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dreamqueenkala · 10 months

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ONCE UPON A TIME

Previous Chapter

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It was dark. It was cold. It was an empty expanse surrounding me. Not me, per se, but my body. My vessel. My host. I couldn't think for myself, only register my surroundings as my vessel responded. I rested in whatever expanse I was shrouded in, water dripping the only sound to echo here. It was empty, so very empty. And that terrified me. In that moment of realization, I felt fear. Absolute trembling fear.

"H-Hello?" I called softly, suddenly able to find my voice. It echoed in the dark, for a very long time. I called out again, my voice louder and more firm. I received no response. I don't know how long I had been in this strange void. I don't know how long I was left in darkness. I don't know how long it's had been since I moved. I was scared. And tired. And alone.

Carter...

That was different. Another voice called out to me in the darkness, echoing around me and causing what I'd discovered to be water beneath my feet to ripple. I swallowed thickly as the darkness rippled, swirling like a rotten mist. My body jolted forward by the chest, and I was suddenly standing, barefoot in the water, bare chested with my blood soaked jeans on my hips. I shifted my feet around cautiously, gazing around with a skeptic gaze. An echoing familiar voice spoke out, not to me, but around me, humming as if to a lullaby.

"When full the moon above shines first,

The beast internal shall outward burst,

One by one, leads lamb to slaughter,

It stalks your breath but shuns clear water.

And should you yourself be cursed,

Armed with silver, end the first,

When moon is full before it's wane,

Rend the beast that cursed you slain,

No longer shall you face your blight

Or fear the dread of the full moon's light.

And if it's a bite with which you're faced,

Cleave limb from torso with great haste,

Per chance you'll save your cursed soul,

Before infection takes it's toll."

Where was I? I wondered, spinning in a slow circle to examine the space, trying to find the source of the voice.

"You're in the Lacuna."

I spun around again, my gaze falling on the figure of an old woman suddenly perched behind me. The water rippled beneath her form as she rested in an old Victorian chair, hands clasped in her lap. Her face was wrinkled with age and wisdom, thin lips pursed and eyes narrowed on me. Her blue eyes were filled with rage, the reflection of a fire burning in her pupils.

"The what?" My voice sounded off, echoing as if multiple versions of myself were talking all at once.

"The Lacuna. The space between dreams and reality." She hummed thoughtfully, her lips smacking as she tapped her frail, bony fingers on her knees.

"Why am I here?"

"I brought you here. You see, you're friends are in grave danger, dear boy."

My breath hitched in my throat, eyes flickering between hers as she sneered in my direction. Swallowing again, I took a step towards, curious as the mist around her moved slightly to form shadows and silhouettes. "W-What do you mean? How am I here?"

The chuckle she gave was sinister, filled with malice and discontent as she eyed my bloodied form. "Do you not remember? You were attacked by your dear friend, throat torn from your neck and lungs pierced. You're dying." Biting my lip, I glanced down again, reaching up to feel the thin white scars across my neck, shoulder, back and ribs. I could suddenly remember the pain I'd felt when I'd gained those wounds, the fire burning beneath my skin as those jagged teeth tore into my flesh like paper above a flame. Shivering, I lowered my hands, eyes back on the woman.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I have no other purpose now." She cooed, eyes closed as her head lolled lazily. "My son will surely die before daybreak and I cannot stop it. I have seen it, as you have seen things."

"Wha—my clairvoyance?" She nodded once, gesturing to her right as the visions I'd seen prior had swirled and formed in the mist.

"Your presence here was unexpected. An ink blot in the chaos that is destiny's written pages. You changed the timeline, altered the world around you simply by existing." Her words were dark, ethereal, sending shivers down my spine and allowing dread to clasp itself to my neck like a Vice, squeezing til I couldn't breathe. "Your presence is important here, dear boy. You're presence has kept them alive—all of them."

"So what do I do, then, if they're in danger?"

"You can save them still. Without you, they are destined to die. Gruesome, painful deaths await your friends at the hands of my beloved cursed son." Though her eyes held malice and rage, sorrow lingered in her tone and twisted at her lips, a snarl on her tongue not unlike the beasts that had attacked myself and my friends. Her fingers stretched and gestured to her left, the mist swirling again as the water rippled. I could hear the screams of agony, the cries of help, echoing in the distance as if miles away. From the water rose bloodied, mutilated figures, petrified expressions plastered on those who's faces remained.

"Nick."

His body lay on the floor, splayed awkwardly, with a silver bullet buried in his back, eyes as dark as his hair and empty of life.

"Abigail."

Her corpse rested on its side, neck ripped in half, her skull tossed haphazardly away. Her mouth was agape in a memory of her terrified scream, eyes wide with horror but void of the light of life.

"Ryan."

He lay on the floor, his skull bashed in, jaw and left eye an obliterated mass of viscera and gore, bloodied shotgun clattered to his side.

"Emma."

Her body was arched as if laden across the sharp rocks beneath her, spine snapped and neck slit. Blood coated her vacant expression and dripped from the back of her skull, body twisted.

"Jacob."

His legs were caught in an overhead snare, dangling a few feet above the ground. His abdomen was sliced to shreds, spine ripped from his lower half. His torso and head rested on the floor in a pool of his own blood, organs displayed like the decorations in a cornucopia, eyes soulless.

"Kaitlyn."

Body thrashed as if tossed much like a rag doll, her gaze was fixated above her, lips parted and blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth and eyes. Her stomach was torn into, intestines trailing from the gaping wound and blood coating the ground her corpse resided upon.

"Dylan."

His figure was splayed across a chair, arms torn from his body and tossed feet away. His throat was sliced into and his head tossed back, eyes vacant and mouth parted in a silent scream.

"Laura."

Her body rested beside the silhouette of an overturned car, skull obliterated and brain matter scattered over the asphalt. Her fingers were bloodied and broken, evidence that she'd fought back.

"Max."

Draped over the edge of a dock, his right arm dangling against the water, his head hung low and blood poured from his terrorized throat, eyes closed but scrunched from the memory of pain.

"Your friends will die without you. Time will rewrite itself as it was supposed to, and you will watch them all crumble." I whimpered and covered my ears, eyes screwed shut tightly. I didn't want to look or see, didn't want to live through something so terrible, so traumatizing. It was a horror unlike the pain I'd felt being torn into, lingering in my lungs and clawing at my heart, causing bile to bubble in my stomach.

"Or...you can still save them."

The nausea faded and the screams died, the images fading just as quickly. I lifted my head and gazed deep into her eyes, fingers twitching by my sides. "How?"

A sinister grin settled on her old, withered face, rotten yellow teeth bared and eyes wide with insanity. "Just a little bit of magic can change it all, grant you the power to write fate your way. It all depends on you, dear boy. If you're so willing to die for them, what else are you willing to venture forward with?"

I hesitated. Even I knew that this was terror in its own right, forming a deal with someone so vile in presence and words, yet I couldn't deny it right away. Was this really my only choice? To either make a deal and save my friends, or watch them all die? My heart clenched and my teeth gritted together.

I bit my lip and, with a heavy inhale, gave her my answer. Her cackle echoed as she faded from my vision, the expanse around me crumbling completely. The experience of falling rapidly overtook my senses, body caving in slightly as I drew nearer and nearer to purest darkness.

"Remember, dear boy..." Her voice cooed, slowly fading as I drifted into whatever future I was to craft. "All magic comes with a price."

File corrupted.

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#my stuff #fluff #fanfic #male oc #mxm #bxb #the quarry #the quarry fanfic #horror #psychological horror #violence #gore #drama #mature #romance #apocalypticnova

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shroudcore · 3 years

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Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (III)

Summary: You successfully convinced Eliza to stop the wedding. Unfortunately (or is it really), Eliza has come to a solution that she thinks would be best for everybody and it’s happening no matter what.

Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

As if by some miracle, he was still standing—even after you failed to convince Eliza how unnecessary a wedding would be. Now face-to-face with you on the altar, he still couldn’t believe how things turned out. This wasn’t supposed to happen in real-life. Things like these were the stuff of movies. Or anime. Or dating sims.

Ace, Epel, Rook, and Riddle were freed at your request. They, along with Ortho, were now arranging the paralyzed students into chairs, since Eliza refused to let them move for disrespecting the “couple”. When you ran out of excuses, some heavily opposed the impromptu wedding. Idia knew why: he wasn’t the only one in NRC who liked you like that. He’d been aware of some schoolmates’ attempts to romance you for a while now. Really, all you had to do was pick a route.

How did he know, you might ask? It’s not like he secretly researched and listed down his competition so he could keep an eye on them.

Alright… maybe he did. Heat crawled up to his neck at the thought of anyone finding out.

“So… we’re getting married,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts. You spoke slowly, as if testing the words in your mouth. Like him, you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fake wedding just yet. You fidgeted more than usual—barely looking at his face or talking to him since you joined him at the altar.

Were you thinking of the same thing? The inevitable kiss after you say your vows?

A weak hum was all he could manage. A smile appeared on your face, showing that you understood. You didn’t tell him to speak up; you never told him to. Somehow, the sight of that smile put him at ease like a recovery potion after a Despair battle ailment. It felt like another day in his room, the two of you hanging out and eating candy.

“Nice suit, by the way.”

“Th...anks?” Idia turned his head to the side. If he looked at you any longer, he might combust. Not that he didn’t already. Which was embarrassing btw.

You inched closer, making him gasp and jump back as multiple alarms went off in his head. Really… mind the Personal Space Bubble! Oh wait… that’s right. He’d stopped telling you off for getting too close long ago.

Your face flashed a look of surprise, which quickly faded into concern as you observed him. When you whispered, your breath grazed his neck and ear. Hopefully his shudder escaped your notice.

“You okay?” Immediately, you backtrack. “Wait, that was stupid. I know you’re not.”

“So many people watching...” he mumbled. His eyes quickly scanned the hall. “I can’t do this.” And he ended it there. You didn’t need to know how he felt about marrying you.

Again, you understood. Your smile faded and Idia found himself missing it immediately as it went.

“Sorry, I...” you look down, fiddling with your fingers again. “I really should’ve tried harder to stop this.”

Idia silently wished for dialogue options, because he didn’t quite know what to say to that. However, it looked like he didn’t need to. You took his hand and squeezed it, a determined fire flickering behind your eyes.

“This’ll be over soon. Just hold on,” you said, squeezing his hand. “It’s just another quest, player 1.”

At the familiar nickname, he smiled in spite of his thumping heartbeat and everything that had happened. “Let’s do it, player 2.”

“Let us proceed with the ceremony!” Eliza, who had been watching the two of you closely, was eager for the wedding to commence. She clasped her hands in anticipation, looking no different from a normie watching a Rom-com. At her command, the wedding music played again—the same one as before. You gave Idia a look and shrugged.

“Can’t believe we’re getting married to this music...”

“Sounds like doom, doesn’t it?”

“Isn’t that what marriage is? Doom?”

“Haha! E-exactly…” Normally, he would’ve agreed wholeheartedly. This time, he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how you felt marrying him.

The ghost officiant returned to the makeshift altar (maintaining a good distance from you). Each NRC student who had the misfortune of attempting a proposal sat in a chair, watching the event. You smiled reassuringly, eyes sparkling like embers.

“We are gathered here today to unite these two lovers in the bonds of matrimony,” the officiant begins. The darkness of the hall gave him quite a sight: the flickering flames of his hair illuminating your face in blue light. Seeing it, when in the safety and darkness of his room, made him feel this warm, fuzzy feeling he thought was reserved for 2D characters.

“Do you, Idia Shroud, take … as your lawful spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, keeping yourself solely unto them for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer " I do".

This’ll never happen in real life. “I do.” I don’t have a chance, do I?

Confessing would only ruin the bond he had with you. If it meant never losing your friendship, then this fake wedding would be enough.

He looked at you, standing in front of him as you were about to say your own vows and silently implored Mnemosyne to burn this scene into his memory forever.

“Do you take Idia Shroud as your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer "I do."”

It seemed that you were doing the same. Idia faltered under the intensity of your gaze. “I do.”

“I now pronounce you as spouses. You may now kiss!”

Here it comes. CODE RED! CODE RED!

The way Idia’s face burned rivaled that of his hair. He was becoming hyper-aware of the snickers coming from his schoolmates. Seeing you made him worse—the corners of your mouth twitched and your shoulders shook as you fought back a laugh.

“Hey! We’re about to kiss and you’re laughing?!” he cried, covering his face. “Kill me now.”

Just like that, your quiet and tender moment was gone. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Covering your face like he did, you erupted in giggles. Peeking out from the gaps of his fingers, Idia thought about #3 from the Signs of Attraction list he found on the Internet:

“Another unconscious sign of attraction is mirroring, or matching another person's movements. When people are interested in one another, researchers have found that they tend to mimic each other's movements and gestures.”

Nah. Can’t be. He would have thought it was cute, if you weren’t laughing at his expense.

“S-sorry! Your hair’s just—” another round of giggles interrupted you. “...burning really brightly!”

“I can’t help it, okay?” he said, face red from annoyance and of course, the thought of what you were about to do. “Stop!”

You tried to stop, but just the sight of his red face and hair sent you into another round of wheezing laughter. So hard you laughed, that an inhuman sound came out of you. Immediately, you stopped and looked at him, eyes wide.

But it was Idia’s turn to lose it.

“You… sound like… a Minecube pig!” he said, each word punctuated by uncontrollable peals of laughter. The wedding attendees had no choice but to watch on as you and your groom wheezed at the altar instead of kissing.

“Baaya, what is wrong with them?” a confused Eliza asks.

“I do not know, but it is apparent that they were made for each other.”

It wasn’t until the annoyed officiant cleared his throat that you and Idia stopped. You straightened up, wiping tears from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. It was only then that your expression turned serious, but not without a few traces of your mirth from a few seconds ago.

“Idia, we don’t have to—I’m really, really sorry about this, okay?” you whisper to him. “I know how much you value your firsts…”

“It’s fi—”

“...not that I’m assuming you haven’t had your first uh, kiss yet but—oh god, I uh… ”

No dating sim—nothing could have prepared him for this situation. But strangely, laughing his ass off with you gave him a spark of courage that he rarely ever felt. In a moment, he would be kissing you. He hopes that courage lasts.

“Let’s get this over with,” Idia surprised even himself with how steady his voice sounded.

“Oh…”

You were still, staring at him open-mouthed for what seemed like a few minutes. He stared back, until you were forced to avert your gaze to the ground. Something told him that he was doing something right. A lone voice from the audience chanting “Kiss!” pulled the two of you back to reality. Someone was making an obnoxious kissing sound. Neither of you dared to look and see who it was.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the ghosts joined in on the chant.

Shyly, you lifted your head back up. “O-okay. Here goes nothing!”

He tried recounting how first kisses were described by people on the Internet, from his manga, and the countless dating sims he played. Some said there were fireworks. Some said it felt electric. Some described the feeling as the rest of the world falling away. One swore it made them feel like the ground disappearing beneath their feet and before they knew it, they were floating.

Should he close his eyes? Which side should he tilt his head? Where does he put his hands? How exactly do you kiss? Questions, panicky thoughts, and movie kissing scenes ran through his head like a computer reading code. When you leaned in, someone pressed ‘mute’ on the sounds in the hall and all that was left was him and you.

When you held his face in your gloved hands, it was Error 404. He let his eyes flutter closed. When everything went dark, all he felt was the shy, feather-light brush of lips against the corner of his mouth. Not quite on his lips, just dangerously close.

Purer than a first kiss, but more than just a friendly peck. The students of NRC witnessed Idia’s hair at its most fiery just the same.

To be continued.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA Characterization hard

Hehe, hope you liked this. Part 4, the finale, coming soon.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

#twst x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fic

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words-etched-in-her-skin · 3 years

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Part 2 of my ‘House Dimitrescu’ series on Ao3. I am currently working on Part 3 (Alcina body worship), and will post that here when I finish 😏

Every candle in Castle Dimitrescu was lit in preparation. Alcina’s large frame silhouetted against the low lighting of the room like the masterpiece that she was. The brim of her hat tipping slightly forward as she gave you a small nod. You look quite delicious tonight, my pet.. she had told you. Her words still swimming freshly through your mind - the look on her face as you stepped out into the hallway in your new outfit - and you swore, for just a moment, that you saw her sinful tongue skating it’s way deliciously across her bottom lip. Suns dissolving to slivers as her pupils dilated - devouring you where you stood.

“Tonight is a very important night for my daughter’s and I.” The smooth tones of Alcina’s voice ricocheted off the high ceilings of the castle as she moved elegantly throughout the room. “It has been such a long time since we’ve…”

Each word becoming more muffled as your thoughts began to wander. You knew you should’ve been listening - waiting for her queue - but all you could think about was the night ahead of you. The fresh memory of her shadow completely enveloping you - cornered in the hallway - warm breath skating across the top half of your body as she leaned in to whisper. The three words that dripped from her tongue in the most delicious of ways, making you wet... Tonight, you’re mine. It wasn’t the first time you had been invited back to her room, but it was the first time she had ever proclaimed it in such a way. Mine.

“Psst… Heyyy… Hey, sweets.. You’re up.”

