, cancer(the sign), scorpio, capricorn, clover.

PILE FOUR

Cards; 6 of wands, The Fool reversed. Pile four you may be too arrogant when it comes to money. You may love to overspend and show off to your friends because this pumps up your ego. You feel you deserve nice things and may actually have the background to support your spending habits but this attitude won't help you forever and this is kind of your trauma. How other people perceive you based on your money. You are scared of being taken advantage of based on your money or people misunderstanding you and assuming things about you. You're always aware, always on the lookout. Despite being emotionally secure, other people's opinions and actions still impact your emotions greatly. To be honest, you need to be careful and start managing your finances and planning for your future. It may not always be so assured and abundant for you. To heal this trauma you need to put measures in place. Cultivate a feeling of safety as well as educate yourself in terms of financial matters so you are prepared incase of any windfall. You should also get to know yourself so that you may regulate and curb on your reckless spending habits and also avoid situations that money may not be able to get you out of. You may also be craving true and sincere friendship, and this will come to you as you work on yourself more and go down a path of self development. It may be beneficial to you to get a mentor/someone you can learn from. Symbolism; Gold, glasses, braces, spiders, knifes, eyes, peacocks, green.

PILE FIVE

Cards; Death reversed, 7 of Cups. Pile five you have a tendency to hoard money. Money has become a self fulfilling need for you and it's difficult for you to spend money or exchange it because it only registers as a depletion. As a loss. This is how your trauma shows up for you. It may go so far as you not even spending money on yourself because you feel it's unecessary. For example on something like a parfume or deodorant, or a type of food. Only eating the cheapest foods, wearing your clothes until they're falling apart because you just can't bear the thought of spending money on new ones. What you dont realise is that you are putting money above yourself. Money is more important than you so you would rather deny yourself for the sake of money. To preserve and uphold it. This is an issue with self worth and can permeate more areas of your life than you may think. Are you the type to brush away your problems? "It's not that bad so I can live with it." What you dont realise is that you are making life harder for you, accumulating stress and hardships that are completely unecessary. To heal this trauma you have to acknowledge that you have needs. Your quality of life can improve so much by making small changes; buying clothes that make you feel confident, eating food that delights your senses, using products that make you feel beautiful, fixing something around your house that could make your life so much easier. You dont always have to do things that hard way or deny yourself pleasure just to save some money. Allow yourself to have wants, to express your needs and use money as a tool to enrich your life. Symbolism; Glass bottles, slippers, sunsets, fish.

That's it! Thanks for participating in this pick a card reading. If anything resonated, please dont hesitate to give feedabck it's always so lovely to hear and motivates me quite a lot to continue posting. :)

*The pictures are not mine, I found them on pinterest.

#pick a card #tarot #pick a pile #divination #tarot pick a card #intuitive reading #pac #pick a picture #overandundertarot #pick a card reading #free tarot reading #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot community #free readings #witchblr

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v3nusxsky · 10 months

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Hiya! First of all, I hope you're doing well. Second, I absolutely adore your writing! 🥰 I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a secret family Lady Lesso x Female!Reader fic. Basically R is Lesso's wife and maybe they have a kid/kids as well, but no one knows until one day R comes to the school in search of Lesso (for whatever reason, it's up to you). And then all the students & other teachers are like "wtf you're married??". Pretty much just fluff with a hint of humour? I thank you in advance, should this catch your interest. ☺️

- 🐈‍⬛

Hidden or unnoticed

*Authors note~ I absolutely love the idea of this trope and request and I'm honoured to have a chance to write it for the first time*

Trigger warning~ none?? Stressed out mother r sick baby

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

It was rare that you needed to get a hold of your wife during school hours. You understand that her work is important to her and truly that you'd have your hands full with your twin son and daughter. You always made sure to have some time with her after she returned to you though. Your children would be down for the night and it gave you time to spend devoted to the redhead. Time you very much cherished. That's not to say that Emerson Allen Kai and Marilyn Isadora Nova Lesso didn't get their mama because they did but you were the stay at home parent and that worked well for your little family unit.

However, today you were out of your depth. Mari seemed to have come down with some illness and nothing was soothing her. When she cried she started Emerson off too and you were losing your mind. You remember the deal you made Nora that when the twins were born, if you ever became overwhelmed you were to find her. Your ability to teleport yourself and others made it easy enough to adhere too. So that's why you bundled up Mari in a beautiful violet swaddle and balanced Emer on your hip before envisioning your wife's office.

Leonora was startled by a high pitch cry coming from her daughter as you and the children suddenly appeared in her office. The unsuspecting Clarissa and Emma startled by the appearance and how rough your appearance was. Why on earth would a stranger pop into her office carrying two infants? Especially when she hardly looked put together. She had to be brave to risk Leonora's wrath. What the two women were not expecting was for the redhead Dean to immediately hurry and take the little boy off your hip.

"Nora" you whimpered feeling like you wanted to tear your hair out, "I don't know what to do she won't stop crying, I can't bring her fever down. Help me" you pleaded the desperation soaking every word. Emerson was placed on the floor where he happily babbled trying to hold himself up into a sitting position. She then took Mari off you and gently rocked her whispering words of reassurance to the infant and you. You stood there helplessly just watching as she soothed your daughter. Her magic glue creating a cooling sensation that she stroked all over her cheeks and forehead.

"Y/n my love come here" she commanded you gently causing your eyes to flicker to Emer who was happily blowing bubbles at Clarissa and Emma giving them his signature cheeky smile that you were so sure he got from your Nora. You collapsed into her side carful of your daughter and began to sob. You felt like you'd failed Marilyn but Leonora seemed to have the gift of soothing her so she must be better than you right? Guilt knowing you carried the twins yet you seemed to not do anything right now.

Marilyn now sleeping Clarissa could see the stranger wasn't much of a stranger so offered to hold the infant while she comforted you. "Thank you, I'd like to hold my wife " she murmured handing over Mari so gently that it was almost as if she'd break. "Wife?" Emma not so whispered to Clarissa, the shock of knowing Leonora married and no one knew clearly written all over her face.

For some unknown reason your temper seemed to flare and your wife had to hold you tight to her front. "Dove no. She doesn't mean it nastily calm down my love " she whispered pressing kisses into your hair. You could feel the anger and tension fading away until your son cried. It appeared he was rather in tune with your emotions so you immediately came to scoop the crying baby up and rock him gently. "Shh baby boy momma is okay I promise it's okay shhh" perhaps it was the calming whispers of your voice or maybe your heart beating beneath him but he was soon soothed.

Leonora took Mari from Clarissa and came to stand near you, looking like a perfect family in a picture while you were so wrapped up in the comfort of your wife and children you didn't notice the other women slipping from the room to give you all some privacy and not disturb the babies. They'd find Leonora later and try to find out why she didn't tell them. But for now you could just soak up needing your wife to help you get through this difficult day.

Word count~ 895

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady lesso x you #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady leonora lesso x reader #dean of evil #dean of evil x reader #dean of evil mother

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obscuremantisman · 4 months

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man, i've lost idea of what i was writing, i'm just feeling like writing bout an old siren male reader. Would you guys like that?

Anyways, have this, some more of my random thoughts about Eyeless Jack, with a small scenario with you, i guess.

⪧ I appreciate criticism, ideas, and your opinions. ⪦

I feel like Jack's ritual proceeded with him getting shaved, thus why his eldritch form would be pretty much hairless.

He was unconscious, drugged hard so as not to struggle against the horrors he'd pass. But he shot up, he woke up to the pain inside his eyes, hot tar mixed with blood escaping his eyelids and burning his cheeks as he agonized.

He was cold, naked, and scared, the chains holding him down as he contorted and sparmed to get free. His screams echoed through the place as the cultists rushed to hold him down. He could hear them whisper among each other, this wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

Those were the last words that Jack Nyras heard, "We have to continue! we don't know if our master won't be back this way! Just-.." Before he was consumed by the pain and fell into the arms of death.

I honestly feel conflicted about how Eyeless Jack is mostly portrayed, i hate it more than i like it. He is so.. so cutesy? so casual, so, so very human (spooky).

He was human in the far past, and the whole ritual gives me the idea that he'd become numb towards his old self if he could ever remember anything about it.

What is that weird black around him that looks like a hoodie? It's his skin. One of my interpretations it's that the cultists poured hot tar mixed with blood not only on Jack's eyes, but on his body too. Whatever entity was trying to possess Jack, was shaping him from inside out as it tried to accomodate, using that mixture put on his body and fusing it to Jack's skin. It shaped his claws, it furthened his senses. Then the ritual stopped, the entity had left the unfit vessel, Jack woke up, woke up to hunger, woke up to fear, breaking out of his chains and feeling the primal instict for survival.

Although i think like that, i also think that the Eyeless Jack with a hoodie looks very cool, i love the idea of eldritch beings with casual clothing in general, and a hoodie does matches Jack.

But sadly i don't think any hoodie or pants is strong enough for that thing. He'd ruin any clothing in the span of hours to days.

Jack would probably look awkward in clothes too, i can imagine him act quite goofily while wearing them as it's such a weird experience for him. It'd rub agaisnt his skin as he moves, and it'd tingle his senses with the new sensations.

If you were to put somehow a shirt around Jack, you'd find yourself probably stifling a laugh at the way he looked in them. He'd be in a tense stance, feeling the fabric around with his claws, slowly creating holes on it while trying to figure out what in the world is that thing.

