#anyways this is canon nothing can tell me otherwise

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs

[theguardianace]

the transgenderification of kusanagi nene (ID under cut)

[ID: a digital comic. The first panel shows Kusanagi Nene playing an unseen video game. Nene is wearing a typically masculine shirt and has short hair. He is boredly watching a chatlog of someone with a snake profile picture insulting him. The insults in order read "u suck", "too easy", and "💩 <- u".

The last insult is much larger and reads "you fight like a girl".

The next panel shows Nene thinking. He looks to the side with three dots above his head and various random words and math equations behind him.

The next panel is a simplified version of Nene's head over a transgender flag. A pink exclamation point is above her head.

The last panel shows Nene playing the video game, this time with a determined expression on her face. Her chat reads "why don't you?" A KO action bubble is below the chat.

/end ID]

#project sekai #pjsekai #proseka #colorful stage #kusanagi nene #nenes fastest speedrun is her gender questioning #anyways this is canon nothing can tell me otherwise

[lesbiansaaviik]

Can I be beautifully honest with you guys? I hate 91 Whiskey and So Says the Sword

#no hate to the author cause I actually liked a one shot of theirs #but like man these fucking suck #so so boring and pointlessly long #in SSTS nothing happens and it’s boring because it’s all ridiculous purple prose that tells and doesn’t show #you can set it up with Cas being emotionless as an angel and then gains emotions when he falls in love #but he has to actually gain those emotions and you can’t just tell me what a beautiful and masterful love story you’re writing #you have to actually write it #in 91W it’s all troop movements and militaristic bullshit that I don’t care about because I know Dean and Cas will be fine #and they haven’t shown me enough about literally any other character to make me give a fuck if they live or die #great. Inias will get killed off. maybe I would care more if it weren’t so predictable and also if Cas weren’t just an asshole to him #for no reason #which brings me to my second point of jesus fucking christ 91W is so OOC #crazy take I know but Cas is not randomly an asshole! maybe he is at first but then he changes because he’s in love with Dean and he’s never #like. snappy and grouchy this is So OOC and it makes it painful to read because why should I care about someone who’s mean and cruel #all the time #I’m not saying Cas is an angel (pun half intended) all the time but I don’t think he’s cruel #and moreover I think they’ve just got Cas and Dean flipped. Dean would be perfect for the grouchy military commander in the late seasons #kind of way where he’s an ass to everyone due to grief #and Cas would make a great medic; caring about humanity to his detriment #this way around it’s just painful to watch Cas piss off Dean who is somehow more emotionally literate??? in what world #it’s just fucking boring and painful and Cas is not the one with internalised homophobia let’s be real #I would love to see 1940s era repressed queer Dean but no; I’m stuck with asshole Cas freaking out over being a fairy #and taking it out on Dean! #do you seriously think that corresponds to canon Cas’ reasons for repressing his feelings for Dean? answer quickly #anyway. rant over I will continue hate reading it so I can see if it gets good #but at this point the smut isn’t even good enough to justify it so. idk why I’m wasting my time #anne speaks #please someone say they agree with me or otherwise I’ll feel like I’m going insane #the whole fandom loves SSTS especially and I’m here like. well that sucked

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day eight: overstimulation kink

>>> gojo x pussydrunk is so real and canon don't try to convince me otherwise. also, everyone clap and shower me in praise, i wrote a gojo smut w/o a daddy kink!!!!!

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: overstim pls, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), creampie, mating press, petnames, slight size kink? >>>wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

satoru gojo is a lot of things. the world’s strongest sorcerer, yes. renowned six eyes user after hundreds of years, yes. absolutely insufferable to most of his loved ones, another yes. he’s also undeniably and insatiably obsessed with you. you’re his person, the one designed to understand, support, and love him, you’re the one thing about him that makes everything else seem irrelevant by comparison. so it’s no surprise when he puts you on a pedestal, worshiping you as if you were the honored one. in a way, you are. you’re the one hand-crafted just for him, that at least made you the chosen one, no? and he certainly chose to spend all his free time with you, despairing every second away from home. you consumed nearly every thought of his even this far into your relationship, and all of his money was spent on or for you. oh how the mighty have fallen, the most powerful man of the modern era absolutely wrapped tight around your little finger. he’s whipped, and absolutely proud of it. your love looks good on him, and he’s honored in more ways than one. 

which must explain why he’s been so miserable for the past few days. he hadn’t left your side for longer than a night’s rest since he met you because satoru gojo also is the definition of a stage four clinger. this mission had drained him of joy, running around wrestling grade one curses with his kids was nowhere near as fun as laying in your arms or pinning those arms to your sides to keep you from pushing him away as he lapped away at you…sigh. he couldn’t wait to be home. his imagination wasn’t doing it for him anyways.

not even his teleportation abilities got him to his house quick enough. he sighs contently at the comforting smell of his living room, some fancy vanilla and lavender air plug-in thing you insisted he needed. he can sense you immediately, seemingly asleep. it was rather late at night, but he still feels his heart sink a little in disappointment. but as he silently makes his way down the hall, he can hear little sniffles and ragged breaths. you were crying, he realizes. 

“don’t tell me you’re crying because you miss me?” he pouts from the doorway, the sound of his voice ceasing your little sobs. he’s grinning at you, one of his award winning ones where his eyes sparkle like a clear pool on a summer day and his nose crinkles up so adorably and everything. you rub at your eyes just to make sure he’s really back, and then you throw a pillow at him for the comment. 

“course i was, you ass. it’s almost been a week!!” you whine, and he’s abusing his powers again to pull you into his chest, suddenly laying beside you in the bed—the pillow plopping against the floor. he adorns that same grin, large hands pawing away your tears. 

“i’m flattered, really, but my girl’s got no reason to cry. you know nothing could keep me from coming home to you.” he muses, kissing your forehead. your hands close around his wrists as you give him a weak smile of approval. 

“i know–but you weren’t answering any of my texts and it was only supposed to be a three day mission.” you reason with a sniffle, burying your face in his chest so you can squeeze him tighter. he sighs with a little wave of guilt knocking into him at your words. he should have made time to at least let you know he was alright. 

he sighs at his mistake. “my bad princess!” one of his hands rests on the back of your head, the other in the dip of your waist. “i was absolutely miserable without you though, i was too distracted trying to finish so i could get home.” he pouts, still smiling brightly at you as he slides his hand lower to your hip. you huff in response. then you throw a punch to his chest lightly after you lean back from the hug, abusing your own knowledge of infinity being off in your presence to your advantage. 

“that’s for making me worry!” you pout, still sniffling a little bit. He frowns, ducking down to kiss the tip of your nose. he uses his grip on your face to steer your gaze up to him, and then he kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“oh–i can’t have that.” his thumbs move back and forth over your cheekbones. “let me make it up to you?” he croons, easing his hand to your ass to squeeze on your mound, a sly smirk replacing the sweet grin he’d worn previously. you gasp a little, especially after he gives your ass a light little smack. “i did miss you terribly, after all.” 

it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to rile you up. but you’ve missed him too, you hadn’t been without him for longer than a day or two, so the six it’s been was borderline torture for a couple as addicted to each other as you two are. you spread your hands out across his shoulders, feeling the dips and swells of his chest and collarbones beneath your fingers. you nod, his hand hard at work kneading the fat of your backside. “be my guest.” 

he grins, giving you a proper kiss. his lips are warm and sweet tasting as always and he wastes no time moving his hands up under your shirt to remove it, chuckling when you yank on his shirt with haste. it’s clear you missed him just as bad, and he can’t deny his little love. he leans back for enough separation to peel his top off, humming happily when you’re smashing your boobs up against him in another tight hug and smothering kiss. the way your body feels against his is intoxicating, and he can’t help but relish the warmth your soft and supple skin provides. his hand quickly snakes between you, locating your throbbing need easily. it’s muscle memory with as many times as he’s done this, your lips wrestling for dominance as his fingers swipe over your panty-clad bundle. you always whine so prettily into his mouth, your hips seemingly moving with a mind of their own every time he touches you. he smiles against your mouth, feeling his own cock pulse with excitement at the cute noises you make. 

the way the fabric of your panties presses against you makes your whines turn into moans, the pleasure starting to mount in your gut. satoru loves this, the slutty pajamas you sleep in of just his shirt and a pair of panties only making everything easier. he has the best seat in the house to you wiggling against the pillows, soft moans spilling from your lips as your little hand tries to add to your pleasure by pinching at your chest. it doesn’t take long at all before you’re grasping at his wrist to keep his hand still, spilling over the edge with nothing but his fingers and the occasional sloppy kiss to your face and neck. 

but he’s missed you, he couldn’t dare stop there. he slides down your body, giving your nipple a quick lick on his way to settle in between your legs. he smiles at the sight greeting him, the cute little wet patch soaking through your undies that was growing darker by the second. he presses his nose against the spot, taking in a deep sniff and sighing it out happily. “god i missed ya so bad, sweetness. you know i gotta taste, i almost forgot what it’s like..” 

you giggle as he loops his fingers in the waistline and peels the wet fabric down your legs, discarding them in a forgotten pile. you spread your legs for him easily, watching his tired eyes hum with vibrance and excitement as he looks at your sopping core. he’s on you in a matter of seconds, his hot tongue spooning out your release for him to drink up. it has your back arching off the bed instantly, the long muscle caressing your insides for his own pleasure just as much as your own. he moves so fast and so sloppy as he moans at your flavor, moving up to suckle on your clit, his teeth gnashing over the bundle without care. he knows your inner workings inside and out, able to work you up and over the edge as quickly or slowly as he willed it. you know better than anyone that that ability paired with his normal insatiability meant you were in for a long night. 

“oh sh–shit baby.” you whine, feeling that delicious burn of pleasure mount in your gut. your eyes drift closed as your fingers snatch handfuls of his white tresses in an effort to ground yourself. he just chuckles, rapidly flicking his tongue over your clit, purposefully trying to drive you to the edge as many times as he could tonight just to prove to you that he couldn’t get his mind off you for one second while he was away. even as dangerous as the stakes of the mission were, he couldn’t bring himself out of his daydream of going back home to your waiting embrace and spending the rest of the day doing exactly this—watching your pretty eyes roll back into your head as your legs shake around his face. 

every suck and lick is calculated expertly, you couldn’t hold back any longer. you whine softly, tugging on his silky hair as you coat his mouth and chin with your juices. you know better though, he won’t stop here. he only proves you right, lapping at your fluids once more before sticking his fingers in the fluttering hole and returning to suck at the apex of your thighs. you shake your head, too wound up from your last orgasm to handle the harsh way his mouth moves over you or the speed of his fingers curling inside. you squeal and kick your legs, trying with all your feeble might to escape him. he knows if you really needed to stop you would give him the special code word you instilled at the beginning of your relationship, so he doesn’t hold back in his relentless finger fucking, letting his teeth bite at your need in a way that had your toes curling and legs jerking before you even came again. you’re whining and panting, and he thinks you’ve never looked better than this, an absolute mess just for him; letting him have his way with you just to prove you missed him too. it makes him so proud. you can feel that pleasurable burn again, mixed with something foreign. it was almost like you had swallowed a bunch of rocks, and you could only gasp out to communicate that this time was going to be different. he felt your thighs tighten under his grip, a clear cut sign that you were close yet again. he giggled to himself, putting his work into overdrive to get you there for the third time in under fifteen minutes. 

you pull his hair way harder than he’s experienced at your hand before—not that he’s complaining, and then you spray liquid all over his face and chest. he’s gawking up at you as he watches the streams, sitting up to avoid it hitting him in the eyes. he’s grinning like a madman though, easy circles over your clit to soothe you through it while his other hand tracks down his shirt. 

“oh my god?? my pretty girl just squirted for me.” he giggles, wiping his face and upper body clean. your eyes are drooping, but you’re returning his grin. he leans over to kiss you, rewarding you for the performance. “so hot. wanted you in doggy, but my poor girl wouldn’t be able to hold herself up.” he teases, shoving your legs to bend up by your chest. 

he slips in so easily he’s fighting not to bust immediately. you swallow up his length so gorgeously, his head falls back and he moans. you feel so good, still so tight and gripping but obviously soaked to the bone. you’ve made such a mess on the bed the two of you may have to sleep in the guest bedroom but he doesn’t care. he’s determined to fuck a fourth one out of you even if it takes all night. your nails dig into his forearms with his first thrust. everything is so sensitive, you can feel every vein and ridge along his shaft as the tip bumps along your womb. 

“fuck–so good, angel. missed you so bad, can’t ya tell?” he giggles, drawing your legs to wrap around his waist. he keeps ramming his length in, a rhythmic snap of his hips against yours and his balls following close behind and your open-mouthed pants filling the room. you can’t respond and he knows that, but he still talks to you anyway, enjoying the way your brows scrunch in frustration at him. your fingers dig and claw at him, with your pussy spasming so rapidly he wonders if it’s normal. 

this time, it nearly hurts to cum. your eyes squeeze shut and you grip him so tightly he can’t move, that fact alone enough to have him painting ribbons of white against your insides with a guttural moan. he squeezes your hips, his chest and face red from all the hard work and forehead sheening with sweat. satoru leans down to give you a sweet kiss, suffocating the sounds of recovery from you both. you can feel him grinning, and you want to get onto him for being so cocky, but you don’t have the energy. he’s already on it though, taking advantage of your hazy in-and-out state to get you cleaned up and tucked back under the sheets, complete with a bottle of water on the nightstand and all. 

“so happy to be home, princess.” he says, long arms closing around your waist and hard chest caressing your back. 

#jjk x reader #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesjjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader

[moondirti]

give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in. 

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home. 

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else. 

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry. 

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar. 

You’re glad you’d left that life behind. 

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass. 

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks. 

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead. 

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.” 

You pour him a glass regardless. 

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh. 

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him. 

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down. 

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home. 

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them. 

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood. 

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition. 

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres. 

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep. 

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace. 

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces. 

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for. 

“They’re alright.” 

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm. 

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up. 

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head. 

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer. 

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause: 

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost. 