Your eyes shot up, locking onto Daniela’s as she gave you a wink. Fuck, has Alcina already said my name? You took a look around, everyone in the room was completely still - Alcina’s eyes slightly amused as if she was fully aware of what had you so distracted. Yeah, totally wasn’t completely lost in the gay thought of you or anything. Internally rolling your eyes, you rose from your seat. The faded plush carpet still soft beneath your feet as you made your way down the length of the room. Rows of candlelight illuminating your every step. Alcina’s eyes boring into you - the tiniest smirk painted upon her perfect lips as she turned to face you - finishing her speech as she did. The sweet musk of her pheromones rolling over you in waves as she leaned down, pinning a flower much like her own to the lapel of your vest.

“Welcome home, my pet.” She whispered, making you shudder. “I’ll be back in my chambers in exactly ten minutes. It’d do you well to make quick work of your thank yous. I do not like to be kept waiting.”

You swallowed hard as she pulled away, silken cream accentuating her curves as she made her way back to the corridor - your brain glitching with each delicious sway of her hips. You wasted no time in making your way back through the room, only stopping to say a quick goodnight to the girls - each of them with a knowing look on their face. A fierce blush quickly moving in as Daniela gave you her own version of a thumbs up. Yeah, that thumb definitely isn’t hers. You moved through the long corridors of the castle as swiftly as possible - anticipation rolling over you like a fever dream. Every cell in your body alive - charged - eager to be completely overwhelmed by her presence. You rapped your fingers lightly against the thick wood of her bedroom door, only entering once you heard her answer - knowing there would be severe punishment if you didn’t - the lashes on your backside still fresh from the last time.

“Salutations, my pet.”

There was no amount of warning that would have sufficiently prepared you for the view you walked into. The body sprawled across the length of her bed - eyes glowing timbers as you made your way further into the room. The delicious landscape of her thighs ever so prevalent - damn near shimmering in the moonlight that danced it’s way through her bedroom window. Fuck, she’s a literal work of art.

“Good evening, my lady.” You replied, doing your best to sound composed.

She chuckled, giving you a wry smirk. “You seemed quite distracted during the ceremony, my pet. Care to tell me why?”

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry I missed my queue, my lady. It won’t happen again.”

“That is not what I asked, my pet. Don’t make me ask again.”

You swallowed hard, watching every muscle in her body flex slightly as she slowly shifted herself up from her spot on the bed, rising. The fine lace of her nightgown clinging deliciously to every supple curve. Her large frame - imposing - looming over you as you tried to find the proper words. She knew she was only making it harder for you to think, and she reveled in it. Her eyes growing darker while you fumbled to reply.

“I… well, I’m.. It’s just.. Fuck… you are quite distracting, my lady.”

“Oh, I’m aware, dear.” She chuckled. “Though, I will need you to do a better job at listening from now on. I will not be embarrassed in front of my family again. Next time, I may not be so … understanding. Are we clear?”

“Yes, my lady. My apologies.”

“Very good, my pet. Now, as much as I appreciate how nicely that outfit suits you.. I do believe you are a bit overdressed at this point, wouldn’t you agree?”

You gave her a nod - the amount of heat that spilled over you from nothing more than her tone was immediate - unrelenting - a wild fire of anticipation finding its way into every last crevice of your body. The chilled air of the castle becoming more soothing against your flushed skin with every piece of fabric that fell to the floor. Her pupils growing more dilated with each inch of your skin that becomes exposed to her. She was hungry for you - you could see it. It was the way she looked at all of her prey before she completely devoured them. The ways her eyes lingered from one curve to another, taking her time to truly appreciate the landscape of you. Your skin growing more flushed with each gaze that they gifted you. Her hips moving to some unheard melody as she began to close the distance between you - the sheerest of lace allowing you to see just enough of her to make your brain almost completely glitch out. Fuuuck.

“I seem to remember something about a specific kink of yours, my pet.”

“O-oh?”

“Something about being quite the fan of…. The larger things in life?”

“Oh…” Oh, fuck.

“Mhm… and as you may have noticed. There isn’t a single part on me that isn’t .. large.”

Alcina practically purred the last word - the cooled bricks of the castle walls a balm against your overly flushed skin as she continued to push you back. You swallowed, doing your best not give her any indication as to just how fucking wet you were.

“Ah… ahem… yes.. Yes, I may have noticed that.”

She laughed, her voice low and husky - filled with desire. “You are quite fetching when you’re flustered, my pet.”

“Erm.. “

Great, I’ll just be reduced to a chorus of random noises now, thanks.

“What a precious human you are. Maybe even my favorite pet thus far.”

“Mph.. fuck, my lady.”

Another chuckle as she leaned in even further. “And would my delicious pet enjoy it if their Lady.. indulged them in this kink of theirs?”

“.... Y-yes, my lady.”

“Good.” The utter firmness that one single word could muster almost making you short circuit. “Now then, if I were you, my pet. I would turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”

You gulped, this time loud enough for Alcina to hear - causing her to smirk. Her pupils dilated to a point where they threatened to swallow you whole. Nodding, you swiftly turned your body to face the wall, a hand on either side of you for support.

“Well, I do believe this may be my most favorite view of you yet.”

Fuuuck.

She allowed you to settle yourself into position before slowly moving in. “Safeword?”

“Heisenberg.”

The unguarded laugh that cut through the night air immediately made you smirk - the shadow of her silhouette flickering in the candlelight as her head fell back uninhibitedly.

“Oh, you are quite the humorous one, my pet… I do enjoy it.”

“Thank you, my lady.” You replied, blushing.

“Are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She leaned over - dropping down to your height - warm breath spilling over the back of you as she placed a large hand directly next to your own. You could only imagine just how delicious her hips must have been swayed in order to position herself in such a way. The feeling of her immense frame pressing ever so firmly into your backside as she breathed you in.

“And don’t think I can’t smell how wet you are, my pet… I know you’re dripping for me.” She said, dragging the tip of her tongue up the entire length of your neck. “I bet when I spread those tasty little human legs of yours, the juices will be damn near gushing... Won’t they?”

Error 404. Fuuuuuuu-

“Mmph.”

“Let me hear you, pet.”

You knew when Alcina dropped the ‘my’ that she meant business. “Fuck… yes.. they will be, Lady Dimitrescu.”

She chuckled in response. “Such a good pet”

You were certain you were about to burst into literal gay flames at any moment - every inch of your body covered in a deep crimson. Your breath hitching as the girth of one of Alina’s fingers began to trace it’s way up your inner thigh - stopping just shy of where you wanted it most - resting against your core. You whimpered in response, causing her to chuckle.

“What a needy little human. Are you so desperate to feel me?”

“I’m always desperate to feel you, my lady.”

You knew you had disarmed her, if even for a moment. Quiet as her finger slowly spread your lips apart - warm juices instantly coating it. The sheer size of it apparent as she slid it down the front of your core - allowing the tip of it to just barely slip inside. A soft whimper escaping from your mouth.

“Let’s see how many of these you can take, my pet, hm?”

“Y-yes, my lady. Please.”

“Oh, I do love it when you beg for me, dear.”

Before you could even think to respond - brat out, speak in any way - Alcina slid the length of her finger deep inside, immediately filling you. You whimpered again, grinding your hips down into her - desperate for more.

“Ah, ah… patience, my pet.”

“Yes, my lady. Sorry.”

An achingly slow pace, each teasing thrust only making you drip for her even more. The length of her frame looming over you, heat radiating over you in waves as she slowly slid the girth of her finger in and out of you. If just one of her fingers felt this good, you could only imagine how incredible another would feel.

“More... my lady.. please. “

“Such a delicious little pet.”

Low sweet tones, reverberating across your skin. A sharp inhale as the tip of the second finger pressed against you.

“Ready, my pet?”

“Mmph.. yes, my lady.. fuck.”

Slow and deliberate - a multitude of juices guiding her finger in as your core stretched around them - the second one just as thick as the first - causing you to immediately moan out for her. Body shuddering, eyes half lidded - your body a lightning bolt of pure need.

“Comfortable, dear?”

“Y-yes. my lady.. Very.”

Her pheromones overwhelming you as she leaned in, placing a firm bite to your shoulder. The warm sting of it cascading across your body. Her long tongue skating softly over it before she pulled away, kissing down your nape and shoulder blades. Another bite to your other shoulder as she thrust both fingers deep inside of you.

“Mmmph-!”

You were trying everything in your power to muffle your moans - but the steady pace of Alcina’s fingers were doing their best to quickly unravel you.

“Let me hear you, pet.” She said, punctuating her words with a firm thrust.

“Mmph… Fuck..”

Your forehead fell against the cool brick of the castle wall as you moaned - whimpered - screamed out for her. Warm juices dripping down your inner thighs as you bucked your hips down into the thickness of her fingers. You had never felt anything so good in your entire life - and yet, you still wanted more.

“Fuck… I… Alcina… more.. please.. “

“.... As you wish, my pet.”

A third finger, perfectly positioned - the tip of it, immediately shooting a lightning bolt of the most delicious pain straight through your body - pressing against your entrance. Fuck, she feels so good.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Even slower than with the second one, Alcina took her time guiding the third finger deep inside of you.

“Comfortable?”

“Mmph.. y-yes…” You tried to answer - the muscles in your body beginning to shake.

“Such a needy human you are… taking so much of me.”

“Mmph.. fuck.. Yes..”

“But you are doing so well, my pet.”

“Erm… fuck..” Fuck.

She took her time allowing your body to adjust to the mere size of her. Every inch of you flushed beyond measure as she started a slow and steady pace. A warm sting as you matched her rhythm - grinding down - taking as much of her as you possibly could. You had never felt so full - so complete - so utterly fulfilled by the simple act of three fingers. You bit your bottom lip, feeling the first tidal wave of pleasure as it started to crash over you. Her fingers becoming more relentless as she took you over the edge. The sheer size of her holding you in place. The amount of bites she gifted you - a trail of burning embers decorating your flushed skin. Her honeyed voice rolling over you, telling you just how fucking perfect you were. Taking her fingers down to the knuckle on each thrust - allowing her to fill you, over and over again. Waves of pleasure crashing again and again. Warm juices dripping down to your knees as her pace proved merciless - until you could barely breathe, barely think - your voice hoarse from screaming out her name. You could feel your body shudder as she finally began to level off - wondering how many orgasms she had just given you - and you hoped she didn’t ask. Alcina leaned down again, placing a soft kiss to your dewy skin - droplets of sweat painted over every inch of you as she slowly slid her fingers out of your throbbing core - causing you to shudder. It was a sound so satisfying that it almost instantly made you wet all over again. FUCK. Your body swiftly falling against the brick - relishing the coolness of it.

“That was absolutely exquisite, my pet. You will have to let me indulge you in that more often.”

“Mmmh.. any.. time.. my lady... “ You responded between breaths.

“... With a strap next time, perhaps. Would you like that?”

You turned - immediately locking your eyes onto hers as you mustered a smirk. “Very much, my lady.”

“Good. Now.. rest up, my pet The hour is late and I still expect to be properly tended to.”

“I would never leave my lady so unsatisfied.” You replied, breath finally steadying.

“I should expect not.”

“Actually… I’ve been thinking, my lady… have you… ever had your body worshiped? Properly?”

With nothing more than the smirk painted across her perfect lips, Alcina undid her nightgown in one fluid motion.

#lady dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #house dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #smut #tall vampire lady

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imaginetonyandbucky · 4 years

Text

The Buy In

Chapter 4: 404 File Not Found

by @dracusfyre

Over the next few weeks Bucky did start to get hints of Stark’s criminal operations, at least the ones that were easy to see: the illegal gambling dens, knockoff designer bags and sunglasses, the chop shops that picked up and moved every two weeks. This was the stuff that they already knew about, though, and so far Bucky hadn’t been able to directly link Stark to any of it. Learning that Stark had an accountant was the biggest break he’d had so far, but despite his best efforts he hadn’t gotten even the hint of a name. He was so lost in thought trying to figure out a way to get deeper into Stark’s organization that he didn’t even notice that KT had stopped walking until he was already several steps away.

“What’s up?” he asked and followed KT’s gaze to the park bench where someone was sleeping, an overflowing shopping cart pulled up next to them.

“Stay here,” KT said, and went over to the bench. As Bucky watched, he squatted next to the bench. He must have said something because the person startled awake and sat up, scooting away from him. Now that the person was sitting up, Bucky could see that it was an older woman, gray hair waving in the wind. KT remained crouched, hands up, still talking. He was there long enough that Bucky looked around for a place to sit, but before he could find a seat KT handed her something and walked away. KT had his phone out and was talking on it by the time he got back to where Bucky was waiting, so Bucky walked in silence until KT hung up.

“Who was that?” he asked as KT put his phone away, looking over his shoulder at where the old woman was pushing her cart somewhere else.

“Social worker,” KT answered. “Boss keeps one on retainer.”

“Retainer?”

“Yeah. She works for the city, but the Boss pays her extra to handle the cases he sends her way. Anna there,” he said, gesturing towards the old woman, “refused to go to the shelter so I told Ms. Walker to have someone come talk to her, see if they can get her some help.” Bucky managed to not roll his eyes, though he wanted to, but he must have made some kind of noise because KT looked up at him and said, “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said, but KT put a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop right there on the sidewalk.

“No, we’re going to talk about this. You’ve had an attitude whenever I talk about the Boss since you started, and I’m tired of it. Say what you want to say.”

“I just don’t get why you really believe all that stuff, about Tony Stark being in it for a little guy. ‘The mob boss with a heart of gold,’” Bucky said sarcastically. “I mean, a social worker? Really? Head start programs, scholarships, small business loans, the whole line about kicking out drug dealers - it’s all bullshit. He’s just got a hell of a PR team.”

“And there it is. I knew this was coming. You new guys are all the same.” KT gave him a scornful look. “Look, belief is for things that you don’t know are true, so no, I don’t believe all that stuff. I know it.” He took his jacket off and pulled up the sleeve on his left arm; the inside of his forearm and elbow were scarred with track marks. “My name wasn’t Kenton when I was born, it was Katie,” he said. “My parents let me stay until I was eighteen, then they kicked me out on my birthday. I spent two years on the streets, and I was one of the first people in that rehab center when it reopened. The sweet deal I mentioned that you get at the 90 day mark? It's a rent-controlled apartment and a job. With benefits, no less. Haven’t been back on the bullshit since, and now the Boss is paying for me to get a degree in social work.”

Bucky was stunned. “That’s insane,” he said as KT put his jacket back on. “I don’t…people aren’t like that in real life.”

“Yeah, that’s what they say,” KT said with a snort, and turned to keep walking. “But I think that assholes want you to think that everyone is an asshole deep down; that way you don’t get mad at them for being assholes. Because if people knew that there were good guys, like really good guys like the Boss, then no one would put up with the assholes anymore. You get me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said faintly. “It’s just…”

“I know. I had a hard time believing it, too. Kept waiting for the other shoe to fall, you know? Like, no one gives away this stuff for free. But then the Boss sat down with a bunch of us and explained the buy-in, and that’s what made me realize he was for real.”

“Is anyone ever going to explain what that means? The buy-in?”

“When you’re ready, the Boss will explain what it means.” As they walked, KT pointed out small things around the neighborhood that Bucky had noticed but not really paid much attention to: the walls covered with paint that Bucky had assumed was graffiti but was actually street art, commissioned from local high schoolers; sidewalks were power washed with no weeds in the cracks; the space between the sidewalk and the curb often had flowers rather than being a sad patch of dead dirt and litter. No broken windows, no broken street lights, playgrounds with new equipment. It wasn’t like it was suddenly a rich neighborhood, with boutique shops and craft breweries, but it was clean and safe and clearly cared for. Bucky went through the rest of the shift on autopilot, lost in thought.

That night, he couldn’t sleep for thinking about it, so finally he pulled out his computer. He hadn’t done demographic research like this since he’d studied sociology in college, but gradually the picture started to emerge. Census data, crime rates, education statistics, property values, employment rates – they all added up to a picture that was hard to argue with: there was a bubble of prosperity around the neighborhoods that Stark controlled, an effect that faded quickly beyond the de facto edge of his territory.

Bucky closed his laptop slowly and bit his lip. Some of the stuff he’d seen, like helping out the local businesses and the sex workers, could be explained as being good business sense. But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why a mob boss would care about high school graduation rates and early childhood education. He exhaled and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“A criminal philanthropist is still a criminal,” he said to his ceiling. “Right?”

***

As the weather grew cooler, Bucky realized had been working for Stark long enough to have developed something of a routine; he worked with KT during the week, but occasionally swapped out for one of Stark’s other patsani when KT was needed for something else, then on his days off he made his way to the library to make his report to his handlers. Despite what Stark had said about him being a cop when they first met, Stark seemed willing to let him stay on the streets; Bucky figured maybe it had been a test or his idea of a joke. But the sheer normalcy of the routine meant that, despite his best efforts, he had started to relax and let down his guard. He realized just how relaxed he had gotten when he showed up to meet KT for their daily rounds and Happy was there instead, leaning against one of Stark’s cars; his mind raced over the past few days as he felt a pulse of panic that he had screwed up somehow and his cover was blown. “What’s up, Happy?” Bucky said, steps slowing as his blood ran cold.

“New gig tonight,” he said, holding a car door open for Bucky. “You’re going to be the Boss’s bodyguard.” Bucky let out a silent breath and his shoulders relaxed as the spike of fear was replaced by a quick thrill of excitement. This was the opportunity he'd been looking for.

