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grimesgirll · 1 month

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“do you have any weed?”

“why? you wanna get stoned, baby?”

you shake your head eagerly. the sanctuary is not for the faint of heart. negan may have let you hang around his wives’ quarters while he toyed with the idea of adding you to his collection or sending you home to alexandria at a price, but that didn’t mean you were shielded from the absolute shit show that this place turned out to be. a joint is the least he can offer.

“you’re a little pothead, huh?”

you snort. “as opposed to being a big drinker?”

negan shrugs. “pick your poison i suppose.”

“do you smoke?”

“not since before this shitstorm all went down.” negan admits, resting a large hand on your thigh as you sit, legs long on top of him on the leather sofa.

“well, maybe you should have your goons bring up a half and some backwoods, and we can relax a little,” you burrow into him in an attempt to appeal to his physical motives.

he doesn’t pretend to be unaffected by you digging your ass into him and leaning back for a kiss. he halts you with a finger to your lips. “you really are a little pothead, aren’t you?”

“i hope it’s not obvious,” you retort, relaxing into him.

the leader takes the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth, pushing past your pillowy bottom lip. “i might be able to work something out. if you can ask nicely.”

a week ago, you would’ve spit in his face but now you’re more than ready to beg for a joint. tongue lolling around the pad of his thumb, he retracts the digit to let you open your mouth and put on your best sultry voice and ask negan, “negan, can you please have your men bring us some weed. i think it would really calm my nerves.” you quiver your lip for extra effect. “i’d do anything.”

negan is whistling before you can get another word out of your mouth, “baby, anything you want. whatever you want to get you settled in.” he promises against your ear.

suddenly, he’s cupping your face, giving you one of his signature overpowering - overwhelming kisses, leaning into your open mouth and then he’s up again and on his way out the door.

with a creak of a hinge you hear, “hey, dwight! ready for today’s mission?”

your cough has negan snickering at you. “what?” you sputter, smoke creeping from your mouth.

negan sat you down in the conversation pit of the common area after all his wives retired to their bedrooms. you didn’t get your own bedroom - yet, negan had threatened. a rolling tray with two pre-packed blunts and a shiny silver lighter sitting pretty, just waiting for the two of you to get straight into it.

“i thought you were a hardened stoner, sweetie, a little joint has you coughing already?” the man teases

rolling your eyes, you take another hit, not bothering to angle your exhale out of negan’s face.

a man of his word, negan had slapped dwight’s ass and sent him on a sanctuary wide search for something for you two to light up with. the sanctuary, being the cesspool it is, is rife with reefer and even some vanilla flavored tobacco rolls. you can’t fault negan for coming through, and you’re thankful he did as you indulge in another soft puff.

wanting to try something, you offer the blunt to negan.

he waves a hand at you. “not my thing, honey.”

you tilt your head with curiosity. “are you sure? i think you could benefit from a hit or two.” the raised joint remains in the air. “only if you want to, though.”

“fuck it. why not?”

and that’s how you lose over thirty minutes of your life caught up in studying negan’s face and fumbling through hazy conversation - at least on your part. a hand digs into the squishy blue leather of the seating beneath you. the unhinged part of you is placidly observing every inhale and exhale that the man offers for your viewing.

“wanna watch a movie?”

he’s breaking the new silence that’s developed since you melted into the couch, however. you also know what that’s code for but you’re nodding and following him out of the conversation pit and to the bedroom towards the entertainment center anyways.

the sanctuary is technically your prison but with every passing day, you grow more and more complacent. negan moving you in with him was supposed to be a temporary punishment - the price to pay for returning daryl to alexandria, the result of what happens when you fuck around and find out with negan. why would you risk even more punishment by running when he’s letting you order room service marijuana to his quarters. that’s some shit you weren’t doing everyday back in alexandria. the day will probably come soon enough that you’ll have to patch together a plan to ditch this place, but for now you’ll just build trust and your strength for when you eventually make your escape.

your high has you cozy on the couch and before you know it, you’re more than comfortable in negan’s lap.

“i think i like you baked, baby,” the man whispers between kisses into the skin besides your bra strap. the crisp white oversized button up you’d been wearing is conveniently strewn on the floor and out of negan’s way.

“let me make sure you don’t have cotton mouth down there.” negan’s fingers fall below your waistband. “mhmm, course’ not.” he doesn’t need to dip a finger into your messy entrance to see how soaked you are with how saturated the upper crotch of your panties are.

grinding yourself all over his lap, your self control is slipping faster than he’s undoing his belt.

“baby, i think you’re wetter than usual,” he remarks with a finger between your silken folds and the other hand finishing off his belt. you smirk until your face begins to blush with how his firm finger works you open, tag teaming with his thumb to torture you from the inside out.

the crimson creeping onto your face at the thought of him being between your legs routinely enough to notice a difference burns you. you don’t want to let it slip that smoking renders you wildly horny, so you just allow yourself to tilt your head back and let him do all the work.

your stresses are fading with each press of pleasure negan is inflicting on your clit anyways. it’s effortless to let the sheen sweat and the glowy, lightweight combination of marijuana and euphoria engulf you.

how sensitive you are scares you for a moment but the overwhelming pleasure is more than enough to have you jolting your hips and canting backwards into negan. fucking yourself on his fingers.

“fuck, next time i’m gonna have to make you look in my eyes for that next time.”

that earns him an eye roll. “you like seeing me all ditzed out?”

“i don’t want you any way else,” the salt and pepper haired bastard declares.

he wants you just like this: sprawled on top of him on the bedroom futon with a finger or two buried inside of you. the sounds you’re mewling are more than enough to have him rock hard against your ass and disregarding how truly loud you are. that is until he can’t move past your words.

“you already want my cock, darlin’?”

negan is grinning ear to ear from needy request against his ear. he’s more than happy to grant you your wish and flips you over onto the firm, scale-like leather.