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment. 

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral. 

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says. 

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway. 

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you. 

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs. 

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles. 

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything. 

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back –  was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign. 

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any. 

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips. 

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?” 

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him. 

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up. 

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time. 

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain. 

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth. 

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base. 

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head. 

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring. 

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it. 

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster. 

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you. 

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in. 

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair. 

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust. 

“Go ahead.” You coax. 

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement. 

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain. 

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh. 

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact. 

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you. 

“A-Ah! Simon, y–” 

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.” 

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood. 

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing. 

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you. 

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple. 

He slowly removes the mask. 

The balaclava follows soon after. 

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow. 

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid. 

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man. 

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him. 

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

permanent taglist: @saintbedelia @tusk89 @cactuswaterscactusfields @lexloon

since i've only written for star wars previously, if you're on this list and want to be moved to a character specific one instead, i've added the option on my form!

join my taglist!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #ghost #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii #cod mw22 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #fanfiction #x female reader #x you #x f!reader #smut #angst #simon ‘ghost’ riley x female reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader

[annabelle--cane]

okay here's a tma thing that's been bugging me for like three years: I've seen a bunch of people say that jon needed to extract statements in order to live, and thus the others making him stop was equivalent to forcing him to starve to death, so I'd like to say that that isn't actually canon. that idea seems to come from this bit of mag 152:

and he explicitly says that he isn't certain, it just feels that way, and I don't believe we ever actually see an avatar die from starving their patron; we can presume that the alexandrian archivist from mag 53 hadn't fed in nearly two millennia, and it was still alive. this also comes during a short series of episodes where, having accepted that he isn't being puppeted into taking statements, it seems like a part of jon is on-and-off-again trying to come up with other reasons why he actually has to do it (he'll die otherwise, he has to be strong enough to protect the others, it must be harder on him to resist his patron than daisy and melanie with theirs, etc), so I think that colors the way he talks about it. not that I think he's lying or anything, I just think he's subconsciously magnifying any pieces of information that would make him feel better about taking statements again. I don't begrudge him that, because a) like, duh, of course that's his mindset, wouldn't it be yours? and b) he doesn't actually fall off the proverbial wagon at any point, he just thinks himself in miserable circles and feels Bad. but still, I don't think it's a full and accurate assessment.

anyway, the situation we're presented with here is more complex than "it's like making a lion stop eating gazelles," because jon neither kills his victims nor is he in actual immanent danger of death if he doesn't "feed," the real question is of extended pain and suffering. jess tyrell only tells martin about her experience two weeks after it happens, so she may well improve with more time, but as she tells it, jon not only attacked her in public and made her feel perpetually unsafe and paranoid, but he also undid five years of recovery from a traumatic event, making her viscerally re-live it every night so the terror and trauma is always fresh. jon may not die from only reading old statements, but his quality of life nosedives, he gets weak and tired and irritable with no way to ever make it let up, an even more significant problem for him than most people because of the frequency with which superpowered monsters try to kill him and everyone he cares about, and it appears to get gradually worse over time with no plateau. like, I'm not pointing this out to say "jon was complaining about nothing and basira was right to threaten to kill him," his situation was plenty bad as-is and I 100% sympathize with his whole deal, but I think saying "he needed to or he'd die" flattens the conflict and makes it overly neat and digestible.

#tma #marina marvels at life #id in alt text

[flanaganfilm]

Hello and Howdy Mr. Mike Flanagan! I'm excited to see you here on our humble hellsite. I have so much to say and ask about your netflix shows but for the moment, I want to ask about Doctor Sleep because I enjoyed that movie immensely - it filled me with a pleasant sense of dread, which possibly makes no sense, or a lot of sense.

What was that creative process like? Reconciling book and movie canons, following Kubrick's legacy, working with Ewan and Rebecca and Zahn and everyone else. I'm obsessed with King adaptations and I'm just fascinated with Doctor Sleep.

Alright! Buckle up for yet another long read.

Thank you for your question, and for this opportunity to go back and talk about DOCTOR SLEEP. It's a very special film to me, and a very special time in my life as well.

It all started with a general meeting with Jon Berg at Warner Bros.

The meeting itself started pretty wild - Adrien Brody walked out of the office as I was waiting to go in. Jon introduced us and we chatted for a few minutes, and I was a little out of whack for the rest of the meeting because I had a very potent "wow that was Adrien Brody" buzz going.

We were meant to talk about DC Comics and see if there was anything to do there. I was really hoping to chat about a horror-slanted Clayface movie, and about my favorite superhero: Superman.

Neither conversation went very far. I had just finished GERALD'S GAME, and Jon was a King fan, so he asked about the production. And then he asked if I'd ever read Warners' script for DOCTOR SLEEP.

I had. In fact, I had tried very hard to get a meeting at the studio when the book was first published. Warners owned the rights to DOCTOR SLEEP outright - it was part of their deal going all the way back to THE SHINING - so they immediately began looking into movie options when the book was published. Akiva Goldsman had written a script, and it was one of the first projects I asked about when I signed with WME as a client years before. "That isn't going anywhere," they told me. "I don't think that movie gets made."

They had tried to get me the meeting anyway, but no one at Warners responded. I never got in the room.

But now, here I was. What did I have to lose at this point?

"I did read it," I said. "I'd take a different approach." Jon sat back and smiled. "I love the book, Rose is one of the great villains of all time," he said. I agreed. He probed. "What's wrong with the script?"

"I don't think it follows the book closely enough."

"What would you do?"

"I'd do the book. Streamline it, combine some characters, and you'd have to rethink the True Knot a bit. But otherwise, just do the book. As long as it's a three-hander between Danny, Abra and Rose it'll work. With one big asterisk."

"What's that?"

"I think you have to bring back the hotel. Kubrick's hotel, I mean."

Jon smiled wider. "Yeah, it's a bummer the hotel burned down. King goes out of his way at the start of the book to emphasize that - no Overlook, look no further."

This was my biggest gripe with the book.

I said "When I read the book, all I could see was Kubrick's hotel. I think you do the book as close as you possibly can, until the big fight at the end. Instead of it taking place in an empty field, let it be in the hotel."

Jon: "Do you think King will be upset if you change his ending? You know how feels about THE SHINING, right?"

Me: "What if we gave him THAT ending? What if we let Danny have Jack's ending? Jack sacrificed himself to save his family and destroy the Overlook - why not let Danny do that? Change the ending, sure, but give him the ending Kubrick denied him."

We shook hands, and I called my producing partner Trevor Macy to tell him it was a good general, but nothing was coming out of my DC meeting. By the time I'd made it back to my car, though, Jon had reached out to Stephen King and asked if he'd be interested in me taking a swing at it. Steve, who had enjoyed GERALD'S GAME, said yes.

I was immediately petrified when the call came in that they might want to engage me on a rewrite of DOCTOR SLEEP, with a directorial attachment. I'd have to rewrite the script from scratch, and I kind of felt like they were calling my bluff. But the deal was made and quite suddenly I was adapting DOCTOR SLEEP.

First order of business was to make King aware of what I intended to do. I had just established a tentative relationship with my hero over GERALD'S GAME, and the last thing - the very last thing in the world I ever wanted - was to upset him. We weren't in direct communication, we spoke through agents and emails at this point - but I had to make him aware of the Overlook thing.

I put together a proposal that outlined what I wanted to do - use Kubrick's visual language, and keep the Overlook standing as a setting for the final battle. The initial feedback we got was "no." King really, really didn't like Kubrick's film, and his priority was to adapt DOCTOR SLEEP - not to revisit THE SHINING.

I told him that if he didn't want me to do it, I wouldn't - I'd walk away from the movie before I made something he hated. But as a last ditch effort, I said "imagine the Overlook, decrepit and rotten. And imagine Dan Torrance having walk in to 'wake it up,' the lights coming on above his head as he walks the halls. He finds his way to the Gold Room. To the familiar bar, where an empty glass is waiting for him. And we see a familiar bartender ready to pour for him, saying 'good evening Mister Torrance.' What if that bartender is his father?"

After a bit of a delay, King got back to us. "Do it," he said.

Writing the script was tough. I immediately felt like I had stepped into a very unsafe space. "This is going to piss everybody off," I figured. Kubrick fans would be livid that the movie was being made. King fans might be angry that Kubrick's imagery was being homaged. There was no way to please everyone, so I set about writing the movie I wanted to see most.

It was a slightly nauseous feeling that would stay with me until the movie came out.

I sat down to write with a hardcover copy of DOCTOR SLEEP to my right, and a hardcover copy of THE SHINING to my left. I read both cover to cover, sticking post-its throughout the pages with ideas, or flagging lines of dialogue (or even prose) that I wanted to protect. I managed to put together a basic outline for the movie, which was intimidating and sprawling.

I finally finished the draft and sent it off to Warner Bros. and King at the same time. I was shooting THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE at the time, and thought it would take a long while and a few more iterations before SLEEP would go anywhere, if it ever did.

Warner Bros. shocked us all by coming back with a green light. I've been told that it was one of the fastest green lights in the recent history of the studio, and I believe it.

It happened so fast, in fact, that Steve hadn't read the script yet. I got an email from him on a Friday saying "I read the first half, and I absolutely love it - my son's getting married, so I'll pick it up in a week or so and finish it, but great so far!" I was nauseous... because I knew everything that King was likely to hate was in the second half.

When he finally did finish reading it, about a week later, he reached out and said:

"I think it's really good. In my experience, this is the kind of script studios don't make, because it's TOO good. Hopefully I'm wrong. But no matter how it turns out, thanks for treating me so well. - Steve"

I had the distinct pleasure of being able to write him back and tell him that Warner Bros. had just greenlit the movie. And we were off to the races.

The pressure was enormous. They were spending a lot of money on this movie, and because of the insane box office success of IT: CHAPTER ONE, expectations were very high.

We were given access to Kubrick's blueprints for the Overlook hotel set, which were still held at Warner Bros. While we set about rebuilding the sets, our attention turned to casting.

For Dan, we met with a handful of actors: Dan Stevens, Chris Evans, Matt Smith, and Jeremy Renner all came in to chat about the movie. But Ewan McGregor, who himself was eight years sober (just like Dan), was the obvious choice. "Let's not talk about the Shining yet," he said. "I want to talk about recovery." He was the guy.

For Rose the Hat, we talked with several actresses, including Anne Hathaway, Nicole Kidman, and my dear friend Karen Gillan - but Rebecca Ferguson knocked our socks off on a 90-minute zoom meeting, and the part was hers.

Finding Abra Stone was more difficult - we auditioned more than 900 girls for the part. We'd narrowed it down to a half-dozen very promising and successful young actresses, including Lulu Wilson (who I'd worked with several times before and adore), but Kyliegh Curran's self-tape audition rose to the very top of the pile. Ewan flew to Atlanta to read with our final picks, and when Kyliegh - who lived 15 minutes from our office, was local casting, and had never booked a job before - finished reading, he turned to us and said "I mean it's her, right?" It absolutely was.

When we cast her, we invited her back to the office after school one day to get oriented. The crew was so excited for her that they decorated the production office in her honor.

As the rest of the cast fell in, we started doing our camera tests and getting excited about what we were putting together. My feeling over overwhelming nausea only got stronger.

We started shooting in September of 2018. The shoot was long, but never exhausting. The cast and crew were uniformly pleasant and happy to be there, and after the soul-crushing slog that had been THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, it was a relief to enjoy working again.

Kate was pregnant with our daughter Theo at the time. She visited as much as she could, but finally couldn't travel any more. Being away from Kate and our son Cody was hard, but I'm so grateful that we got to share some time on set together.

All things considered, this was a smooth shoot. But something happened for me while we were making it that would change the course of my life forever.

See, THE SHINING is about alcoholism. King wrote it while in the throes of his own addiction, and it is a novel about the anxiety he felt about what he could potentially do to his family if left unchecked. It's one of the reasons he was so upset with Kubrick's adaptation - all of that was taken away. This is a profoundly personal story for King.

When he wrote DOCTOR SLEEP, he was decades sober. The story of DOCTOR SLEEP is the story of recovery. This was something that Ewan knew very well, and why he was perfect for the part. He knew what the journey felt like. He wasn't alone - there were a number of cast and crew members on this shoot that were sober. In fact, just about all of the actors who played main characters were sober. I was still drinking at the time, though it had already become obviously problematic in my life, I hadn't taken any meaningful steps to change it.

This photograph was taken on 10/12/2018. This was taken on the day I got sober. I quit cold turkey, in the middle of production. I was clinging to vices at the time. Note not only the cigarette in my hand (I was smoking almost 2 packs a day), but the ash tray that had been rigged to the top of my viewfinder by the camera department. (I don't smoke anymore either, just about four years without cigs as well... and I still miss them.)

I had been writing about addiction for a decade. It was all over my work, going all the way back to ABSENTIA. I didn't realize just how much I was writing about myself, and I still can't believe it took me this long.

I vividly recall writing the scene between Dan and Jack at the bar. My wife pointed out to me after the fact that she could see it then, that something was changing in me when it came to drinking. Something was waking up, and I was processing a desperate need to sober up. That scene represents an internal conversation that is profoundly personal to me. It's still my favorite scene of the movie.

I've been sober now for over 4 years. DOCTOR SLEEP helped me finally make that decision. I finished the shoot sober, and came home to my life with a lot of uncertainty and insecurity. But with the unflinching support of my incredible wife, and some amazing friends, my life started to really blossom. It was pretty immediately evident that this was one of the best decisions I'll ever make.

Meanwhile, though, I had to finish DOCTOR SLEEP.

I LOVED the movie we'd made, but I was still terrified of what King would think of it - not to mention Kubrick's estate.

When we finished the cut, I flew to Bangor to screen the finished film for Steve. It was the first I'd meet him in person, and one of the most insanely exciting and humbling days of my life.

We watched the movie together, and I was acutely aware of each and every little reaction he had throughout.

(With Trevor Macy, my producing partner at Intrepid)

When the show as over, Steve turned to me and said "You did a beautiful job." And ultimately, he added that this film had made him warm up to the Kubrick movie as well.