He shrugged carelessly as he got in the car. “Anything I should know?”

“Boss will tell you what you need to know.”

Happy took him back to the garage where he’d met Stark the first time, only this time instead of the grungy mechanic, Stark looked like the Tony Stark, the capital M Mechanic that Bucky had expected to see then. He was wearing a tailored Tom Ford three piece suit, charcoal grey over a crimson collared shirt, and his jaw was clean shaven except for his trademark Van Dyke beard. He was talking to a Black man with a military bearing, but when he saw them come in he gave them a blinding smile that made Bucky’s heart skip a beat. While Bucky tried to process that unexpected development Tony pushed his glasses to the top of his head and studied Bucky with eyes that were sparkling with humor, like he'd just heard a joke he was eager to share.

“Hey, copper,” he said as Bucky approached. “New job for you. I’ve got a black tie event to go to and I need someone to watch my back, so you’re going to be my plus one.”

"Not a cop," Bucky said automatically, then he heard the rest of Stark's sentence. “Wait, plus one? I’m your date?” he said before he could stop himself.

That surprised a laugh out of Stark. The curl of his smile got sultry and intimate, and he stepped closer to Bucky, who could only stare and swallow thickly, frozen in place. “Do you want to be, Blue Eyes?” he murmured, and Bucky got goosebumps as his voice got deep and smooth. The humor in Stark's eyes turned into flicker of interest as the moment stretched like hot taffy and a denial failed to manifest. Bucky bit his lip as Stark swayed closer, and his breath stalled in his lungs Stark’s gaze flicked down to his mouth and then back up. This close, he could tell that Stark was a few inches shorter than him; if he tilted his head down and Stark tilted his head up, they could be-

“Tony,” Stark’s friend said quellingly, breaking the tension. “Stop teasing the poor man.”

Stark inhaled sharply, as if he’d forgotten they weren’t alone, and took a step back. The glasses came back down over his eyes, and by the time he turned to face his friend, the laughing smile was back in place. “You should have seen his face, Rhodey,” he said, hands in his pockets as he strolled away. “I’ve never seen a person’s brain blue screen so thoroughly before. No, Blue Eyes, you’re not my date, you’re my bodyguard.”

Bucky blew out a breath, feeling shaky for some reason, and rewound the conversation. “Black tie event, you said?” Bucky looked down at his outfit, jeans and a Henley shirt, with his old military issue boots and a jean jacket.

Tony tilted his head towards the back of the garage, not meeting his eyes. “I got your fancy duds in the bathroom back there. And a razor, though I dig the manly stubble.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rhodey said as Blue Eyes closed the door to the bathroom to get changed.

“Of course,” Tony said, keeping his voice light despite the fact that his nerves were still vibrating like a plucked string. “First of all, it’s objectively hilarious and you know it. Second, photos from this event are going to be all over the internet and I don’t want you or Happy to get that kind of press.” He looked over to see that Rhodey was watching him skeptically. “What?”

“Don’t sleep with the undercover cop.”

“I won’t.”

“Uh huh.” Somehow Rhodey’s skeptical face got more skeptical. “I saw that moment. You guys had a moment.”

“I’m not going to sleep with the undercover cop,” Tony repeated dutifully, wishing Rhodey would drop it. Because there had been a moment, a breathtakingly arousing moment that had felt as fragile as spun glass and as powerful as a hurricane; at any other time with any other person Tony would have chased that moment, that feeling, but the reminder that Blue Eyes was a cop had soured it. Now Tony wished he had a drink to wash the taste of want from his mouth. “Is Happy bringing the car around?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

The pause before Rhodey answered made it clear that he knew what Tony was doing, but instead of calling him out on it he just said, “It’s already out front.”

After a few more minutes, Tony heard the doorknob to the bathroom turning and consciously plastered an easygoing look on his face as Blue Eyes came out. It was good that Tony had a legendary poker face, because seeing Blue Eyes in a fitted suit, clean-shaven with his slightly long hair brushed back from his face, would have broken a lesser bisexual. Shaving made him look ten years younger and drew attention to his full mouth, which was currently frowning in concentration as he tried to fasten his cufflinks one-handed. A rare sense of self-preservation kept Tony from offering to help; he stuffed his hands in his pockets against the urge to reach out and run his fingers along the sharp, smooth line of Blue Eyes’ jaw.

Rhodey must have seen something in Tony’s face or posture that gave away his thoughts, because he said, “Don’t sleep with-“

“Enough, Rhodey,” Tony said under his breath. “Ready, Blue Eyes?” he said more loudly, gesturing towards the door where Happy was waiting. Blue Eyes nodded and followed him, climbing into the front seat next to Happy while Tony sat in the back.

“So where are we going?” Blue Eyes asked, turning around in the seat to look at Tony.

The reminder immediately cheered Tony up. “The Policeman’s Ball,” he said with relish, and got to see Blue Eyes’ brain 404 error for the second time that night.

#tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron #no powers au

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hellhoundsprey · 4 years

Note

professor castiel likes his freshman student sam uncomfortably amount

By the time I realized how dark I could have gone with this I was already headed to fluff-town, so have some wholesome idiots ❤.

warnings: age difference, teacher student relationship, drunk sex

includes: college!au, professor!castiel, student!sam, mutual pining, error 404: no stereotypical top/bottom dynamics found, blow jobs, deep throating, face fucking, hair pulling, cas is a domestic soft old man, stanford era

“Wait, so—not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“That—wow.” Sam frowns adorably. Measures Cas with his eyes, and Cas hopes he’ll accredit the blush with the unholy small amount of vanilla coke in this cup of vodka.

“Is, is that—so weird? Am I weird?” he blabbers, the fool, and startles together with Sam as someone tackles the beer pong table behind them with the exact outcome you’d expect.

“It’s—I dunno, uncommon?” tries Sam, always so polite, even when obviously intoxicated. Could converse with pretty much everyone except his boring old professor; the pretty blonde making bedroom eyes at him since Cas can remember Sam sitting down with him, for example.

Cas shrugs, pointedly ‘cool’. “It’s just not my cup of tea.”

Sam considers, “Huh,” and takes another deep drink from his red cup. (Sam’s a freshman but Cas wouldn’t still get invited to his students’ house parties if he had any sort of problem with underage drinking.)

“It’s just,” Sam tries again, so puzzled that he cannot let the thought go, and Cas dream-sighs on the inside, chin in his hand and elbow on his knee, now. “Like—how can you not have watched a single one of them? Like, zero? Niente?”

“Pop culture just doesn’t sit well with me,” and Sam smiles—surrendering and pitying but it’s a smile, and Cas will take that without complaint.

“But it’s…Marvel, sir. That’s like—Disney.”

Cas takes another sip from his drink.

Sam’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“I—have watched Disney movies,” assures Castiel, hopeless idiot and academic, three doctorates. “The one with the—the dogs? I watched that one.”

Sam gives him the look that spells out how he doesn’t want to accuse Cas of lying but that Cas is making it pretty hard on him.

Sam lives on campus. Was supposed to be the designated driver tonight but his friends vanished early on, and he told Cas how difficult things are at the moment with his family and his scholarships and the new environment and so on and so on. Cas has heard it many times before. It’s a shame he can’t do much more than listen and give smart-assed advice from his privilege-built ivy tower.

Except for, y’know, “You can crash at my place. It’s safer than hitching an Iber at this hour.”

“Uber,” corrects Sam, and, “is, uh—I mean, are you sure? Is that okay?”

“Why, yes.” Cas frowns, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Oh, vodka. The devil’s juice.

It takes another five minutes of persuasion until Sam finally gives in.

As said: the devil’s juice.

Cas doesn’t have much family left to turn up their noses at his ‘undignified housing situation’. It’s a house and the roof barely leaks, so it clearly does its job (and he’ll get the roof fixed this fall, promise). It has a bathtub and an adorable built-in kitchen from the sixties. Castiel fell in love with it the second he found the listing.

He informs, “Here we are,” uselessly because it’s obvious, they’re taking their shoes off and everything. “Just put it with the others,” he helps upon Sam’s hesitant posture with his sneakers in his too-big hands.

God, they’re big hands, aren’t they?

Anyhow. “Are you hungry? I could go for a snack.”

Castiel is already at the fridge, grabbing whatever is nearest, as Sam catches up. “That’s—I’m okay, you really don’t have to…”

“Oh, be my guest. They pay me well, I can get more groceries if I want. Another fridge, if I want.” He closes the fridge door with a swivel of his hips and unloads the content in his arms over the kitchen counter. “Take a seat, why don’t you. There’s wine, too, if you want.”

Sam assures, “I’m good,” and plants himself at Castiel’s kitchen table.

Cas turns towards him, knife in hand. “Crust on or crust off?”

“Off,” mumbles the kid, and Cas can’t help but smile along with him.

The sandwiches are successfully put together and diminished within minutes. Sam definitely eats like someone who hasn’t had a decent meal in a while, and Cas has to hold back very hard not to urge him into seconds (or thirds).

As he already plucks the too-many pillows from his couch, Cas inquires, “Is this okay with you?” and Sam, of course, nods rapidly.

“Of course, yeah. Thank you, sir.”

“It’s ‘Cas’,” offers Cas, who doesn’t need to be reminded of his age or status this frequently.

If he wasn’t Sam’s professor…God.

Things could be different.

If he had become a librarian, maybe. He can’t think of many other places or occasions to otherwise run into Sam. Always studying, cramming; such a hard-working student. Cas sees himself—burying himself in books and thoughts. Everyone has their ways of escaping real life.

Cas doesn’t leave him without a spare toothbrush before he makes his way upstairs. Takes care of his bedtime hygiene (or, the shortened, drunken version of that) and falls into bed. Worms out of his pants, somehow, but that’s as far as things will go, and that’s okay. Not that he has a say in that.

Castiel falls asleep as soon as he closes his eyes.

“Mr. Novak.”

“Hm.”

“… Mr. Novak?”

Cas smacks his lips, turns his head to face the wall.

“… Cas?” and again, louder, “Cas?”

“Yes? I? Oh, lord.” Cas groans, rubs at his face. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” murmurs Sam, and Cas realizes it’s still night. “I’m sorry for waking you…”

Cas blabbers, “Is everything okay?” and, yeah, definitely still fucking drunk. Jesus.

Sam begins with, “I,” but can’t seem to find the rest of the sentence.

Cas’ eyes adjust to the spinning room, to the shadow-y figure of Sam Winchester sitting hunched over on the floor, right next to Cas’ bed. He looks upset, to say the least.

“Did something happen?”

“Just, a—a nightmare.” Pale, Sam tries a thin-lipped smile.

“Oh. Well—”

“I tipped the—the lamp? By the couch? It broke.”

Castiel supplies, “Ah,” and tries to remember what fucking lamp Sam means. Did he put a lamp there? He might have put a lamp there.

“I couldn’t find a dustpan or nothin’. There’s shards all over the carpet and—”

“Oh my, did you hurt yourself?”

“Just a—no,” corrects Sam, and not-so-subtly as his own intoxicated brain might be telling him he’s doing it pulls the too-long sleeve of his hoodie further over his hand.

It’s not a thought, it just happens. “Let me see,” and a reach, a grab—Sam’s hand, rough skin, the warmth of it.

Castiel holds on harder just because he does not (cannot) admit his foolish embarrassment.

Studies the (truly minor) cuts with a frown and decides, overly fatalistic: “Bathroom. Iodine. Bandaids.”

“It’s really nothing, sir…”

“Sam, do I have to drag you? Because I will.”

Sam’s mouth closes, presses thin in defeat.

The kid trots after Cas, who has yet to let go of that hand, and doesn’t take note of said fact until they’re already in the bathroom and he raises that treasure up to his eyes for medical purposes.

Huge hands indeed.

Beautiful, beautiful hands.

Cas clears his throat. It doesn’t help.

Sam stands awkward. Pulled his jeans back on or never took them off? Barefoot. Cas is still in socks.

And boxers.

Cas clears his throat again.

“You do this a lot?”

Cas contributes, “Huh?” and his eyes flicker from where he’s applying iodine up to those magnificent, now-hooded eyes—tired and swimming and god he’s probably so soft. Clearly huggable.

“You’re good at that,” adds Sam, the angel, the puppy, with his tiny mouth trying for another smile.

“I—well, I.” Have a messed-up family? Too many clumsy siblings? Helper syndrome? “Yes.”

The tiniest of chuckles. Cas’ stomach does things that probably would feel great if he hadn’t poisoned himself with this much vigor.

Sam tells him, “You’re great,” and Cas feels heat rising to his face.

The intense stench of iodine doesn’t help. “I’m just…a guy. Who owns too many books and knows too many things.”

“Exactly: great.”

Cas scoffs, helpless, eyes on his task at hand because otherwise he’d stare into Sam’s face until they inevitably make out for the next consecutive twenty-four hours. “I’m, I, there are much greater people out there. I’m just a—”

“Professor.”

Cas looks up, which is a mistake. Right into those eyes, which are too kind, too close. Wait, when did they get so close?

Cas manages a coarse, “Correct,” before Sam’s mouth overcomes the last (miniscule) distance.

Castiel hadn’t thought about how long it has been since he’d last been close with someone like this; the last time someone kissed him, the last time he kissed someone.

That someone’s hand cupped his face, or his hand touched someone else’s face. Held on, maybe breathing, maybe not.

Castiel presses their foreheads together; tips of noses squished as well and Sam makes the smallest of noises. Relief, maybe. God, he’s tall.

Cas hears, “I’m sorry,” before he kisses the kid again. And again.

It takes a while for him to be present enough to toss the tweezers and iodine-soaked cotton ball into the sink, and only does that because he requires two hands to get a hold of the kid like he needs to.

He’s somehow got Sam with his back to the door, breathing at least as heavy as him and his hair is too-soft, it shouldn’t be this soft, this easy to bury his fingers in and hold onto.

Sam sucks his own lip behind his teeth once Cas gives them a break and Cas is painfully, suddenly aware of what is happening, and what is going to happen, if Sam doesn’t—

“Tell me to stop.”

Cas is panting, horrified.

He repeats, “Tell me to stop, Samuel,” and Sam uses that opportunity to dive back for Cas’ mouth.

Cas has got a not-his-own hand down his boxers before he can even vocalize his request for the bedroom.

Feels so fucking out of it, surreal with that over-strong hand just holding on, twisting, so capable. He can barely walk.

They get Sam’s jeans off easy enough; the hoodie is more of a challenge and Cas makes a deep-stomach happy noise for the musk, the worn-out band tee hiding underneath—faded and thin and Sam’s very visibly hard nipples that he has to work his thumbs over, if only for the sliver of arousal in Sam’s face.

The fucking hunger. “Can I suck you off?”

“Uhm, whu—?” is all Cas gets to say, because Sam’s already dropped to his knees, already yanked Cas’ boxers down mid-thigh. More accurate, “Jesus Christ,” and hands back into that mop of hair and Sam’s already swallowed him down to the fucking base.

Holy mother of—

“God,” stammers Cas, knees dangerously weak and oh lord that throat, the fucking precision and casual perfection and he doesn’t have a say in how his hands force Sam’s head despite the obvious willingness; allow him to pull him in and grind deep.

It’s a mistake again to open his eyes and look down because Sam’s right there to meet him, eyes tearing up now but he doesn’t even gag; moves despite Cas’ brutal hold on him and tears at his own hair to bob his mouth up and down the length of Cas’ cock—cheeks sucked in, no teeth, not a hint of ’em.

“Oh God, Sam, wait, wait—”

And Sam does. Pulls off, hand wrung tight around the now-wet base of Cas’ dick and sounding a different kind of drunk; breathless, dark. “You okay?”

Cas half-laughs, “Better than okay,” and Sam’s perfect mouth pulls into a tiny, mean smirk.

“Gonna blow?”

“Yes, give me a second.”

“I can fuck your face if you want.”

“I—a-absolutely,” and Cas didn’t know they were so close to the bed that one harsh push of Sam’s arm would send him on it back-first.

The springs inside his mattress creak with the unfamiliar stab of Sam Winchester’s knees.

Above Castiel, the kid rids himself of his wonderful-smelling t-shirt, tosses it god-knows-where, and Cas already feels breathless.

Kinda accepts that this is reality, somehow, when Sam holds him down with the weight of his eyes alone, the practiced tug on his underwear that gets his dick out; strokes it once, twice.

Cas can hear how wet he is.

“Sorry,” ponders Sam, kneeing his way further up to straddle Cas’ face right, “It’s kinda big.”

Cas would say something along the lines of ‘oh, that’s fine’ or ‘you’re fine’ or ‘please, God, get it in me’, if he wasn’t so busy getting his mouth on that fucking beautiful cock.

Cut and huge and Cas’ jaw won’t open as far as it probably should, but judging by the way Sam groans and makes himself comfortable halfway down Cas’ fucking gullet, he doesn’t seem to mind it much.

Cas’ throat gets pounded all strict nearly immediately, and he can’t do much more than scramble his hands to hold onto Sam’s ass and figure out how to acquire any oxygen. Any, at all.

“Fuck, your throat,” and that shouldn’t sound loving, dreamy; not that rough around the edges, hissed through gritted teeth and there’s balls slapping Cas’ chin and it’s—so—good.

Cas has to spank Sam’s ass pretty hard for him to notice and give him a breather (literally). Lets him cough up and swallow back down the worst, make a slut-sound before Sam laughs, angles back in.