“yes, negan,” you reply dreamily, fingers towing his short hair.

“you want it like this baby? you want me to fuck your high ass into the couch?”

is water wet? are you wet right now? is that even a question?

you nod like when he first asked if you wanted to get stoned. “yes, negan, please! you know you stretch me out sooo good.”

“do i?” a playful haze consumes his face.

“yes!” your breath hitches as he moves your hair out of your face to envelope your lips, biting your bottom lip before inviting his tongue inside your mouth. it’s then that you feel his massive cock poking at your slippery wet entrance.

precum coating his head, negan rests his dick against your hair covered mound, tucked against your clit in a manner that has you strategically gyrating your hips to access any sort of friction.

“i’m ready. you’re ready.” negan notes, toying his head up and down your slit. “wow, what they say about drying up and all that is bullshit.”

“c’mon, i thought - thought you were gonna fuck me.” you hum and direct your doe eyes at him.

mustering up the energy to bat your eyelashes at him has his cock lined up with your seeping hole and suddenly negan is nowhere near holding back.

the sanctuary’s leader grinds your gears but he also grinds his girthy cock against your clit so poignantly pestling pleasure just on the way in. the sensation of every detail, ridge, and texture of him cramming your taut walls has you breathing erratically into his shoulder.

“you’ve got this, honey.” he presses a purple kiss to your collarbone. “i know you can take this cock better than you think you can.”

negan is right but god, the stretch is still something you’re getting used to. thick and long, negan has a hard cock to take with an even more impossible personality to stomach. that cock fucks you nice and deep enough to at least temporary take your captivity off of your mind, so you don’t mind it. you actually yearn for it - in your core.

that heat that’d consumed you before returns and fluctuates and flickers with the older man’s vigorous pace. every snap and thrust has you clenching and digging crescent shaped marks into his skin.

little bursts of lightning snap inside of you as negan doesn’t spare you his fingers. resuming their pace on your clit as if you hadn’t just come on his fingers a minute or two earlier. you’re not ready to let go quite yet but you can already feel the pressure mounting as negan angles his hips to brush against every part of your interior anatomy. it’s like he’s fucking sightseeing - one of the locations being your cervix, already

“mhm,” you’re mumbling beneath him.

“god, i don’t think i’m ever gonna get tired of stuffing this pussy.”

“love when you stuff me.” you breathe. that weightless feeling starts in your core and without warning, you flutter around the thick cock inside of you, constricting and tightening as he bumps against that same spot he’d been stimulating on the way in with, now with his fingers meddling in an effort to push you over the edge.

“can’t wait to creampie you. fuck, it’s worth all the plan b.”

you’re too sex distracted to feign concerned. negan could come in you as many times as he wants - as long as he keeps up the mind bending rhythm that has you babbling and on the verge of forgetting your name.

“god, you got me so close already tonight, girl.” the man’s hips are already stuttering, so much that you’re swiveling into him.

“negan, negan,” the name leaves you lips as a cry.

“just like that, say it again,” he commands and fists a handful of your hair, forcing eye contact.

his eyes focused on your lust blown pupils, you offer him some more figure eights so he’s won’t be the only one who contributed to your soreness tomorrow. struggling with raspy, lust addled breaths, you moan, “come in me, negan.”

and that’s all the permission the sanctuary’s fearless leader needs to completely fill you up. your pussy maintains an unrelentless death grip on his cock at the same time. the needy vortex between your thighs sucks negan in.

a corresponding climax is washing over you, complimenting the warm come oozing from your freshly stretched little hole. god, the full body bliss you unlock once your core gives in numbs your bottom half. your face must be numb too because you’re smiling like an idiot.

wow, he really creampied you. the aforementioned promise of plan b placates you enough to shut up and accept your orgasm, happily accepting the kisses he scatters in his post-sex glow along your newly relaxed nipples and up your throat.

“damn, we’re gonna have to get stoned together more often, baby.” negan places another soft kiss on your forehead. “don’t think too hard while i’m gone, sweetie.”

with that, he’s paying your ass a squeeze as he shifts off the bed. you stay belly down despite the rustle of clothing and the door hinging open.

too tired to care what negan‘s up to, you tug down the large fleece blanket on top of the futon and bunch it around you. your brain is too fried to prioritize getting to bed right now. if negan is nice enough, he’ll move you to bed later like he did the other night after you fell asleep in his arms in the conversation pit.

you’re smirking when you hear negan greet dwight, who you can imagine is sitting in the common area, stopping in to do a quick tune up on negan’s in home arsenal.

“hey, dwight! you ready to roll some more magical blunts?”

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nana-mania · 1 year

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“SPOILED” he loves being spoiled by his rich girlfriend

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : izana kurokawa

࿐*ೃ fandom : tokyo revengers

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff

࿐*ೃ tw : cursing

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ "IS IT JUST me or has Izana been acting odd lately?"

Kakucho spoke up, breaking the silence between him and the Brutal Generation, as well as the executives of Tenjiku. He was unable to contain his curiosity much longer. He pondered in his mind all the time; whether the others noticed this subtle change in Izana.

"Izana has always been unhinged, Kakucho. Since when he's not acting odd?" Ran casually remarked, finding his question strange. "You know him personally much more than we do. Surely, we can't give you any answers even if you demand one from us." Rindou added.

"What's so odd about Izana anyway?" Shion asked, his brain still trying its hardest to discern the meaning behind Kakucho's inquiry. "If you are talking about how he has been hanging out a lot on his own, I personally don't think it's strange." Kanji stated whilst he munched on a mochi.

"You know him. He doesn't like it when we question his actions." Muto advised, patting the younger male's broad back to reassure him. "I know, but...ahh, there is just something off about him. I can't get it out of my mind unless I figure it out." Kakucho argued, persistently staying true to himself.