And apparently, the little tag on the shirt rubbed the back of Jack's neck in the wrong way few seconds later into his investigation. Which got him to be desperately hissing and clawing at the back of the shirt. You wouldn't be able to even do a thing because he'd be too agitated, his sharp claws going all around, but don't fret, it's not necessary for you to intervene. He's already shredded the shirt into pieces by the time you've opened your mouth to offer help.

I think it's neat that one headcanon that Eyeless Jack is actually able to remember about his past, like in most versions. It gives a little more of humanity to him, an extra layer of complexity that i don't think is explored enough and is just brushed off like nothing.

I feel like he'd be so different from his human counterpart since he's literally a newborn eldritch abomination. Like, the moment he woke up, it wouldn't really matter if he did have memories from the past or not.

One thing i see is the fact that people like to give Eyeless Jack some insecurities, which is neat, but the only real scenario of insecurity i can imagine that this thing would have is if he were to have a human companion. And if you're curious about what the insecurity would be, it'd be because of his smell. No, it's not because he eats humans nor his looks, he can't see nor can i even begin to imagine this dude having an existent patience to be docile to a human that actually cares about what's on his menu.

Oooo i forgot to talk his face! I just love the way he can be just anything behind that mask, but i most definitely do not think it's a hot dude behind it. I also don't have a fully formed view on how it is, but i like to imagine it to be haunting, worn out, a tragic tale of the past being told in his simple complexion. The people who draw him alien-like have a special place in my heart, for sure. Lots of teeth? funky teeth? an abnormal mouth? disgusting black goo that spills from time to time from a funky face? weird long sharp tongue? i looove it and i eat it up every damn time.

And the last subject i'd like to touch is about Eyeless Jack, what do i think it would be of him if he was able to somehow form a bond with someone? and what if it was you? yeah, it's impossible, bye. But on an actual note, you'd have to somehow survive against him, much like Mitch did. god i hate that guy, why is he canon?

Your relationship would start off as the expected, the prey and the predator, Jack trying to shred you into pieces and you escaping each damn time like a rascal. With a very, very long time that relationship subtly became friendlier. Jack would come around to stay in the kitchen, sniffing the air as you cooked, to steal your bed as rain poured outside and the weather dropped colder, and to in rare ocasions, drop by a few organs for you. He has tried to get you into eating these little gifts. Hisses, growling and teeth clanking definitely not convincing you in the slightest. Jack still happens to come around to hunt you, but those are rarer and they are definitely lazy attempts as the scars around your body from such encounters are lighter than others. Jack thinks of you as his human pet and you think of him as your eldritch pet, you two simply accepting the existence of each other.

Sorry for the big delay, i'm not in the epic writing mood, got lots of ideas in head.

#eyeless jack #creepypasta eyeless jack #creepypasta #eyeless jack hc #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack x male reader #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x gn reader #there is nothing really romantic going on #you're just there interacting with him on a scenario #this is more of my thoughts about him and how he is portrayed i guess

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anonymousbeefriendfanfics · 1 year

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Hi! I love the Touchstarved headcanons you made! Do you have any ideas for being with Leander? Fluff (and maybe a little dash of angst regarding MC's hands or the dangers associated with it) please! He has just completely stolen my heart and I love him already <3 Happy writing!

Hi!! I literally squeaked when I got this! You've made me so excited, I've been itching for Touchstarved requests and yours is the first! Eeee!!!

I'm so happy with how this turned out!! I might make one for the other four, too, even without requests...

Fandom: Touchstarved Characters: Leander Warnings: Spoilers below the blue text! Very fluffy, mildly angsty...

Dating Leander Headcannons:

He is literally. The softest. You will not meet anyone sweeter to you than he is.

He blushes alllll the time! It's adorable, frankly. The slightest touch or compliment just makes him all 😳

He'll literally do anything for you. Those things he offered you when you met, the bed, food, clothes, whatever? Yeah that was just the beginning. Don't even joke about wanting things around him unless you actually want them, because if it's physically possible, he will find a way to get it for you. My man is devoted.

He does magic for you all the time. He'll greet you every morning with a flourish and a magical flower, tucking it behind your ear and giving you a kiss on the lips or forehead as it dissolves. One time he was in the middle of something important and forgot. He remembered only after you'd left, and he literally stopped what he was doing and chased you down because he can't miss his morning ritual!!

Also he literally just does random magic tricks to cheer you up whenever you're not happy. Sad, disappointed, sick, mad -- whatever, he's gonna find a way to make you smile if he possibly can.

He wears his heart on his sleeve with you most of the time, and is outwardly pretty affectionate. You're his person and he's not afraid to make sure everyone in Eridia knows it. As a bonus, not many people will dare mess with you.

Mild spoilers below! Nothin' major, just things from the demo

He makes sure you have the respect of the Bloodhounds. You end up as practically their second-in-command, after a while. They all take care of you, too, because they respect him and they know you're important to him.

So the thing with the curse. He promises you that he'll do everything in his power to find a way to break your curse, and he does. But, of course, that takes time, and meanwhile, you're still living with it. So, Leander does everything he can to make you feel normal. You deserve it, in his opinion. He doesn't want you to have to live in fear anymore.

When you're alone together, he'll encourage you to take off the bandages and just... be yourself. Live life like a normal person, not a cursed person.

He encourages you to touch him, to touch objects, to feel anything and everything you want with your touchstarved hands. They've been deprived of sensation for so long, and in some ways you're like a curious child, trying to grab everything within reach just for the experience. He laughs the first time you touch something metal, jerking your hand back with a gasp because cold! Don't be too upset with him for laughing, though. He finds it adorable.

He has a morning ritual, but he has a nighttime ritual, too, regardless of whether or not you two sleep in the same room/bed. He'll sit you down and unwind the bandages from around your hands, and softly kiss them both, and then gently massage some magically-enhanced lotion into your hands and wrists. They've been neglected for years, because other than seeking relief when they ache, you've done everything you can to hide and ignore your hands - but not anymore. He showers them (and you) in affection, and encourages you to sleep with the bandages off. Yes, even if you're sleeping with him. Especially if you're sleeping with him.

Play with his hair. It looks like it would feel nice and soft, and with your hands... yessss. It's like touching a cloud, almost. You've never felt anything so soft in your life.

On the... less upbeat side of things, though. He's very serious about your curse. He makes sure all of the Bloodhounds know not to mess with your hands, ever. He probably tells them you have a condition of some sort, or that your hands were badly burned in an accident of some variety (probably magic if you're the alchemist, maybe some sort of cooking mishap if not) and they're very sensitive. He is very clear about this. No one is to touch them, even bandaged, and they are not to ever try to remove the bandages or tease you about them. This leads to the Bloodhounds having a tendency to grab you by the elbow or arm, which is sweeter than it should be.

Also, this means that he's the only one who gets to hold your hand :) Because he really really likes holding your hand :) and he's the tiniest bit possessive over them because they're so special and sensitive :)

Should anything happen, if someone somehow got touched... he would defend you. Doesn't matter who it was or how it happened, he's on your side, and he's not letting you be punished without going through him first.

He definitely gets you a pair of gloves, if you want them. Something soft on the inside but durable. Maybe he even enchants them for you, if such a thing is possible, makes it so that the gloves are impossible to remove except by him or you, so you won't have to worry about accidents.

Anyway back to the fluff to end this on a high note

Imagine cuddling up with him at night, tracing your bare fingers across his chest and face, pressing your palm flat against his chest to feel his heartbeat. Just. Being able to quietly satisfy your desire for physical contact without fear or judgement.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open! Tag List 🐝

#DISCLAIMER: Written after the demo came out.#beefriend-writes #touchstarved #touchstarved game #leander touchstarved #touchstarved leander #leander x reader #touchstarved leander x reader #leander x mc

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teyamsatan · 7 months

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ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xɪ - ʀᴇꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴛꜱ

pairing: dilf!jake x omatikaya!reader

➽ a/n: this is a little throwback to my favourite jake one shot i wrote, and i will post it in two parts as it fits today's and tomorrow's prompts x i know it's not kinktober related, but i'm finally inspired to write for my series again, so i hope at least some of you are excited about it x smooches besties xx

➽ words: >600 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: blindfold, daddy kink, explicit language, choking

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

"you're gonna be a good girl for daddy, right?"

you have to admit to yourself that when you started being trained under the tutelage of the toruk makto, the mighty olo'eyktan of the omaticaya, this isn't at all how you envisioned it going - but at this exact moment, limbs spread widely and tied up to the pillars of his tent, a blindfold covering your eyes and heightening all your other senses, his raspy, soft voice filling your ears while his hands are massaging the plush skin of your inner thighs, you can't find it in you to care.

"i need words, baby girl."

"y-yes, daddy. i'll be g-good, i promise."

"that's my girl."

"you look so good like this, kid. so, so good."

his hands trail gently over your body in barely-there touches, that set every inch of your body on fire, alight with anticipation and ache, desperate for more, needy for the pleasure you knew he was going to provide. it doesn't matter how many times you've found yourself like this, sprawled naked in his tent, contorted in whatever position he deemed appropriate at any one time, it would always be as intense as the first time - he wouldn't have it any other way.

when he reaches your breasts, his hand stalls, capturing a nub in between his thumb and index, no longer just a fluttering whisper of a caress but a pressured twisted unwieldy grip that makes a moan escape your parted lips and you hear his low chuckle, the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, second only to the uninhibited groan that he he can't help but exhale whenever you milk his cock dry.