“You like it?”

Cas groans something resembling a, “Uh-huh,” around too many miles of cock, eyes closed and Sam’s nails digging into his scalp, tipping and tilting him like he needs, wants.

“Fucking love it, don’t you?”

Cas would nod. Somehow, he’s sure Sam gets it either way.

Cas’ forgotten dick drools over his happy trail. Still so fucking hard and Sam’s spit has dried all the way now and Cas wouldn’t dream to get a hand on himself if he can keep them on Sam’s tight little ass instead.

“Wanna come on your face.”

Cas makes a heart-broken noise.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Cas gets a chance to rasp his, “Yes,” and misses the fucking violence of that cock immediately, waits patiently and gulping for air for Sam to finish himself off.

Just a few strokes and there it goes; they both groan.

Cas feels more discomfort over how much he doesn’t care that it gets into his lashes, his nose, than the fact itself.

“Fuck, your eyes. Sorry.”

“First drawer,” and Cas is barely done saying that by the time there’s already a tissue wiping over his face.

Sam kisses him. Lets Cas lick the taste of his own cock over his tongue and growl-laughs.

“Where do you want it?”

“Want what?” chuckles Cas, halfway into cuddle mode with Sam’s comfortable lightweight on top of him, the gentle attention to his hair.

Sam fixes him with his drunk-dark gaze. Edges his thumbnail along Cas’ cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“My mouth?” and, Jesus Christ, “My ass?”

“Jesus—Christ, I—”

Sam inquires, “Condoms?” before Cas can shut him up with his mouth on Sam’s.

Can rake his fingers through the now-mess of all that hair, dwell in the light of all of this kid’s post-orgasmic bliss.

Sam laughs, “What?”

“You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

Sam laughs more.

“You’d really let me…?”

“Hell yeah. But no pressure.”

“I really liked what you did before.”

“Mouth, then?” and Cas smiles, nods, and Sam licks another wet kiss into his mouth before he crawls down the sweaty, crumpled mess that is Castiel still in today’s white dress-shirt.

“You do that a lot?” asks Cas, softly petting through that hair while Sam takes good care of him—mouths along the length, now, and it’s even better/worse than the spectacular deep-throating from earlier. Just tender and teasing.

It’s not gonna take a whole lot to get Cas there anyway, at this point.

“What, suck cock? I dunno.” A broad lap of tongue, a casual puckered suck on the frenulum. “Not lately, no.”

“You are magnificent. At it and in general,” and that earns him another humbled noise.

The pillow talk dies off in favor of Sam wrapping his lips around the crown of Cas’ cock. Of him swallowing the entire length, again, working him with muscles Cas is very sure couldn’t have been placed without this exact use in mind.

Cas’ hands hold on, don’t want or need to direct anymore. His hips counter-work him inside that wet-tight clutch and Sam doesn’t pull off once Cas warns him.

Just takes him and Cas has no other choice than emptying down that darling throat, groans and hitches his hips and eventually has to push at that forehead to dislodge the kid.

Explains, “Sensitive,” groggy and slurred and Sam just crawls back up and smothers him in kisses. Blankets him and Cas gets to put his arms around him, finally—the muscled, skinny width of that back, sweat-slick and rising-falling with his slowly calming breath.

Cas sighs, beyond contented.

He wakes to an elbow in his face, the hiss of his own pain.

Curses, “Jesus,” and Sam blinks awake to that, scrambles like he’s terrified until he apparently remembers where he is, who Cas is.

Rushes, “Shit,” and, “Sorry, you okay?” and yeah it hurts but the idea of a black eye doesn’t exactly faze Cas.

He’s had worse. “’M fine,” he promises, but lets Sam get up on one elbow, examine him for damage.

The focused, guilty frown. The precision of his fingers, searching, feathering over Cas’s skin.

Cas feels himself breaking into a smile. Sam scoffs, “What?” and allows to be nudged down for a kiss.

Gonna be day outside, soon. Birds begin to chirp. The dog collar of Mrs. Smith’ Pomeranian jingling from down the street.

Sam lies back down so they can cuddle up right. Lets Cas pet through his hair, try (and fail) to tuck it behind one of those darling, secret ears.

Inquires, with Cas’ pinkie learning the shapes of the beauty marks on the right corner of his chin, “You do this a lot?”

“Elaborate,” hums Cas, harboring desires to not leave this bed until either his kidneys fail or he has to go to work again on Monday. And how he might convince Sam to bear him company.

“Fuck your students?” and Cas laughs.

“’Not lately, no’,” he teases, but ultimately assures how, “No, Samuel. I don’t.”

“It’s pretty illegal,” muses Sam. “We’d get into so much trouble.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, all conspiracy. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Sam laughs in a tone of comfort that helps Cas forming the thought of how things are probably gonna be alright.

#hellhoundsprey #lemon #request #spn ficlet #sastiel #student teacher relationship #professor!castiel #student!sam #stanford era #Anonymous

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thexhostess · 4 years

Text

SLEEP NO MORE | Part 1

Follow this story via: #plot:snm405exr

Tagged: @sherlollydramoine

Rating: Fluff, Elliot x Fem. Reader

Words: 1055

Inspiration: In 405 ‘Method Not Allowed’ when Darlene and Elliot go to Virtual Realty they are on West 27th Street. From within the glass doors of Virtual Realty, you can see across to the opposite side of the street. This is the building ‘Sleep No More’ (at the McKittrick Hotel) is situated. So is Gallow Green rooftop bar. If you look closely the Gallow Green sign is visible. In 404 ‘Not Found’, Darlene is also here, standing opposite Virtual Realty at night recording a voicemail for Elliot, screaming at him. I was so happy they used this location, and I thought it would be fun for Darlene and Elliot to attend ‘Sleep No More’. It is essentially an interactive performance, like a theatre show but of a different format. I’ve been thinking of scenarios since I watched the episode, and have other ideas for the surrounding area of Chelsea. I have included a link Search Sleep No More NYC or McKittrick Hotel for the curious. So here is the first part. I hope you like it.

Turning left under the High line onto West 27th Street, he walked briskly alongside the expansive red brick building lining the street. His focused pace avoided pedestrians although there were few at this time, just 20:00pm. Darkness mixed with the glow of yellow street lights. The right side of Elliot’s face lit by the warm glow, just enough to catch his sharp jaw peeking from his hoodie. He slowed and stopped as he reached Darlene by the heavy matte black double doors to Gallow Green.

“So what’s this all about? You know I don’t like to go out,” he says.

“Relax, we need this.”

“If it gets too busy I’m bailing.”

“Listen, it’ll be fun. Everyone stays anonymous here, you don’t show your face.”

Looking hesitant he agrees. “Alright, lets see.”

The host doesn’t open doors until later, so they need to wait in line with the other guests. Darlene; twiddling her hair, smacking bubble gum and Elliot; slender frame in black skinny jeans. With folded arms Elliot leans one shoulder against the brick wall. A woman walks past them towards the back of the line. Elliot’s eyes flicker over her, glistening, sidelit by orange glow, defining their shape and brightening the colour from within. ‘Wow, she’s cute...’

The sound of the doors stirring as the host comes out distracts them.

“We’re all set, here’s your ticket. ” she says.

They shuffle towards the weighted doors and through the dimly lit hallway. Coming towards the front desk Darlene teases. “No phones allowed! Haha!”

They are each handed an ominous ghost like mask.

“See, the perfect way to try out an outing with your sis.”

Elliot smiles back and puts on his mask.

The next room is ambient and smoky, a bar lit by plumes of reddish lamps, their playing cards in hand. They don’t wait long until their cards are called. They both go into the lift together, piled with lots of other guests at the McKittrick Hotel, all strangers masked. Doors are opened and Darlene grabs Elliot’s hand pullling him forward.

She whispers “Alright! We split up now and see what we can find, meet you back at the bar later.”

“That’s a plan.”

Adjusting his mask back down he turns to take in the surroundings. It’s dark and lofty in there, a lot of spaces to explore. Elliot walks slowly examining each room contemplating letters, clippings and props.

On the cold cobblestone streets of the town I spot a female character scamper towards a door. Quickly following I move my hand to hold the door before it closes, and step into the room after the woman. It’s a bedroom with a vanity dresser, a loveseat and a wardrobe. Stopping suddenly, I look at the woman watching me as if I have just trespassed. Slowly holding her eyes to mine she gestures to me. ‘Come forward.’ I play along, walk to her, then stand still in wait. She tells me a rhyme and gets out a locket and key. She puts the locket around my neck and turns to unlock the wooden wardrobe doors.

“In here.”

Opening the doors wide she steps in and pulls me in by the arm. She begins to look increasingly panicked, closing the gap between the doors and looking out through the crack in anticipation of someone entering the room. This is her hiding place and she has taken me with her. She whispers to me about going back to Manderly and as the final sliver of light disappears and we are stood in claustrophobic darkness. The woman pushes me out through the back wall of the wardrobe suddenly! Before I know it, the scent of medical disinfectant hits me. I am met by the harsh light of an operating room and through the disorientation I spin out.

CLICK! Clack!

“I’m so sorry! “ Looking up I glimpse his eyes, they’re green from what I can tell. Widening the gap between me and him, I apologise. He’s in plain black jeans and hoodie. He raises his arms up as if to say “it’s fine.” I carry on through, still thinking about his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how he got there but it was a sort of medical room, the smell of chemical disinfectant punctuated the air and an eerie still silence added to the atmosphere. Elliot was glad Darlene brought him here. Something interesting for them both to do and at the same time no need for an evening full of social niceties.

Click! CLACK!

Elliot’s masked face clashes with another. It’s a young woman, in the outfit he recognised from the line. ‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...’ raising his arms to mimic his thoughts. She walks on and Elliot is slightly taken aback. He can’t help thinking it’s the woman he noticed outside. Through the small door and into the dim blue green light Elliot makes his way to a new space.

The ballroom is vast and dark, with hidden corners and balconies to nestle in. Elliot is slow and deliberate, he’s talking everything in trying not to miss details. Two characters slow dance together. Some masks wander in and out, and characters dance. Elliot draws closer to watch their next move.

‘Hold on, is that the guy?’ I’m thinking it’s him from earlier, it’s his same posture. ‘Maybe fortune does favour the bold.’ I start to move towards him. He can’t see me as his back is turned, he’s watching the couple dancing.

Elliot feels a brush on the back of his arm. He turns to see the young woman who bumped into him get his attention. He doesn’t say anything. She looks for his green eyes, and once confirmed, reaches out an arm to him holding her palm face up. She keeps her pose, nodding towards the dancing pair then looking back at him as an invitation to dance with her. Elliot slowly raises his arm and takes her hand. She draws closer to him, and looks at his eyes through the mask. It’s a lingering moment as Elliot’s mind is racing. She wisps her other arm over his shoulder and draws even closer up to him. “Your eyes are gorgeous.” She whispers to him, their masks almost touching.

#elliot alderson x reader #elliot x reader #mr robot fanfiction #mrrobot #mr robot fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #rami malek fanfiction #mrrobotfic #plot:snm405exr #sleepnomore

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halfblood-fiend · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019 - Day 20 with special guests: Day 19, Day 18 and Day 15

From The Fictober 2019 event <3

Prompt 20 : “You could talk about it, you know?”

Prompt 19 : “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Prompt 18 : “Secrets? I love secrets.”

Prompt 15 : “That’s what I’m talking about! ”

Fandom : Star Trek: Voyager, Skyrim

Words : 3,551

Warnings : light gore and mention of blood and body horror

Day 20, 19, 18, and 15 - Vorik x Modern!OC

With a loud whoosh the flames from my hands extinguished as the last vampire collapsed in a heap of ashen clothes. The cavern plunged into near-total darkness again save for the flickering torch on the stone floor that Vorik had been carrying until we were ambushed. One fairly short fight later showed them this coven never stood a chance. I shook out my still smoking hands and blew on them. “Damn, that will never get old. It's still so cool!”

“Technically, it would be hot,” my companion said dryly, nudging a set of black robes near the entrance with the toe of his boot. A dagger clinked onto the limestone and he bent to pick it up and inspect it.

I was already heading towards the line of cupboards and bookcases along one roughhewn wall to rummage through them. “‘Cool' is human vernacular, you know, for when things are—”

“Yes, I am familiar with the terminology.” I heard the clatter of metal from behind me. Dagger must not have been up to his standards, I thought with a smile.

“Oh, so you're just being facetious,” I laughed.

Vorik fixed me with a somewhat smug look. “Yes.”

“Jerk,” I said with a smile.

Returning to my grand work pulling out drawers, I had to marvel at the little details that didn’t exist when I would play Skyrim on my computer. Where before I would “Press A to open” things and get a list of goods inside, I now had to work at finding anything worth looking for. I pulled out a rough linen dress from the bottom drawer and shook it out. I was rewarded by a puff of dust and the clatter of lockpicks on the rocks. One thing was for sure. This certainly felt a lot more like stealing now that I had to dig through physical objects to take things.

I grabbed the little coin purse tucked in the corner and turned around to search for the lockpicks I’d inadvertently spilled all over the floor, but my friend was ahead of me.

As Vorik extended his hand to give me the lockpicks, I noticed a streak of dark green on the inside of his arm.

I gasped. “Vorik! Are you bleeding?”

Appearing to notice it for the first time, the Vulcan inspected his forearm, loosening his leather braces so he could pull the shirt back. There, standing out stark against his pale yellow skin, thick dark green blood oozed out of two long jagged claw-like nicks. “Curious,” he murmured. “Are the safeties off?”

“They shouldn't be,” I replied slowly. “Computer? Status of holodeck safety protocols, please.”

An acknowledgment beep sounded in bizarre contrast to our surroundings from somewhere in the depths of the limestone vampire den. Then the robotic voice answered, “Holodeck Safety Protocols are still in effect.”

“Okay, thank you.”

We looked at each other.

“This wound is not real, then.”

“Looks pretty real,” I said doubtfully, reaching out to take his arm. But I stopped short and kept my hands to myself. “Does it feel real?”

Vorik glanced at me through his eyelashes. “Perhaps you should look away.”

“Why?”

“You're squeamish,” he said as though it should have been obvious.

I shrugged. “Whatever. It's not my blood.”

His eyebrow rose but he didn't say anything else before he grabbed his wrist with his other hand and squeezed. More blood seeped from the wounds running in long drips down his arm. A little gush shot into the air.

He was right. I should have turned away.

“What the fu—Oh, gross,” I choked before I clamped my mouth shut and spun around so my lunch wouldn't come up next. Even though on some level, I knew that our bodies acted differently despite looking very similar on the surface, I still wasn’t prepared for that. I don’t think I would ever have been prepared for blood spurts. My stomach churned.

“It does feel real,” I heard him say, his tone completely indifferent, “and it is acting real as well.”

“Well jus—ggkkh. Stop playing with it and just take care of it, will you?”

Unable to stand there without imagining more blood spurting from his arm, I wandered away towards the mouth of the cavern. It opened up into a long, steep passageway that led outside. It would take some time to walk but I knew that’s where it went. So whether the air was actually cooler or better circulated, or I just imagined it was, being at the passage helped clear the dizziness somewhat. I certainly felt less like I would pass out, leaning against the rocky wall.

After a few minutes, Vorik joined me, his mouth turned in that slight secretive sort of smile that always killed me. “I did warn you to look away.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just so you know, we should find an herbalist or an apothecary as soon as we get back into town. You should have a Potion of Cure Disease on hand.” He looked over at me quizzically, so I clarified: “In case you get vampirism.”

This time my companion scoffed. “I cannot contract vampirism. I'm Vulcan.”

“What's that got to do with anything?” I laughed. “You think you're immune? Why? Because your blood is green or because your ears are already pointy? You were nicked with a vampire's claws, which means you can contract vampirism. Those are the rules of Skyrim set down by our lord and savior, Todd Howard.”

I felt more than I saw his eye roll. Together we ventured back into the gloom of the hallway. The torch in Vorik’s hand cast leaping shadows over the jagged limestone walls as we made out ascent.

“I am certain I cannot contract vampirism. This program was not made for my kind, the default avatar setting is human. And vampires can only be human, as they are human legends.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Sounds an awful lot like more speculation than a logical assumption, my dude. You don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want to, but you’d better stay away from my neck!”

***

“Computer, end program,” Vorik said into the air. No sooner had the acknowledgment sounded than the world shimmered and disappeared around us. My house in Riften was replaced by the reflective metal and crosshatching, bonelike metal bars of the holodeck. Vorik’s armor and most of my own, with the exception of Gilmorrak and my belt, disappeared, replaced by our civilian clothes.

“Hey, how’s your arm, by the way?”

He unbuttoned the clasp at the cuff and rolled up the sleeve of his grey tunic. He twisted his forearm left and right for me to see. There was no trace of any blood now. No evidence that he’d been harmed at all.

“Evidently it was part of the holodeck program.”

I shook my head. “That’s weird though because I’ve been straight up stabbed and shot with arrows until I looked like a pin cushion and I still never bled. It’s got to be a vital part of the programming, dude.”

“It is strange,” he agreed, “but it shouldn’t be of any concern. The wound is gone now. It was likely an oversight on the part of Mr. Kim or Mr. Paris. Perhaps something about translating such an ancient game to the holodeck.”