"My gut feeling is too strong for me to ignore it... Alright, that's it. I'm going out to check on Izana. He went out to the city again today. You guys wanna tag along?" Kakucho offered invitation to the rest of the executives. Shion, Kanji and Muto were unsure. They didn't want to dig their own grave.

But the two Haitanis thought otherwise. They were thrilled by the idea of spying on Izana during his casual stroll in the city. They might discover something unbelievable.

"We are coming along~" Ran agreed to Kakucho's invitation, his hand resting on top of Rindou's head. Rindou wore a wide grin on his face, excited by the adventure they were about to experience. It could be a death wish but who cares! Life wasn't fun without taking risk.

Seeing two of them agreeing to this maniacal, suicide-borderline plan, Kanji, Shion and Muto sighed defeatedly and eventually agreed to Kakucho as well. Delighted by their cooperation, he smiled at the older males happily.

"Alright, let's go now!"

Meanwhile, in the city, Izana was strolling in a clothing store with you, browsing the various clothes and shoes sold in the store in complete silence. There was no way he would want to buy them as most the stuffs he wanted was overpriced.

His amethyst-hued eyes suddenly landed on a pair of shoes. He stared long at the said shoes, as if he was attracted to them. He was unaware of how long he was fixing his gaze at the footwear. Noticing his behavior, you smiled at him and picked up the shoes he secretly wished to have.

Shocked by your action, Izana looked at you in disbelief. "No, not again." He opposed your idea. He knew you too well; you were planning to buy the shoes for him. But you shook your head and brought the shoes along as you and your boyfriend made your way to the store clerk.

"Yes, again. I told you, just buy anything you want. I can pay for the goods."

"You're always spoiling me."

"And I love doing that. Especially spoiling you."

Izan smiled softly at you, his one and only girlfriend. To be honest, he didn't know you were from a wealthy family until he went on a first date with you. It was astonishing to figure out this interesting fact about you.

Izana reached out his hand and held your hand warmly. "That's why I love you so much, mahal." He whispered seductively into your ear, tightening his hold on your hand. Your cheeks heated up upon hearing his attractive voice. God, you always had a thing for voice. Hearing a sexy voice like his made you weak in the knees. "I love you too, sweetie."

You paid for the shoes much to Izana's happiness. He never, never even once asked you to spoil him with your wealth. You willingly did it for him and he appreciated it so much. Even though he couldn't buy any expensive gifts like you did, you adored every single thing he did or give to you as presents.

You weren't a picky and judgmental girl.

"So, where should we go now?"

"Mahal, I'm hungry. Can we stop by KFC?"

"Sure! And you better keep your wallet in your pocket. Today's date is on me."

"But..."

"No buts. I invited you to the date so I have the rights to spoil you."

Izana chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You were persistently stubborn when it came to this topic. It was no surprise to know you hated being the spoiled one during date. Only on rare occasion, you would let him pay during the date.

"If you say so, mahal." Izana leaned in to kiss your forehead. Your face went ablaze, delighted by his soft kiss. That was right, this was what you wanted. Receiving rewards in the form of physical touched everytime you spoiled him. Izana was the best when it came to showing love through physical touch.

Hooking your arm with his, you and Izana walked out of the clothing store as he flirted with you, effortlessly causing warmth to spread across your cheeks.

"After this...wanna come over to my place to chill, mahal?" Izana whispered flirtatiously into your ear. You could practically hear the smirk in his teasing voice as his arm found its way to snake around your waist. "I love to reward you for all the treats and spoiling...you deserve so much from me."

"Eager much, aren't you? I'm always up for it. I love to be spoiled by you later."

"Thought you hated being coddled by me, mahal."

"Your "spoiling" is different and that's why I love it."

The warmth in your cheeks kept rising up. You could never stop flirting with Izana when he started making his move. He would continue whispering sweet nothings until you overheated.

Unbeknownst to the couple, a group of curious delinquents were spying on them with the youngest having his jaw dropped to the ground in disbelief.

"I-Izana...since when did he— has a partner?" Kakucho gasped, his mouth agape wide open. Shion, Muto, Kanji, Ran and Rindou were left speechless as well. Izana, never once, showed the slightest bit interest in relationship considering that man hated "troublesome burden". Hence, seeing him all sweet with a girl was a miracle. This fact might take a while to be embedded into their brain.

"Let's go follow them. I need to confirm again—"

Much to Kakucho's misfortune, Rindou unintentionally slipped and brutally pushed Kakucho out of their hiding spot. Due to panic, all of them left the alleyway to help Kakucho and Rindou to get back on their feet.

Of course, this led to their downfall.

Thanked to the chaos, Izana and you were drawn to take a look. The Tenjiku leader was displeased to find his executives all hoarded together. He figured out right away that they were spying on him.

"You know them?" You asked, curious of his sudden change of facial expression. You were still linking your arm with his. Izana's face scrunched with irritation, aggravated by their rude interruption. You knew Izana was involved in gang activities but you had never found out that he was the leader of his own gang.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?!" Izana yelled at his exeuctives. His roaring voice sent shivers down to their spine. He untangled his arm from your hold, dangerously walking toward the other elite delinquents of his gang. Shion was on the verge of tears, fearing for his life and safety.

"S-Shit, run! RUN! FUCKING RUN!!" Shion, being the most coward among all of them, made a run from Izana's wrath. Izana ignored the others as they were already frozen on their spots so he began chasing after Shion, catching up with his speed easily.

"Wait, you fucker! I'm gonna fucking kill you for interrupting my date!!"

The small chaos somehow turned into a big calamity as Shion, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Muto and Kanji now needed to face Izana's rage.