A week later, we heard from Kubrick's estate that they had also loved the movie.

With King's blessing, and Kubrick's family, I felt that nausea finally subside. I said to Kate, "that's it. That's all that matters. Doesn't matter if the movie crashes and burns - we already won the important battle."

And then, the movie crashed and burned.

A group of us went to see it opening night at Arclight Hollywood (my favorite theater). We were just about the only people there. And I knew immediately that we were going to have a bad weekend.

The movie didn't perform very well. Warner Bros. was disappointed, and ended up scrapping the Dick Hallorann movie we were planning, as well as the Overlook Hotel prequel.

I was pretty crest-fallen. I'd spent years tossing and turning over whether audiences would be divided between the King and Kubrick camps. I'd been petrified that they'd be furious, venomous, run me out on a rail... I'd never considered that they'd be utterly disinterested. Apathy wasn't even on my radar.

Steve called me the Monday after opening weekend with some words of encouragement. "I remember when THE SHINING bombed," he said. "And SHAWSHANK. Give it some time. It'll find its audience. It's a really good movie."

That has turned out to be true. While it didn't set the world on fire theatrically, the movie has over-performed on VOD and streaming. And when Warner Bros. released the Directors Cut (I'm still so grateful that they did that), it popped even more.

So yes, to answer your question - the pressures were enormous. I hope this paints a little picture of what it was like. The biggest gift I got out of it, though, was sobriety.

I reached out to King a year later, on my first sober birthday. I hadn't told him I was sober, but it felt like time to do it. I got to thank him. "I never told you this, but I sobered up while we were shooting DOCTOR SLEEP, and I don't think I would have done it without your words. Living in that story, and marinading in the concepts of recovery and redemption made it possible. I just want to thank you."

He wrote back his congratulations, and then mentioned "as it happens, I'm off to celebrate 30 years myself. It only gets better and better."

And he is absolutely right.

DOCTOR SLEEP was the perfect project for me after the nightmare that was HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. I fell in love with making movies again. And I found a new and wonderful gear for my life. It has only made everything better - my marriage, my work, my experience walking around on planet earth. I'm so grateful for it.

When I think of DOCTOR SLEEP, I think of Ewan sitting at the bar and looking at the glass in his hand. "Man takes a drink, drink takes a drink... and then the drink takes the man. Ain't it so, dad."

Ewan understood those words better than I did when I typed them into the script. I understand them much better now.

There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not profoundly grateful for my time at the Overlook. And for myriad of ways my life has been changed because of it.

#doctor sleep #sobriety #behind the scenes #behind the scene photo #ewan mcgregor #stephen king #rebecca ferguson #grateful #warner bros #the shining #featured

[coloursparks]

Not Like That

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Summary: Things change over the summer holiday with Sebastian, and then things get messy. Might as well spend the first few weeks of your last year fighting about it. WC: 6.1k Notes: Oh god, the first fic I've written in like six years and I am sure it's shit. I am sorry if characterization is off. It takes me a minute?? I also have zero clue if I want this to be canon compliant or not so there's absolutely no mention of Anne or what happened! Also, no beta so please don't be too harsh. I just wanted to have fun writing a thing and hopefully someone else enjoys it!

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How else am I supposed to look?” you asked Imelda. “Do you hear yourself talk?”

“Do you?” she shot back, giving you the same exasperated look you were giving her. “If you don’t say something about it soon, you’re going to lose your chance. I’m not sure I can hold them at bay much longer.”

“I don’t know what chance you think I should have,” you said, though you didn’t sound as confident about it. The fact of the matter was you knew exactly what Imelda was talking about, and she was right. You hated that she was right.

“Sallow’s come back a foot taller and just bigger and you aren’t the only one who’s noticed,” she pointed out. “Violet’s determined to slip him a love potion. I’ve been trying to tell her he’s already involved, but considering I can’t say who, it hasn’t worked all too well.”

“I hate her,” you muttered, feeling a prick of jealousy. 

“You hate anyone who so much as bats an eyelash at him,” Imelda pointed out. “You can save yourself the trouble but just telling him that you fancy him and snog in the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks already.” 

“Imelda!” 

“Or snog him somewhere else. I happen to quite like the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks for that sort of thing, but to each their own,” she said simply, shrugging. She was unashamed, and part of you envied her for it. 

“It’s not that simple,” you sighed, giving her a pleading look.

“And why not?”

“Because…because…” you stammered, trying to find a reason that would satisfy your friend. When none came to mind as she stared at you expectantly, you groaned and rested your head on your crossed arms on the table in front of you. “He’s going to have a right laugh at me, Imelda.”

“No, he will not,” she said, poking you in the shoulder. You looked up at her, already defeated and resigned to the fact that despite your years-long pining for Sebastian Sallow, nothing would ever come at it.

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“Because Sallow’s a lot of things, but he’s not that cruel. Besides, for all you know, he could be whining to Ominus about how much he fancies you but thinks he has no chance,” she pointed out. “Now, come on. We’ll be late, and Hecat swore to put me in detention if I was late again.”  The two of you stood from the table in the library where you had been sitting, gathering up your belongings before heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

“Why are you so late all the time anyway?” you asked curiously as you held open the door into Central Hall for her. 

“Flying,” she answered simply. 

Of course. It was Imelda - you should have known. 

___

“Mr. Sallow, why must you always duel in my classroom?” 

Professor Hecat was only just leaving her office as you and Imelda entered and seemed too busy repairing the collateral damage from Sebastian’s duel with Leander Prewett to notice the two of you sneaking to nearby seats. The room was righting itself as Sebastian raised his hands up to the professor, taking a few steps away from the dueling platform he had been standing on.

“Because, Professor, there isn’t another place where dueling is sanctioned,” he pointed out, his voice conveying innocence he didn’t possess. You rolled your eyes because you knew full well that dueling being sanctioned didn’t stop him from doing it. Crossed Wands meetings and plenty of adventures proved otherwise, and the look Hecat was giving him also showed she knew otherwise.

“Let’s see if we can make it through the term without you destroying my classroom, Mr. Sallow.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, raising his wand and muttering a hasty spell to repair the nearby broken desk. It righted itself in one piece, still smoking slightly. “It won’t happen again.” He shot her a smile before heading to a nearby seat. “Imelda, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize Quidditch players needed N.E.W.T.S. Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he chuckled as he leaned forward to look at her.

“I take no chances,” Imelda replied cooly. “You never know what an opponent will do to get ahead, and knowing how to unjinx a broom can’t hurt.”

“If you say so,” he said, still smiling as he shook his head. “And my favorite Hufflepuff returns. I was starting to wonder if you even still went here,” he joked, elbowing you gently in the arm. 

“No, still here,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to rub the tingling feeling out of your arm where he had touched you. It was ridiculous, letting a simple touch get to you, but everything was ridiculous when he was involved. 

Before either of you could say anything else, Professor Hecat was calling for the class to focus on her so she could teach. You tried your best to pay attention, but the fact you were next to Sebastian was nothing short of distracting. Words came out of the professor’s mouth and you tried to hold onto them, only for them to slip through your fingers because Sebastian was making that focused face he always made when he was trying to learn something, brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue poking out as he scribbled on parchment.

It was the first time you had really gotten to see him up close. Sebastian had certainly grown over the summer holiday – he was broader and if there were any doubts, the way his sleeves were pulled taut over his arms put them to rest. He was a head taller than last year, and you cursed him mentally for somehow having even more freckles. He had left sixth year looking more like a boy and returned for seventh year looking like a man, and you certainly hadn’t been the only one who noticed. 

Part of the reason why Sebastian had joked about not knowing if you had come back to Hogwarts was that you hadn’t been able to get his attention before now. You had seen him on the Hogwarts Express, but he and Ominis had been having such an intense-seeming conversation that you hadn’t wanted to interrupt. You had tried to end up in the same carriage on the way up to the school, but before you could tell him that you had room in your carriage, Violet McDowell was pulling him into hers with Sebastian tugging Ominis in too.

Dejected and a little annoyed, you had ridden up to the school in huffy silence with Imelda and Poppy. 

Outside of trying to wave at Sebastian from the Hufflepuff table after the sorting, you hadn’t bothered to get his attention. He was clearly enjoying the attention of the girls that somehow seemed to find every free space around him. You could have sworn that you saw Imelda notice the upset look on your face, but you decided to jab at your roast potatoes instead of looking at the Slytherin table any longer. 

It was the bell to signal the end of class that shook you from your stupor. You had zoned out watching Sebastian, who blissfully hadn’t noticed the attention. Unfortunately for you, Imelda certainly had. She gave you a look that very clearly said that her thoughts from your earlier conversation hadn’t changed. Luckily, before she could say anything about it, Sebastian was ducking in the way.

“Imelda, Quidditch,” he said quickly, noticing he needed to head her off talking about something, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“What about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she packed her belongings.

“Tryouts,” Sebastian said simply. “Want to know when they’re happening. Decided to finally try out.” When Imelda gave eyed him suspiciously, like she thought she was walking into a trap of some kind, he sighed and added, “I was told to do something more productive and sanctioned with my time.”

“You’re serious?” Imelda asked. “What position?”

“Beater. You need those, right?”

“We do,” she agreed. She glanced over at you, sighed, and then looked back to Sebastian. “I’m going down to the pitch before Potions if you want to practice before tryouts and I can give you tips to improve.” 

You wanted to laugh. As much as Imelda probably wanted you and Sebastian alone together so you could confess the feelings you still wouldn’t admit to, her love of Quidditch won out. Secretly, you were thankful for it.

“Do you want to join us?” Sebastian asked hopefully, looking over at you. “Get a leg up on your Slytherin competition.”

“Hufflepuff still wouldn’t stand a chance,” Imelda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’ve got Divination,” you told him, choosing to ignore Imelda’s teasing. 

“You’re still taking that?” 

You shrugged in response. “I like Professor Onai. Plus, someone has to keep Natty company,” you explained. “You two don’t get bloodied up too bad without me.”

“Don’t worry, if Sallow’s any good, his pretty face will stay pretty,” Imelda laughed, and you knew that she was trying to get a rise out of you. Sebastian, thankfully, seemed a bit preoccupied with the comment himself to notice the color rising in your cheeks. You excused yourself with the excuse of not wanting to be late to class before things could get any more awkward.

____

In the weeks after, you had seen more of Sebastian, and then suddenly a lot less. Unsurprisingly, he ended up making the Quidditch team. With the beginning of the Quidditch season coming up, Imelda had them practicing at all hours, meaning that her time to try and press the issue of your feelings for Sebastian was blissfully cut short. 

Luckily, you could at least still spend time with other friends who either didn’t notice what Imelda had or at least had the grace not to press you about it. Without Sebastian around, you seemed to find Ominis on his own more, and the nice part about spending time with him was that he didn’t seem to give a damn about your romantic life nor did he want to divulge on his own the way Poppy and Adelaide had been as of late. You were happy for your friends, but the constant questions about your own because the two Hufflepuffs weren’t as well-versed in your emotions as Imelda was getting to be a little much.

“What do you think you’ll do once you graduate?” 

Ominis had been talking about what his own plans were as the two of you walked toward Hogsmeade. The two of you were friends, sure, but more because you had a mutual friend than because you spent any significant time together before now. You were catching up on the more interesting things now that the two of you were spending time together without Sebastian. 

“When we did career conversations with our Heads of House, I thought I wanted to work for the Ministry but something about it doesn’t feel right anymore,” you told him, stepping out of the way of a witch carrying a stack of books with a cauldron perched precariously on top. “Bit mad to expect a bunch of children to decide what to do with their lives just like that, you know?”

“You sound like Sebastian,” he pointed out, chuckling slightly. “Says he might not bother with curse-breaking at all now. Might want to play Quidditch professionally instead.”

“He hasn’t played in a single game,” you laughed. “The season doesn’t start for another week and he wants to be a professional now?”

“Apparently so.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Well,” Ominis started, “you can ask him all about it later. He’s meeting us here after practice–if Imelda’s left enough of the team.” 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” you said casually, trying to ignore the excitement from the news and the slight feeling of dread. As much as you liked Imelda, you hoped she wouldn’t be joining because you weren’t ready for another round of heavy-handed comments about you and Sebastian. 

“The second I said you and I were going to Hogsmeade, he said he was joining,” he explained, shrugging. “You haven’t seen much of him lately, have you?”

“Outside of classes? No,” you sighed. “He seems too busy for me these days.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” you said, biting your lip. 

You didn’t want to get into it with Ominis. He didn’t need to know how much it bugged you to see Sebastian at meal times, talking to the rest of the team or those girls that somehow always seemed to hang around him. He didn’t need to know how disappointed you were every time you couldn’t even get Sebastian’s attention to say hello, and when you did, half the time he was rushing off somewhere. You felt thoroughly left behind and the fact you cared so much about him made it hurt all that much more. The less Ominis knew about all of that, the better. 

“He’s just been busy with Quidditch,” you replied finally, in too airy of a voice to be entirely convincing. 

Thankfully, he let the topic of your mutual friend slide as you got into the village. You had needed to restock for Potions, and Ominis seemed uncharacteristically cheery in Honeydukes 

and you didn’t have the heart to suggest going elsewhere when he wanted to explore. Leaving close to an hour later with your coin purses lighter but pockets heavier, you managed to get into and out of Gladrag’s with only the new scarf you had intended to buy before heading to the Three Broomsticks. 

“There you two are!” Sebastian was sitting at a table in the corner, waving at the two of you. Your heart skipped at the look of the smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back and wave to show that you spotted him. 

“Would you mind grabbing the Butterbeers?” Ominis asked, turning towards the sound of Sebastian’s voice. 

“Consider it done,” you told him, giving him a pat on the arm before heading to the bar. “Sirona! Can I get two Butterbeers?” She waved to show that she heard you, even as she was dealing with something else behind the bar. You looked around to see if there was other students in the pub, and you spotted a few younger Hufflepuffs and, a few tables over, Garreth Weasley and Everett Clopton discussing something on a piece of parchment in front of them. That was…dangerous. 