I ignored his jab at Skyrim and flashed him a smile. “Unless you become a vampire in the next couple of days,” I said.

“I will not become a vampire.”

I shook my head at him and sighed as he led me towards the door. I was always a little sad to leave Skyrim, or any of the holodeck programs, honestly, but my crewmates needed time to play. If I didn’t have that pang of guilt and unfairness hanging over my head, I would be way too content to stay on a holodeck forever. It always astounded me while watching the show: How could these people have this technology and not want to be there all their lives?

“Can a person live in a holodeck program?” I asked as we exited. I recognized the next two eager adventurers as Ensigns from security, so I waved while Vorik nodded to them.

“No, so you should never try it,” Vorik said, catching on easily to my line of thought. He did that a lot. I guess I was just a simple sort of creature. “Most holodeck programs are not equipped for sustained use,” he went on, “You would drain the reactors quickly. And while some holodecks utilize food replicators, like our own, this is not true for each one. Non-starship decks tend to use lower grade protein synthesizers since holographic meals are not meant to be the staple of one’s diet. These would have negligible nutritional value and you would eventually waste away.”

“You’re a spoilsport.”

“And you would kill yourself chasing fantasy as a coping mechanism. Problems, even your emotional ones, should be faced head on. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

I stopped dead in the hallway and gaped at him. Vorik had continued several paces before he realized I was no longer beside him. He looked around expectantly, his hands clasped behind him, but my brain had 404-ed.

“Did you just…?” A smile crept onto my face. “Did you just… quote Albus mcfreakin’ Dumbledore at me?”

Vorik stared at me blankly.

“You did, didn’t you? You thought I wouldn’t catch it, but you did! You read it??”

Vorik’s eyes closed for a half a second longer than normal as he took a deep breath. His gaze cast downward for a moment as if resigning himself before he looked at me again. “Yes, I did—”

I rushed him and grabbed him by the arms, grinning from ear to ear now. “You did? You did! Ohmygosh! You have to tell me what you think. What part are you at? How far have you gotten? Were you planning on reading through all of them or were you just trying out the first one? Are you finished with it? Please—ohmygod—tell me everything!”

Appearing both bemused and like he had just realized he’d made a horrible mistake, my Vulcan friend led me towards the mess hall, succinctly answering my questions as rapidly as I fired them off.

***

“You don’t look too good,” I told Vorik as I set my bowl of spaghetti down at our table in the corner of the mess several days later. It was quiet, halfway between a midshift, and the hall was all but empty save for a handful of people and one Vulcan with his head in his hands.

At my voice, he sat up straight and blinked whatever it was bothering him away. “I am fine.”

“You look pale. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Fork in hand, he started picking at his food. “I just need to meditate,” he mumbled.

I nodded and spun my own fork in my noodles idly for a few heartbeats. But like so many somewhat intrusive thoughts, I couldn’t keep it in my brain, and I opened my mouth to say conspiratorially, “Unless.”

“Giana,” Vorik warned, closing his eyes.

“Is the vampirism making you peakish?”

“I am not a vampire.”

“Sounds exactly like the sort of thing a vampire would say,” I replied, jutting out my lip in a face of disbelief. “But seriously, you could talk about it, you know. The actual thing that’s bothering you, I mean, not your unfortunate illness.”

Vorik rolled his eyes at me and continued to push his food around his tray. Even that he gave up after a few moments with a sigh and a shake of his head. “I haven’t been able to sleep. Or allocate the proper time to meditate. I keep going over our run-in with mining colony virus. There has to be something else we could have done, without leaving the captain to take care of herself.”

I barely suppressed a shudder at the mention of the nasty bugs that solidified my now-very-rational fear of anything insect-like. Doing what I did best, I covered it with humor. “Are you not sleeping at night because your new lifestyle requires you to sleep during the day?” He opened his mouth like he was going to chastise me, so I quickly added, “Captains are supposed to be able to take care of things themselves, that’s why they’re captains. Besides, there wasn’t anything else you could have done. We all did our best! We didn’t know we were being attacked. I can’t believe I, of all people, have to tell you this, but agonizing over it isn’t logical.”

“Perhaps not. But analyzing a situation where I believe my abilities to have failed me for the purposes of self-reflection and to ensure it does not happen again, is.”

I waved my fork around and shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I’m mad at myself too for forgetting that stupid episode happened. Must’ve blocked it out. Those things were so nasty. And I bet if we weren’t all so caught off guard maybe we woulda thought of the holodeck trick too. I dunno, just be glad the captain came back when she did and don’t lose your head over it. I don’t want you to spiral out of control with your analysis, my dude.”

“I will not. I am not you.”

“Ouch.”

A new person joined us at the table. Their tray clattered next to mine and I turned to find Harry grinning at me. Instantly, I beamed back. His smile was always so infectious.

“Hey guys. What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Nothing,” Vorik said.

“It’s a secret.” I said over him.

“Secrets?” chimed a new voice, “I love secrets.” Tom sat on Harry’s other side and almost immediately began shoveling his mashed potatoes into his mouth as soon as his tray was down. “Do tell.”

“There is nothing going on,” Vorik repeated, his voice a little tighter. “There are no secrets. Giana is being impossible.”

“Vorik is turning into a vampire!” I said in a rush. Vorik folded his hands in front of his face and fixed me with a Vulcan’s closest approximation to a glare. I smiled and nudged his boot under the table with my own. He didn’t respond.

Harry, however, did. He lowered his spoon from his face, looking stricken, and fixed me with a very serious look. “Giana! We…we don’t say things like that around here…”

What?

My eyes widened as I realized what he was trying to say. “Oh! No! Just ‘cause the- skin and th-the pointy— No, nonononono. We were playing Skyrim together the other day and he was scratched by a vampire’s claws so I’ve been teasing him, that’s all! It’s not—no!”

Finally, Vorik looked satisfied and returned my kick under the table. Then it was my turn to glare at him.

“Oh. Good,” Harry sighed, clearly relieved he was spared a lesson in microaggressions, “I was going to say… I’d be surprised if that’s what it was coming from you.”

I ate my spaghetti in silence, hoping Vorik never thought that’s what I ever meant. Maybe I was laying it on a bit too thick, bringing up his vampire-hood every so often over the last couple of days. I really did just think I was being funny, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I was just being a huge asshole.

“So you were hit by a vampire, huh?” Tom asked, bringing the conversation back. “Harry and I cleared out a den by Morthal for the Thaneship not too long ago. Harry wants to build the house.”

“I just think it’ll be better than all the pre-built ones!”

“Anyway, he had to chug two Potions of Cure Disease. He caught vampirism one right after the other.” Tom laughed and wolfed down the last of his steamed vegetables. “You end up bleeding?”

Vorik arched an eyebrow and glanced at me before warily answering, “Yes.”

Tom pulled an apologetic face. “Mmm, yup. You’re a vampire now.”

“Yes! I knew it!”

“But I am Vulcan,” Vorik said over me, “How can I become a vampire from Human folklore?”

Tom shrugged. “It’s all in the coding. It’s not that you’ll become human or anything, it’s just that the aspects of vampirism will be overlaid onto your Skyrim avatar and all the buffs and debuffs will apply. Think of it like a…a filter. A vampire filter.”

“See, no that’s what I was talking about; it had a purpose. Tom had to reinterpret the original game. Making you appear to bleed was probably just the indication that you caught something, otherwise, you’d never know because we don’t really have a convenient way to check our status. And you said it was probably nothing. Everything has a reason.”

Tom nodded.

I slurped the rest of my spagetti from the bowl and pushed it aside. “You ready to go back and get cured?” I asked Vorik. I wanted to get him alone again, maybe to keep talking to him about the virus or maybe make sure he didn’t think I was being rude. But I couldn’t keep one more from coming out. “The sooner you’re cured, the sooner the UV lights will stop burning your skin.”

“Will your vampire jokes cease when I am cured?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, probably.”

“Then absolutely.”

***

The holodeck hummed to life and the blank room started being filled with materializing objects. Vorik fidgeted with his sleeve and sure enough, once the front room of our Riften house came into focus, the bandage seeping dark green blood reappeared as well. Hopefully taking care of the vampirism would take care of the uncanny wound that was not really a wound as well.

“First thing’s first. Let’s find an apothecar—eee!” As soon as he looked at me, I recoiled back. “Vorik…your eyes…”

He barely looked like himself in the torchlight. His face was sunken and shadowed and his dark eyes had been nearly swallowed by blackness from the irises out through the whites of his eyes. Black vein-like lines spread from his sunken sockets like a sickness, reaching towards his cheekbones in a spiderweb of tendrils. I could see now how vampires could be considered completely terrifying.

“Holy shit, dude.” I reached up and grazed the side of his face with fingertips, still looking in wonder at the vampiric effects that Tom and Harry had engineered. With a horrified realization it hit me that, yes, this is what a monstrous vampire should look like to an everyday person and I understood all the horror stories.

Vorik stiffened slightly as the pads of my fingers swept his temple and with a jolt in my stomach, I realized what I was doing and pulled my hand away.

“Do… Do you feel different? You look way different. How did I not notice this before??”

“It was dark the last time we played,” Vorik answered. He strode to the washbasin and peered into the spotted mirror above it. He prodded his skin and turned his head from side to side, admiring the reflection. “The detail is rather astounding, and the effect is…unsettling.”

“You can say that again. I very suddenly don’t want to be a vampire anymore myself.”

“I do not feel different,” Vorik continued as though he were observing the results of a particularly interesting experiment. “Perhaps because the sickness hasn’t been given time to spread?”

“Or just because you aren’t in the sun yet.”

“Fascinating.”

‘Fascinating’ though it might have been, I really wanted to get him taken care of. Though I didn’t remember Skyrim vampires looking like this (so maybe the blackness around his eyes wouldn’t stay) he was starting to creep me out just being in the same room. The effect it had on me when it wasn’t just pixels, when it was suddenly someone I knew, didn’t sit right in my brain. Not to mention that I would probably be really disturbed if I had to watch him feed off NPCs to keep his powers up.

Speaking of, I wondered if this meant that joining The Companions was out of the question for me now. If vampires looked this strange, imagine what if would feel like to be a werewolf. I shivered at the thought of my skin splitting and actually sprouting hair all over my body.

Nasty.

“Sooo…” I began in a nonchalant voice, wandering to the table and picking up an apple from a wooden bowl. “Is there something you wanna say to me, maybe?”

Vorik turned the full force of his unnerving face on me and I had to physically stop myself from recoiling by clutching the back of a chair.

He sighed. “Yes, yes. I admit it. You were right. I am a vampire.”

For the first time, I noticed as he spoke that the teeth that would have been his canines if he were a primate were far longer and sharper than they had been before. “Oh shit, you’re growing fangs too, dog. Yeah, let’s get you fixed up before you start thirsting for my blood.”

His expression as I darted out the door told me that, at this moment, he didn’t need to thirst after my blood in order to want to rip my head off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If anyone actually made it all the way down here, gosh, I love you and you’re great and I appreciate you and I hope you enjoyed my nonsense.

#fictober19 #Star Trek: Voyager #Skyrim #Ensign Vorik #Vorik #Harry Kim #Tom Paris #Giana Moreno #OTP: Two Worlds Collided #Star Trek #Voy #Vorik x Giana #what can I say? just friends being friends #and I really wanted the vampires to be scarier so #idk #I'm also still not convinced this isn't garbage but whatever #I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ANYWAY #IF YOU READ IT THAT IS #Fiend writes

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thechocoboos · 5 years

Note

I just found your blog and it's AMAZING. If it's not too lame, is it possible to get a scenario where the Bros catch you wearing glasses for the first time?

Ot4/Reader, The Bros Seeing Reads with Glasses for the First Time

The bros didn’t realize that you had glasses, in fact, they didn’t even realize that you had contacts, either. The only one who knew you didn’t have perfect 20/20 vision was Ignis, and even then, he had never seen you with your glasses.

It was a rather odd thing, especially as you had been dating them for quite a while now. However, one day, they did find out about your glasses, as you had lost a contact by accident and knew you could either be blind for a week or brave your god awful glasses for a week.

So, when you arrived at Noctis’ place for a date night with your wonderful boyfriends, they were admittedly taken aback. You were quick to let yourself in Noctis’ apartment, and it was Prompto who first saw you.

He ran over to the door, quick to wrap you up in his arms and start peppering your face with little kisses. “Babeeee, I missed you–huh?” He stopped, blinking as he looked at you. There had been something that stopped him from placing kisses all over your face, and when he looked, he was surprised to see a pair of glasses perched on top of your cute nose.

There was a pause. Error 404; Prompto not found.

“Prom, babe, you okay?” You chuckled, letting your hands graze his arms.

“You–have glasses?” He choked, his cornflower blue eyes wide as he began to blush.

You chuckled nervously, “Uh, yeah, I lost my contacts but… uh, this is okay, right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“YES–yeah, uh yeah, of course! You look so fricken CUTE!” He beamed, wanting to kiss you all over again. It just so happened that glasses were one of his weaknesses, and seeing them on you made you that much cuter.

“Hey, Prom, don’t hog them–oh,” Noctis entered the hall, he smirked as he saw the glasses perched on your nose. “Nice. Didn’t realize you had glasses.” He said, strolling on up to you.

Prompto was practically buzzing with energy. “Don’t they look cute?”

“Yeah, they do.” Noctis answered, smirking at you. “Hey, could I see your glasses for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah?” You looked a little confused as you handed them to him.

Noctis grinned, putting them on his own nose. “Oh, wow.” He chuckled, “Babe, I love you, but you’re kind of blind.” He said, a teasing smile on his lips.. You swore that Prompto grew heart eyes. Poor baby couldn’t handle you in glasses, let alone Noctis in them.

You rolled your eyes at Noct, “And you’re a dork. Can I have them back now? I can’t see a damn thing.”

“Sure, just one sec–how many fingers am I holding up?”

“You’re holding up two fingers, but nice try. That isn’t how it works, dumbass.”

Noct smiled, shrugging. “Worth a shot.” He said, carefully placing your glasses back on your face before giving you a small peck. “There, back where they belong: right on your perfect nose.”

Oh Astrals, he was flirty tonight. The blush that rushed to your cheeks was very noticeable and Noctis didn’t miss it as he smirked. “C’mon, Iggs said dinner would be ready soon,” Noctis finally said, one hand trailing down your arm to tug you along as his other hand already started pulling Prompto with you.

Gladio was laying on Noctis’ couch, taking up the entire thing as always while he read a book that you gave him for his birthday. He glanced up as you entered the room, catching your eye.

“Hey, babe.” Gladio smiled, his eyes noticeably taking in your glasses. He set his book aside as you gently pulled your hand from Noct’s.

“Hey, yourself.” You slid into his waiting arms as he sat up. Noctis and Prompto were quick to slide into their own armchair, the two of them losing themselves in each other’s soft words and warm touches.

“Trying out a new look?” He asked, his hands resting on your waist and thumbs gently moving in circles. You draped your arms around his neck, gently playing with the ends of his hair.

“Old look, actually,” You said, smiling, “Lost my contacts.”

He hummed, saying nothing as you two merely stared at each other, his hands warm and heavy on your waist, his gaze loving and captivating. There was a soft smile on his lips–lips that seemed to be begging you to kiss them.

“Gladio, if you keep staring at me like this, I’m going to fall apart,” You told him, your stomach doing flips. He paused slightly, before continuing to rub gently circles into your sides. His touch was still so distracting.

He smirked, letting out a brief huff of amusement. “What? Like you don’t do the same to me?”

This man. You swear to the Astrals… You couldn’t take it anymore, leaning forward and resting your head on his chest to get away from his beautifully captivating gaze.. “Gladdy, you’re going to be the death of me.” You stated, sighing.

You felt him chuckle, the rumbling in his chest so close to your ear. “I know, babe.” He said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. “If it’s any consolation, you pull the look off well.”

Oh gods, you almost didn’t want to know. “… What look?”

“That hot librarian look.”

“Gladio.”

He chuckled again, resting his arm over you as he leaned over to pick his book back up. “Take a nap, babe. Food should be ready soon.”

You shook your head, “No, I think I’ll go help Iggy,” You said, gently sitting up. “I promised him I’d try and help him cook anyways.”

Gladio shrugged, nodding. “Alright,” He said, letting you go, “And babe?”

“Hmm?”

He was quick to gently pull you back down, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle, slow kiss. He pulled away with a satisfied smile, nodding for you to go join Iggy. “Pass that message on, too.”

You rolled your eyes, passing Noct and Prompto with a small smile as the two both grinned at you before going back to their own kisses.

“Hey, Iggy, need any help?”

His back was to you, stirring a pot of sauce on the stove. “Actually, yes, could you grab the oregano from the cupboard, darling?”

“Sure thing.”

You were quick to pull the spice out, leaning against the counter next to Ignis. “Need anything else?”

“Not at the moment, n–” He cut himself off, having turned his head to finally look at you. Oh. Oh shit.

There wasn’t a lot of things that Ignis could say was something he actually found cute, but it just so happens, that glasses were one of them. He cleared his throat, “Thank you, darling.”

You replied with a smile, beaming at him before you both relaxed into a comfortable silence.

“I take it something happened to your contact lenses?” Ignis asked offhandedly, stirring away at the pot.