While you just stood there all confused but enjoyed the evening drama nonetheless.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this short scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #izana kurokawa #izana kurokawa fluff #kurokawa izana #izana x reader #fem reader #izana kurokawa x you #izana kurokawa x fem reader #tokyorev #tokyo revengers oneshot #izana kurokawa oneshot

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technaart · 2 years

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hello! I saw you were taking requests so...yeah. I've seen a lot of good content about genshin characters as parents and stuff but I've always wondered about the opposite, I guess? Like, what would happen if their s/o didn't want to have children? Specifically my faves: Al Haitham, Itto, Thoma, Beidou and Shinobu.

If you don't want a baby, that's okay. Right?

Characters: Al Haitham, Itto, Thoma, Beidou, Shinobu Genre: Fluff/comfort/ Slight angst FEM Reader A/N: This was really interesting for me to think about with these characters. Thank you for requesting!

He can tell there was something on your mind. Your constant jittering distracted him from the current book he was reading. of course, his first thought is She'll tell me eventually. but you didn't. You kept stirring up whatever occupied your mind.

When you started to bite your fingernails, a habit he knew you were trying to break out of, moved him into motion. The book he held closed with a low snap, standing up before you can look over and pulling your hand down gently from your mouth.

"You're not being as quiet as you think," he spoke, making you look sheepish. "What is it? Something's bothering you,"

Mouth suddenly dry, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips. "We've been together for a while, and I know we have always talked about things we plan for us."

Haitham nods his head, urging you to continue.

"I don't want to have kids!" You say in one, quick breath. You look up at him in anticipation, trying to read into what he thinks about what you said.

But his expression remained passive, leaving you unable to read his emotions. The wait as he thought about your words had you holding your breath until finally, finally, he said something.

"I don't want kids either," he said, bluntly.

It was such a relief to hear those words, and your breath left you in a heavy exhale that he of course noticed. Without a word, he pulled you into his chest, holding you tight with his own way of reassuring you. It was okay, kids were not needed.

And if you ever changed your mind, well, that's okay too.

For the first time in your relationship with Itto, you avoided him. You felt bad for it, but you also felt bad for knowingly not wanting to give him what he has expressed wanting before. The fear of this being the end for you two rooted deep inside.

There's no way, right? You think to yourself, sitting out against a tree. It was a cool evening and while Itto was with the others being distracted, you snuck away to have even more time to yourself. Really, it wasn't a good idea but by this point you didn't know what you can do.

"I mean, you can always just tell me."

Itto's voice from behind you had you jump to your feet, startled at the sudden appearance of it. Had you said all of that out loud? You didn't mean to, and now he knows there is something bothering you - if he didn't know that already.

He did.

"Hey, I know i'm not the best with problems," he started softly, shuffling closer to you in a way that he was scared he'd frighten you off. "but i'll do my best to help. And if you just need me to listen I'll sit down and shut up!"

As if to prove his point, he sat cross legged on the grass, zipping his mouth close and doing the motion of throwing away the key. It brought out a small giggle that had him smiling. That was a good sign.

You take a deep breath, realizing that you needed to tell him no matter the outcome.

"Itto, I don't want to have kids any time soon." You pause, thinking before adding. "Actually, I'm certain I don't want none at all."

There's a brief silence between you two as your words repeated themselves in Itto's mind. That was all you were worried about? He wanted to laugh, but knowing how serious you felt about this, he didn't.

"We'll that's fine. We don't need to try now you know." He stood up, walking closer to you. "And if you decide no kids ever, you wouldn't be opposed to a pet would you?"

You laugh, shaking your head while wrapping your arms around him as he does the same with you. This is Itto, why were you so scared that you would lose him?

Maybe, you think, leaving him with a kiss.

Not only is he the most understanding, but he is also the most hurt by this. At some point in his life, Thoma wants a family of his own. To settle down and live the proper domestic life with you as your husband and father of your kids.

But when he brought it up to you one late night talk, he quickly took notice of the expression that flash across your face when he said that. If made his heart stop for a minute, or at least it felt like it did. What did that mean?

Did you not plan on staying with him long enough for that?

The thought made him want to cry, his heart already starting to shatter to pieces as he waited for you to put into words what he thought he knew.

"Actually, Thoma,"

He held his breath.

"I don't think I wan't kids, maybe a pet? But a baby... I can't. I'm sorry, Thoma." You're quick to apologize, basically seeing his dreams of a family being shattered on his face.

"Oh," he breathes, then smiles. Thoma smiles at you even though it looks like he wants to cry. "I completely understand! It's your body, I won't push it on you if it's not what you want."

Even though he says this, there is small hope that you might change your mind. If years past and you still say no, well, he will accept it. Maybe you had a fear of childbirth? If so, there was always adoption for the both of you.

She can tell there was something on your mind, but didn't want you hound you for what it is. Beidou figures that if its super important, you would go to her.

Honestly didn't expect to learn it was Kazuha who you went to for comfort and advice.

She was watching you watch the sunset, debating if she should join you are not. You looked deep in thought so she stood where she stand.

"She told me something quiet interesting the other day." commented Kazuha. Not wanted to fully say your secret, for that is for you to tell Beidou yourself. He just wanted to help.

"What is it? She hasn't talked to me in all day!"

Kazuha smiled at his captains dramatics. That was a lie, he clearly remembers you and her flirting off in a corner when you thought no one could see.

"I won't go into detail, seeing as she needs to tell you something important. YN is just scared of your reaction even though i assured you you would understand."

Oh, you were just really nervous to talk to her?

Beidou can't have that.

She walked over to your figure and Kazuha watched the scene happen before him. You of course had talked to him about needing to speak to Beidou about Children. It was something you didn't see yourself wanting.

He was certain Captain Beidou didn't either. If the two of you hugging each other tightly is anything to go by, he'd say it all went well.

You really can't hide anything with her. Shinobu walks up to you, and in a slightly hesitant voice, asked what was wrong. She definitely didn't expect you to bring up the subject of kids.