The only other table of interest was the one you were heading to, and as you looked over at it, you saw Sebastian looking at you, still smiling. You smiled back, feeling a little silly at how easy it was for him to make you feel the way he did.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Sirona commented as she slid two full glasses in front of you. You whipped around, giving her a confused look.

“What do you mean?” 

“Sebastian’s been watching that door like his life depended on it,” she said. “Waiting for you.”

“Well, Ominis doesn’t come to the village often,” you pointed out, taking your drinks. “He was probably just worried about him and won’t admit it. Boys, you know.” 

“Perhaps,” Sirona said, but the look on her face showed that she didn’t believe what you were saying. You pushed what you owed for the drinks toward her, and picked up the Butterbeer. She left it there, and you headed over to your friends. You placed Ominis’ drink in front of him before settling in the free seat.

“If we don’t win, I’m quitting,” Sebastian was telling Ominis.

“Already?” you asked, giving Sebastian an amused look.

“You have no idea what Imelda is like Captain,” he responded, shaking his head. “She woke us up before dawn this morning.”

“I feel like you knew what you were signing up for,” you laughed. “It’s not like it’s a surprise that Imelda is…intense.”

“But add a little power over people,” he sighed, “and you’ll be playing Quidditch every moment you’re not in class or asleep.”

“Just the way she likes it,” you pointed out, taking a sip of your drink. “I thought you wanted to play professionally?”

“Yeah but…” he trailed off. “When did I tell you that?”

“I told her before,” Ominis piped in. “She talks to you even less than I do. We compare notes,” he added dryly. You laughed at the comment. It was perfectly true. Sebastian and you would talk maybe for a minute before class or after, but Ominis at least saw him in the Slytherin Common Room. The two of you talked about other things, but the conversation would always turn to Sebastian at one point or another. 

Sebastian frowned, but before he could say anything else about it, Ominis was talking about something else. For a while, Sebastian was uncharacteristically quiet as you two chatted about nothing in particular and drank your Butterbeers. Slowly, he became more himself, and you had to admit, it was nice to have what felt like the “old days” back again. It felt like you were back in the Undercroft, and not fighting for Sebastian’s attention. 

Once all three glasses were empty, you stood up and scooped them into your arms. “I’ll go get us more,” you declared, smiling brightly. You didn’t want things to end just yet, so another round of drinks made the most sense. You had barely been up at the bar for a minute when your seat was taken by Violet McDowell. She had pulled the chair closer to Sebastian and was leaning so near him she might as well be in his lap, and Ominis was looking almost as annoyed as you were. Sirona said nothing about the look on your face other than a glance over to your table and a head shake. 

Unable to carry all three drinks, you instead charmed the filled glasses to float in front of you as you headed back to the table. You let the three of them fall with more force than you meant to, causing loud thuds and Butterbeer to slop out over the rims and onto the table. Ominis, who couldn’t know that he should move back the way Sebastian had, got the brunt of the spill.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, more to him than the other two. “Just got away from me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the castle with me?” Violet was simpering, ignoring what had just happened. “You said you’d help me with my Charms work, Bas.” You almost snorted at the nickname but managed to cover it up with a cough.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room later,” Sebastian told her, “go ahead without me.” Violet pouted, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek and look away from her. She was certainly shameless. 

“Fine! But you promised,” Violet huffed before getting up and heading out, ignoring the other two people at the table completely. Ominis was trying to clean up the spilled Butterbeer so he either didn’t notice or care about Violet’s departure. 

“I’m going to wash up,” Ominis said, standing up and shaking his hands. 

“I’m really sorry, Ominis,” you sighed, and he just shook his head.

“Accidents happen.” He disappeared upstairs, leaving you and Sebastian alone for the first time since before the summer holiday. You pulled your chair back to where it had been before Violet showed up and sat down.

Things were quiet between the two of you for a long moment. Both of you seemed more interested in your drinks than speaking, and neither one of you looked at the other. It was Sebastian who finally broke the silence.

“So…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ominis lately,” he mentioned casually. You shrugged, looking over at him.

“I guess,” you agreed. “You and Imelda have been busy with Quidditch, so it’s just been the two of us.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that the only reason?” he asked in the same casual voice, leaning forward as if he was expecting you to spill about some secret mission you and Ominis were planning. It was then that you realized that you hadn’t pulled the chair back all the way, and with your back facing the corner where the table was settled, Sebastian was boxing you in. If Sebastian had looked like he had grown before, close up, he looked to have doubled in size with him so closer now. He seemed almost impossibly broad now, and you felt nothing short of tiny in comparison. You looked up at him, confused, blushing slightly.

“Yes?” you said nervously. “Why would there be another reason?”

“Don’t know,” he responded, settling his arm on the table as he continued to lean towards you, resting his head against his hand. “I haven’t seen you much this year so I thought…” he started, but you cut him off.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian,” you huffed. “You’re the one who doesn’t have any time for me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian looked taken aback at your words. 

“You’re joking, right?” you said, leaning in a little closer as you stared him down. “You’ve barely said two words for me outside of class. You don’t bother to even say hi at meals anymore.”

“I haven’t seen you,” he explained, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Of course, you haven’t seen me.” You rolled your eyes, frustration that had been bubbling finally coming to the surface. “You’re at practice or going to class or busy showing off for Violet and those other girls that follow you around.”

“I’m not showing off for Violet,” he shot back. “Or any of those other girls. I’m not asking them to do that!”

“And you’re not telling them to leave you alone either,” you pointed out, temper creeping into your voice. “You sure seem to be loving the attention every time I see you. Why would you bother looking up to say hi to me when you have…”

“What are you two talking about?”

Ominis had reappeared at the table. Sebastian slid back, no longer crowding you into the corner, looking annoyed. 

“Nothing,” he told the other boy. He drained his entire Butterbeer before standing up. “I should head back to the Castle. Quidditch doesn’t leave much time for homework. I should catch up.” He didn’t bother waiting for either of you to say anything before starting to leave.

“Tell Violet we say hi, Bas.” The words were out of your mouth before you thought about it, and there was a small part of you that looked satisfied as a guilty look appeared on his face, but then replaced by a look of defiance. 

“I’ll see you back at the common room, Ominis,” he said and was gone a moment later. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing,” you sighed. You looked at your drink, not really wanting it anymore. “Can we go back to school? I…uh, I think we’re getting close to curfew.”

“Right,” Ominis agreed, nodding. “Floo powder is faster.”

“Works for me,” you sighed, letting him lead the way over to the fire. 

_____

The first Quidditch match of the season had the entire castle beside itself. You couldn’t share in the enthusiasm-–even fellow Hufflepuffs were excited to see Ravenclaw vs Slytherin—because it meant having to see Sebastian out on the field. Even in classes over the last week, you determinedly avoided so much as looking at him. Imelda, blissfully, was too worked up about the game to notice.

In the end, you decided to go to support her. 

It hadn’t been too bad. Most of the other Hufflepuffs you were sitting with were cheering for Ravenclaw, but you and Poppy were too excited for Imelda to join in. It certainly got you two some looks from people nearby, but the excitement of seeing her score twice in a row made it easy to ignore. Despite your annoyance with him, it was still something else to see Sebastian zip by, sending bludgers toward the Ravenclaw Chasers. 

You weren’t any less glad when you two were waiting for Imelda to come out of the changing room that she was the last one out.

“Sallow went up with the rest of the team before,” she told you as you hugged her.

“I don’t care,” you huffed. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why don’t you care? Could have gotten to him before Violet McDowell did.”

“Why would you want to get Sebastian before Violet McDowell?” Poppy asked, looking between you and Imelda. You led the way back up towards the castle, your friends following behind.

“I don’t,” you responded, shaking your head. 

“What happened?” Imelda asked. “He was strange when I mentioned you before too.”

“Nothing happened,” you said. “He’d rather spend time with Violet McDowell? Fine. I don’t care.”

“Why does it matter who Sebastian spends time with?” Poppy asked. Then, she stopped. “Oh, you fancy him, don’t you?”

“Not anymore I don’t,” you huffed. “Now can we just leave it be?” Poppy, who you two hadn’t stopped for, ran to catch up with you. Imelda just laughed.

“He might be big on reading, but Sallow is as thick as they come,” she chuckled. “Good riddance, I say. You’ll do much better.”

“I always thought you and Ominis were cute together,” Poppy offered. 

“You know, he asked me if there was a reason the two of us were spending so much time alone together,” you half laughed, half scoffed. 

“You’re joking,” Imelda laughed. “When did he come to you with that idea?”

“Met us in Hogsmeade last week. He and I got into an argument and I haven’t spoken to him since,” you explained. 

“How did I miss this?” Imelda asked, and looked to Poppy. “Did you know about this?”

“No! I didn’t even know she fancied Sebastian,” she said, “no one tells me anything, apparently! All these times we’ve talked about who I fancy and…”

“I don’t fancy Sebastian,” you sighed. “At least, not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You two would be cute together too!”

“I don’t want to ever talk to him again,” you said shortly as the door to the castle swung open. “I also don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“That’s right!” Imelda said brightly, “Outside of Quidditch, Sallow is nothing.” When you shot her a look, she shrugged. “He’s a good Beater, you have to admit. But outside of the pitch, won’t talk to him.”

“Am I still allowed to talk to him?” asked Poppy.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” you replied. 

“Well, you aren’t and Imelda isn’t…” she trailed off, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m just doing it because it’ll annoy him,” Imelda pointed out. “Sounds like fun, right?” You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up.

“Do whatever the two of you wish, but I am not getting involved. I’m going to the library,” you announced. “I have work to do that I ignored to come watch the game.” 

“No fun!” Imelda called.

“What? It’s not like I can join the party anyway.” 

“I’d sneak you in,” she offered. “What about you, Poppy?” 

“No, I really should go check on…” she trailed off, pointing in the direction of the Beasts classroom. 

“No fun, either of you.”

You laughed, waved your goodbyes and made your way upstairs. You were barely a few steps towards the library when a voice made you jump.

“You fancied Sebastian?” 

You spun around to see Ominis nearby. Of course, he’d be in the castle. He probably wouldn’t have even gone down to the game, but leave it to him to be right there at exactly the wrong time. 

“I…” you started, sighing heavily. 

“That was why the two of you argued at The Three Broomsticks?” he guessed. 

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not really, no. I mean…”

“You were annoyed about Violet McDowell and Sebastian leaving to go with her,” Ominous stated.

“How were you not?” you shot back, panicking slightly. He was right, of course, but something about Ominis knowing felt dangerous. You could trust Imelda not to say anything to Sebastian no matter how much she threatened to, but you couldn’t say the same of Ominis. 

“Why didn’t you just tell him how you felt instead of arguing?”

“It’s not that easy, Ominis,” you sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Not with you, no offense. But not anyone else either. Can you just…please don’t say anything about it.”

Ominis shrugged, and you knew that was the closest to a commitment that you’d get. “Does that mean you spend time with me to see him?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Merlin’s beard, Ominis. I’m not desperate for his attention like Violet is. We’ve been friends for years.”

“You’ve been friends with Sebastian, and I’ve been friends with Sebastian,” Ominis countered. “I didn’t think we were friends without him until recently.”

“Well, we are,” you stated. “At least I thought we were.”

“So did I,” he said.

“Then there, we’re friends, Ominis. Regardless of whether or not Sebastian is around,” you told him. 

“Isn’t this the type of thing friends talk about?” 

“I don’t know! Not always. It’s not like you go around telling me who you fancy,” you pointed out. He chuckled.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, nodding. 

“Now, can we please never speak about this again?” you pleaded. “I get enough from Imelda and Poppy just found out and now I know I’m never going to hear the end of it. I just want one friend who doesn’t care about my love life.”

“I promise, we won’t speak of your love life.”

“Thank you, Ominis. I really appreciate it,” you told him, breathing a sigh of relief. 

When the two of you parted ways a little while later, you certainly felt better about the fact that Ominis knew. You still couldn’t say for certain if he’d tell Sebastian or not. Their friendship was much longer than yours, but you at least hoped he’d take your desire to leave it alone into consideration. 

The rest of the night was dedicated to you trying to forget about the last few hours and actually trying to get your homework done. The number of people in the common room was keeping you more on task for once. If you looked busy enough, everyone would leave you alone, and you didn’t have to speak to anyone. A few people stopped to say hi, but the fact you weren’t willing to more than glance up to greet them kept you in a mostly solitary corner. 

Just when the common room was starting to clear out, and you were just about finished with your Charms work, when Poppy came through the entrance. You looked up when she called your name, holding your quill over the parchment.

“There you are!” Poppy sighed, pointing towards the door. “Sebastian’s waiting out there for you.”

“Sebastian is waiting for me,” you repeated, letting the ink drip onto your essay. 

“He is,” she confirmed. “He tried to follow me in. I had to promise to come get you.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him right now, Poppy,” you half-whined. You had already had enough uncomfortable conversations about your feelings for one day, and something told you Sebastian wasn’t there to rehash the Quidditch match. Just when you had just about convinced yourself that Ominis was going to keep your conversation between you, Sebastian was attempting to break into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“He really wants to talk to you,” she said, shifting on her feet. 

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing that Poppy wasn’t going to tell him to go away. “He made you promise to get me to come out, didn’t he?” Poppy nodded, and you rolled your eyes, dropping his quill down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said quietly, and you offered her a tired smile. 

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I’m annoyed with him, not you. Can you take my stuff upstairs? Just leave it on my bed. Please?”

“Sure,” she said, looking relieved that you weren’t upset with her. 

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you told her. You took a deep breath before heading for the door. You tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. Part of you wondered why Sebastian wanted to talk to you. Maybe make it perfectly clear that the only person he had feelings for was Violet or something.

When you stepped out into the hallway, it was to the sight of Sebastian pacing back and forth. He paused when you closed the door behind you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, running his hand through his hair before sighing heavily.

“Sebastian, what–” you started, crossing your arms.

“I don’t fancy Violet McDowell,” he blurted out. 

“What?” 