"you have the prettiest tits i've ever seen, baby. perfect, just like the rest of you."

you feel the tingling in your extremities from the way the ropes tug at your wrists and ankles, but it's nothing compared to the throbbing in your core as his hand finds your throat and squeezes, as you feel the air getting knocked out of you, as the darkness no longer just envelopes your sight but the whole of you, as his cock, hard and unclothed, teases your entrance with a uncontrolled twitch, and the feel of it makes you squirm, pulling on your restraints in order to bring your legs together, to no avail.

Jake lets go of your neck with a dissatisfied tsk. You gasp when his canines sink into your lower lips and bite until it hurts and you feel the rusty taste of blood inundating your mouth. His tongue swipes the excess fluid before he kisses you, roughly and carelessly and you love it, love the feel of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your throat, love nothing more than being just daddy's little girl.

"if you want to get fucked tonight, kid, you have to be good, remember?"

"but d-daddy... i need you... i need to s-see you, i n-need your...cock, please, daddy!"

you couldn't help the way your voice was breaking and words stuttered as his unrelenting teasing made the throbbing sensations and ache to be filled reach torturous heights, or the way tears pricked painfully at your eyes as you couldn't stand not seeing him, not being able to tell what he'll do next, not being able to move your thighs to ease some of the discomfort.

"shh, princess... you have to trust daddy, mm? you know daddy will take care of his little girl."

to be continued ;) x

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon @tiredwitch1113

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psychospore · 1 year

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Sneaky Session

A/n: making this quick one using my phone before I go to work. Will edit this later and add on my masterlist Happy Friday! Finally finished my edit for this one-shot.

Summary: You sneakily had work sex with Loki and Steve almost caught you in an uncompromising position.

Word count: 1490

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, oral sex (f to m), fingering (m to f), name calling, almost getting caught, light fluff at the end.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Uptight bitch. Prude. Miss Know-It-All.

That's what most people from SHIELD call you because of your intimidating and no-nonsense personality. Men flinch in your presence, and women gossip about you in your absence.

Maybe you looked older too - tight bun hiding your long, soft hair, spectacles befitting a middle-aged woman, mid-length pencil skirt and a long-sleeved collared blouse covered by your knee-length pristine lab coat were your daily get-up.

Fury decides to re-assign you to work with the Avengers, staying there full time as a Laboratory Scientist solely working on developing DNA-specific large-scale bio-weapons.

The team usually leaves you with whatever you're doing in the lab, just making small talk here and there to make sure you're still alive, they know better than to disturb you especially when you're engrossed with your new findings.

In fact, they barely see you outside your lab at all! Sometimes they wonder if you're indeed human, not seeing you coming in or out of the laboratory to eat or sleep. Except for one...

Loki.

Loki sees a wild side of you that you've never shown to anyone. It all started after a drunken night where you and Loki ended up having sex together and you've managed to keep coming back to it whenever you get the chance, without anyone noticing.

Fast forward...

You were working behind your large working table, writing your findings when you saw Loki sneaking in from your peripheral view.

"Hey, anything up?" You asked, your eyes met in a gaze.

"I miss you already, he misses you already. You've been way busy with work," he teasingly declared as he grabs you by the waist to prop you up from your chair to place your bum on the table, he situated himself between your legs, propping your skirt upwards as he draws in closer. You can feel his clothed bulge near your pussy as it starts to slick with arousal.

He inched closer to your face and removed your spectacles, placing them gently on the table. You placed your hands behind his broad shoulders to take him in a hungry kiss. Without breaking the kiss, his hands roamed around your body, grabbing a breast from underneath your blouse and bra as a finger flicks your now swollen nipple. You whimpered, and you wanted more - to which Loki happily obliged.

He unbuttoned your lab coat, then your blouse, and unlatched the hooks from your then strapless bra making it fall on the floor. He hiked up your skirt to your waist and pulled your soaking panties out, giving it a quick whiff before keeping it in his pocket.

He marveled at the look you have now, legs spread from the edge of the table, magnificent breasts peeking through an open blouse, and a beautiful pussy waiting to be ravaged by his godly mouth and cock. Your face flushed red with embarrassment.

"stop staring at me, you're making me embarrassed" trying to hide your face with your hands

"oh but love, this is a sight to behold. A sight worthy of worship," as he guides your hands away from your face so he could bear witness to your face as he brings you different sensations.

He kneeled down to meet your slick folds, and you arched your back in response when he started eating you out. It was amazing how carefully and meticulously he touched and sucked all the right places inside and outside. Rubbing your walls with his dexterous fingers.

"oh, Loki... I'm about to cum," as you moaned in sweet ecstasy. Your hips bucked to meet his fingers further inside you.

"let it all out, pet. Show me how much your pussy weeps for me,"

A gush of warm fluid overflowed out of you as his fingers quickened to draw out your climax. He gestured for you to come down from the table as he sat on your chair, legs spread. You knew what it meant.

You pulled down his trousers to reveal his enraged member. You lick a strip from the base towards the tip, circling your tongue for a bit before taking it all in and out your mouth continuously. Despite his large cock, he was proud to see you not gag and faithfully taking it all up to your throat.

Your fingers masterfully maneuvered around his hard cock, in sync with your sucking as you hear Loki's moans and groans filling your ears.

"oh my little whore, I could never find any mortal as skillful as you in handling a huge bioweapon... like my cock for example," he smirked and shortly moaned again in pleasure.

Your eyes rolled in disbelief as he used your work against you and wanted to retort back but Loki decided to ram his dick further and harder into your throat. He grabbed your hair, freeing your tied mane as he thrusts harder and harder as he climaxed, filling your mouth with his cum as you hungrily swallowed and cleaned it all up.

He stood and lifted you up, and bent you over the table. He knew how you liked getting fucked from behind like a slut you are.

He enjoyed the thought that he could tame the beast everyone seems to be wary of. How he could make a prim and proper lady like you turn into the sex-hungry slut that you truly are.

Slowly, he guided the tip of his cock into your wet folds. You whimpered, trying to accommodate his size, and you heard a satisfied sigh from Loki as he fully immerses himself inside you - balls deep.

You had your chest and arms on the table to support yourself as he gyrates into your core when you heard footsteps from outside your door.

You panicked, not wanting anyone to see you in that compromising position.

Rogers opened the door and found something unexpected.

He saw you like a mess. Hair everywhere on your face, sitting uncomfortably on your chair, occasionally wriggling around to find a more comfortable position. Your coat is all wrinkled but fully buttoned up to your neck. He looks at you quizzingly.

"Are you okay? You seem like you've been in a crash"

"yeah. All good " you answered as you nod and twitched.

"I'll have Stark give you mandatory rest days from now on. Well, I'm just here to quickly check in on you. Go get some rest soon, alright?" He nods as he exits the door.

"sure. Thanks!" Your voice squeaked.

You took a deep breath when he was finally out.

Little did he know Loki cast an illusion. All the while you were straddling Loki's dick, like a cock warmer that you are. The throbbing of his member made you twitch a few times while Rogers was there.

You were horrified but unexpectedly aroused at the thought of getting caught. As soon as Rogers was out, Loki resumed his interrupted session with you.

He whispered, "how did you like that? Almost getting caught by Rogers while getting fucked senseless by me," his words were like aphrodisiacs, sending signals to your brain that made you wet again. Loki noticed it.

"Oh, you like that, huh. You liked the thrill of doing this," he whispered gritting his teeth and fucking you from behind.

"yes, yes. I love it," you responded barely containing moans as he lifts your other leg to fuck you some more.

Your pussy started to make squelching sounds which riled him up and he rammed harder into you.

"so much for little miss prim and proper. Only cum for me like this darling. Only me can see how much a dirty little whore you are"

"Only you, Loki. Just you" you shuddered.

He bit your earlobe as you both crashed and climaxed into each other's bodies.

The mix of your and Loki's cum spills out of your sore pussy.

He cleaned you both up with magic and wrapped you in a tight embrace as you slumped on the floor.

"was I too much today, love?" He asked, as he carefully tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

"other than Rogers almost walking in on us, no. You really know what I enjoy doing" you sheepishly responded

"of course, all for my love." He kissed your lips.

You both stood up, carefully making sure your tight bun, collared blouse, mid-length skirt, spectacles, and coat are in perfect condition as you continue your workday after that raunchy sex you just had with Loki.

Loki made sure that you are all good, and checked in on you to make sure you were getting enough food and rest (like he initially planned on doing before lust overcame his senses). He hugged you tightly as he plans on when he can visit you again.

He turned around towards you one last time before he left, "well, Rogers said that you'll be getting mandatory time off now, I guess I can crash at your place when that happens," he winked.

#loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fic recs #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fic #loki smut #loki x reader insert #loki x female reader smut #loki x reader fic #loki x reader smut #loki x original female character #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fanfction

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months

Note

Bobby Goren anon here, no prompt, no specifics, nothing crazy, just some kind of fluff fic. Whatever your heart desires. You are amazing as always.

So Nonny, thank you! I have adored writing for our wonderful Bobby and thank you for that opportunity.

You're beautiful, Bobby has always thought so. Usually it's understated, you don't wear make up, you dress practically, but somehow you still manage to shine. He doesn't understand it. He doesn't have to.

When he sees you tonight though, his heart stutters in this chest. He feels that familiar flush of arousal chasing through his synapses, igniting that drive, that primal desire to claim you. It hits him like a truck because that sensation...

It's something hes not felt in a very long time.

You're wearing a blue dress that hugs your shape and accentuates your assets. Your hair is loose, falling over your face as you use your thumb to chase away any stray lipstick along the line of your mouth.