"I don't think I want any," she said, confused. Shinobu hasn't really thought about it, but she knew she didn't want one anytime soon, adoption or not.

A heavy sigh of relief leaves you and she pulls you into a tight hug. Reassuring you that even if she had wanted a kid some day, she still would have understand. You are her love, there was no way she'd late something like this break you apart.

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inkyycapp · 8 months

Text

Phasmophobia Au

Sally Face Edition

(Alt ! Au)

ft: sal, larry, travis (,ash, todd, and neil) tw: ghosts, murder, violence, demoniacs, weed, implied romance? i have never smoked weed can you tell? not beta read forgive me edit: it was beta read now yay a/n: i'm writing this up on my laptop rather than my phone, which i lost. anyways, feel free to request. this was heavily inspired by mark, bob, wade, (jack/sean) i also rewatched sally face fandub, it's pretty neat. you should watch it too. i added travis cause he's silly

after high school, after everything at the addison apartments, things you all knew you couldn't just leave the paranormal life behind. enrolling in collage, school went about the same. you moved in with your friends, and life was relatively normal.

normal.

you were laying on the wood floor, mind feeling a bit fuzzy. larry talking nonstop, sal sitting on the bed with his back against the wall. an odd silence filled the room, then larry spoke up.

"dudes, wait, wait, actually, hear me out on this one," larry slurred sitting up on the beanbag chair. "what if we like hunted ghost? ghostnabbers 'n shit." he waved his hands around dramatically. "larry, what. man, wait, what?" sal sat up as well. you turned your head to look over at larry not getting up from the floor. "just hear me out! like, i got this flyer from some dude talkin' about his ghost hunting job, showed me all his ghost tracking shit." larry stumbled to his feet, rushing to his desk dropping the flyer on your face. the paper covering your face for a moment before you grabbed it off, looking it over. in your high mind, this looked like the best idea that could have ever been said. "no way." you dragged yourself to your feet, plopping on sal's bed, showing him the flyer. sal looked it over as well. you were a group of unsupervised, high out of their mind, teens. of course, you were going to do it.

the others took some convincing, but they were in. it seemed it wasn't just you three that missed your paranormal fascination.

how you managed to get travis involved? he saw a flyer, thought it looked stupid. but, the more he looked at it, the more a strange fascination fell onto him. he knew ghosts were real, but actually searching for the things, solving their mysteries. he heard the ghost group talking about them, and tried not to eavesdrop, but couldn't help himself. (also, he heard you say it was pretty cool.) he called for the job and nailed it. now he has to deal with all of you and you all have to deal with him.

you, sal, larry, ash, and travis are usually inside the haunting grounds while todd, and neil stay in the truck, watching over and keeping equipment in check. they also often make sure you all get the objectives done. (you all refer to them as papa eagle. they share the title.)

"papa eagle, what're the objectives? over." "papa- what? over." (todd) "objectives are witness an event, capture ghost on film-" (neil)

(todd warms up to the title while neil owns it out the gate.)

(probably w/ travis) "why won't you listen to me, i already said the objectives are-" "cause you're not papa eagle." "papa huh-? i'm not calling todd or neil-" "papa eagle." "sorry, i'm not calling papa eagle- wait." "..." "..."

...

if you chose to partner with sal he always makes sure you got good equipment, doesn't want you to draw the short end of the stick. he cares very much.

while the idea sounded crazy at first, sal got into it after some convincing via you and larry. he nails the interview. he sees his friends did as well, and he's glad to have them onboard. though, when he sees travis is here, he had to do a double take. he's not opposed to it, just surprised. actually laughs, and nearly gets hit. larry, and ash wants to hit travis. you are the peacekeeper.

he's actually really good at this. he's had many experiences at the apartments, so the ghost violent attempts don't really phase him much.

sal likes to use the walkie even when he's in the same room as you, or anyone. finds it funny. everyone, but travis, join in.

"look, there's footprints, over." "roger, over." cue giggling. ...

"guys, you seein' this bullshit? over." "affirmative. over" "mhm, yeah. over." "i can practically smell it from here. over." "i wish i couldn't see it. over." "get off the line we're literally all in the same room. >:(" (travis) "buzz kill. over, and out." more giggling.

this man has no fear. will actively seek out the ghost, using the cursed objects. though not scared of them, he makes no room to provoke them. he's very chill with them. whether you're scared of them or not, sal's always sticking close to you just in case.

sal always ends up with a shit flashlight, or even a uv light to see. he always makes sure everyone has a good flashlight and ends up with the bad one. please help this guy. one time he got stuck with a candle. you made sure to keep close to him so he can share yours. he was very grateful.

sal has each ghost type, and behavior memorized, and actively adds to it, the twist is, they're memorized in such goofy ways.

"it's the one that can't touch the salt, finding no green stuff on the purple light, and it's talking to me over the ghost phone. over." "what- wait, huh? go again. over." "wraith, it's a wraith. over, and out."

he finds them all fascinating in honesty. if you share this interest, he tends to come to you with any, and all new information. enjoys talking to you about the kinds of ghosts and demons. you both like to take your ghostly conversations to todd, who also has everything memorized.

...

if you chose to partner with larry, i'll have you know larry is the instigator. this man will provoke, provoke, provoke. and will freak out when something goes wrong. he's really mellowed about it though. you, ash, and sal running in with the smudge sticks or a crucifix, trying to get the ghosts attention. travis is laughing over the walkie, todd and neil are watching in the van. he will make sure you're in the safe even when he's being stupid.