“I don’t fancy her. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe that Ominis told you,” you sighed, rubbing your face. The squirming you felt in the pit of your stomach was back. 

“You talked to Ominis about this?” Sebastian asked, giving you a surprised look.

“Didn’t you?” you responded, staring back at him. 

“No,” he said slowly. “He wasn’t in the common room when we got back from the match. I thought he was with you until he came back.”

“Then Imelda told you I fancy you,” you guessed. There was no other way he could have found out.

“Imelda knew…what am I talking about, of course, you talk to Imelda about this kind of thing,” Sebastian chuckled, running his hand through his hair again. “No, Imelda didn’t tell me either.”

“Then who told you?” you asked, the squirming getting worse. Sebastian looked at you, a satisfied look and a crooked smile on his face.

“You did,” he replied. “Just now.” 

“What?”

“You just said you fancied me,” Sebastian said, amusement written all over his face. “I wanted to be the one to say it first, but you couldn’t let me.” 

“I…what?” you muttered, voice quiet. The words were hitting your ears, but they weren’t making sense to your brain. You stared at him for a long moment, mouth still slightly open as he still had the same look on his face as he watched you process what he had a few moments before.

“You don’t fancy Violet,” you said slowly.

“I don’t,” Sebastian confirmed, chuckling. “I fancy you and you fancy me.”

“You do?”

“Course I do,” he replied, faltering for a moment before pulling you into a hug. The last time the two of you had hugged was to say goodbye at the end of last year, and you hadn’t been much shorter than he was. Now, though, he could easily tuck you under his chin. You managed to uncross your arms and wrap them around him, and he pulled you in closer. As small as he had made you feel at The Three Broomsticks, you were even smaller actually in his arms and you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian told you. “About the whole…” he trailed off, sighing. “Fight? That was a fight, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you chuckled, squeezing him before leaning back to look at him properly. “It was about something that didn’t actually happen.” You smiled up at him to show it was all water under the bridge and he smiled back, wider than ever. It wasn’t totally clear which of you made the first move, but then you were kissing and the feeling in your stomach was replaced with the butterflies that you’d felt for the last two years.

When the two of you broke apart, neither of you seemed particularly interested in letting go of each other. The thing that forced the two of you apart was the approaching footsteps of another Hufflepuff trying to get into the common room. Deciding you two needed somewhere more private, you took his hand and led him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asked, squeezing your hand. However, he made no effort to let go of it, and instead just laced your fingers together. 

“Undercroft,” you informed. 

“Great idea,” he said. “Maybe we can talk about the match later.”

“If we have time,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “I think we��ll be a little busy. We have a month or two to catch up on, don’t you think?” He laughed, tugging you closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you walked. 

“Definitely,” he agreed. The two of you were all smiles as you walked down the halls, and you were just glad the two of you were on the same page again. It was even better that the page you were on was one where you were the two of you were planning on spending significantly more alone time together from now on.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #f: hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XVI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here and this is sixteen *SixTeen theme plays*

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter finds out that,yeah, dude, when your brain is missing chunks, you can't write or access data without the hardware to store it. My dude remembers nothing.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Days pass. Nights pass.

(He thinks.)

He gets a new room. This one has a window. He can’t stare at it all the time, but when he does, he can feel himself growing stronger. Steadier. The change in his body is borderline tangible.

If only it was physical. He’s still too weak to lift anything but his arms, and not even all the way. Moving his head is tiring. Lifting his head is impossible.

But he tries.

A lot.

The doctors and the lady have to make upset noises with him when he does, but he wants to be able to see everything they’re doing to him. So far it’s a lot of tubes and needles, but what if they become scalpels and clamps?

…Danny tries to assure himself that they probably won’t be.

But they might. Things could change.

And that eats at him constantly.

Someone puts a big circle on the wall in his room. It’s large. It’s a little fuzzy at its distance on the far wall, but it’s got little arms on it, and little dots in equal degrees around the circumference. It takes him almost two napping periods to realize that it’s a clock.  

Danny squints. He can...almost read analog. (Probably.) It sure doesn’t help that he has no idea when night is and when day is, though. He sleeps at one hour and wakes up at another, and the room will look entirely the same. Was it a few hours’ sleep, or a day’s? Was it longer? The world spins outside his window, big and blue, and he spins against it in a station on a lonely moon. There’s no way to tell.

Someone eventually notices that he’s bored, though, because he gets a television and a remote.

It’s a super thin television. At first, Danny spends time wondering why they put a screen with no system in his room, and then hour later the lady starts pressing buttons on the remote, and the screen lights up with a news program.

…The TV is too far away to see all that clearly. He can see some of it when he squints, but then all the colors turn lime green.

The banner on the bottom of the screen scrolls with headlines, and cool, it looks like they invented new letters while Danny was asleep. Fantastic. His head hurts from trying to squint to read, but it kind of looks like a kindergartener scribbled all over an otherwise serious news report.

Great. Now he’s getting a headache.

But the noise is…nice. It’s distracting. The news anchors chatter seriously as Danny gets yet another IV swapped out in his arm, and the heavily geared-up doctors have started telling Danny things he doesn’t like to listen to too much because if it is threats, great, he should ignore that; if it’s not threats, then, well, Danny’s bored of it all anyway.

“—Wel?”

Danny blinks. Well. That sounds like ‘Well’.

He shifts just enough to make eye contact. A doctor looks down at him from their place at his bedside. Their scrubs are kind of blue-green, with little flowers on the trim.

They have human eyes. The sight of soft, brown eyes probably ought to be reassuring, but they just make Danny more nervous.

“Eow eart wel?” They ask again, soft and slow. That middle bit sounds kind of like ‘art’. Ha. Old timey Shakespeare. ‘Art well,’ like ‘you art well—‘

Wait. Danny takes a deep breath. Blinks. His chest arcs up, just a little—just enough for the doctor to realize that Danny’s more than just looking, he’s paying attention. Are they asking him if he’s well?

Danny reflexively opens his mouth and flexes his throat, tries to answer—

Nope. Ow. The noise he makes sounds like the garbage disposal is backed up with angry blob ghosts. It hurts just to make. But the sound makes the doctor look at him; they see him.

“Inne cwic tima!” Danny hears, and then they’re jogging out of the room, and Danny is left alone. His throat hurts.

His head thumps back onto his pillow. The news program plays on. There’s a damaged city he’s never seen before on the news.

…And then the doctor comes back. Danny’s head is swimming, so he almost doesn’t notice their return, but they’re holding something, and that something has a sippy straw.

Danny is perfectly happy with a sippy straw.

The straw is put into his mouth. Danny goes sippy sippy.

…The water sloshes a little weirdly through his throat. Some of his tubes might not be where they ought to be, which is weird. Isn’t he supposed to be human right now? Or. Uh. Kind of human? Human equivalent? …Close enough…?

Danny drinks. When the pain in his throat goes to normal pain levels instead of new and angry pain levels, he lets go of the straw, and the doctor lets him.

Their fingers carefully brush Danny’s hair. Not very hard. A little too slowly. Just at the hairline. But it reminds Danny so much of sitting at home with Dad on the couch, home from school with a fever as Muppets tapes play in the background, that tears leak out of his busted eyes. The tears are probably just as green.

“Eow eart wel?” the doctor asks again. So gently. So careful.

“I’m tired,” Danny rasps.

The effort of speaking crashes into him in seconds. If things are happening around him, he doesn’t understand any of it. Nothing reaches him. He’s so tired.

He’s out before he knows it.

#Martian Manhunter: he's bored. Give the boy a television #Medical: :0 Sir yes sir!! #Medical when they hear Danny: HE SPEAKS!!! :D #Medical when they realize they can't understand him: OH NO!!! D: MM COME BACK PLEASE #health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover #Danny realizing he didn't know how to read analog even when he was well: shit. >:(

[luffyvace]

Akutagawa as your boyfriend ☀︎

Umm happy late b day Aku…😭 I’m totally super late for this I KNOW. But! I’m doing it anyway! >:3 late or not :P Plus I Just wanted to write for him since I really like this dude (〃ω〃) (Light blood, death and killing mentions but not in detail)

Akutagawa b day hcs first >;}

planning everything out and hiding it from him is kind of a task. 😅 the guy’s pretty stealthy himself so ya gotta make sure he doesn’t sneak up on you while your prepping things.

Buuut with the help of everyone from the port mafia (except Mori- joking! he does help but Elise does 90% of the work) you planned a mini party <3

Gin got the food! (Figs and tea enters chat)

Higuchi got the decorations! (streamers, balloons, tables, chairs)

Hirotsu keeps akutagawa busy (tea and chatting LOL)

Elise makes the banners (hints poorly drawn dead versions of everyone—extra blood for aku<3)

Kajii makes (lemon shaped) confetti poppers!!

Koyo hosted/recorded it all 💗

Chuuya brought wine and the cake (both were really expensive and tasty good job Chuuya)

Q brought lots of presents!! :3

Annnnd Tachihara! Brought some ~port mafia style~ party games (you played mafia LOL)

now general relationship things 😚

He treats you like how he does Gin, there is peace between the two of you and you have friendly interactions. (Romantic as well, for you) he will even go as far as to do favors for you but we’ll dabble in that more later ☆)

acts of service is his #1 love language. There’s no convincing me otherwise. When I say ‘he will do anything for you’ besides killing this is what I mean. You really don’t have to ask either. I talk about this some more later but, examples: done with your plate? He’ll take it. He remembers you said you needed xyz, he got it for you. You said you wanted to ____ but you fell asleep, so he did it.

hope you get along with Gin because to continue a relationship with him past 2 minutes, you need to. He will never choose friends over family. I stand on that.

honest man.

Its canon, of course this would apply to a relationship too :)

you never have to worry about him lying, thankfullly. the bad news is…this guy isn’t just honest..he’s brutally honest 😀

which he’s not dumb, but he’s also not one to pacify feelings. So say you created something and you’ve been working on this piece for a while now, (whether your an artist, writer, sculptor, something else—whatever), he takes a look at it and singlehandedly points out all the flaws 🧍‍♀️

not in a rude way-

just genuinely telling your mistakes. Which- I know can hurt because you spent a lot of time on it…..but as lest you can fix it now..? 🤷‍♀️

He respects you. Of course he does! How could you love someone you don’t respect?!

why I’m mentioning this then?? Because to him, respect is very important. There’s few that he respects personally and not because of his job.

like Dazai (sorta bc of his job but shh), Gin or Atsushi (somewhat)

And just to clear it up those he has respect for because of his job would be mori or hirotsu

so the fact that you have his respect is a mile stone!! 👯‍♀️💃💃

He’s loyal but it ain’t a fault 😋🤪

seriously tho this dude is still chasing Dazai even after he “disgraced the mafia’s name” and left to the ada

So for you?? This is simply proof that he ain’t neva leavin you, and you ain’t neva leavin him 😙 (I don’t make the rules)

even If he disagrees with your actions/opinions he will talk it out with you 😱

now he might sound a bit upset, and if your acting absolute bonkers rn and need some sense smacked into you- he might yell too. But that’s mostly if it’s for your well being.

other than that, yes the hotheaded Ryuu will calm down for you (that kinda rhymes ☝️🤓)

Bonus!:

living with the Akutagawa’s! ( ✌︎'ω')✌︎

going more into acts of service, you and Gin hardly ever have to worry about chores or errands

he doesn’t really do it for the purpose of your validation, and genuinely doesn’t expect a thank you either

”hm? Oh…it’s nothing.”

Is his response when you try to thank him

he does it because he’s responsible not for praise

although I will say, seeing as though he has a lot of respect for you, as I said earlier, you may get a semi flustered/shocked facial expression

not necessarily blushing, just a expression that shows it caught him off guard ;P

Its not uncommon to see him cleaning around the house and asking if you have any laundry

housewife Ryuunosuke LOL 😂

When goes out to get groceries he asks you and Gin if there’s anything specific you want him to buy and if yes, he’ll get it for you

just like in the anime with Gin, he doesn’t mind doing favors for you as well <3

if you decide you wanna clean up or go to the store yourself he won’t stop you and be like ‘nonono I got it you sit down 🥺’. I don’t mean this in a bad way but he’s not a gentleman on purpose

I feel he’s the type of guy to do things that you consider gentlemanly but he just considers it being polite

oh it’s fine he’s got the groceries 👌

got a order for pick up? Oh well he was going out anyway, he’ll get it 🤷

he’s got the door 👍

don’t worry about the bill he’ll pay it (restaurant or house bill 😉)

another thing…! ♡

sometimes when you and Gin wanna watch a movie but Ryuu’s still doing the dishes….

Rashomon!

do the dishes :3 (while he watches the movie with you guys)

I wasn’t gonna write these at first but I’m real glad I did! I love these and finally wrote for our guy Ryuunosuke!!

WHEN I TYPED DAZAI’S NAME IT AUTOCORRECTED FO DASANI AT FIRST HAHAHHAHA

#anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #anime headcanons #fluff headcanons #fluff #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fandom #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #gn s/o #gn <3 #gn guys #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa bsd #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke #ryuunosuke akutagawa #aku bsd #fluffy prompts #death mention tw #blood mention tw #murder mention tw #Happy (late) b day akutagawa

[livelaughlovesubs]

Do you write about michael from whb? If its fine with you, can you write a hc what his going to be as a yandere? Reader could be anything but i prefer if they our normal mc ^^

Oh, alright, so yandere Michael with ra-on as reader? Sure then, I’ll gladly oblige! Sorry that you had to wait so long, but now that the new event came out, I have a pretty good idea how I want to portray him.

Yandere Michael

Warning: dark content, disturbing topics, blood, gore, obsessive behaviour

I headcanon him, like many other angels, to be a total psycho when in love. That’s pretty much canon. The question is just, how crazy would he be?