You're radiant and he knows that tonight you're going to break someone's heart.

When Jonesy wolf whistles you give him the middle finger and Bobby ducks his head to hide the smile on his face.

"You look nice." He tells you.

It's a neutral term, one that's expected between colleagues. He can't tell you that you look resplendent, that he's imagining how good the silk would feel against his skin, bunched in his fists as he pulls you down into his lap.

"Brother's engagement party." You tell him as you open the top drawer of your desk searching for something.

"You don't sound too enthused." He remarks, toying with his pen.

"It's his third engagement." You tell him as you locate the gum you're looking for.

"Ah." Bobby says in understanding.

Your brother David, the hopeless romantic. Every girl he meets is always the one, that is until they aren't.

"I don't suppose you wanna come?" You ask him. "Open bar, decent entertainment and that includes both my family drama and the band."

He looks up because he thinks you can't be serious, but he sees the tilt of your head, the hopeful smile. He likes the idea of seeing where you come from, the dynamics of your family.

"I'm not really dressed for it." He says gesturing to his suit. And you step around the bank of desks to survey his attire.

"Let's see what we can do about that." You utter before reaching forward and loosening his tie.

He stays perfectly still as you undo the knot with practised fingers. Already there's a stirring in his trousers and he has to remind himself that you aren't actually undressing him.

The proximity feels intimate, he can smell the mint from your gum, feel the brush of your fingertips as you undo that top two buttons of his shirt.

He almost reaches out to capture your hand when you take a step back to review your handiwork.

"Ta da." You say. "Now we have causal Bobby, ready to gate crash my brother's engagement party with his style and wit."

He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up both of his forearms. He notices the way your gaze shifts, it always does.

"What's the other thing?" He asks you as he raises to his feet, scooping up his wallet and his keys from the desk. "The thing you're not telling me?"

You purse your lips together into a sensual pout, your arms crossing over your chest because you know you've been caught out.

"My ex husband's going to be there." You tell him. "Apparently David's asked him to be the best man."

Bobby pauses.

He's met Richard before, or as he likes to think of him Dick. Your ex is a prosecutor turned defense attorney, the two of you split not long after he defected to the other side. Bobby's been on the other side of the table from him multiple times.

"You want a buffer." He states frankly.

You sigh.

"I want to have a good time, with someone who actually gets me." You tell him. "Also my family really want to meet you, they want to get to know the guy who has my back in the field."

"You mean threaten my life so that I make sure no harm befalls you." He supplements as the two of you head towards the elevator.

"That too." You tell him as you press the button and wait for the doors to open.

When they do he looks up and sees your reflection in the mirrored panelling. The both of you are smiling, his palm is on your lower back guiding you inside.

You look like a couple and Bobby can't shake that image as he steps onto the elevator and pushes the button for the ground floor.

#bobby goren x you #bobby goren x reader #bobby goren #robert goren x reader #robert goren #robert goren x you

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 7 months

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Fairy and Spider (Working Title - DJMM x Reader)

Word count: ~3700

Hey, remember this post and this post? I decided to write a little something for it. Kinda needed a break from Stereo Souls. (Slightly anyway. I am still working on it almost daily, just very slowly.) I'm posting this here for now, but it may eventually go up on ao3, once I polish it and decide what I'm doing with it.

I'm planning on it being a fairly peaceful/domestic story, not really any villains or stakes other than Deejay (DJ) and you getting to know each other. Might also be more like a series of short stories vs a longer whole story but we'll see.

DJ's name in this is Deejay because DJ feels too weirdly modern for the setting. Not sure if I'm going to keep this or if I'll try to come up with a reason for him to go by DJ. I mean an AU with only one canon character whose name I changed anyway? Is that even a fic anymore? (Joking. It obviously is. :P Also I haven't fully decided if DJ will be the only FNAF character to appear.)

The bird is relentless, but then blue jays always are.

He’d caught you at a bad time. You’d been resting, about to take a much overdue swig of nectar before resuming your flight through the forest. You were already tired when he swooped down on you.

You were also, perhaps, a bit careless--not giving enough thought to your shimmering wings catching the light of the setting sun and attracting attention. You are several days’ flight from your village, and the wildlife out here is far more bold towards fairies than you had imagined.

Now you were frantically spending the last of your dwindling energy zipping between leaves and around branches, trying desperately to outmaneuver the hungry bird. The fact that he stands a head shorter than you does not make his beak and talons any less dangerous to you. His beak closes on the tip of one of your wings, tearing it and causing you to veer suddenly downwards.

Suddenly you’re caught in something you didn’t see. Silken strands wrap around your body, sticking to your arms, legs, and wings. Even the slightest bit of struggling on your part pulls at your sore wings uncomfortably.

A spider web? No, there aren’t spiders around here big enough to make a web that can hold a fairy…right? Almost immediately, you get your answer, as you feel the skin where the web is touching you rapidly begin to numb. You blink sleepily, giving a quick shake of your head to stay alert.

Whatever made this web was no mere spider.

But you don’t have time to dwell on that, for the blue jay suddenly descends on you, pleased to find you gift wrapped and waiting for him. He bites down on one of your wings and you scream in pain as it rips.

Desperately you struggle further into the web, hoping whatever odd powers it has will deter the blue jay. Though you wonder if the bird is truly the lesser danger of the two.

You feel your consciousness begin to slip away from you, but not before seeing that your plan--questionable as it was--worked. The blue jay quickly tired of getting the strange web stuck in his beak and decided it was satisfied to only take one of your wings.

The immediate peril gone, your body relaxed, helped along by the web and your own fatigue. As your eyes drift shut, you're vaguely aware of a chittering sound, followed by the sensation of something beginning to unwrap the webs from your arms and legs.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out when you find yourself drifting slowly awake. The first thing you notice is that it feels like you’re in a bed in a darkened room. Had another fairy found you? You didn’t think any lived around here…but you suppose hermits don’t always advertise their whereabouts.

You push aside the blanket and sit up. As you do, your antennae twitch, alerting you to a ceiling just above your head. You peer through the darkness and realize the bed you’re on is positioned in some kind of alcove.

The alcove is shaped like a large egg, with curved wooden walls melding into an arched ceiling. It’s longer than it is wide, and quite large for something only meant to hold a bed. You could probably fit three or four more fairies in here.

Part of the wall is taken up by a heavy fabric curtain, which you push aside after a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes squint shut as light floods the alcove, and you pause a moment for your eyes to adjust.

You’re definitely in some kind of home, one carved out of the trunk of a tree if the curved walls and uninterrupted wood grain are any indication.

You glance down and see your boots and rucksack have been set beside the bed, so you quickly slip on your boots and shoulder your rucksack. You’re glad your rescuer didn’t feel the need to undress you any further than that.

The home seems to be all one room. On the wall farthest from the bed, there’s a small fireplace lined with clay bricks. A clay pot hangs over the burning embers. Carved clay countertops line the wall, along with a washbasin and a water pump.

There’s also a table near the kitchen, large and round. Though it’s at an odd height…almost as if it’s meant for one to stand at it rather than sit at it, though even for that it’s slightly tall for the average fairy. There are no chairs surrounding it, but there are two large cushions on either side of it. These, too, are odd…they’re far too low to be seating for the table, but too plush and fluffy to be stood upon comfortably. You’d be struggling to keep your balance on the squishy surface while trying to eat.

Near the bed are three similar cushions, though these are far more plush than the ones at the dining table. It puts you in mind of the difference between cushioned dining chairs and plush couches and sofas one would set up in the living room.

At least lounging on cushions in the living room seems plausible, even if it is a bit unconventional.

The one door you can see is quite tall and wide, and set into the wall near the dining area. There are also a couple glass windows set into the wall, looking out at the forest and the leafy branches of whatever tree you’re in.

Though there’s one obvious absence in this little abode--your host. Had they gone out to fetch something while you were sleeping?

You cross the living room, examining a curio shelf carved into the wall. There are some books, but the spines are unmarked and you have the sense not to actually touch anything while wandering this stranger’s home, so their contents and subject matter will remain a mystery for now. There are also some stringed instruments you don’t recognize. One looks like a lyre, but it’s a bit too big for the average fairy to hold comfortably, and the strings are spaced farther apart than most lyres you’ve seen, calling into question how one would comfortably play it. The other looks like a violin, but once again the size of it seems a bit too big to be played comfortably.

With a few more moments of thought, you probably would have pieced together the answer, but you are not given that chance. You hear the main door open behind you, and your host and savior steps into the abode.

A spiderfolk. You knew they were larger than fairies by a good amount, but you’d never seen one in person before.

He’s roughly twice your height, though if he straightened his legs he could be much taller. He’s covered in mostly white fur, with a mantle around his shoulders behind the longest and thickest. Two black spots, one large and one smaller, adorn the back of his abdomen.

Four grey legs with purple joints emerge from his carapace, and four similar arms emerge from his torso. The arms are slightly shorter and thinner than the legs, and end in paw-like hands, each with two clawed fingers and a clawed thumb. His feet are similar, though a bit longer as he seems to walk primarily on his toes, with the “thumb” being more of a dewclaw.

Though your eyes are immediately drawn to his face, which you can’t help but find intimidating. Two long fangs, each slightly longer than your hand--emerge from the sides of his mouth, preventing him from closing his lips fully, leaving his pointed teeth visible. The fangs themselves are so large you wonder if the term “tusks” may be more appropriate.