"harold wilson, harold wilson, harold wilson." "..." "..." "what a puss-" loud banging, chair is thrown but missed him. "haha. shit."

he's on a thin line between skeptic, and believer. he's always so surprised when the ghost shows themself, or if they give them evidence. he also just barley passed his interview. if it wasn't for all of you vouching for him, and being friends with the boss, he probably wouldn't have gotten the job.

larry hates mimics. hates how they give an extra piece of evidence and makes things difficult. literally calls them the try hard of the ghost community.

larry probably pulls pranks on everyone (travis). always dragging you into his pranks, sometimes pulling small one over you. larry just gets a good laugh at spooking everyone, claiming he's just "keeping you on your toes."

the ghost is always after him and travis. like, they always have it out for them. during ghost events, you could be standing right in front of it and the ghost would sidestep you and chase after them instead. everyone always pokes fun at it. secretly make sure to keep a crucifix on you at all times for him, just in case.

never leave larry alone with cursed items. he will use them without a second thought.

"and i pulled death." "you pulled what?" "death." "please, tell me you aren't using the cards." "..." "larry..." incoherent ghost noises

larry will bet on things. he would put money on what the ghost is. he will bet on chores, and such, and somehow, he always calls things. claims it's just luck, but after so many times everyone grows skeptical. he's always so lucky with the bets. probably the luckiest member out of the group.

larry is always throwing hands with travis. they can never, and i mean never be on the same page. the only time they are is during a hunt. you have to keep the peace.

...

if you chose travis, please be patient, he is trying. travis knows a lot about ghost, and the occult, but not about teamwork. at first, he will deny he needs a partner. it isn't until he gets the scare of his life, and you have to deter the ghost will he even consider it.

always cursing out the ghost once they are in some scary shit. he will go feral. please keep him in check.

ghost breaks the lightbulb above him "you piece of shi-" "travis, buddy, pal, friend, chum, i think it's hunting." "..." "..." "bitch."

travis keeps a tough front but will get anxious. he can deny it all he wants, but he sticks a bit closer to you, making sure to keep his flashlight on at all times, including in bright lights.

if it isn't larry getting targeted, it's him. can't explain the thought process. travis is always mumbling curses under his breath when the ghost is hunting. travis will claim he will use you as a human shield, but he doesn't. literally all his threats are empty threats. he will deny everything though. claims he didn't have the time, or something along those lines.

he oddly knows his stuff. very smart in this field of work, but 'hates' being praised for his knowledge. he brags a bit about it, only with you though.

you make travis open up a bit, he's nicer with everyone. you're not really scared of him, scolding him before he has a chance to say anything bad, or offensive to the group.

he doesn't join in any pranks, or walkie talkie jokes. he is the designated buzz kill. though, one time he did make a joke during an event. literally made you promise not to tell. blames all of you.

"make sure to take the picture of those bones. over." "wilco, taking picture now. over...wait"

always gets mad when your 'stupid' rubs off on him. but in all, he does want to make sure your safe. can't have your stupid get you in trouble, can he? he's stuck with you. (he actually isn't he just says he is cause he likes being your buddy.)

e/n: i only wrote for sal, larry, and travis cause it's going on 3am, and i'm eating shrimp stir-fry. i might do a part two, or something similar. thank you for reading :) (the beta reader is my brother{s} sue me) beta reader note: funni funni haha

#sally face x reader #sally face imagines #sally face headcanons #travis phelps x reader #sal fisher x reader #larry johnson x reader #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #phasmophobia #crossover fic

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epithet-beloved · 5 months

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hihi i was wondering if u could do something for parental epithet ramsey ?? (specifically a black poc kid if u could)

FAMILY PORTRAIT

synopsis… Ramsey draws a portrait of you and wins an argument on the internet.

ft. Ramsey Murdoch

tags… epithet erased, fluff, familial pairing, banter, reader is black, reader and Ramsey live together, reader is implied to also be an artist

word count… 907

a/n… I myself am not black, so if anything in here is inaccurate or could use improvement, you can let us know! I know how much it sucks to not feel represented in fics, so I wanna make everyone feel as welcome as possible on this blog ✧ 🦄

Ramsey could hear your sigh from across the room.

“What is it, kiddo?” From the slight reflection in his drawing tablet, his one eye could spot where you laid on his bed, scrolling on your phone while facing away with him.

“Nothing important.” You wanted to scroll away from the irritating reply, but something kept you staring at it with a foul expression. “Whenever I post about how it isn’t hard to just draw more black characters, there’s always someone in the replies going ‘oh, but it is hard though’!” You did a high, nasally voice of what you imagined some stranger on the internet with a bad opinion to sound like.

At first, Ramsey didn’t say anything at all. Did he even hear you? But eventually, you heard the sound of his chair turning around, causing you to look over your shoulder. Your absolute gerbil of a father sat there with the cockiest grin on his face, leaving you totally clueless as to what would come out of his mouth next.

“Stay still, I’ll prove ‘em wrong.”

Blink. “Whaddya mean?”

By the time those words had escaped your mouth, your dad had already turned back around and opened a blank canvas on his screen. “I’ll do like, a quick sketch. A five minute one or something. Then I’ll post it, because it’s not that hard and anyone who says it is is wrong and they deserve to know how wrong they are.”

Not the words you were expecting to hear. At the same time, though….you weren’t opposed to it.

“You’re saying you want to help me win an argument against someone I don’t know on the internet?”

His golden eye almost seemed to gleam with mischief at the notion. “Ain’t I such a cool dad?”

……Well, it’s not like you could say no to that. So instead, you sighed and tossed your phone onto a pillow, propping yourself up on your elbow and smiling at the man you called your father. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Once you’d given him express approval, the scammer slash furry artist resumed his position of being hunched over his tablet all too eagerly. Despite his almost childish glee, the movements of his hand were still precise, almost effortlessly so. It was never something you really mentioned to him or anything, since he’d probably get all smug about it, but it was a skill you hoped you’d be able to hone one day, too.