- he’d never blame you for all your deeds, it’s always the fault of another

- in other words he is doing everything he can to delude himself into thinking this is alright, it’s not against the rules he set for himself

- god wanted him to love you, it was destined to happen

- “you were just so bright, and there was no way to explain it, it must be gods will”

- that’s what he’d say to himself among other things

- if it wasn’t clear enough, he’d kill for you, even his own brothers, except lucifer

- he’d go down to hell and declare war on your favourite king/ noble, his excuse? They were taking you away from him

- you could stop that though, by finally putting him on a leash

- no matter what you did to him, he’d still love you unconditionally, his love would never falter like his faith

- you could do the most unspeakable things to him, treat him as if he was a mere toy, as if he was nothing more than a pretty face

- and he’d thank you for your attention, greeting you with a smile brighter than his halo

- ruin him, mind and body, bruise him or break his leg, he doesn’t care, as long as you keep touching him and give him your full attention

- honestly, you could make him into a devil and he wouldn’t care, rip his wings off and make the blessing of god leave him

- it would make him have an internal crisis, since he isn’t supposed to be like this, but he’d put the blame on someone else

- this man is so prideful a no narcissistic, he only cares about his own feelings, god, lucifer, and now you too

- which is why he doesn’t care about anything else, as long as he gets to feel good and ‘loved’ (even though you are brutalising him) he’s content

- the worst type of of yandere, would totally kidnap you, even if the punishment is amputation

- he is one hell of a nuisance, there is literally no other way to deal with him than locking him up

- otherwise he’ll just keep attacking hell, or kidnap you, or kill other species, no matter how you reprimand him. He got away with it for eons, what makes you think you can change him?

- it’s not like he loves you anyway, he only loves you because you are a replacement for god and his dear brother, only because you are as kind and as forgiving as they used to be

- oh you naive child

- if you don’t lock him up and keep him away, he’ll eventually annihilate the devils, unless luci steps in that is

- but he’ll definitely kidnap you, hats so obvious! He’ll want to keep you all to himself, he’d even make alternations to your body to keep you from leaving

- he has trust issues, remember? All because of god and his lovely older brother

- words alone aren’t enough, he needs to know you can’t leave him, like you mentally and physically can’t

- if you don’t want that, there are two other ways, and that is using what he’d do to you against him

- like if you do restrain him.. keeping him chained like what he did to you, making him be alone for months without knowing when you’ll come back (that’s still the nice way to threat him, trust me)

- then he will finally stop causing harm! Though the second you get him out of the restains, he’ll clench onto you, hold you, tell you how much he loves and missed you, looking up at you with those obsessive eyes of him and a furious blush covering his cheeks, and kill anyone that dares to get close to you two

- which is why I recommend the more inhuman way to treating him if he does become your yandere, unless you love him enough to spend all your time with him, tending to his every need and sacrificing yourself in the process

- rip his other eyes out, watch him scream in agony, call ronove to amputate his arms and legs

- he can shoot lasers out of his hand, I repeat, he can shoot those out of his fingertips

- make him disabled, enough that he become a weak and helpless animal that can’t do anything to threaten anyone

- oh, I forgot to mention but rip his wings too, he shouldn’t be able to fly

- once you did all of this, maybe cut off his tongue while you are at it, he tends to have a foul mouth

- who knows, maybe he can shoot lasers from there too?

- honestly, it will be hard to keep him alive at this point, but if you still desire to do so, Welp, congratulations, he is totally harmless now!

- and as soon as he hears you enter his room, his cheeks will turn red and sounds of joy would escape his throat

- what a joke he is, he still ‘loves’ you so dearly after all you did huh?

- God, do you see this? This is the result of your action, unyielding love and affection from those beings that called themselves pure, how amazing

#whb #what in hell is bad #dark content #whb fanfic #micheal whb #whb michael #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #Michael as a yandere yuhuuu #I got a little too into it if you couldn’t tell

[pythoria]

In light of the new astarion voice lines in reaction to mizora, I think we finally need to put to rest the whole monogamous vs polyam astarion discourse. Here's the thing. Polyamory is never explicitly discussed or negotiated at any point during the astarion romance. You get individual instances of astarion being okay with various things, like a one night stand with the drows or halsin. It's unclear in the coversation about halsin if he's agreeing to a one night stand or a three-way relationship deal, he just gives you a general go ahead to do whatever you want with halsin because he trusts you. But then halsin doesn't stick around at the end of the game, and by the time he leaves he's only ever been with astarion in the context of the drow orgy (which is optional), and only sexually. Halsin is only interested romantically in the player char from what we're shown. Everyone is free to headcanon otherwise or write whatever fics they want, but as long as we're arguing about canon we have to be very specific. Nothing about any of the conversations with astarion suggest polyamory. They might have suggested a sort of open relationship situation before, but now with mizora, we have proof that there was no negotiation or blanket consent given off screen for having sex with other people, and in fact, it hurts astarion deeply to see his partner engage in sex with someone else.

Now, you can argue it's because he didn't consent to it beforehand, fair enough. Let's walk through what that conversation could've looked like, shall we? If you'd have asked him if you can sleep with mizora, he could've either said yes or no, it's pretty straightforward. From how upset he is, and the fact that he doesn't bring up you not getting his approval beforehand, we can infer his answer would've been "no" (because if he would've said yes anyway, you would get the type of reaction you get with ascended astarion, a "next time invite me" type response). So then, why would astarion say no to mizora specifically, if asked? After all, he's presumably okay with meaningless sex, even when he's not involved, because he lets you sleep with one of the drows all by yourself. And presumably he's also okay with it when feelings are involved, if he's truly okay with the halsin arrangement. So what part of sleeping with mizora is different? Why would he suddenly disagree with it if he was previously okay with similar arrangements?

Here's the thing. Astarion says yes to things out of pressure. Obviously he tells you so himself in act 2, "i didn't know how to say no", and that's corroborated by his dead expression during the drow 4/5some. He says yes to things, hates them, and then depending on how violated he feels afterwards, he decides whether or not it's a forgivable transgression on the part of his partner. He HAS to do it after the fact, because prior to it, he doesn't know how he will feel, he doesn't know if something specific is going to be the thing that tips him over. When he says "i didn't know how to say no" in act 2, it's not just that he instantly knew he didn't want to have sex with tav and went along anyway, it's also that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, and maybe mistakenly believed he could put up with it, until he actually did it. With the drows, the only difference is that he does put up with it, by dissociating. For astarion, something is either too much, or something he can tune out and deal with. He never expresses any "mild" discomfort that you can talk to him about, except for when he's anxious you want to have sex with halsin because he doesn't put out. And even then, there's nothing you can say that will make him disapprove of the halsin thing, short of completely breaking up with him. He voices an insecurity, sure, but even when told that insecurity is legitimate, he still agrees to the halsin situation.

This is why I need everyone to understand, there is no polyam negotiation with astarion, he blanket accepts everything until he snaps, because that's what trauma victims do. I'm not saying this out of a desire to prove astarion is monogamous, either. If the game showed healthy communication about this I wouldn't be here arguing about any of this. Polyamory is valid and can be done in a healthy way, but what you have in the game is not a representation of polyamory, it's a representation of a trauma victim not knowing his own limits and chugging full speed ahead until he snaps. The mizora exchange just cements that further. The roll you have to pass to get him to stay with you isn't "let's discuss boundaries, i didn't know this wasn't allowed", it's "this didn't mean anything". If this man was already okay with meaningless sex on the side, why would you need to convince him of it? All you're doing is manipulating him, and the result of that manipulation isn't even "okay, you can have meaningless sex from now on as long as we talk beforehand", instead, he says he forgives you. There's no implication that this could happen again, if only you have his consent, he just forgives you for this one transgression and agrees to move on. And let me be perfectly clear, I've shipped polyam ships before, I don't have an inherent bias against it. But we all, collectively as a fandom, need to learn to read the room. The signs of discomfort are all there, it doesn't help anyone if we put on horse blinders and ignore them. My only desire is to see astarion interpreted faithfully, not to start or contribute to a war people seem to be having about the validity of polyamory in general or in real life.

So, in conclusion, we need to separate headcanons from canon. Canon is, at best, unclear on what Astarion is comfortable with. It helps no one to act like this is a clear cut issue on either side, but imo it's more harmful to potentially force him into situations he's uncomfortable with than to just let him lead, since he doesn't propose any of these arrangements himself, and never does them for his benefit, only his partner's.

And one last thing. This is not to say "don't do these things because they're bad". They're in the game so you can do them and roleplay however you want. However, we need to be realistic about the kind of characters we're playing. If your tav pressures astarion into these various situations, that's not a good-aligned tav, and that's okay, as long as you're not pretending otherwise. I love an evil durge playthrough as much as the next person, but none of it would be cathartic or fun if the whole time I was under the impression that murder is actually fine and good.

#pythoria.txt #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #my analysis #astarion analysis #mizora #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate astarion

[liyawritesss]

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ꜰɪx ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ꜰɪx ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ

Characters: Insomniac!!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You were one of the many things Miles had neglected when he took up the mantle of Spiderman, not to mention the fiasco involving ROXXON and The Underground during what was supposed to be his winter break from school. He plans on changing that on New Year's Eve.

Warnings: Light cursing, this is game miles who is canonically seventeen so be mindful of that when reading! Honestly nothing else just a boy tryna fix his mistakes lmao.

A/N: I just finished the game and when I tell you this boy got all types of giddy, like he’s so precious (as is every other miles) and deserves the world bc WHY THEY DO HIM LIKE THAT !!! Anyway hope you enjoyyyyy!!!

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” by Tamia; "Running On My Mind" by Ali Gatie

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @daisydark @ykimobessed @famedrs-blog

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Miles would think that after spending much of November & December swinging through the many buildings of Harlem, that he’d be used to the biting cold that nipped at his skin through the material of his spider-suit. Feeling the piercing bite of snow and hail against his body that sting and melt upon contact was a reminder of just how much of his winter break wasn’t actually a ‘break’, what with everything that had happened during the holidays. 

Yet, when he was walking through the entrance of Central Park, the fur of his hood guarding the sides of his neck against the breeze that ruffled the branches and the fairy lights that were strung through them, he thinks that, somehow, someway, it’s gotten colder than what he can take.

He could have chalked it up to the unpredictability of New York weather, or the cold air that comes from the water that the city is surrounded by, but the thunder in his chest and the clamminess of his hands tells him otherwise. Eyes dart between the many passers by, some he knows, others he doesn’t but still greets out of kindness, but he’s got his eyes trained for someone in particular. Someone who’s face he’s not sure if he’s ready to see, nor knows if they will even spare him a glance.

Miles walks further into the park, passing the many stalls open for a variety of winter time snacks and foods for people to enjoy - hot chocolate, fresh-made cookies, soft pretzels - anything warm and filling as people wait for the real attraction to begin. As appetizing as it all looks, his own anxiety prevents him from thinking too hard on buying something to chase away the aching cold that’s beginning to rest in his bones - partially from his own anxiety, partially from the actual cold that keeps the mounds of snow solid and glistening even under the artificial lighting.

He tries to remember the words of Ganke and the encouragement of his mother. ‘She was completely into you, dude,’ said the raven haired boy as he pushed his glasses up his face, ‘as long as you’re sincere about it, I doubt she’ll just give you the cold shoulder.’

That’s the same reason she should give me the cold shoulder! Miles thought, but never said to Ganke, because in truth, they both were thinking it.

‘You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t rip your head off, mijo,’ Rio sighed, though if Miles was honest, he’d rather have heard that than any sugarcoating from the older woman, ‘whatever you decide to do, one thing is very clear; you have to be okay with whatever decision she choses as well.’

It wasn’t like Miles intended on ghosting you, but with the responsibilities of his newfound role as Harlem’s Spiderman, paired with the fiasco that was ROXXON and The Underground (which, he still dealt with the remnants of - the glowstick army held absolutely no chill, and it left a lot of mess for Miles to clean up on a day to day basis), there were a lot of things he’d unintentionally neglected.

His homework was one thing - he could speed through it and ask Ganke for help; and if he pulled the best sob story he could muster, he’d even be able to garner an extra day or two.

Salvaging a talking stage would be much more difficult. Proposing a relationship (which he had planned to do before…well, everything) was near impossible.

Fog comes from his lips as Miles sighs into the air, scanning the surrounding area that he’d walked into. Hearing a familiar song play over a distant speaker, it gives him an idea of where to begin looking for you.

His feet turn and move before his head does, and ironically, such a movement causes for his body to collide into another - and for a moment, the aching chill in his chest is replaced with a burst of warmth as the person stumbles into him while attempting to regain their balance.

“Shoot- sorry!” Miles is quick to apologize, though any further words get stuck in his throat when he realizes who exactly has bumped into him. 

Who could mistake the soft locks that adorned your head, cascading down your shoulders covered in your black jacket? Or the way your pretty eyelashes dance across your cheeks? Or those gorgeous eyes of yours that captivated him from the moment he saw you…

…which, as he begins to focus, Miles notices that they’ve shifted from shocked to disbelief. And not the good kind.

“Oh,” you murmur out, giving him a once over with little interest; but whether it was trained or genuine, he’d never know, “it’s just you.”

“Ouch,” Miles breathes, brows furrowing in hurt, “that hurts.”

“Good.” You huff, eyes scanning for a way out of the most awkward situation you could’ve found yourself in on what was supposed to be a memorable night out by yourself.

You try to escape, slipping past Miles’ side, brushing against his arm. Unfortunately, you don’t get far, when you feel the faint grip of his hand on your elbow, pulling you back. “Wait, (Y/N), can we just-”

“Wait?” The word leaves you in a scoff, and Miles knows that he’d chosen the wrong word to start off this encounter.

“I’m gettin’ real tired of that word- especially as it pertains to you.” you scoff, and it’s an especially hard jab into his chest that leaves a newfound sting that’s neither cold nor warm; just dull and painful.

“Really, really fucking tired, but y’know what?” He feels you spin around in his hold to face him, though now your words make him unable to look into your eyes as his hand falls, and your face twisted in frustration comes into view.

“I just happened to be such a nice person that gives people one too many chances they don’t deserve; so go ahead Miles,” you say, “go ahead and tell me what exactly I should be waiting for? What I have been waiting for?”