On each of his cheeks there’s a patch of blue fur, from which emerge his pedipalps, covered in a fine fuzz of the same color. A blue stripe also runs down the center of his chin. His nose is bright pink and hairless, matching the narrow rings of hairless skin around his eyes. Below each of his eyes was a barely visible line of blue fur.

Each of his main eyes that is. For he has two large, dark eyes, positioned roughly the same as a fairy’s eyes, despite being a bit larger proportionally, but beside them are a total of four smaller eyes--two on each side, one atop the other on the outer side of his primary eyes.

On either side of his head are round tufts of green and black fur, which you know to be ear structures of some kind (or covering his ear structures?) and a pair of red horns emerging from his head just behind the tufts. And atop his head is, surprisingly, a silk tophat. The only article of clothing he’s wearing, which is one more article than you’d expected a spiderfolk to have.

You’d like to say you “resisted” the urge to attempt to take flight in a panic, but the reality is your feet are rooted to the spot as you stare wide-eyed at the spiderfolk, taking in the sight of him.

For his part, he seems equally stunned at the sight of you. Was he not the one who brought you here? Or had he simply not expected you to be up and about yet? His fuzzy blue brows knit in concern and he cants his head, letting out an inquiring trill.

You take a step back, only to flinch and jump forward as your injured wing is pressed uncomfortably against the wall.

The spiderfolk lets out a worried trill, stepping forward and holding out his two upper arms, making as if to steady you.

You let out a strangled sound of alarm as he approaches, sidestepping along the wall to avoid him.

He takes the hint, stepping back again and holding up all four arms to show he means no harm.

You stop as well, a small voice in your head chastising you for being rude to someone who is, in all likelihood, trying to help you. Spiderfolk were strange in many ways, but they didn’t eat fairies, even if you did get caught in his web. Besides, if he were going to eat you, you wouldn’t be up and walking about. You’d be bound in the web, its narcotic poison seeping into you and keeping you asleep.

But still. He’s huge and his fangs and razor teeth and many eyes are…well…something to behold, to put it mildly.

You swallow nervously, tilting your head back to look up at those many dark eyes. You finally take in his upturned brow, and the look of worry reflected in all six eyes. He looks at you a moment, then leans forward, resting his lower set of hands on the ground and lowering his abdomen slightly. He lets out another nervous trill, his upper set of hands still spread in the nearly universal “I’m not going to hurt you” gesture.

Is…is he making himself smaller so that you’ll find him less intimidating?

If he is, you can’t say the attempt is a complete failure.

You manage to untense your shoulders, relaxing your posture slightly. “U-Um…h-hello,” you say, lifting a hand in a trembling wave.

He perks at that, and you smile nervously. You tell him your name and he nods in what you guess to be understanding.

“S-So…you can understand me?” you ask shakily.

Another nod, and a trill of affirmation. He slowly moves towards you, just enough to get his abdomen the rest of the way into the abode, using one of his back legs to close the door behind himself.

You glance nervously at the now closed door…but really the exit is no more or less accessible than it ever was. You’ll still need the spiderfolk’s permission to leave…though with your wing torn you’re almost certainly safer remaining in here with him.

“I um…can’t understand your language, though…” you say, turning your gaze back to the spiderfolk. You give a weak smile and a nervous laugh. “Though…you…probably inferred that already…?” you guess.

He makes a chittering noise that sounds almost like a laugh, his smile warming as he nods.

“I…I take it that was…your web I got caught in?” you ask.

He nods, actually looking a bit apologetic.

You glance over your shoulder at your bad wing, raising it slightly to get a better look. “A-A bird attacked me…I fell into your web by mistake…but…I think the web did protect me…”

He looks surprised at that, and a bit relieved. Had he thought his web had been responsible for your injuries?

He steps forward, not approaching you directly, but moving into the living room and lightly patting one of the cushions.

You hesitate a moment, move towards him and take a seat, setting your rucksack beside the cushion. Of course, now the strange seating makes sense. Spiderfolk lay their abdomens and carapaces on top of cushions to rest, either curling their legs under them or stretching them out to the sides. They have no use for backrests with how their bodies are structured.

“Thank you,” you say, belatedly realizing you should have said it sooner. “F-For…taking me in.” Frowning, you add, “I…I don’t even know what to call you…”

He smiles kindly, holding up one finger, indicating for you to wait. He goes to the shelves you had stood near a moment ago, and opens the cabinet beneath them. He pulls out a small scrap of parchment and with a quill, writes something down. He then brings you the scrap, holding it towards you.

You accept it, and are surprised to see a few letters scrawled in the fairy language. “Deejay?” you read. “Is that…a name you chose yourself? In the fairy language?” It’s not a fairy name you’ve ever heard, but it’s a series of sounds that most fairies can pronounce far more readily than the chittering and trilling that makes up the spiderfolk’s language.

He nods eagerly as you return the scrap of paper to him.

“Can I…ask your real name?” you inquire curiously.

Deejay blinks, canting his head in bemusement. Almost as if he’s surprised you’d care to know such a thing. But he nods, then lets out a trilling chitter.

Like a fool, you try to repeat it, but even your untrained ear can tell the noise you made was nothing like Deejay’s spiderfolk name.

Deejay covers his grin, muffling a chittering laugh.

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment, but you force a nervous laugh. “What’d I say…?” you ask. Then, realizing he can’t exactly answer such an open ended question, you add, “Something bad? Or just gibberish?”

Deejay holds up a hand with his two fingers raised, still grinning, his six eyes sparkling with amusement.

“The second one?” you guess. At his nod, you say, “Well…I guess I’m glad I didn’t accidentally insult your ancestors or something.”

He lifts all four shoulders in a shrug, waving one hand. You guess he means that he wouldn’t have been offended even if you had said something bad.

Deejay crouches down, settling on one of the cushions, setting the scrap of paper on the floor so he can write on it. He then passes it to you.

“Sweet of you to try.”

Your face burns at being called “sweet” by this spiderfolk who…well, isn’t too far off from “sweet” himself, from what you’ve seen. Maybe he doesn't understand the nuance of the word. He probably meant something closer to “nice” or “kind”.

Really, though, you should just be glad he wasn’t offended by your attempt. Every fairy (and probably every spiderfolk) knows it’s possible to train ears to recognize the sounds of each others’ languages, no amount of “training” can overcome the different mouth shapes enough for one to speak the other’s language with any degree of intelligibility.

Deejay goes to the kitchen, opening the pot that hangs over the fire and ladling some stew into a clay cup…though a spiderfolk cup of soup is about equivalent to a fairy bowl of soup. He sets a wooden spoon in the cup before bringing it back to you.

“Th-Thank you,” you say, a bit hesitantly. The stew doesn’t smell like much--you’ve heard spiderfolk cooking is fairly bland by fairy standards, but you are starving. And even so, you’re not the type to turn up your nose at a home cooked meal from your host.

The spoon’s a bit too big for you to fit in your mouth, so you make due closing your lips around the edge of it to eat. After the first bite, though, you blink in surprise, glancing up. “Mushroom stew?”

Deejay trills happily, nodding.

“I…I thought spiderfolk mostly ate meat,” you say.

He smiles, nodding again. He writes on the paper again, holding it out for you to read.

“Had mushrooms on hand. Knew fairies don’t eat meat stew.”

“Oh…” you say, moved by the gesture. He’d made a whole meal just for you, one that he probably wouldn’t enjoy himself, if he even found it edible. “Thank you, Deejay…” you say softly. “But…we can eat meat stew in a pinch. It’s…serviceable,” you say with a weak smile.

While spiderfolk sometimes used plants and fungi as garnish or accent flavors, but almost never had a meat-free dish, fairies were much the opposite. Some bits of meat could be used in soups and stews, but no fairy dish had any sort of meat as the main ingredient.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a meat stew on occasion.

Deejay cants his head at your statement, looking slightly concerned and skeptical, then writes, “Plenty of mushroom stew for now.”

“It’s very kind of you to make this for me,” you say politely, with genuine warmth in your tone.

The conversation lapses as you focus on eating, and after a few moments, Deejay gets up and gets the two instruments from the shelf. He holds them up, his brows raised in a silent inquiry, clearly asking if you would mind if he played.

You nod eagerly. “Oh, yes, I’d love to hear it!” you say.

The fur on his cheeks fluffs a bit at your enthusiasm, and his wide grin takes on a hint of shyness. But all the same, he settles on his cushion and begins to play. His upper arms hold the violin, tucked under his chin, while his lower set plays the lyre.

The size of the instruments changes their pitch slightly, so the whole song is performed in a lower pitch than you’re used to, but it’s lovely all the same…and fascinating to watch. You couldn’t imagine trying to play two instruments at once. Though of course you wouldn’t have enough hands to try.

The song is soft and slow, and very relaxing. Perfect dinner music. Perfect anytime music, really. Deejay’s quite skilled at both instruments, and should he ever visit a fairy village he’d do well as a minstrel even playing only one of them.

You eat slowly, but soon feel your eyelids begin to droop. You do your best to finish your stew, but eventually have to set it aside for fear of dropping the cup as you doze.

Deejay takes this as his cue to stop playing, setting his instruments aside and moving towards you. He lightly touches your shoulder, causing you to jump. He skitters back with an apologetic trill, wringing his upper set of hands nervously.

“S-Sorry…” you say quickly. You rub at your eyes, frowning. “I just woke up…I don’t know why I’m so tired…” you mumble.

Deejay flinches guiltily, grabbing the paper to write again. “Poison from the web isn’t out of your system. You’ll sleep a lot for a couple days.”