You nodded, “Yeah, lost ‘em. I’m gonna have to order more, but in the meantime…” You gestured to the frames perched on your nose.

He smiled slightly, “Well, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” He said, his eyes flickering to yours.

You looked at him, slightly surprised. “Damn, Iggy, if I had known you guys would all like them this much, I might’ve lost them earlier.” You joked, crossing your arms.

Ignis chuckled, “Careful, don’t give anyone any ideas,” He said, turning off the heat and moving the pan to a cool burner before turning to you. He raised one hand to gently tilt your chin up, the other resting on your hip as he stepped closer. “Misplacing them might sound like a fine idea before too long.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh really, Ignis?”

“Mmhm.” He smirked, leaning down.

Your eyes slid shut, lips just barely touching–”Oof–” You and Ignis jolted back, glasses askew.

Laughing slightly, you tried to fix them, your glasses having collided with his. “Well, I bet misplacing my contacts doesn’t sound so great now, does it?” You asked, just as the others entered the kitchen, Gladio with one arm around Prom and one around Noct.

Ignis chuckled, smiling at you, “No, I must admit it doesn’t.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Prompto announced, “But Iggy’s gonna have to lose his glasses, too.”

“What–”

Noctis cut Ignis off just as Prompto wrapped his arms around you. “Prom’s right, Specs,” He smirked, “I think 20 years with glasses is enough, meanwhile, we’ve only had one day with them and their glasses.” He said as he tilted his head towards you, walking around to wrap an arm around your waist. His eyes met yours as he smirked.

You were blushing by now, trapped by both Noctis and Prompto as they held you between them. Gladio grinned as he wrapped an arm around Ignis’ waist, “Three against one, babe,” He told Ignis, smirking. “Lose the glasses.”

Ignis shook his head, amused. “Perhaps one day. In the meantime, let’s just enjoy our dinner, shall we?”

“Sure thing,” Gladio chuckled, pressing his lips against Ignis’ as Noctis gave you a sweet peck, Prompto dipping in to steal a kiss of his own from you not a moment later.

You were sure that the kisses would never end if it wasn’t for Ignis’ admittedly reluctant announcement that dinner was getting cold. Still, you kept in mind what your glasses did to them, especially as Noctis nudged your glasses with a teasing little wink.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #ffxv gladio #ffxv ignis #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladio amiticia #ignis scientia #final fantasy

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chiclet-go-boom · 4 years

Text

fracture 10: control

(a piece of fanfic stating my personal take on #404 Ben Solo Not Found)

The stars are everywhere.

He sprawls on his master’s throne, the glass pressed to his temple, and fills himself with it.

They’ve been holding for cycles in dark space, far away from any planetary systems which is unusual enough. These ships are weapons and if they are not pointed at something or someone then they are not serving their purpose. Hiding in the deep emptiness is not something the First Order does as a rule.

Still, there are always necessary calibrations, both mechanical and political and in this case cautionary. For the moment Hux is in command of where and how they are realigning and he has no agenda other than spite to cause a shift in their plans. Better they are here than anywhere else. Soon enough he needs to be a few hundred parsecs away but that is then and this is now.

Three days ago he released the remaining Knights to their tasks. Three nights and he needs to drown this however he can.

There is no red here anymore, only black. Black unto infinity everywhere he looks with the pinpricks of lights in their tens of millions to carpet it like diamonds. The viewport windows arcing high overhead give the near complete illusion that he’s sitting under a night sky. He has the nearly empty bottle of whiskey after all, the fracture of his heart and the solitude to make it real. It’s only missing the cool breeze and the ability to trip over a clump of grass down a cliff by mistake.

He closes his outward eyes to open the inner ones.

So much life. He can’t hold it all, even if he wanted to. So much death. Unravelling and combining, falling apart and coming together again over and over and over, relentlessly. He reaches further and further, inhaling as much as he can to burn through muscle, through bone. All precious. All irrelevant.

Kylo tilts his head back against the throne and lets it wash through him, both saturation and goad. Both of his masters were skilled, their knowledge chasms deep in their respective arts. Both wanted desperately to have him be something, do something for them and yet here he is; neither jedi nor sith, neither apprentice nor master, caught still it seems between the things he wants and the things he can’t be permitted to have.

It feels like his veins are incandescent. He can feel the ship around him as if it is alive, because it is. He could tear it apart from here and he wants to so badly. Hux would probably not approve.

The potential of his bloodline indeed. Everytime he looks, he sees more. And every time he looks, he hates what he learns.

He opens his eyes just in time to feel the shunt as the gears grind, lock and everything shudders to a stop.

“You really need to not be here,” he says after a moment.

“As if we ever have a choice,” she replies. It’s only a little bitter - she’d like it to be his fault, he’s sure. She keeps her head down as she twists her hair, working with jerky motions. There’s light wherever she is, gracing her skin into flickers of gold, touching pale fingers to the column of her neck. A tremble of unwilling sunshine in the center of his stars and he’d laugh if there was anything amusing about it.

He watches because there’s no reason he shouldn’t. What he wants and can’t be permitted to have. At least she’s still alive.

She’s stubborn today. She pulls on her boots, tiny clicks against the floor as she settles into them. Snags a dark cloth belt from nowhere to wind around herself, tucking the loose fabric tight against her waist, knotting it there to fall away against her leg. She turns, cutting him off to shrug into a hooded cloak, working clever fingers at one shoulder clasp then the other to seat it right. Lightweight, meant for showers, not storms. And it’s only when she’s clothed, armored, ready to face whatever is happening to her world that she finally consents to look at him.

She freezes. Her fine eyebrows knit together as she stares which is very strange. She’s shot at him, yelled at him, ignored him, stomped away from him more than once, even cried at him but she’s never just stood there with that arrested expression before. He’s not sure what it is but it’s at least different. He tilts his head.

She blows out a breath. “Ren?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

That’s worth a smile so he gives her one. “Touch me and find out.”

She doesn’t smile back and she doesn’t step any closer. “Where are you?” she asks after a moment.

“One of Snoke’s throne rooms. My throne room now, I suppose.” He watches the unseen light catch in her eyes, curious if she’ll step into shadow at some point. She has to be inside but whatever window she’s near must be large. Planetside for sure. Temperate enough to have windows facing out, for the clothing she’s wearing. Not that that narrows down the options. “I had all the curtains torn down. I think you’d like it.”

“You’re drinking.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing, Ren?”

“Taking a calculated risk,” he replies. “You?”

“Getting ready to go out and… do things.”

“Ah, yes. Things. Important Resistance things, I’m sure.”

Her nostrils flare. “I do what I can.”

He shrugs, fervently hoping the link will cut out. There’s still liquid in his glass and it sloshes at the tiny motion, so he sits up and inhales the last of that as well. The burn is muted now but still warm enough for all that and he appreciates it for doing what little it can. He carefully puts it down on the arm. Translucent, it nearly disappears into the black.

He wonders how he looks to her. He’s discarded his outer armor but he’s always in black; boots, pants, shirt, clasp open at the shoulder and gaping down because having anything tight across his throat right now would be… not ideal. A pit of shadow, in the center of her sun? Can she see the stars?

Of course she can’t. He’s swallowed them.

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Or at least, not as much as I would like to be.” His lips twist for that. “I told you, a calculated risk. There isn’t much that can blunt me for long without risking worse side effects.”

“Side eff... no." She changes her mind mid-thought, he can see her wondering which question she actually wants answered. "How is getting drunk a calculated risk? It’s not like it’s hard. Seems like half of everybody here manages it without even really trying. Particularly the pilots.” There's some personal exasperation there. He files it away for later consideration.

“The Resistance pilots aren’t force sensitive. Well,” he ameliorates, “that’s not precisely true. Your Best Pilot is bright enough to shine. Don’t tell him I said so though, he’s already too sure of himself. At least when he’s not screaming out his secrets.”

Her expression turns thunderous. It takes him a moment to understand that what he’s feeling is akin to regret. He’s almost sorry for reminding her of her friend’s pain. He flicks his fingers in a negating motion and settles back, lifting one leg to cross his ankle on the opposite knee. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to say that. Along with everything else alcohol does for me, it still lowers filters.”

“Every time I think…” She clenches a hand at her side. “I hate you, you know. You’re a vile, horrible man, Ben Solo.”

The fire he’s hoarding in his blood flares and his voices reaches out harder than he intended it to, rolling like undertow across the floor. “Stop it. No. Ben Solo is gone.” Something nearby chimes, shivering unhappily. “Stop trying to pretend that confused boy is somewhere inside of me still.”

She jerks her chin up defensively. “You can’t hide from yourself, Ben. You can’t hide from who you are and what you’ve done. Drinking and brooding… and feeling sorry for yourself.” She makes an impatient gesture at him. Her feet have moved to a defensive stance in the last few moments at least and somewhere he approves. She should never let her guard down with him.

He snaps his teeth. “Does it look like I’m hiding? Is that what you think this is? You keep saying that name like the person you think it belongs to will come back if you say it often enough. You never knew Ben. You weren’t there. What do you know about any of it?”

“More than you think! I know you took my friend and dragged his mind through a sieve. His nightmares have your voice in them. And you tried to do it to me too, but you couldn’t because I’m stronger! And I know that Ben Solo is afraid he can’t measure up, because I saw it in you, Kylo Ren.”

“Are you stronger then?” he inquires. “Have we decided that? Still, that’s better. I'm not confused about who I am. But you are.”

“You are divided. I saw it.”

“And you are nothing at all! You came from nowhere, you are going nowhere. Who’s left to teach you what is possible but me?” He growls with anger and frustration. “But ah, no. Not me, never me. Anything but me. Because you know so much, when you don’t even know my name.”

She jerks her head and there, there are the start of tears. Why does she cry so often at him? He’s not wrong. “Don’t I? Don’t I know you? You’re just going to sit there and tell me there’s only Kylo Ren when I still see Ben in you? Just a monster in black, no light, no compassion, who takes what he likes and hurts who he likes and kills who he likes?”

“Sometimes,” he agrees softly. “And sometimes I hurt and kill for you.”

She flinches at that as he meant her to. “Don’t you put that on me. Don’t you ever put that on me.”

“Would you rather be dead instead? You’ll care for some truths but not the rest?” He glares down his nose at her. Damn the sun she’s standing under, that lights her hair and sparks honey in her eyes. “Always wanting the answers as long as you can agree with them. Just like Skywalker.”

“Luke was a good man!” And yet as soon as she says it he can see the collapse, the breath she sucks in.

He laughs and it hurts and it seems like that is all he is ever going to be able to have. “Your precious Skywalker tried to put a blade through my heart. For the crime of daring to have doubts that what he was doing was right.”

“He regretted it. He regretted it, I know he did. He showed me.”

“And he still did it. Stood over me while I slept, while I trusted, and he wanted me dead because he could think of nothing else that would help.” He flexes his hands helplessly in front of him, wishing he had his gloves at least. “Would you like to know how that feels?” he seethes.

“Ben…”

“No. No. Ben is dead, stop pretending! I have made too many choices to ever be him. Over and over again I made and continue to make those choices, and you are lying to both of us by clinging to it. Let it go.”

She stands in sunlight, warm and bright and hating him and hoping for things that will never happen and in this moment if he could smash it all down, plunge it all into darkness, he would and he would howl in the doing of it. He stands because he has to do something with his body, wrenching himself to his full height, his hands in fists because if he reaches out he will grab and pull and rend. He hasn’t drunk enough for this too, not on top of the rest. He still feels.

“My entire life, I have never… my mother gave up, my father left us both to rot, but both of them wanted me fixed. My uncle wanted me different. Snoke wanted me broken. I have been in control of nothing my entire life and you are not going to stand there and tell me you want me to be somebody else! That you are disappointed!”

The universe twists simply because he wills it so. Glass shatters along with the bottle at his feet and the starfield wavers because of the pressure he’s exerting in reflex and there is pain in his hand, in his mind, in his heart. Something just out of sight cries with strain, metal crumpling. He fills his lungs and closes his eyes because if he has to keep looking at her face, he is going to do something truly terrible. Tells himself again that Hux will not be happy if he breaks the ship.

Blood starts to drip from his fingers. He listens and breathes and watches light and darkness eat each other alive. All precious. All irrelevant.

“You do not understand,” he whispers, shuddering, trying to shed the worst of it off like rain. “You are as alone as I am and you do not understand what I've done or why I’ve done it.”

She growls, the sound tiny. “So help me understand.”

That’s worth a smile so he gives her one, wondering what it looks like on his face. “Touch me. And I’ll show you.”

He says the words but it’s a shock when he hears her moving, a whisper of fabric and he opens his startled eyes just in time to see her reach out. He doesn’t even have time to flinch away before her fingers are locked against his throat, splaying in heated lines under his ear.

They both stiffen in shock. He feels her surprise, her fury that is already crumbling under the onslaught but it’s too late. His blood glitters with starlight and power and she smells of sunshine and dust. He can’t help it, grabs her by the back of the neck to pull her forehead to his. Her breath on his face. His on hers. Skin to skin everything surges, spilling.

Her touch is the only stability. His blood trickles, smears as he presses his lips to her ear in a fever.

“Snoke,” he whispers desperately, trying not to unravel because he did not expect her to do it, “wanted me broken for a reason. Over and over again, to keep me in place, to keep me on my knees. My master as Skywalker tried to be. Strong in the Dark because he studied it, immersed himself in it for years beyond counting. Courted it like a lover, gave it every sacrifice it asked for and more. And not once did he touch what I can do.”

“Stars. I feel. Everything,” she breathes. “All of it. Everywhere.”

“When I reach, this is what I see. This is what is.”

“What have you done?" Her thoughts are starting to tangle with his, even as her body sways into his or his into hers.

He moves his lips helplessly over her temple, the corner of her eye. “What I had to. Control. I will have control of this. I will have control of all of it. Someone who was there is dead. Someone who knew Ben. Knew me, as I was then. Chose me, as I was then. Followed me from the light into the dark because they believed. In me.”

His hand strokes hard down her side because he can do nothing else, even as her other hand slides helplessly into the gapped collar of his shirt, dragging heat and callus along his collarbone. So good. So right.

“Chose me, Rey. Three days dead because they tried to betray me and I... I tore them to pieces. And I am drinking because if I don’t smother this pain, I will crack this dreadnought apart by its seams because I didn’t want to do it and I am angry that it was necessary. And because I am drinking, I am remembering Han Solo and that the Dark cares only for sacrifices that mean something. And because I am drinking my walls are down and I can see what Skywalker saw in me and what Snoke wanted as he tore me apart and whatever he thought he knew, he wasn’t even close to it. This was a very calculated risk,” he breathes, “and you were not supposed to be here to give me a target for it.”

“Ben.”

“My name, Rey,” he hisses out between his teeth, nuzzling behind her ear, dragging his chin over the soft skin. “You are nothing and no one. No one ever wanted anything from you, because no one thought you capable of anything. You could go back to your desert tomorrow, disappear into the sands and no one would look for you or could find you if they did. Do what I couldn’t. Run.”

Her hand locks into his hair and he shudders. Run his cheek over hers obsessively, curls an arm hard around her waist to drag her yet closer. Her breath skitters over his collarbone, his throat, her fingers curling to scratch hard down his chest through the cloth and he wants her teeth, her mouth, the air she struggles for. If he kisses her, if they kiss… he distracts himself with the feel of her, hands grasping over and over. Hip, waist, the splay of her ribs under his spreading fingers. He expands out and pulls yet more in and starts to push it into her, everywhere they touch, faster and faster. The alcohol in his gut isn’t enough to hold this back.

“My grandfather was a Skywalker. As my mother is. And my father broke the record on the Kessel Run by threading a needle between two hungry singularities because the universe loved him just that much.” He closes his mouth over the hinge of her jaw because he can’t help it anymore and cannot tell whether the groan is his or hers. “I was born to this. For this. The Light told me I was supposed to care for nothing and I feel everything.”

She cries out, shoves him back and he lets her.

And there is still light on her hair but her eyes are wide and angry as he is angry and her mouth is nearly snarling.

“Tell me my name,” he growls.

“Kylo Ren,” she shudders back.

“They chose me and they still died. And you... you didn't even do that much. If it's necessary to kill you too, I will.”

“I know. I feel it. You don’t feel sorry for yourself at all, do you?”

He swallows and of course she is gone.

He shudders and his eyes are black. He reaches out and the floor buckles, heaving up.

He stops short of breaching the windows at least.

#fanfiction #fracture

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lemonsandstrawberries · 6 years

Text

My Eternal Love

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), non power modern AU with a fantasy twist

summary: In the modern world there is no place for fantastic creatures, yet one phoenix keeps being reborn to unite with new incarnations of his lover.

length: 1 404 words

a/n: a request made by @weirdobagel . thank you for giving me some pointers what you like and leaving me a whole lot of room to freestyle it, hope you will enjoy this fic!

——————–

My Eternal Love

There it was. A bullet made of fire, charging straight in his direction. Fast. Unstoppable. A force of destruction, consuming everything on its way with a bright flame. He had only seconds to react.

Leaping to the front and jumping over any obstacle in the way, Steve held to the window sill, almost knocking his teeth out when his chin missed the wood by an inch and managed to pull the window up with a loud creak. It was the easy part. Next was to let go and flatten himself to the floor, as close as possible and hope that his hair won't catch on fire. There was a loud swoosh and he felt some heat, as the flame swished above his head.