You had that effect on him - being able to render him speechless with little to no effort at all. It was one of many things that attracted him to you, and he’s reminded of that as he watches your hair fill with snowflakes and your eyes light up with a fire he’s never seen before.

“You’re angry-” Miles begins.

“I’m angry-” you scoff again, ready to turn and leave for the second time at his obvious observation.

“-you’re angry, and you should be; you have every right to be angry with me!” Miles tries to maintain a calm and collected composure as he speaks, though he can already feel his own frustrations influencing the evenness of his voice.

“You ghosted me, Miles.” You say, and the boy notes the way your expression shifts from vexation to hurt as you speak the words. “Two weeks, you ghosted me, and then you show up here and all you have to say for yourself is that ‘i have every right to be angry with you’?”

The brown skin boy winces at your cold words, his hand coming to wipe down the length of his face as he tries to formulate the right words to say to you, to somehow clear his name with you, and at least get you to not hate him. Because while he couldn’t tell you the truth - at least, not yet - perhaps his sincerity would justify his actions. He hopes it does, because this is possibly his only chance of ever reconciling with the girl he’d fallen for months ago.

“I know it looks bad,” Miles sighs, tugging his lip between his teeth as he speaks, “I know it looks real bad, but you have to believe me when I say I never meant for it to happen.” 

There’s a plea in his eyes that begs for you to hear him out, to spare him a moment of your time like you first did when he called your name down the halls of Visions Academy to talk to you and compliment your Spiderman charm on your bookbag. You’re silent as that memory flashes before you, and Miles takes it as an opportunity to continue.

“I’ve been dealing with a lot,” Miles begins again, “and I’ve been taking on so much, much more than I could handle, and it’s been weighing me down a lot; and I know that none of that is a justification for why I never responded back to you, but I mean it when I say that I never, never, meant for it to happen.”

There’s a soft waver in his voice that you pick up on, which causes your brows to furrow. The air around the two of you shifts to something warmer; the lights begin to blur - perhaps it’s because of the tears that begin to prickle at the corners of your eyes. The emotions build at an overwhelming pace.

Miles sees this, and slowly takes a step forwards towards you. When you don’t pull back, he begins to speak again.

“I meant what I said,” he mutters, close enough to do so, “about liking you- I-I'm crazy about you, (Y/N).”

It’s now your eyes that find it hard to meet his, constantly darting between his hazel orbs and the fabric of his red sweater underneath his coat. Arms folded across your chest in a metaphorical attempt to guard your heart, oddly reminiscent of the same stance you took when Miles initially told you that he wanted to talk to you on a romantic level.

Miles purses his lips together in a tightly, before parting them once more, “I’ve lost a lot already, with everything that’s happened.” he hums, and when your darting eyes finally settle onto his own, his hands reach for your arms to pull you in closer, hands shaky and unsure, but guided by an unrivaled sense of determination. “I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

There’s a long moment of silence that befalls the both of you, and Miles wonders if he’s said something wrong, if he’s mentioned something he shouldn’t have. He can’t read you, face obscured by the way your soft locs fall across your face. Yet, you haven’t moved from his hold, and while he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he can’t help but feel a bit of solace in that fact.

A suck of your teeth and a raise of your head makes his stomach jump as he awaits your response; your eyes hold a sense of irritation, but if Miles is correct, there was an inkling of something else in there…

“It don’t take that much to text someone, Miles,” You mutter out, voice low and strained against your own emotions.

“I know.” He answers. “I ain’t got nothin’ to help my case there.”

The breathless chuckles that leaves his lips in an attempt to ease the air garners him the smallest of smiles to tug at your lips, and for once in this entire engagement, his stomach loosens from the tight pull his anxiety had on it.

“And I know that it hurt you…” he says these words carefully, still well aware of the tight rope that he walks in regards to making amends, “but if you’re willing to give me another chance…I can promise to try.”

Your jaw clenches in thought, silence befalling the two of you once again. There was a part of you that was resistant to his insistence, a part that had suffered and wanted to refuse his advances in fear of being subjected to the possibility of it happening again. Yet, you made the choice to look up at him once again, and while you hate to admit it, the way the fairy lights dance in his eyes and shine against his skin is definitely clouding your judgment in the moment.

You suck your teeth again, an unamused expression donning your face as your arms drop from your chest and instead find their way onto his. The other hand that rested on your arm now travels to your waist - careful in his movements, aware that while you’ve dropped your guard and entered his space, Miles still has a lot of making up to do.

“I’ll think about it,” You hum, and it garners you a smile from him; that was practically code for I’ll unblock you, but you’re still in the doghouse.

“I’ll think about it while you buy me hot chocolate.”

“Yup, there it is.” Miles teases, lips spreading into a hearty chuckle.

“Uhuh, get to movin’, big steppa.” A gentle push on his chest has Miles turning in the direction of the nearest hot chocolate stand. You follow in tow as the clunking of his Timberlands echo against the ground, your own shoes creating a softer sound as they follow in tow.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #black spiderman #spiderman miles morales #miles morales spider man #insomniac miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x black!reader

[in-loving-memory-of]

Takashi Morinozuka x fem reader -> crush/early dating stage head-canons (sfw)

honestly, i fuckn hate hcs, but i’m gonna put them out there anyway, since mine are simply better cuz i said so

- Takashi isn’t the type of guy to just go up to a girl and ask her out because he thinks she’s cute or anything, so you would 100% have to start off as friends before he made a move (and even then, you’d probably be waiting a while)

- Probably would not initiate a conversation with you on his own (shocking)

- I could see Honey noticing Takashi’s special interest in a girl (you can make up the reason why, or request and i’ll write for it lmao) and deciding to talk to her, and maybe even invite her to the club

- If he did this with Takashi present, he’d be super nervous(though that wouldn’t be apparent to anyone but Honey), but he’d be secretly grateful that his cousin set him up, cuz lord knows it wouldn’t have happened otherwise

- Once Honey had Takashi’s future wife crush engaged in a conversation, he’d start trying to, not so subtly, gauge whether or not she’s a good fit for Takashi

- If Honey doesn’t like you, then you don’t get to be with Takashi, period.

- If anyone asks at any point during your friendship if Takashi has feelings for you, he’ll either outright deny it or just stay silent, even though it’d be super obvious to anyone who knows him to any capacity

- He would be more engaged in conversations with you than anyone else, MAYBE aside from Honey

- He’d help with anything he thought you may be struggling with (you don’t even have to ask)

- Need help finding something? He’s got you. Pickle jar too hard to open? No problem. Can’t reach something on a high shelf? Well, thank god a certain giant has nothing better to do cuz he was just admiring you anyway

- Once the club catches on, any possible privacy the two of you had is gone. Especially if they can tell the feelings are reciprocated

- Tamaki, the twins, and Honey would all try to get the both of you into situations where you’d be alone together, or they’d talk about how cute you would be together, or how cute your kids would be, etc.

- Even before a relationship begins, Takashi will think it’s disloyal or unfaithful to interact flirt with any other girls, so he would be extra quiet during club hours (unless you’re there 🥰)

- Speaking of relationships, when Takashi does finally ask you out, expect it to be a simple question, such as: “Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?” or something similar. He’d probably also do so when you two are completely alone so that the other club members don’t try to trail you on your date

- If the date went well, and he felt like you were interested afterwards, that’s when he’d ask you to be his girlfriend.

- The poor guy’s heart would be pounding out of his chest and he’d be blushing like crazy, which would only get worse when if you said yes

- Once you’re official, any reservations he previously had regarding closeness are gone. He wants to hold your hand and just be near you all the time

- He’s not into the PDA shit, though. It’s not like he’d pull you into a make out sesh in public, but he does like to be near you at all times

- Honey absolutely loves that Takashi found someone he truly cares for, especially since he thinks you’re fun to be around, so he and Takashi can still be close as ever

- The other members (mainly Tamaki) are ecstatic about the relationship as well

- Seeing the strong, silent type all head over heals for you is just too sweet

- Once you start dating, it isn’t long before he wants you over to meet his parents and vice versa

- He doesn’t even see it as a huge step or anything. I mean, of course he wants his family to meet his darling partner

———————————————————————

Alright, I’m gonna call this a part one, and basically just write others to be more tailored to a reader with specific personality traits, cuz writing so vaguely is driving me insane.

(I have no writing experience, but I promise I’ll try harder next time, so hopefully they’ll get better after this 😭)

If there’s anything specific you want to see, feel free to request headcanons or fics for Takashi (or any of the other characters for that matter), as that’ll make it way easier to write something worthwhile lmao

#takashi morinozuka #takashi morinozuka x reader #ohshc #ouran high school host club #mori senpai #ohshc mori #headcanon #my hcs #romance #dating #anime and manga

[sweet-honey-fruit]

Genshin Characters with Injured Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort (?) possibly

Warnings: Use of pet names. Strong language. Descriptions and mentions of blood/injury (nothing life threatening). Spoilers for Scaramouche’s story. Slightly suggestive for Venti’s, lmao sorry im biased.

Inspired by me being flung into a fence and scratching up my legs. How? Don’t ask, it’s embarrassing. I’m rewriting this cause TUMBLR DECIDED TO DELETE MY. FIRST. DRAFT. Also please note that i am very out of practice with writing. These characters may seem OOC but i promise you im trying my best to make them canon djnfjnds. Any feedback is greatly appreciated! I aim to get better to provide you all with high quality content. Let me know if you guys would like a part two!

Childe

Upon seeing you walking in with scratched up knees and hands, he’s secretly on high alert.

He hides it with his usual laid back and child-like persona

“Well well, what do we have here? Is my lovely babe injured? Come here, let me take care of you.” While giving you a cocky smile.

It doesn’t matter how much you protest, he’s going to bandage and clean them up

“Childe please, I’m not a toddler, I can take care of it myself.”

“I’m well aware that you can, but would you even get around to it?”

As he’s putting a bandage on them, he’ll ask you what happened.

“Would you like to tell me what happened? Oh- you fell? Was there anyone around? Why am I asking that question? What, am I not allowed to be curious” Cue him putting his hands on his hips while pouting

Childe doesn’t show it, but he’s highly paranoid about your safety anytime you’re not around him or someone he trusts.

The Fatui has a lot of enemies, especially him. He’s a bloodthirsty Harbinger, and the most front and center member of the Fatui to the public eye. Meaning you are also on display.

And while the mere mention of his name makes people fearful and tremble, there are a handful who simply don’t care and wish to hurt him with any means necessary.

So anytime you come back with something as small as a scratch, he instantly thinks it’s someone trying to get to him by going through you.

If it was an incident of you being clumsy and falling, he’ll lovingly lecture you about how you should be more careful while holding you close, mentally thanking the Tsarista that it wasn’t anyone targeting you.

But if it was someone, either on accident or on purpose.

Hahaha, pray for them

It’s better to be up front and tell him the truth, otherwise he won’t leave you alone till you tell him who and what happened. He knows when you’re lying. It’s a keen skill to have in his line of work.

While he admires that you’re trying to cover for someone, he admires getting revenge on your behalf way more.

He will interrogate you until you tell him who it was that dared put there hands on you.

But don’t worry, it won’t be like the interrogations he does for the Fatui, he loves you too much to do that. It’ll seem like a casual conversation.

He’ll act like he drops the subject before brewing you a cup of tea, giving you your favorite snack, and holding you close while you two talk.

He’ll get you to tell him who it was through a seemingly normal conversation. He’s good at doing that.

He won’t stop the conversation till he gets the answers he was looking for. Not that he would want to anyway, he absolutely adores talking to you. So really, it’s an added bonus.

Chongyun

Oh Chongyun, my sweet, sweet boy Chongyun

This man is instantly worrying

“What happened?! Are you okay?! Was it a demon?! Tell me where it is and I’ll take care of it. I’ll make sure it never touches you again!”

That last sentence is low key terrifying to you

Please reassure him that you’re okay and that it wasn’t a demon. It was just you being clumsy, that’s all!

He has to walk away for a moment and eat a popsicle to calm himself down before his Yang energy acts up.

Once he has calmed down, he’ll come back to you and sit you down to take care of you.

He’ll carefully clean it for you before bringing up a spray bottle

“I bought this in case either of us were in need of first aid. Baizhu said that it’s a no sting disinfectant spray.”

He sprays it. And it stings lmao.

“OW THAT HURTS YOU FUCKING LIAR”

“Ah! Wait I’m sorry, please! I promise he told me that it wasn’t supposed to burn!”

He’s instantly hugging you tightly while apologizing

“No Chongyun it’s okay, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that, I was just surprised.”

It’s a disaster lmao. He’s still mumbling apologies.

He has to eat a popsicle again fjjdr

He wants you to double, triple, quadruple confirm that it wasn’t a demon once you’re all cleaned up and bandaged

“Are you su-“

“Yes Chongyun, I’m positive! It was of my own clumsy volition to trip down the stairs.”

Once he’s finally calmed down and pushed away the thought that it was a demonic attack, he’s holding you close while carefully tracing the bandage

“Please, my dear, be more careful. I don’t want any harm to come to you.”

Scaramouche

As you walk in through the door with blood pouring down your head and legs, this man just stares at you

His eyes follow your every movement as you’re limping towards the kitchen to get the first aid kit

He doesn’t make a move, he’s just watching you, as if he’s analyzing you

It isn’t until you’re hissing in pain trying to get the first aid kit does he finally stand up and go towards you.

“Sit.”

“No, Scara, it’s fi-“

“I said sit” He pulls out a chair and pushes you to sit down in it. You don’t dare protest with the look that he’s giving you.

He huffs as he pulls out an alcoholic wipe to clean up your wounds, not caring about the hisses, whines, and protests your spewing out

“Quit your whining. What the hell happened to you?”

He won’t show it, but he’s concerned. He low key has the same fear that Childe has. Being an ex Fatui Harbinger doesn’t come without its dangers. Not only does he have enemies from being a Harbinger, but he has enemies within the Fatui as well since he took the Electro Archons Gnosis for himself.

But once you tell him that you just fell down the concrete stairs in Inazuma City, he’s scoffing at you

“How can you be so pathetic and clumsy?!”