“Oh…” you say. That must be why he’d been so surprised to see you up when he’d arrived. As you’re about to lay back on the cushion, resigning yourself to another sleep, he lightly touches your hand.

You glance at him curiously, and he carefully takes both your hands in his. His large paws engulf your hands as he lifts you to your feet, one of his lower arms wrapping around your back to steady you.

You stop yourself from asking what he’s doing. He can’t answer with his hands full, after all.

His one free hand opens the curtains leading to the alcove you’d awoken in not long ago, and he nods towards it, indicating for you to climb into the bed.

You blink sleepily. “But…Deejay, isn’t this your bed? I-I can take one of the cushions…they’re big enough,” you say with a tired laugh.

That’s debatable, though. While you probably could sleep comfortably on it, they’re not quite long enough to accommodate you. You could line up two together and make due, but even you have to admit the bed probably would be more comfortable.

Not to mention more private.

Deejay looks at you imploringly, nodding towards the bed and gently pushing on your shoulder, nudging you to climb into the bed and rest.

“Are you sure?” you ask worriedly.

He smiles kindly, nodding and pushing on your shoulder again.

With some reluctance, you climb into the bed, freeing up Deejay’s hands so he can once again write on the scrap of paper. By now said scrap is getting pretty full, but he still finds room to write, “I can sleep on the cushions. You are injured. You need dark and quiet.”

“I-I guess…” you admit as you lay down. Deejay helps you remove your boots and pull the blankets over yourself. As sweet as the gesture is, you’re a bit embarrassed that sleep is taking you so fast that you do actually need help tucking yourself in.

He smiles warmly at you, his six eyes lidded in a tender expression as he lightly pats your forehead. It’s a strange sensation. The pads of his paws are rough and leathery, but the bits of fur surrounding them are soft and silky.

“Could you play more music?” you ask tiredly. You normally wouldn’t make such a request after all he’s already done for you, but you’re barely aware you had even spoken. In fact it’s unlikely you’ll remember making the request when next you wake.

You don’t see Deejay’s look of surprise at the question, nor his warm, flattered smile as he nods. He pulls the curtain closed, and as you’re drifting off, you hear his beautiful music once again.

#fnaf djmm #fnaf dj music man #dj music man #djmm #djmm x reader #djmm x y/n #dj music man x reader #dj music man x y/n #x reader #fanfiction #my writing #djmm spiderfolk and fairy au

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tripleyeeet · 6 months

Text

THE KNIFE OF INSIGHT

SUMMARY: While trying to comfort Zayis, Astarion realizes such attempts at civility might be futile.

PAIRING: Astarion & Zayis (OFC)

WORD COUNT: 3,346

WARNINGS: Angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of dissociation, hints of past abuse.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I'm writing these two in whatever scenarios I want without limiting myself to the concept of silly little chapters!! Timeline wise, this is right after they encounter the Gur outside of the Hag's house! :)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

Astarion knows that look.

Before it fully registers, he can feel its increasing distance begin to set both him and Zayis apart. As she sits there, thumb roughly digging against the inside of her palm, he can see the exact moment that it happens. When she’s ripped from his grasp and hurtled into an entirely different realm.

It’s when he brings up Cazador that the look really becomes prevalent. Upon mentioning the vampire lord, her pupils dilate and her jaw tightens, her fangs grinding into her lip to the point of injury, prompting Astarion to sigh because he isn’t used to being on the inflicting end of such events.

Usually, the one to fall into anxious habits at the mention of his past, he isn’t sure what to do to help —how to coax such thoughts from her head in ways that won’t cause further damage. Seeing as he’s unfamiliar with such portrayals of empathy, it feels a bit inauthentic to suddenly offer up a helping hand. Plus, knowing Zayis she’d hardly accept it. The two of them are already too far gone to trust each other in that way. So, more than likely she’ll probably just swat whatever offering he decides to give. Perhaps spit on the ground and walk away.

Even before this mess she’d been like that. Prone to the same kind of emptiness Astarion often feels. So much so that there’d be days on end where the only words muttered between them were solely job-related. An echo of commands and responses that practically bored him to the point of madness.

It was awful. Partly because of the lack of stimulating conversation but also because he felt a bit guilty. Sad, even, feeling the desire to fix what was wrong often swelling in his chest but ultimately unable to break free.

Looking now, that same feeling pushes against his ribcage. Building in pressure, it’s as if he can no longer breathe as he stares. Trapped within her empty gaze, all he can do is watch as those mismatched eyes of hers stare blankly out into the night. How, despite their respective shades of charcoal and pearl shifting against the fire before them, there’s not a lick of colour left.

Devoid of everything but their presence, he knows all too well that the only thing she can probably see is a fraction of what’s truly in front of her. A mess of blurred-out shapes, pulsing in strange, unpredictable ways. A halo of confusion wrapping around her mind as she falls headfirst into a painful memory.

Narrowing his eyes, he studies her frame as the emptiness continues, taking in the way her mouth eventually slips open to breathe, allowing her chest to rise and fall in quick bursts. At first, the pace is slightly above average, reverberating in and out but eventually, it’s obvious she’s losing control. Allowing whatever painful thoughts to slip through the cracks of her beautifully, broken mind.

Almost immediately, Astarion has to stop himself from reaching out to her. Knowing that if he does he’ll surely pay the price, he instead sits there, staring at the increasing fear that begins to take over. How her fingers begin to claw wildly at her palm, etching rough patterns into the already irritated flesh.

It isn’t until she eventually breaks the skin that he gives in, feeling the sensation in his chest overtake the thoughts in his mind. Rougher than intended, he catches her wrist in his hand and mutters an aggravated stop that before he realizes what he’s done, watching her gaze slowly shift toward his face.

Upon seeing just how abroad she is when retaliation isn’t her immediate reaction, he can’t help but frown. Exploring the confusion throughout her face, he realizes that she’s well and truly helpless. A shell of herself. A vessel for thoughts too fearful to deny.

Swallowing hard, he turns her hand upwards to the sky, refusing to break eye contact despite the urge to look away heavy on his mind. “It’s alright,” he says. “You’re not there.”

Where it is he’s referring to, he’s not entirely sure but regardless the sentiment remains the same as he turns himself to fully face her, knees brushing against each other in the process. Their hands connecting cautiously so that he can run the pad of his thumb across her injury, smearing away the blood in kind.

He feels her twitch beneath him as if threatening to pull away before giving in. In response, he lets out a heavy breath and continues to soothe the wound with careful strokes to remind her where she is. To ground the wandering images he knows all too well.

“Whatever is in there can’t hurt you, okay? It can’t touch you because…”

Because I’m here.

Thankfully, he stops himself before he finishes. Before he makes it worse by adding to the burden.

“You’re safe, yeah?”

Her mouth parts to emit a wobbly sound of agreeance. One that embarrassingly tugs at his heartstrings so hard he ends up making another sound in response. A pitiful aw that makes her blink back the tears that have formed, suddenly remembering where she is. And more importantly, how he’s gently pressed up against her leg, holding her hand with such an uncharacteristic softness.

“What are you doing?” she asks then.

He doesn’t have an answer. Or at least, not one he can simply describe. Having developed a rather convoluted affection for her over the years, it’s not as easy as telling her he’s doing all of this because he cares or because he sees himself in her more and more each day and that in itself forces him to want to fix whatever he can. No, he can’t say that. Not unless he wants to allow this rare moment of civility to be met with truths he’s unwilling to reveal.

So instead, he merely turns up his lips, showing her a grin of falseness. Performing that familiar expression of innocence draped in all its usual mischief. “Why, just merely helping a friend in their time of need,” he tells her, leaning in at the mention of friendship. Forcing the word out like it’s some sort of burden.

Once again, she blinks, allowing her eyes to fully readjust before she offers a glare. “I don’t need your help,” she tells him, even though he can feel her breaking within his grasp. Cracking beneath the pressure of his hands wrapped around hers. Shattering against the quirking brow he uses to further antagonize her.

“No?”

“No.”

Unfazed by her defiance, he slowly peels his hands away, looking down at her fingers to see them subtly chase his own before falling into her lap. A gesture that has him reeling, if he’s honest.

Triggering newfound thoughts that rattle across the expanse of his skull, it forces him to wonder what the hell she’s done to him. How, after years of constant aggression and opposition, she’s still managed to rip right through his chest and crawl inside, acting as if such a thing is normal.

Because truthfully, it isn’t. Not for him, anyway. Not for a slave so tightly wound around his master’s thumb, that the mere thought of properly expressing things like empathy or love has him recoiling in fear, remembering the few times he was punished for it. How after falling in love once he was met with nothing but darkness for an entire fucking year.

Which is unfair, really. And the longer he sits there, watching her features twist in various shapes, trying to figure out the right way to respond to his supposed backhanded kindness, he can’t but hate her for it. To blame her for the weakness that settles beneath his skin and bones —wrapping around his cold, dead heart like a vice. To envy the fact that she’s capable of expressing herself in ways he won’t allow, but still refuses.

If he’s honest, it oftentimes feels like a stab wound the way she looks at him. Resembling that initial push, there are moments where the intent behind her eyes leaves him breathless and clawing at his throat, wishing just once she’d leave him be. That instead of treating him like a threat and wounding his heart with the plunge of her blade, she’d just admit to him that she’s scared.

“You’re allowed to fear him, you know.”

“What, like you do?”

Despite his better judgement, he merely offers the poor tiefling a smug look as he shakes his head, prompting her to huff and shove him aside before she stands up. “I don’t need your pity, spawn,” she tells him, and immediately Astarion’s frustrated all over again. Stirring in regret and resentment.