It would make it to the newspapers, he knew it would.

Steve cursed silently under his breath, and stood up, cautiously looking outside the window, wondering if anyone noticed where the flame had disappeared. New York streets looked busy as always, but there was no way this spectacle was missed by everyone.

Deciding that they were safe for the moment, Steve shut the window with a bang. "I asked you countless times to not do that!" he scolded, having enough of that trick. They didn't need another rumor about alien invasion appearing in the newspapers. When he turned around, the fire was gone and there was no damage done to his apartment. Instead of the flame, there was a man, standing in the middle of his living room, dressed in a dark suit trimmed to fit, running a hand through his hair to slick it to the back, smoothening the unruly strands.

"I know you love it," the guy said, teeth shining in a wide grin, voice soft and melodic. His eyes still showed a hint of vivid gold and a flickering of a red flame, but soon the irises would turn brown and calm, just like lava, first bursting with heat and fire, before it cooled down and turned dark and heavy.

Steve could swear that his partner still had a heated aura around him, smelling of smoke. He couldn't take his eyes off of him, one comment trying to make way past his lips, Steve was trying hard to hold back.

The guy sighed tiredly, smoothening out some crease on his jacket suit. "I know you want to say it. Say it." The sooner they would be over with it the better.

Steve smiled, wide and already apologizing. "Did it take long before you found fireproof clothes?"

Just a little inside joke between them.

The guy eyed him with an irritated pout, before letting out a courteous, fake laugh, which in turn made Steve laugh.

"So, what are we eating?" the guy said, turning his steps to the kitchen counter, smelling something nice.

"Ah ah! Go wash your hands first, Tony!" Steve reminded, not letting him touch any of the food. With a playful whine, the guy, Tony, listened and putting aside the weird entrance, it was like a perfectly normal interaction of a long-term couple. Just they were not a normal couple.

Since his youngest years, Steve always felt it. A warm presence whenever he went. A flickering of a flame, seen only for a second before it vanished. The smell of smoke, but not regular smoke, but richer and somehow sweet, calming him down and not choking and harsh, like regular smoke. It was puzzling and no logical explanation followed, and with time instead of asking, Steve accepted it as a part of his life. Until that day, when the flame manifested in a form of a bright bird, with golden and red feathers, one that looked out of this world. The truth was, that the bird belonged to this world a long time before him and would be present a long time after him.

Tony splashed his face with water and washed his face, looking into the mirror. He gently touched his cheek, feeling still young skin, but seeing first hints of mature age catching up on him. He saw it happen many times already. Growing old, just to be reborn again when the time would come. It started with a flame and it would end in a flame.

With a happy hum, Steve stirred the pot with pasta, mingling it into a one with all sorts of veggies. Just some parmesan for flavor and parsley for garnish, and all set. Oh, and wine. He leaned to the fridge and took out a bottle of chilled Chardonnay. The cold feeling under his fingertips reminded him of that night. He had been also drinking wine. A lot of it. It happened during a party, way back, when in the middle of the alcohol-induced fun, a stranger walked in, smelling so familiar, Steve was immediately drawn to him, not noticing anything else. It was like the time stopped. Nothing could keep him away from him. Not even when after the shared night, the stranger burst into flames, transforming into a familiar creature, with wings like made out of fire.

Tony chuckled into the towel as he was wiping his face, remembering their first real meeting. He had many first meetings with Steve, but this Steve's startled face and the way he looked in panic at the wine bottle in his hand, as if trying to find answers in the alcohol, was one of his favorites. Tony preferred to reveal his true form quick and without additional explanation, believing that destiny would find a way to connect them. It always did. Through years and years.

The world changed and Tony remembered how it started. Saw the growth of the man race, saw humans rising in power and conquering the world. It wasn't a world of nature and wonder anymore, and his kind and many others had to resort to hiding and with time altering their appearance to find a new place. Every era was different, bringing new technologies, new inventions. Calling him back to life, each time his lover was reborn so they could be together once more.

Tony was the flame. Eternal and lasting. Feared and beautiful. Never changing, just adapting to the new world.

Steve was his rock. Steady and solid, grounding him closer to the Earth. He saw Steve many times. As a simple farmer, barely making his ends. As a knight in the king's army, loyal and noble. As a soldier destined to die during the war. Once even as a prince in an elvish kingdom. A very long time ago. Their first meeting that started an ongoing circle.

Always new. Always exciting. Always finding each other.

One could think that it was sad to live as Tony did, but it wasn't really. There were comfort and sense of belonging deeply etched into his existence, strands of faith showing him the way and guiding his life. Something many searched their whole lives, and something Tony had promised to always find.

This time, his Steve was a shy guy working for a newspaper and drawing some daily comic strips, not living on the edge or in great wealth, but happily and calmly. It felt nice to have a home to come back each night.

Tony stepped out of the bathroom, smiling at the sight of a table set with dinner waiting for him and Steve pouring wine into the glasses. He came closer and wrapped hands around the other man's waist, cuddling to his back, feeling the soft cotton on his cheek and hearing the steady heartbeat. He would recognize this heartbeat anywhere.

"Mo shíorghrá." A warm whisper. Middle of the night. A clearing in the woods, bathed in moonlight. A long time ago. It was his favorite memory, but the current moment was a close second.

"What did you say?" Steve asked, turning a bit, his heart doing a little, happy skip at the sight of his lover's smiling face.

"I said it smells good," Tony replied, kissing the other man sweetly before they sat to a shared meal.

"So, how was your day? Anything fun happened at work?" Steve asked, grabbing his fork and taking some squash and corn and a bit of pasta on it, before taking the first bite.

Tony smiled, swirling the wine in his glass, a familiar warmth spreading over his body. This was how home felt for him. This was his place.

"Ah, you know. The usual. Nothing special."

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #fantasy #au #phoenix!tony #no tickling #fanfic #fanfiction

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bankaqlota · 6 years

Text

Moon Error 404

Star gazing was our thing.

Max and I had met that way after all. It was during a family holiday up north when my dad called us outside to stargaze by the bonfire the campsite had made for us campers. Max was there, throwing rocks into the fire. I joined him and we just clicked.

Looking at that old photo of us I calmly reminisced about all our escapades. I was unpacking our new apartment across campus. College is finally going to start and the best time of our lives will begin, well, according to Max.

Thinking about old times I went to call Max to come stargaze with me on my rooms balcony. He wasn’t feeling all that good so he went to sleep it off. I peeked into his room but found him passed out still and sprawled out as if taking all the space wasn’t enough. Whatever.

Grabbing a soda from the fridge and slice of cold pizza in the other hand, i made my way to the balcony to gaze.

Now...

This is where things got weird. Like, I thought I was tripping weird.

See, there in the sky were the stars ok, like shining and sparkling like normal and everything... But... the moon wasn’t there. No, it wasn’t a new moon, I mean the bloody thing WAS NOT THERE. In it’s place was a big computer error 404 code on repeat. Flickering Error 404.

Now I kept calm. I only screamed for a minute before I realized Max has to see this. Running inside I stubbed my baby toe which hurt by the way like crazy. After hopping for a bit I ran further in to his room, only to stop dead and scream again. Cause instead of my best friend and room mate sprawled over the bed as if the space wasn’t enough for him, there was a bright red Error 404 sign blinking at me from the bed.

After that... I think I either passed out or woke up. Cause here I am... In my white room... Explaining to the weird thing standing behind you about how I know what they did to me and the moon. So...

ERROR 404: Remaining Text Not Found

So what ya think Gys?

@virridtrash

#writing prompt

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easythetape · 4 years

Text

Journal Update #14 APR - Spider-Man

I arranged a session with my cousin Callum who brought a few of my uncle's old synths to the studio. Specifically the Arp Odyssey and Roland Jupiter MKS80, we worked for around two days creating new material for the tape.

It was cool to get him involved and this particular collaboration linked in with the themes of family connections and relationships explored on The Tape. My family has a lot to do with my early musical influence and my memories of jamming with my cousins are happy times. As we grew up and both started to specialise in different areas of music but we continued these ‘jam’ sessions usually me on drums and cal on keys, (see pic below) but usually for fun or when the time allowed. So it was great to actually collaborate for a project that will be released.

Callum is a talented multi-instrumentalist and all-round nice guy who specialises in piano (he currently teaches piano at a school). Cal has a great understanding of jazz, and I was able to learn from his knowledge on the keys and record multiple parts of him playing melodies and chords on synths. He contributed to the tracks Kick About, TOAST OF PARIS, Drink it Up and Spidey.

(Pictured above is the Arp Odyssey and the Super Jupiter MKS-80)

It was great that he bought these two of my uncles synths along, because they produced solidly fat, analogue, retro sounds and fed into the idea of nostalgia. Adding analogue ‘warmth’ to the beats was something that was important for me because I love the concept of noise and in particular I am a fan of Lo-Fi Hip-Hop. Although I would not describe the beats on The Tape as Lo-Fi Hip-Hop there are certainly some elements of the genre included like my use of the SP-404 effects and tape hiss. The Roland Jupiter’s “great sound is due in part to the classic analog Roland technology in its filters, modulation capabilities and a thick cluster of 16 analog oscillators at 2 per voice.” (Vintage Synth Explorer, 2017). The Arp Odyssey is a revolutionary analogue synth and I am glad to say it has featured on The Tape. The Odyssey is a “duophonic unit with two VCOs, most notable for its sharp sound and the versatile sound-creating possibilities” not easily available on other small synths of the time. With functions and modulation options such as oscillator sync, sample & hold, pulse width modulation, high-pass filter, and two types of envelope generator, it featured a rich array of sound-generating potential. The Arp Odyssey's signal path had a major impact on synth manufacturers that followed. It became the standard for subsequent eras, influencing even the polyphonic and digital synthesisers that were to come later. The Arp Odyssey was used by many great musicians including Herbie Hancock, George Duke and Kraftwerk (ARP, 2015).

I made a special SP-404 emulation effects rack for use in live performances to market and create hype for Easy The Tape (pictured below)

What went well:

We created quite a few new ideas and also recorded multiple parts on more than one of my beats, which gave me a lot to work with and choose from. It was also good to learn from Cals knowledge on the keys. And because we knew each other creativity flowed and the session was productive.

What didn’t go so well:

Didn’t get as much done as I could have due to having too much fun in the sessions and getting distracted listening to music, playing Gamecube and watching old TV and films... to find samples though, all of which you can hear in the beat ‘Spidey’.

The Artwork for the track is pictured below.

The main sample on Spidey is recorded directly from the original VHS of one of my favourite spider-man films when I was a kid (pictured below)

The use of sampling directly from VHS references not only the sample itself but the sonic characteristic it carries with it. This piece of technology is obsolete now and only used in a nostalgia inspired visual art or music, and sometimes as an effect for music videos that reference the nostalgic and ‘Lo-Fi’ aesthetic. Hopefully incorporating samples like this will evoke a nostalgic response in the listener with realising. In addition Multiple samples from vintage spider man cartoons of my childhood were recorded from Lo-Fi (obsolete technology, such as VHS and DVD). I remember being so excited to wake up on Saturday morning and sit in front of the massive flickering box in the front room with my cheerios for double bills of Spider-Man: The Animated Series. When I think about it now it brings back happy memories and it has a lot to do with that ‘Lo-Fi’ aesthetic, the flicker of the CRT screen which always seemed giant compared to little me and the crunchy nature of the sound coming out of the low budget TV speakers... simpler times. Hopefully listeners will get these same feelings when listening to the beat.

Once I’d finished a first mix on Spidey I showed the track in one of our production showcases for feedback

Feedback on the first mix of ‘Spidey’ from the peer review session:

Nick (tutor): The use of samples is great and the elements all work together and communicate well with each other. The stereo image is a little strange however. The snare feels too wide and leaves a gap in the centre. The kick is central and acts as an anchor to a point but there isn’t any central information in the mid range, which is needed. It’s ok to have the wide information with the snare but consider layering this with a mono version of the snare to give focus whilst also sounding wide. I also think the distorted bass sound should be in mono and the piano sample should be more central. Overall the mix seems lopsided towards the right, so some attention towards balancing out your panning is necessary.

Nice placement of all the elements of the track sounds tight and professional, although feel parts are possibly a little dry and could move about a little more to fill spaces that sometimes feel a bit empty, vocals are cool!

Production sounds great, the structure is all there, maybe the backing sample (horns and keys) could come up in the mix a bit more?

Real nice stereo spreadage, could even play with that as the track develops? Really like the subtle pad in the second half. Real nice velocity control on the drums and stuff, sounds smooth as a babies bum. Mix sounds pretty tasty too.

NY/Parallel compress those intro vocals. Beat is nice and breathy though.

This is ace. Really great use of the chosen samples. Maybe spread out a bit too much.

Kick is really punchy and clean! Maybe some saturation and stereo spread of the hats. Overall sounds really nice, good mix.

Drums sound really nice, the stereo spread on the snare works well although there could be a layer in mono.

This track reminds me of some of the songs included in the Baz Luhrmann production of Great Gatsby - mainly "No Church in the Wild" and "Ni**as in Paris" by Jay-Z. Not sure if he's an influence but it might be interesting listening to some of the production techniques he uses to enhance the mix of this track.

I think it's great and has a strong foundation.

Really great track! Love the way you’ve played with the stereo field although the hard pan of the piano sample feels a bit extreme for me. Texturally it sounds great and got me rockin’!

Above is a picture of just an excerpt of my large spidey comics collection. I started collecting around 2006/07, and if I remember correctly the right comic is the first issue I ever bought, the left is probably my most prized comic in that collection, 30th anniversary edition... nerd...

References:

Vintage Synth Explorer. (2017). Roland MKS-80. Retrieved 2020, from Vintagesynth.com website: http://www.vintagesynth.com/roland/mks80.php

‌ARP. (2015). ABOUT | ARP. Retrieved 2020, from ARP - The Legendary Analog Synthesizer website: http://www.arpsynth.com/en/about/‌

#family #work #beats #studio #arp odessy #synth #synths #jazz #the tape #spider-man #spidey #beat #easy #easy green #tape #comics #production #session #feedback

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hydrus · 6 years

Text

Version 289

youtube

windows

zip

exe

os x

app

tar.gz

linux

tar.gz

source

tar.gz

I had a great week. The new wx build is ready for all users, and I am back to normal schedule and work.

Last week, I updated the client to an important new version of my user interface library, wxPython. It was a big change, so several bugs (tag lookup scripts broken, missing taglist scrollbars, and empty client->external file drag-and-drop were the big ones) and even a couple of crashes fell through the cracks. I believe I have now fixed pretty much everything, and I am much happier with the whole build in general, so I now recommend it for all users, including first-time users.

Please note that I fell back to Ubuntu 16.04 for my Linux build environment, and several users on different flavours report they can now run my build (the one linked above) when they previously could not. I believe this is true for some Arch users as well, which has previously been a real problem. If you have had trouble running hydrus in Linux from source (or getting the new wx going), please try the build, as you may find it just works now.

To repeat from last week: there is not a huge amount different in appearance with the new library version, but the behind-the-scenes works a lot better. There is less flickery and clunky behaviour all-around, and I've rewritten some auxilliary systems to use less CPU and memory. It was a lot of work, but I am pleased with this final result. I am feeling more enthusiastic about a similar update to Python 3 sometime this year.

Thank you to all the users who reported issues and the quick turnaround when I needed more information. If anything you reported is still happening or you discover any new crash conditions or anything, please let me know!

url classes

I got back to work on the downloader overhaul and was able to finish the new 'URL class' concept, which is a system that will eventually let any user define a site's URLs for the new downloader engine to recognise and interact with.

I have created default url classes for (I think) all the sites the client supports when you first install, and when you update, you will receive these defaults. When you next open the media viewer on a file with known urls, instead of seeing a list of web domains in the top-right URL list, you will get prettier 'gelbooru file page' or 'deviant art file page' for any recognised URL.

Please note that if you have played around with this system yourself, the update here will completely overwrite whatever you might have previously created with the new defaults. If you want to keep something, please export it in your current version before updating so you can reimport it afterwards.

misc

The options dialog now has an 'importing' page that lets you set up default 'file import options' for quiet and loud import contexts. If you prefer your page imports to only show new or inbox files, for instance, you can now set this as the default easily. You can also set up the 'exclude deleted' and minimum resolution and the other settings as well. The old 'exclude deleted' setting is removed from the 'files and trash' option page and reset to YES in both import contexts, so you if you typically do not exclude previously delete file imports, please check these new file import settings.