It was a comfortable silence, at least, between Ramsey’s reminders of “no peeking!” as he covered the canvas with his other hand. Even if the anticipation was gnawing at you a little, you felt….relaxed. Fading evening light spilled through the gaps in the blinds, and you could faintly hear the sound of a fan running in the background. It was a quiet evening with no responsibilities, nothing to do. Just you and your weird dad.

Speaking of said weird guy….

“You done?”

“Yeah, almost.” His pen strokes were getting smaller than before, probably adding the minute details after blocking out the basic shapes at the beginning. “Just need to clean this up a bit aaaand….” With surprising dexterity, he flipped his pen in his hand to do some quick erasing. “Yeah! Looks good.”

With a quick mutter of “lemme see”, you scuttled over to your father’s desk to peek at the final product, so to speak. Now that you were standing right next to him, the Australian seemed almost sheepish.

Scratching the back of his neck with one hand, he would say, “I maaaybe stylized it a bit, so it isn’t a one to one, but I thought it would be cute!”

…..It was. It was cute.

As your eyes scanned over the rough sketch, you noticed all the little details that you hardly thought about when you looked at yourself, but Ramsey seemed to have recorded with surprising accuracy. Your facial features, body proportions, hairstyle, and overall form were all mostly blocked out with simple shapes, but even then, there was something about the way Ramsey used them that gave it so much personality. Your personality.

“This is how you see me?”

“Yeah.” His response was so quick that you doubt he even questioned it. It just came naturally to him. “It’s easy to draw you, mostly ‘cause I see you every day, but also ‘cause I love you. I mean, It’s beyond easy to draw what you love, you know?”

….That was beyond corny, even for him. That’s what you wanted to say out of your own embarrassment, but he was just so….casual about it that you didn’t wanna ruin the moment.

In your trance of trying to think of what to say next, you noticed something.

“I was smiling?”

Ramsey cocked a brow. Did he think you’d already known that? “Yeah. Why?” After a pause, his ratty features took on a more playful expression, and he scooched over to give you a light bump with your elbow. “Whaaat, is it so surprising that you’d be havin’ fun with your old man?”

Laughter rose up from your chest like bubbles, making it hard to speak while you retaliated with a little shove of your own. “Shut up, I’d just spaced out! Quit being a drama queen!”

“What’s wrong with men being queens, eh? Aren’t I allowed to express myself?”

Internet argument aside, you definitely feel like you won today.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request !#🦄's writings #epithet erased #epithet erased x reader #epithet erased imagines #ramsey murdoch #ramsey murdoch x reader #ramsey murdoch imagines #familial imagines #platonic imagines

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thelampisaflashlight · 5 months

Text

Per Aspera Ad Inferi

[A young priest plagued with nightmarish visions makes the difficult decision to seek the counsel of the opposing side. Or, Copia makes an unlikely friend. Discussions of illness (unknown/vague sickness) and death, no one dies though. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

"I am Raphael Gianmarco Baptiste De Lorenzo..." Raphael introduces himself, nervously eyeing the two guards stationed on either side of the door to the room he's been lead into.

They're large and imposing, and if he didn't know better, he'd say one of them is growling...

"...I have come seeking your counsel... I understand if this is an odd request given... Well."

"It wouldn't be the first time one of your lot has come knocking." an older man in a burgundy tracksuit remarks from across a large desk, "Also not the first someone in your position has had a crisis of faith, though it is always a little amusing to see a priest inside the abbey."

Raphael opens his mouth and then closes it with a hum, clearing his throat before clarifying, "It is... not so much a matter of faith, but, rather... I require your... expertise."

He glances once more at the guards.

"They won't hurt you." the man laughs a bit awkwardly, quickly motioning for the pair to give him more space, "I can guess this isn't an... earthly matter from your tone."

"It is... not. No." Raphael takes a deep breath, worrying the seam of his gloves between his fingers, "...But it is a personal one."

A silence falls, and for a moment Raphael feels he might be in real danger as he hears the door behind him open... and then close.

Looking over his shoulder, he blinks.

The guards are gone.

"As I said, they won't hurt you." the man smiles warmly, "Have a seat, tell me what troubles you."

Raphael's eyes widen as the other rises and slides a chair around to the front of the desk, "Oh, ah, right... Thank you."

"Honestly, this seems more interesting than the paperwork I was doing before you arrived, so I should be the one thanking you!" he says, sitting back down, "Ah, but, I suppose that's a touch insensitive... You said this was a personal matter?"

"Mn." the younger nods, "I... Truthfully, I don't know where to start... Papa Emeritus-"

"Just call me Copia, lord below knows most people here do that... You said it was not an earthly matter, so why don't we begin there?" Copia suggests, leaning back in his chair, bouncing slightly when the seat refuses to recline.

"Okay..." Raphael sits up straight, "There's no... no way to say this that makes me sound sane, but, for as long as I can remember, I have been seeing things... Ah, inhuman entities. Demons."

Copia raises an eyebrow, a sparkle in his eyes, "...Go on."

"I think it's obvious from looking at me that I am not in the best health." he says, shivering slightly as the air in the room kicks on, "I have spent much of my life in and out of the hospital, so I have undergone numerous assessments over the years... Mental, physical... emotional... That is to say, I am acutely aware of what is and what is not... wrong with me."

"These visions trouble me, Copia." he continues, resting his hands in his lap.

"And so you've come here... for what?"

"Confirmation." Raphael wets his lips, "I will be blunt, if that's alright with you."

"Go ahead." the antipope nods, a frown adorning his features.

"My body is failing me, Copia." he admits, "The doctors don't know what's wrong with me, and all the church tells me is to pray... I have more bad days than good, and, quite frankly, I am tired. I don't know if, before I die, I'll ever stop being tired, but I know I would rest easier knowing for certain whether what I have been seeing is real or not."

Silence fills the room as the pair consider the weight of his request.