“It wasn’t pity I was offering,” he says.

Her sarcastic laugh cuts through the night. Penetrating his ears, it reminds him that it’s useless to try and help. To think that coming back time and time again won’t result in another slice of her reckless knife.

“You think just because you hold my hand that I’ll react in kind? That I’ll give in to whatever game you’re playing?” She looks at him in disbelief. “I’m not an idiot, Fangs. I know you better than anyone here! I’ve seen you at your weakest—“

“You say that as if I haven’t seen you at yours,” he argues, moving to stand —stepping so quickly into her space to press his forehead against hers that all she can do is clench her jaw and refuse to back down.

“Might I remind you, since it seems you’ve forgotten, that you and I—” he pauses to motion to both of them with his index fingers, “—are cut from the same cloth, my dear.”

There’s a pause then. Perhaps it’s a reluctance to argue or a realization that he’s right. Either way, for a moment he’s left waiting for a response, watching the way her eyes dart around his face, taking in the unbothered expression he portrays. Most likely cursing him for it.

“Just because we share a common enemy in Cazador doesn’t mean we’re the same.”

“Oh, really? Then where were you just now.”

Once again he awaits an answer, already knowing he’s right. Out of all the places she could’ve been in that moment, it’s painfully obvious to him she was lost in Cazador’s chambers. Locked inside without a key, forced to relive whatever happened behind those heavy doors. He knows because he’s experienced the same endlessly. Day after day, night after night, he’s seen that devil everywhere he goes, lurking in the corner of his eye. Reminding him that his freedom is temporary.

Looking at her now —at how her lips press together as she takes a step back, glancing at the fire— he realizes that perhaps her’s is too. Having been conveniently lost alongside master’s favourite spawn, it’s more than likely her sufferance will be far greater than his. With so much more to lose in the form of her mortality and a family that cares for her, it quickly becomes apparent just how scared she probably is. How terrified she must be at the thought of losing everything she risked to save.

He can’t help but feel a bit shaken by it all, especially after he notices the frown she offers back before walking to her tent, forcing him to stand alone, wondering how he always manages to fuck everything up. How, even after finally admitting to himself that he cares for her well-being he can’t yet admit it to her.

Once she’s gone, his hands raise to grip the roots of his hair as he closes his eyes, trying to figure out how to fix this. Because unfortunately, he needs to fix this, despite the reluctance that stirs. Despite the voice inside his head telling him he’s an idiot for feeling sorry for her.

Running his hands down the length of his face in annoyance, he wastes no time in following her footsteps. Walking a bit slow, he rubs his temples and tries to formulate a proper apology, knowing more than likely he’ll have to enter that damn tent on his hands and knees, grovelling for a second chance to gain any sort of sympathy.

Unfortunately for both of them, he’ll do it. And he does, dropping down to the ground as he opens the canvas flap to see her lying on her back, arms crossed angrily over her face.

“Fuck off, Astarion.”

Crawling towards her side, he lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head. “You know, despite your inability to perform, you really know how to make a dramatic exit.”

Before he can think to laugh at his ill-timed joke, she chucks a pillow at his head, forcing him to dart out of the way at the last second before moving to lie down next to her. “I’m sorry, but do you lack in hearing?”

“Not that I know of.”

She rolls her eyes and shuffles to the opposite end of the bedroll. “Why are you still here then?”

He knows whatever answer he offers she’ll hardly accept so he keeps it simple. “To apologize.”

At first, she looks confused, then strangely relieved before ultimately falling into that same pattern of defiant angst that has him internally groaning. Wishing just once that his vulnerabilities could be met with equal measure.

“You never apologize,” she points out.

“Not usually, no.”

“Then why?”

“Why am I apologizing?”

She nods. He thinks. Both of them simmering in a silence so deeply uncomfortable neither of them can look away.

“I suppose it’s because I can empathize,” he starts, knowing that’s just scraping the surface of reasoning. Really he’s apologizing because he wants to be on her good side again. To enjoy her presence. To not feel like he’s the reason she has to relieve all these terrible memories.

“Wait, you’re capable of empathy?”

Her sarcasm is warranted. Also, a bit appreciated, somehow.

“Of course I’m capable of empathy,” he spits back, grabbing the previously thrown pillow and shoving it into her face. “I may be a bloodthirsty killer but I still have feelings.”

She grumbles and rips the pillow from his grasp, narrowing her eyes. Refusing to say anything more until he continues.

It makes him want to scream, remembering all those nights together. The one's where she refused to talk. How in the beginning, she all but ignored his presence, refusing to acknowledge that, like her, he once was normal.

“Listen, I’m sorry if my lack of direction in regards to this sort of thing offended you,” he says, trying to step lightly with his words. Well aware that one wrong move could send the whole thing tumbling down again. “I don’t… I don’t know how to comfort people. Especially people who understand what he’s like.”

“Shouldn’t that make you more understanding?”

He releases a heavy breath, looking at her like she’s right. He should understand. And to some degree he does but at the same time, it’s that exact reason that frequently forces him to stop.

“I suppose the level of understanding sort of makes it more difficult.” He scrunches up his face, searching his mind for the right description. “Because you know him —you know what he’s capable of, and because of that you also know how things worked.”

He’s referring to the isolation. How, regardless of everyone being referred to as a family, it was forbidden to act as one. For as long as he could remember, everyone was required to fend for themselves, only working together for the sake of Cazador’s reign and nothing else. They weren’t meant to comfort one another. Only there to serve as hands to help their master feed, both he and Zayis, regardless of their deferring ranks, felt the same cold remorse. Experiencing that same seclusion time and time again.

It’s because of this he finds it hard to reach out every time he sees her struggling. Each time her eyes glaze over and she falls into that pit of despair, clawing at the edges trying to get out, all he can do is watch in horror and be thankful it’s not him this time. That instead of his mind, Cazador’s chosen to haunt her's. Which is obviously awful considering all that she’s done for him. After all the light she’s brought into this bleak, little life of his, the last thing he should be thankful for is her pain.

So he apologizes.

“I know you’re not particularly fond of me.” He offers her a subtle grin —one she returns despite everything. “I know that I’m a terrible friend and because of that you refuse to acknowledge me as such, but I promise I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to be better.”

He tries to speak as earnestly as possible. Allowing the pauses in between each sentence to settle before he moves on to the next, watching her expressions shift as they always do, searching for the right emotion to convey before ultimately softening. Resulting in the kind of face he’s not sure he’s seen on her before.

With that previous smile still present, it’s as if her whole soul reignites faintly. Behind her eyes, there’s an inkling of hope. Across her cheeks, there’s a warmth that settles behind their stormy hue. Even her ears, prone to sitting idle, sort of lift happily at his confession, prompting his chest to ache.

“I didn’t realize you were putting in all this effort just to be my friend?” she mocks, reaching up to squish his cheeks, causing his hand to lock around her wrist just before she can make it.

“Please don’t make me regret it.”

She snorts and tries to pull her hand away, finding his hold too heavy. “That’ll be hard to do considering how much of an ass you frequently are.”

Another tug prompts him to look down at their skin, realizing just how intimate it feels. Immediately making him swallow hard and loosen his grip, he feels her slowly slip until she stops about halfway to interlock their fingers. At which point, he’s the one who gets to look at her with an endless sea of expressions, moving from annoyed to confused, ending up somewhere halfway between content and reluctant.

“I’m sorry I snapped,” she says.

Instead of looking at him, her eyes are fully locked on their hands. Exploring their positions, her claws twitch against his knuckles as she tightens her hold, prompting him to clear his throat to get her attention.

“Is there a follow up to that apology or is that it?” He smirks.

“Oh, uh…” She narrows her eyes, resulting in Astarion letting out a scoff.

“I know my hands are pretty but I wasn’t aware they had the capability of rendering you speechless.”

“Shut up.”

He runs his thumb along hers, trying not to laugh. “I see the way you look at them. All entranced in their movement.” He leans in, pressing his forehead against hers like earlier, this time out of pure intent to annoy.

“You know, if you keep acting like this I’ll kick you out of my tent. And I’ll rescind my apology.”

“That’s fine. I wasn’t the one who needed an apology,” he tells her, bringing their hands to his mouth, and placing a playful nibble to her finger. An act that sets her off almost immediately. Returning to the old Zayis —the normal one who’s defiant but still playful— she shoves him off and groans, listening to the laughter that erupts through his chest.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Mmm, am I invited?” He reaches his hand to grab her waist but she swats it away and rolls over.

“You can stay if you like. No funny business though.”

He grins. “A cuddle perhaps?”

When she doesn’t object right away he knows that means yes. So gently he curls up behind her, feeling her shift so that he can wrap an arm beneath her before pulling her close, denying the urge to ask her more questions about earlier in favour of this rare moment of peace.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#the knife of insight #astarion fan fic #astarion x original female character #astarion x fem oc #astarion x oc #astarion x zayis #zaystarion #knife fight #summer writes

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lukeofe · 11 months

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Guardians of the Galaxy 3, Rocket, And Why I Keep Thinking About This Damned CGI Raccoon

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOLUME 3 SPOILERS AHEAD

For much of early to mid 2023, I had been in a rut. My work on personal writing projects had ground to a halt, and I was now more focused on the minutia of specific lines and the emotions they conveyed in the moment rather than seeing the overall work for what it was. I was anxious, terrified that I didn't know whether I was saving my work with any given edit or ruining it.