I have fixed an issue where thread watchers could pause themselves on certain network errors when trying to recheck. This was hitting some people on waking their computers--a bunch of their threads would check, but the computer had not yet initialised the network, and the threads would hit the error and all pause themselves. This could also happen during any other long network disconnection situation. So, thread watchers now catch network-related errors more cleverly and do a similar 'delay' system as subscriptions--they'll just wait four hours before trying again (although you can hit 'check now' to override this). Thread watchers also now prepend their names with a pause symbol, '⏸', whenever they are paused. You can set this prefix to be something else under options->downloading, like with the [DEAD] and [404] states.

full list

fixed an issue where scrollbars were only appearing on taglists after a resize event

fixed the raw filename component of file drag and drop events from the client to external programs

fixed the tag lookup scripts

fixed some wx menuhighlight issues

improved some shutdown code

fixed the add/edit namespace colours options panel, which needed to be updated to deal with the new wx's better alpha channel reporting

fixed an issue when hitting 'open externally' on a media collection

fixed a crash on client shutdown whenever closed pages were in the undo menu

think I fixed another shutdown crash

fixed a rare issue with the collect by dropdown not being able to generate a string to display

misc wx fixes

added a 'importing' page to the options dialog, which now sets the default file import options for quiet and loud file import contexts

the old and no longer used 'exclude deleted files' option is now removed from the 'files and trash' panel

finished off default url matches for all downloaders that come with the program--these will be set on update, so if you have custom ones, please export them before you update so you can import them again!

improved how urls are matched and presented for the user in the media viewer

added a 'delete "successful" file imports from the queue' entry to the file import status button right-click menu--this only removes 'successful' and 'already in db', leaving anomalies

improved locale instantiation in the client and added locale strings to the help->about dialog

you can now set the page name prefix for a paused thread checker. it defaults to a unicode pause character: ⏸

thread watchers will no longer pause on a network error during a check--they now have a 'delay' system like subscriptions, and on a network error, they will delay four hours (unless you hit 'check now')

patched in some simple 'connection cutoff' network error handling, we'll see how it does

wrote in some more proper error handling for a specific connection cutoff error that is being produced

the similar files search tree regen code now clears out orphaned files. if you have had blank 'unknown' files appear in similar files searches, please run database->regen->similar files search tree

bitmap buttons on download pages will now update using less CPU and will flicker less

improved some video rendering error reporting

fixed the 'author name' regex favourite default, which had a superfluous asterisk. if you would like to fix it yourself, please try: [^\\]+(?=\s-)

added 'flush log' debug command

client.pyw now makes a safe 'system' ui error popup if it fails to boot

next week

With the url classes now in place, I will start integrating it into the existing downloader engine. When the client can intelligently recognise any kind of url and match it to a parsing solution, we can start swapping in the new parsing engine and begin supporting downloads for any user-defined site.

#release

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choisgirls · 7 years

Text

Valentines: Jumin

A/N: Heyhihello you guys I hope all of you are having a great day I finally got some sleep after being up for 4 days straight so I’m doing fantastic i love you all ~Admin 404

He was perplexed over the whole Valentine's Day idea in the first place.

The media makes a huge deal out of it all. Large bouquets of flowers, boxes of chocolates, teddy bears with hearts sewn onto them. More grand gestures would include jewelry, expensive dinner dates, things of that sort.

What in the world was he supposed to do for you then? He gives you almost all of these things on a daily basis! How was he supposed to surprise you?

Any grand gesture he could make is expected by you. He has to think out of the box this time. But how? All he can think of is to buy you a list of luxuries? But you don't want that. You've told him time and time again that you don't want that. What in the world could you want? Maybe he should ask you directly.

He spent a great deal of time sipping wine in his office, thinking over what he could do for you. So long in fact, that he didn't realize Jaehee had walked in and tried getting his attention for a few minutes.

"Hm? Oh, Assistant Kang. I didn't realize you came in," he said before taking another sip of his glass, "What is it?"

"Um, Mr. Han... Is everything alright?," she questioned, analyzing the fact that he continued to stare into space.

"What does one do for Valentine's Day, Assistant Kang? What does one do when their spouse has everything they could possibly want?," he continued asking questions but it became too mumbled behind his glass for Jaehee to understand.

"Well... if you're indirectly asking what you should do for MC, maybe you should think about what they really want? I mean something that isn't....materialized. Something personal, and from the heart? Maybe make something by hand for them," she listed off the ideas, as he continued to stare off into space. His face relaxed a little when he thought of what you enjoyed doing most. By this point, he's tuned Jaehee out and is reliving moments the two of you have shared together, ones where he can really picture your warm smile.

But he wanted to make you smile like that again. Actually, he wanted to make it ten times bigger, this time. How? How was he going to do that, though?

"Mr. Han, have you heard anything I've suggested?," Jaehee asked, snapping him out of his thoughts- though she already knew he disregarded anything she might have said.

"Hm? Oh, you were still talking? What time is it? I'll be leaving early," he stated, pushing his chair away from his desk and grabbing his coat before heading downstairs. He could hear Jaehee calling behind him, questioning why he has to leave so suddenly, and what was she supposed to do with the rest of his schedule, but he didn't stop. She would figure it out, he was sure of it.

He sighed as he got into the back of the car. Driver Kim asked where he'd like to go but he couldn't give him an answer. He had no idea where he wanted to go. Well, he had one idea. He wanted to go home, to you and Elizabeth, but he knew that he couldn't- not yet. He still needed to decide what to do for you. Why was this such a hard task? He's spent most of this time thinking, but with no ideas- that bothered him. He's always so sure of himself and his decisions, but when it came to you, he could never think straight. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to do whatever he could to make you happy.

"Sir? Is something on your mind?" Driver Kim asked slowly, not wanting to intrude too much on his bosses thoughts.

"Driver Kim, what do you do to for your wife for Valentine's Day? Doesn't she know what to expect from you year after year? Or do you find a way to surprise her each time?" the speed at which Jumin threw the questions at his driver seemed almost desperate. "You've been able to talk to MC alone while driving her from time to time, correct? What do you think will make her the happiest? What would they consider a 'grand gesture'? What can I do to make them smile? Driver Kim, what should I-" he was cut off by the older man's laughter. His wide-eyed confusion was enough to cut the laughter short, however.

"Well, sir. Being with you in general seems to make them the happiest. They're always talking about your guys happy family- meaning the two of you and Elizabeth the Third. If you want to surprise them and really make them happy, you might want to play towards that aspect somehow," he explained before rubbing the back of his neck, "I mean, that's only just an idea. You can do whatever you wish to do, Mr. Han."

Jumin looked at his hands that laid in his lap. Being with him and Elizabeth is what made you the happiest? What in the world could he do to surprise you like that? How could he-

An idea hit him like a sack of bricks. He knew what he had to do for you, and he'd work out the kinks in the plan later on. He told Driver Kim exactly where he needed to go, and the two of them were off.

You came home late the next day. Jumin sent you on a trip a few days ago, with no real explanation? "Just go and relax," he said. You had a sneaking suspicion that he just wanted you out of the house, but you went along with it anyway. You couldn't wait to sit and relax on the couch with Jumin, Elizabeth sitting in your lap, the three of you just enjoying the silence and each other's company. When you got home though, the lights were off. The light switch, however, wasn't working? You thought this was pretty odd, considering Jumin's the type to have everything working and in order.

"Jumin? I'm home!," you called into the darkness, to yourself you mumbled, "where in the world is he?"

All of a sudden, the lights flickered on, but just as quickly dimmed down. In the middle of the living room sat a dinner table, covered in a white table cloth, with different coloured rose petals scattered about the top. Walking closer to it, you can see expensive champagne bottles on ice next to the table. 'Champagne?' you thought to yourself, 'We usually drink wine with dinner. I wonder what he has planned.'

You tried calling out to him again, but instead you heard the pitter patter of Elizabeth's paws running towards you, followed by a soft meow.

"Hello Elizabeth! There you are! I've missed you so much sweetheart, come here!" you crouched down to bring her up into your arms, petting her softly. The two of you exchanged 'meows' until your petting reached up to her neck, where you felt something around it. "Did Jumin put a collar on you while I was gone? Why would he do-" you were cut off by the feel of something hanging off of the makeshift ribbon collar. It was round like a name tag, except...hollow? And had something on the top of it? Your brain couldn't register what you were touching until you untied the collar and held it up.

"Oh.. my god, this is..." You held up the ribbon to find what looked like an elegant (and not surprisingly expensive) engagement ring swinging in front of your face. It's so intricate and detailed that you can tell it's completely customized. It was taking a while to sink in what was happening at the moment. You were snapped out of your trance when you caught a glimpse of Jumin walking in from the corner of your eye. "Jumin.... what is this?" you shook the ring slightly, causing Elizabeth to watch it swing with the intent to play with it.

"Well, MC. I suppose it's my way of surprising you. So? MC? What do you say?" he analyzed every tiny detail of your face, watching for any hint of an answer. His words started to waiver before finishing strong and confident when he asked, "Would you like to make our little family paper-official?" The moment he saw the tears start to form in your eyes, he rushed over to you, fearing the worst. When you sniffled out a quiet "yes" followed by multiple more, accompanied by furious head nodding, cute little giggles, and that heart-melting smile of yours, he felt his whole body fill with relief.

He's never felt so warm, light, happy, and loved all at once, ever in his life. He gently brushed the fallen tears away from your cheeks, kissing your forehead before catching your lips in a passionate, loving kiss he could give you. Putting his forehead against your own, he looks into your eyes while he takes the ring away from you, slipping it onto your finger. Elizabeth meowed softly at the two of you, so he scratched lightly behind her ear, while still looking at you.

"Happy Valentine's Day, MC. I hope you enjoy this holiday for the rest of your life, with me and Elizabeth; We both love you very much."

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slendermanlore · 7 years

Text

Original Mythos + “Similar Situations”

If it isn’t clear how the Slender Man mythos became as immersive as it was, consider that people were relating it to their own (allegedly) real experiences from the beginning.

Victor Surge posted:

Maybe I'll do some more research. I've heard there may be a couple more legit "Slender Man" photographs out there. I'll post them if I find them.

LeechCode5 posted:

I’ve been seriously debating sharing these, but after Victor Surge’s posts I feel I have to.

Victor Surge posted:

I honestly don’t get what half this shit means. I’m done with this Slender Man stuff. It’s starting to make me uneasy. It’s like reading the GBS ghost story threads before I go to bed. Why do I have to look at this stuff while it’s super late?

KatWithHands posted:

Every time I walk past the window at the top of the stairs, I always look out it, even if just for a moment. It's a habit I've had since I was tall enough to peek over the sill. But tonight, as I stepped out into the hall, my head refused to turn; even my eyes remained fixed on the other end of the corridor.

It was as if my body was trying to tell me something… Not the frantic 'Don't look, don't look, dear god please walk faster,' but instead the eerily calm 'There's no need to look. You already know he's there.'

homerlaw posted:

You guys are missing the first appearance of the tall man.

A friend of mine was talking to me about some of the weird shit he was seeing in caves, and he brought up a strange painting he saw.

“It was of a slender man, in what appeared to be a black suit. It lacked a face, and around it were what appeared to be children.”

This was dated back to about 5,000 B.C. and even though he couldn’t say were it was he hinted it was near a major hub, and some other caves near by it. he also said he heard some weird scratching sounds, but that would be BS, ‘cause it appears that he was the first human there for over 7,000 years, and nothing could live that long. Right?

Doom Mathematic posted:

Put it this way. Sometimes when you get up in the night for a glass of water, and you look out the window, it'll look like your tree has one or two too many branches.

When that happens, stop looking, turn off the light and go back to bed.

[...]

E: oh, and don't ask how I know all of this

An observer posted:

The tapping hasn't stopped. I live in a secluded place and this building is the only one for maybe a mile. It's very quiet here even on busy days. There's no one out there who can help me. I haven't left my room ever since got back home. The tapping hasn't stopped.

geekchic posted:

So, it looks like The Slender Man phenomenon is more widespread than we thought. It’s amazing what you can find on the web- these were leaked. Not going to tell you WHERE I found them though. Seems Slender Man has been sighted in England, at any rate, if these reports and photos are to be believed.

Dr. Arbitrary posted:

I think I'm going to edit my earlier post to say SM. I heard that SM can find you if you write his name out completely. I think we all know who we're talking about when we talk about SM.

Sleepless Dreamer posted:

The Slender Man is real, it has existed forever in the back of your minds. You see it in the corner of your eyes, you might be on the third floor like I am, but you know that if you turn around, if you look through the window, he will be there. He's been watching, to him, you are already a victim. He's just waiting for the moment you realize it is unavoidable.

Troutpack posted:

I was just looking through some old pictures my grandpa left behind. He was quite a photographer back in his day, at least before he went crazy.

ce gars posted:

I filed the tapes separately from my others, and was honestly too freaked out to look at them at the time, and eventually forgot about them. But reading about the slender man has peaked my interest again. Maybe it’s what Alex was talking about that day.

Daniel K posted:

I’m in a similar situation.

My father documents almost everything “family related” with his video camera, and from time to time, we sit and watch them and remember the good times blah blah blah.

Well, in the summer of 2001, we were outside playing around as usual, and dad was videoing, as usual. But, for whatever reason, he never let us view that specific tape.

There could be a million reasons why, but I figure why not give it a shot. If anything turns up SM-ish, I’ll let you guys know. Or hell, even if it isn’t, it may still be worth a note.

Chaos Hippy posted:

I can hear him. I can always hear him, every day. Far, far away, but getting closer with each scratching step. Only a matter of time until he comes back, and I learn everything.

I posted:

Remember the statement I made earlier in the thread;

SLENDER MAN THE MORE YOU THINK OF HIM THE MORE REAL HE BECOMES NOW TRY AND NOT THINK OF HIM

Not a joke. Thought alters reality and the shadows keep moving in my peripheral vision.

21stCentury posted:

Stop it.

Please stop it, the more you think about him, the harder it is for us to forget him.

Don't give it ideas, don't give it shape. Don't make him more terrifying please.

I need sleep.

Victor Surge posted:

I'm loving this a lot. Also, what if I didn't spontaneously come up with Slender Man? What if that's what it wants you to think. Come to think of it, I don't really remember those days last week, or even making those posts.

Rodzby posted:

OK, someone needs to own up to some internet detective shit: I received an envelope through my door, no address on it, at 4am this morning. As far as I know nobody I know is a goon and even if they were my address is not listed in my profile.

Reverend Gnome posted:

…keep an eye on any suspicious-looking trees around your home. You never know for certain whether all those branches are really just branches.

Can you say for certain you know how many branches those trees even have?

Call Me Dad posted:

Seriously, fucking stop it.

I woke up this morning screaming. Fucking shit, the more I think about it, the more it feels real. The video posted a few pages back with the “Audio removed” and stuff made me genuinely frightened.

My house is on the ass end of a small stretch of woods. I don’t ever want to go explore it anymore then I already have.

Vonder posted:

Goddammit, goddammit, I've read about Tulpas and thoughtforms and I've tried not to think about him and shadow people and the messed up pictures in my dining room and then he's in my fucking room. I come up the stairs at night and turn on my lamp and in the flicker of light before the bulb turns on completely I know he'll be there. Just for a moment. He's there.

BrightestCrayon posted:

Reading this thread was a horrible idea right before I went to bed last night. All night the damned slender man kept showing up in the background of my dreams. Not doing anything, just there. Fucking creepy.

But those dreams made me start thinking. Everyone's been talking about how odd it is that SM shows up in the background of so many pictures.But, what if he wants to be there? What if he wants you to see him?

Error 404 posted:

I don't know what's real anymore.

I've read this thread, getting chuckles from the pics and stories, loving the youtube clips.

until last night

Braincloud posted:

I was hesitant about posting this but here goes.

A week ago I was riding my mountain bike down a trail when I must have blacked out. I never do that. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground tangled in the bushes. I must have hit a tree or rock or something and wrecked - my front tire was completely tacoed. Anyway, I got scraped up pretty good.

Thought I was healing well until I noticed something.

rinski posted:

Actually, this Slender Man thread has me all paranoid. See, my grandmother died about a week ago, and since I live closest, it’s my job to clean out her place. This was the last time I was going to see the place, so I took some pictures. This is their old piano, which we’d moved into the center of the room.

That shadow made my nearly jump out of my skin, because of this thread. I ran outside to see what the hell it was. I’m pretty sure it was just the ridiculously creepy neighbor, though, because there wasn’t anything outside when I got there.

Still, though, it’s pretty creepy, right? The shadow looks like it has the tentacles/branching arms and everything.

Verloc posted:

I want so very much to call bullshit on the slender man. A trope created by goons who sit around the internet campfire circlejerking about scary monsters that lurk in the night. Every time I try though, the wind drives branches against my window, and the staccato rap tap of branches against glass won't let me. I wouldn't care about that, except for the fact that there are no trees near my windows, and there is no wind tonight.

ChibiSoma posted:

Fuck you hippies, I'm never gonna sleep. Sleep schedule's all fucked up and I'm exhausted because I'm trying to wrench it around. Being scared shitless certainly helps. But I already deal with annoyingly regular bouts of sleep paralysis. That shit fucks with my head enough as is. And I see standard 'scary' shit - aliens out of the corners of my eyes, bugs, (and this is just me because fuck them) every so often a beholder or something. Now I'll be waking up but not waking up, unable to blink or move in any way, and the Slender Man will be there. Standing next to my bed. Looming over me.

And staring down.

BlackFrost posted:

Do you ever get that feeling? That feeling like you're being followed, but whenever you turn around there's no one there? I think that's him. That's what he does when he follows you—he gives you that feeling. If you notice him, he notices you.

I see him outside of my house, now. At the windows. I close all of the blinds, but I always look outside. He only comes at night, but I'm starting to see him in the daytime, too.

I don't think his eyes are darkened. I think they're just… gone.

He follows me wherever I go. I see him at work, so I don't go there anymore. I see him outside, not always but even when I don't, I always feel him there. I don't go outside anymore. I don't go anywhere.

#Slender Man Arkive #original mythos #slenderverse #slenderman #slender man

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