He says as he forcefully pulls you into a hug

Don’t take anything he says too serious. He cares about you deeply and can only express it through tough love.

“Dont-…don’t do that every again.”

He won’t let you leave the house for a while after. Unlike Childe, he lets his paranoia take over just a little bit.

It’ll take some time to let you get back out of the house, but that doesn’t mean he’ll leave you 100% alone.

Venti

This man saw the accident happen first hand. He was playing his lyre in the courtyard of the cathedral. You just came back from your commissions and decided to go watch his performance. As you were walking around the crowd to get a better look at him, you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. You guys made eye contact and he gave you his brightest smile. You were too focused on how elegantly he played and how adorable he looked that you didn’t notice the concrete pillar in front of you. As you smiled back and gave him a little wave, you comedically ran into the pillar

The anemo archon immediately stopped playing and ran over to you

“Windblume?! Are you okay?”

You rub your head, feeling the warm blood that’s gushing out of the cut along your temple

This man is instantly all over you, cupping your cheeks, checking you over for anything else before grabbing your hand and leading you back home

He’s thoroughly cleaning it while lightly scolding you

“As much as I admire you watching me perform, I want you to do so while standing in place next time.”

Once he makes sure youre 100% okay, he will flirt and tease you, that’s just how he is by nature

“Although, my precious Windblume, if you wished for my attention, all you had to do was ask. There was no need to go about such drastic measures.”

“Venti, I wasn’t-“

He’s putting a hand up to your lips while shushing you

“Now now Windblume, why don’t I show you how much worship this bard has to offer”

And who are you to say no to that 😏

Either way though, he’s going to cling onto you for a while to make sure you don’t hurt yourself further

He’s slightly scared you’ll injure yourself in a more serious manner

Can’t really blame him though. You’re the only one that saw him for him, even after finding out he was Lord Barbatos himself. You worship him as a mortal, not as an archon and he holds you dearly because of that.

You’re the only one he has truly ever loved in all his years of living. He just doesn’t want to have another Nameless Bard incident with you.

Please reassure him that nothing will happen to you. Please hold him close. In times of you getting hurt, he is in need of more comfort than you since his imagination loves to run wild.

He doesn’t have to worry for long. He’s the anemo archon, he realized. He forgets he is sometimes since he gets so wrapped up in his mortal façade. As the anemo archon, he can always have an eye on you with just the slightest breeze.

He gives you a soft kiss on the lips before dragging you to Angels Share for a drink or two in order to lighten the mood.

Xiao

Xiao is a little bit like Scaramouche, only more understanding and visibly caring.

He’ll scoff at you and roll his eyes all the while he’s checking up on you and making sure that youre okay

“I can’t believe you managed to get yourself injured. You mortals are so fragile….Are you hurt anywhere else? Who did this to you? Why didnt you call my name?”

It takes some convincing that “no, no one did this to me”, “no, I’m okay”, and “No, im not going to call your name over something as minor as a cut on my arm.”

He doesn’t buy the last statement. It doesn’t matter how big or small the situation or injury is, he wants you to call his name. He wants to know that youre able to rely on him.

Why did he have to date such a stubborn individual?

He keeps you in his lap and kisses your head while gently holding your injured arm.

He’s not one for physical touch most of the time, only when you’re hurt.

You joked about that one time and it didnt go well

“Wow. If I knew I would get cuddles and kisses like this, then I should get hurt more often.”

The look he gave was enough to shut you up and instantly retract your statement.

He’s stern while lecturing you. Practically demands that you call his name next time, even if it was just you tripping over a tree branch.

With anyone else, it would be annoying to have his name called out all the time. But if it’s from you? It’s a relief. Cause he knows that he’s protecting you.

This man has seen a thing or two, he knows the horrors the are out there that everyone else seems to be ignorant to.

If he could permanently stay by your side then he would, but he knows that’s not possible.

Yet it’s refreshing to know he’s only one shout away.

Please call his name when something happens, even if it’s only you stumbling a bit. He feels relieved to know he can be there for you so quickly for anything.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin men #genshin men x reader #childe x reader #chongyun x reader #scaramouche x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #childe #chongyun #scaramouche #venti #xiao #genshin fluff #genshin hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

[romione-trope-fest]

Speak Now

Title: Speak Now

Author: adenei

Selected Trope: Weasley Weddings

Summary: In the midst of trying to navigate what life looks like following the defeat of Voldemort, and the loss of so many, there’s one thing glaringly missing. The irony of it all is it takes someone else’s wedding to give Ron the kick in the pants he needs to go after what—or rather *who*—he wants.

Word Count: 1988

Rating: G

TW: mentions of character death (all canon)

“Ron, I need to ask you for a favor.” Ron’s hand stops on the doorknob, the floorboards creaking under his feet. 

The thick piece of wood is the only thing separating him from a much needed afternoon nap. Sleep has been evading him. Nightmares torturing his mind as he tosses and turns on the lumpy old mattress that’s been his for as long as he can remember.

He shoots his brother a withering look, letting go of the handle as he turns to face him. “Right now?” 

It’s been two weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts. Two weeks since Fred died. Two weeks since Harry defeated Voldemort. And two weeks since he and Hermione kissed.

Every waking moment has been filled with funerals or meetings, and helping around the Burrow to ease the load on his mum, who’s completely overwhelmed with grief. And if he’s not doing his part to ensure the household is running smoothly, he’s taking a shift with George, making sure he doesn’t do anything rash or stupid as he navigates a world without his twin.

Because of all that, he’s barely seen Hermione, let alone had a chance to sit down with her. Every time they cross paths at the Burrow, he feels like he’s not making enough of an effort to make her a priority, yet how can he when everything else is just as important right now? She always smiles and nods in understanding when he’s pulled here or there, but sometimes he wishes she’d speak up and be selfish, asking him to come with her for once instead.

“Yes, right now.”

Ron sighs, trying to prevent the eye roll that sneaks out anyway. “Can’t you ask—”

“No. Bill is with George, and this really needs to be addressed by the end of the day.”

“Fine,” he groans, opening the door wide enough to welcome Percy inside his room.

He’s so busy ushering Percy inside that he doesn’t notice that there’s someone else already occupying the space—more specifically, his bed.

“Oh! Hi, um, sorry. I was just waiting for—do you need me to go?” Hermione’s brows knit with worry.

Ron could curse Percy all over again for needing him now—especially if he’s missing another opportunity to talk to Hermione. His brother stares at the girl he longs to be his girlfriend, contemplating her presence until he finally decides.

“No, actually, I’d like you to stay. I think that would be best.”

“Percy, what is going—”

The uptight redhead straightens his tie and clears his throat. “I have an appointment at the courthouse in Devon in thirty minutes, and I need someone to come with me.”

Ron’s not sure why, but he suddenly realizes that Percy’s dressed up—in Muggle garb.

“What did you do?” Hermione’s eyes widen as the question slips out of her mouth.

“I—nothing. I’m—er—getting married.”

“What?” He and Hermione both exclaim in tandem.

“But you’re not even seeing someone! Right?”

“I—I know it seems rash and maybe rushed, but it’s not. I’ve been seeing a—a Muggle for about two years now. Her name is Audrey, and I truly love her. She knows about me and our world. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing, dating her amidst the war, but—now that things are, well, over, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Ron balks at him. “You’re seriously going to get married without the rest of the family knowing?”

“Er, no. They don’t. And that’s the thing. I do want to tell everyone…eventually, but Audrey and I had talked about eloping before things got really bad. We’ve been living in a Fidelius protected home and I had to be so careful not to get caught. Otherwise, I would have tried to make amends sooner too. But—Merlin forbid something were to happen again, I don’t want to miss my chance.”

Percy rarely gets flustered, but when he does, he is very much like Hermione. His train of thought tends to bounce all over the place and he doesn’t always make sense. Ron shakes his head.

“That still didn’t answer the question.”

“I am going to tell them. When the time is right. And we can have a reception or whatever else Mum wants to plan when she’s ready, but right now, I just need it to be me and her. We don’t want the fanfare.”

“So, why are you asking me to come with you?”

“Because we need a witness. Her best friend was supposed to come, but when I got the paperwork this morning to file the marriage license with the Ministry, we realized the witness needs to be magical for our end of things. Lara is still planning on attending, but…please, Ron?”

Ron stares at his brother, who looks at him with pleading, hopeful eyes before his gaze flits to Hermione. She nods gently.

“Fine. But I don’t have—”

“Oh, Merlin, thank you! Here.” Percy pulls his wand out and Accios something from the other room. It’s another muggle suit. “Hermione, you can come too, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to—”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No, please, I’d like you there. It would make me feel a little better knowing that some of my family can be there.”

Ron’s heart constricts in his chest. Does Percy really consider Hermione family? Even though they aren’t even together?

“I—I’ll go look in Ginny’s room to see what I can find.” Her cheeks are rosy as she climbs off the bed and slips between them, exiting the room without so much as a backwards glance at either of them.

Percy looks back to Ron. “I’m sorry if I interrupted something.”

“It’s fine. You…didn’t.” 

Not technically, anyway.

“Er, right. Well, I do appreciate this. Truly. Thank you. I promise it won’t be long.” Percy glances down at his watch. “We need to leave in ten minutes. I’ll meet you in the garden and we can Side-Along?”

Ron nods. “Sure.”

As Percy disappears into the hall, shutting the door behind him, Ron has trouble wrapping his head around everything. 

Percy’s getting married. To a girl no other Weasley has ever met before—a muggle. And he and Hermione are the ones being asked to bear witness to it all.

* * *

The ceremony is just as Percy said it would be: brief, quiet, and intimate. For someone who always wanted all the pomp and circumstance of whatever position he held, this is uncharacteristically unassuming and private. And Ron can’t help but feel a little guilty upon seeing how the war—and the estrangement from his family—has changed Percy.

But when the justice of the peace asks them to say their vows, there’s a spark that comes to life in Percy’s eyes when he looks at Audrey, and even though Ron thinks his brother’s rushing things, it’s obvious they share something special. He doesn’t blame Percy for not wanting to wait anymore.

After all, hadn’t he said as much to Hermione in the Room of Requirement? ‘It’s now or never?’ Except it’s turned into ‘it was now, but then we had to wait a few weeks and he’s starting to think it might be never.’

Ron glances at his best friend, whose eyes are glassy with unshed tears as she watches Percy and Audrey share their promises with each other. He’s struck with an overwhelming feeling that he can’t quite place. Relief, maybe? Hope? Maybe it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have the word to describe it. Until it’s obvious.

Love.

It’s against all odds—the fact that they’re here. They made it. Even when one, or perhaps both, probably shouldn’t have. Ron’s been so caught up mourning the loss of everyone who gave their lives to protect their world that he’s forgotten why they died in the first place. Fred, Tonks, Remus…they wouldn’t want everyone to grieve them so much they can’t get on with their lives. What good would all that fighting have been for? 

Maybe Percy has the right idea, marrying Audrey. Perhaps this is part of his journey of healing and moving forward on his own, and eventually he’ll find a way to fuse his life with Audrey to the one he’s working to repair with his family. Ron wonders if he should follow in his brother’s footsteps, and find his way to happiness again.

As Percy and Audrey are pronounced man and wife, Ron knows exactly what he has to do. He offers a genuine smile as they share their first kiss, signs the documentation as their witness, and congratulates them.

“Thank you for being here,” Percy extends his gratitude again as they walk down the steps exiting the courthouse.

“No problem. Just, er, maybe don’t keep this from the rest of the family for too long. I think they could probably use something happy to latch onto.”

Percy’s mouth forms into a thin line as he nods curtly. “I’ll…try not to.” Then, he turns to his new bride. “We’re going to head back to our flat, unless you need help getting home?”

And there’s Pompous Percy, back to play.

Ron rolls his eyes. “I think we’ll manage.”

Percy and Audrey wander off down the road as Ron eyes the park nearby and nods to it. “Care for a walk?”

“Sure,” Hermione agrees.

They meander side by side, and all of the things Ron wants to say storm through to the front of his mind, but he can’t latch onto a single one long enough to start a conversation. After harboring his feelings for years, how is he supposed to finally tell Hermione how he feels?

Their fingers brush as they walk, and Ron brazenly slides his hand into hers the next time the sway of their arms sync up.

“That was unexpected,” Hermione offers.

“It was.”

“But also really sweet.”

“Yeah.”

Hermione slows her pace and turns toward him, forehead crinkled in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I—yeah—”

“I feel like we’ve barely seen each other, let alone spoken since—”

“I know.” The hand that isn’t still holding hers moves to slip around her waist. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but—I’ve wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

Us. The kiss. The locket. What happened at Malfoy’s. Shell Cottage. Everything that’s ever happened between us since the fucking Yule Ball and what it could possibly mean. All of it.

He supposes any of those could be a good starting point, but that’s not what slips out of his mouth. “I want what they have—Percy and Audrey.”

“Oh?” The singular syllable catches in her throat as she looks at him in surprise.

“With you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He’s not sure how, but Hermione manages to move her body closer to his. “Me too,” she breathes. “I’ve been hoping—”

But Ron doesn’t give her a chance to finish. Dropping her hand, he brings it to her face, tilting her chin up as his lips graze hers. It’s much more gentle, tentative even, than their first kiss, and he relishes every second of the leap they’re taking.

“I never thought…” she starts to say when they finally break apart, but the words drift off and she bites her lip instead. 

He knows exactly what she means though, even without saying it. “I know. But here we are.”

“Here we are,” she agrees.

“Reckon we probably shouldn’t jump to marriage right away though,” Ron jokes. It’s the first time he’s genuinely been able to since—well, before they broke into the Ministry.

The crack brings a smile to Hermione’s lips. Merlin, he’s missed making her smile. “No, probably not. But I don’t see a problem with dating.”

“Neither do I.”

“So, it’s settled then.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Then, a wide grin spreads across his face and happiness bubbles up from his heart. “I finally get to call you my girlfriend.”

She nuzzles her head into his chest. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.” He kisses the top of her head.

For now.

#submission #Weasley weddings #romione #percy/audrey