Eventually, I figured it was time to take a break from the things. Time to let my mind rest so I could let go of this arbitrarily high standard I had set for myself. While this relieved my anxiety, it brought about a new ailment: a sense of depressing aimlessness. I had dedicated essentially my entire life to my work for so long that to be without it felt wrong. I realized that ever since I'd went all-hands-on-deck with my perfectionism streak, I had taken to eating the exact same meal three times a day. I had stopped going outside. I had stopped listening to music. My passion for life had disappeared without me realizing it, and I was left with nothing but dark musings on my own mortality and the unshakable notion that I was wasting time. That I no longer had purpose.

I was never really invested in Disney's Marvel Cinematic Universe. I had seen some of the films, but did not feel overly attached to them outside of "Hey, that was a cool movie." The one aspect of it that both I and my family came to the theaters for whenever a new entry released was Guardians of the Galaxy. I've always been fascinated by the space opera genre (there's a reason I write so much of it) and James Gunn is great at weaving comedy and sincerity into his work in equal measure to create characters that are easy to care about, something I cannot say for other aspects of the MCU. Still though, my fandom of Guardians' characters was only in passing... until in May of 2023, when I watched Volume 3 on a whim.

I'm sure you've heard of the 'Gifted Kid to Anxious Adult Pipeline.' It's something I'm fairly sure I experienced first-hand. When I was young I was considered smart for my age. I was also considered a troublemaker who hated listening to authority. At the time, I had yet to be diagnosed with Autism or ADHD, so I'm sure my teachers and the other adults that interacted with me simply thought I was 'disobedient' and just needed to 'apply myself.' I suspect that this notion carried over into my modern life and education somewhat as well.

Once I had my diagnoses, I knew that I was different. I knew I had a reason to not concern myself with being in line with what was trendy or popular, and I had a prime excuse to violate the social norms I hated most. It also made me incredibly aware of how specific the aptitudes I possessed were. I am no savant, but I've heard from a lot of people that I'm good at what I do, probably on account of me pushing myself to fully commit to whatever task I engage in to the point of anxiety-inducing perfectionism. I suppose that's symptomatic of the high expectations people had for me in my youth.

Something that probably didn't help was the fact that my ADHD makes it incredibly challenging for me to focus on things I'm not burningly passionate about. I can handle whatever task is thrown at me, but it's extremely emotionally distressing unless I want to do it. It's not a sensation of boredom or irresponsibility, but a deep pain that registers on a level beyond the physical.

The common core education system didn't care, though. It, and all of the adults in my life, demanded success above all else. And so I pushed myself to success above all else. The latter half of my education felt like a constant struggle to survive, a battle against my own nature to ensure that I could secure a comfortable future (and so I would not lose the things that made me truly and wholly happy - my video games and my comfort objects, i.e. stuffed animals and inflatables.) The cost of this battle was only my happiness, and to some extent, my personhood.

The time that I began this 'fight for my life' in my education was also the time that my older cousin began to have a major presence in my life. He'd grown up rougher than me, adapting to become more 'street smart' to avoid hazing from bullies. I think he saw me, a neurodivergent, scrawny, and likely pretty obviously queer kid, and wanted to make sure I was safe from the riff-raff he was used to. So he tried to toughen me up. He taught me how to walk right, what clothes to wear, how to keep my voice and head down to avoid trouble with the older kids, etc. (He even advised me to burn my collection of stuffed animals - advice I will never regret ignoring!)

I think it was this, the growing disparity between my perception of maturity and my own comforts, and the overall apathy of the world around me towards my academically-based emotional distress, that made me into a more reserved person as I became a teenager. I already had trouble making friends, considering that so much about my interests and personality were - and still are - intrinsically based in the nebulous, indescribable web of my life experiences. But this was the turning point that rendered me closed off from almost everybody, save for those few special people I could and can still be candid and emotionally open with. I became afraid to make new friends, scared that the more they'd find out about me the more they'd realize how strange I was, and say or do something horrible to me or the things I love.

I wanted to share this experience and the way it made me feel with others, and I think that's why all of these sentiments (intentionally or not) worked their way into my writing.

(I swear this is about Rocket, just be patient.)

My main story, WarTorn, is set in a space opera universe where humans and anthropomorphic animals co-exist, and sometimes groups of the former decide to try to destroy the latter in big wars that are metaphors for religious persecution of LGBTQ+ people, and there are ancient secrets left behind by past intergalactic civilizations, and so on and so forth, but for the sake of this current topic of conversation there is only one aspect that matters: the main character, the namesake of my online presence, Luke Sanders.

Luke is spotted out as a child by the government of the human-anthro' Coalition to take part in a Super-Soldier program to destroy the puritanical anti-anthro' army that has risen in the dark corners of this fiction's Galaxy. They take him and a bunch of other children, both human and anthro's, and mold them into the soldiers the Galaxy needs them to be. Luke becomes a hero, but after all of the brutal training, extensive education and brainwashing, and the agonizing and near-fatal chemical and cybernetic augmentations, he has lost his personhood. He sees himself as a machine, existing only to serve and be a beacon of strength to the people he protects, burying his emotions so he can't be judged for them. But while he attempts throughout the story to steel himself from his emotion, it subconsciously slips in anyways.

From the beginning of the military career he lost his childhood training for, his life is painted by tragedy. He loses his childhood best friend early on, and his lover much later, both people he had formed bonds with that defied physical description. Every loss becomes not just an emotional toll but a personal failure, and he beats himself up for not being able to meet the expectations placed upon his shoulders. Eventually he becomes so afraid of losing the ones he loves that he stops loving altogether, and becomes even more stoic and isolated than before. It's only after circumstance forces him to create new bonds and become close with new friends that he realizes that he is indeed a person, that his feelings matter, and that the time he spends with the ones he loves while he has them make all the heartbreak worth it. Later, when Luke and the Coalition finally win the conflict against the puritanical threat that has gripped the Galaxy for years, and Luke is able to get his happily ever after, he can't help but feel aimless in a universe where he no longer has purpose. His journey becomes finding a purpose of his own, fully becoming a person, finally free of the high expectations he likely imposed upon himself. One big dramatized metaphor for my own personal feelings throughout life.

In Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3, the snarky and cynical Rocket the Raccoon's past is explored heavily. He is revealed to have once been a raccoon from Earth, taken at a young age by the evil High Evolutionary and molded into a thinking and speaking creature through extensive and cruel surgery and augmentations. Despite the hardship, he is driven by his connection to his friends (three other test subjects, Lylla the Otter, Teefs the Walrus, and Floor the Rabbit, all three of whom have also been extensively modified) and together they look forward to the promise of a happy life in the High Evolutionary's perfect society once his work is done. However, eventually it is revealed that the High Evolutionary no longer has a need for Rocket and his friends - they were only created for their intelligence and ingenuity, for their knowledge to be a stepping stone towards a better iteration of the High Evolutionary's perfect beings - and that he and his friends are to be killed. Rocket attempts to break Lylla, Teefs, and Floor out of their captivity, but all of his friends who he was up until this point motivated by the dream of a perfect life with, die in the escape attempt. Rocket is left the only survivor, alone and depressed now that that the only things that made him happy and hopeful in the universe have been ripped from him. He becomes cynical and jaded, afraid to let others too close to him for fear of losing them too. He feels like a monster, warped and created without purpose. He only overcomes this when forced into an alliance with the other Guardians, who are also carriers of their own trauma, and together they create an unbreakable bond. And it's only on the verge of death, in his darkest hour, that Rocket is visited in a dream by his friends, and Lylla tells him that his existence is more meaningful than he knows. He pulls through and rejoins his friends in the fight, not only defeating the High Evolutionary but saving the other animals that were being tested on, learning that he is indeed a raccoon in the process. Up until this point, he has seen 'raccoon' as a demeaning term, something to label him as something other, something less than a person. But here he realizes it's actually his identity, that he's not alone and never was. And by the end, he heals, ready to find that purpose and set his own expectations for himself.

I wrote the entirety of WarTorn way before Guardians 3 came out, so seeing the parallels between Rocket's story and Luke's, especially when Luke is so heavily inspired by my own life, was an extremely emotional experience. I've been going over scenarios in my head where Luke and Rocket interact. They'd clash at first because of their different personalities (and because Rocket is Rocket) but slowly realize how similar their lives and troubles are, and then help each other find their missing pieces and become better people. I adore the idea of these two forming an understanding of each other's histories just from seeing each other's reactions to little things and recognizing their own trauma in each other's behavior, to the point that they know they can confide in one another and be met with unabashed understanding and acceptance, free of judgment because "Hey... I've been there." And in some abstract way, I have too.

The first thing I had thought leaving that theater was "I want to hug that raccoon and let him know that he is beautiful and loved." So I ordered a plush. I needed something physical to latch onto, some way to express this overwhelming emotion physically. And now he has a special place in my arms as I lay in bed or on my desk as I work or in my canvas bag when I go out of the house.

Rocket is very important to me. He's the first thing I had poured over in months that wasn't "oh my God I'm a terrible writer" or "I'm going to die someday." And that puts him at least somewhat above all of the other comfort characters and hyperfixations I've had over the years. Because he's the first thing I have loved with all my heart in a long, long time. And now, whenever that oppressive melancholy begins to creep up my mind, I think of him and the parts of my life that led me to being so emotional about him, and I am reminded that love and feeling still exist in my heart, and always will.

#rocket raccoon #gotg vol 3 #gotg rocket #guardians of the galaxy #guardians 3 #guardians 3 spoilers #gotg #gotg volume 3 spoilers #im probably reading too much into all of this but its is my life

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