"...What answer would put you the most at ease?" Copia asks finally, watching Raphael with an all too familiar sort of pity.

"The truth." he says calmly, "...I don't have time for lies."

Raphael sits in his room, having removed his cassock and replaced it with the simple, white cotton pajamas he'd been given ages ago, contemplating his day.

Normally, he would kneel in prayer.

Tell the lord his troubles and ask Him for guidance.

Instead, his mind wanders back to his conversation with Copia.

In the end, the older man had told him to hold on, to find the answer for himself, and that had filled him with a feeling Raphael knew all too well.

Anger.

And he could tell by the look on his face that Copia knew he was dissatisfied with his response.

The conversation had ended abruptly then, with Raphael rising without hesitation, though unsteady without his cane, which he had left outside the door.

There were no words that could be said in that moment that would have soothed his temper, and no words he could offer in turn that would not be tainted by his anger.

It was dizzying.

Capturing the handle of his cane, he pivoted carefully on his heel to stare back at the antipope.

"Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil."

Copia laughed then.

"Psalm 37:8... I will admit, your little book has some interesting quotes." he said, a smile playing on his lips, "Is this your way of saying you're mad at me? I told you the truth as I see it, and that, my friend, is no lie. Go home and rest. If you're still troubled later, feel free to visit me once again."

Raphael lowers himself down into his bed, back complaining as he settles against the thin mattress and utters a rare curse from his lips.

"...Bastard."

He'll see him again soon.

Copia sets a cup down in front of the young priest, smiling serenely when his red eyes narrow at him, "Your anger is adorable."

Raphael scoffs, adjusting the placement of his cane against the table so it won't slide as he sits down.

"You came back." he comments, watching the other man stare wearily into his coffee, "You keep coming back."

"The air out here is refreshing." Raphael says, wrapping his hands around the mug to keep them warm, "...I think being away from the city is good for my health... from time to time of course."

Lately, the color has been returning to his features -Raphael's- his face lacks the pallor of their first meeting, and his fingers hold a gentle pinkness to the tips.

His face seems fuller as well.

"Of course." Copia sips his own drink and gives an exaggerated sigh, "Ahh~ So, what shall we discuss today? Good versus evil? The nature of God and the devil or...?"

"Butterflies."

Copia almost chokes, "...Butterflies? Really? You've traveled two hours out to the middle of nowhere to discuss butterflies?"

"I watched a documentary on them at the hospital-" he hums, adding quickly, "-it was a routine appointment, I was stuck in the waiting room for most it- and now it seems I've got butterflies on the brain."

"Well then, butterflies it is."

And so they talk about butterflies.

They talk about butterflies until the coffee grows cold, and, at some point, the conversation shifts.

Likes and dislikes.

Common interests.

The ups and downs of life.

Filling the air with chatter, half mindless, the rest insightful, until the question they've both been dreading falls from Copia's mouth almost carelessly.

"...How long now?"

Raphael smiles, "Lord knows."

"Yours or mine?"

They laugh.

...There's not much else they can do.

Either of them.

"I'm not so tired anymore... but I think I could rest." Raphael says, and Copia feels a twinge of... something... in his chest.

"Not so deeply you miss our next meeting, I hope."

Raphael stands, "You'd never get so lucky."

"True enough."

#lamp writes #shitghosting #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #copia #papa copia #papa emeritus iv #sibling of sin #sibling of sin oc #ghost band oc

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zombiedumbie · 6 months

Text

03. AND NOW WE'RE KIDS THAT NEVER KNEW THEIR NAMES

'Wolf brought another strange kid home' masterlist.

this title is temporary, I need to get more creative with them. edit: new title! it's a reference to this song.

based on Law's light novel, silly little domestic moments, fluff, memory loss, 1st person pov.

I was starting to understand her better now.

Wolf would sniff when he was happy, while the girl would run a fever when she was happy. In fact, she would get sick for a few days.

After Wolf found her in the kitchen, he picked her up and carried her to her room, telling me that she had gotten worse. I worried as I felt her temperature under my palm, but the old man told me it was like when she visited the city with him.

At first, I thought it was just nervousness. After all, there was a new person in the house, and when she visited the city, she was surrounded by new people; it was like adding one and one. But then she started opening up a bit more with Bepo.

With nowhere to escape while lying in bed during those days, she couldn't avoid Bepo when he accompanied me. I assumed it would be difficult for them to interact, especially given the bear's shyness and the girl's fear. But I was glad to be proven wrong.

Soon, I could hear them talking, sometimes laughing. It happened even faster than with me. I listened from the door of my room as she told him about the city. I expected her to say it was scary, but nothing but kind words came out of her mouth as she excitedly explained how beautiful the city was and how kind the people were, and how she wanted to overcome her fear of people to go back.

I also heard her talk about how happy she was to have someone else to talk to and how she wanted to remember if she had friends before she forgot everything.

My heart ached a little.

So, I added one and one again, realizing she got a fever right after I talked to her about our walks. I tried to be as neutral as possible with my words, even though I was expressing my feelings. I didn't need to talk about everything I felt.

She got a fever right after I said I didn't care if she walked with me... I thought about it a bit more, unsure of how I should feel about it. She was so happy with those seemingly insignificant words that I felt bad for saying them, but I wasn't lying; I was just omitting the fact that I wanted her to walk with me every day.

It was more pleasant when I could talk to her about Sora than sitting in silence, especially when all I could think about were the last three years of my life.

I felt a twinge in my chest again. I wanted to help her not be nervous around new people so she could go to the city again.

She recovered quickly, but I asked Wolf not to give her too heavy tasks for the next few days to make sure her body didn't strain too much and worsen again. The old man looked at me with that smirk again but said it was okay as long as someone compensated for her absence on the farm.

However, it didn't take more than a day for her to insist on going back to the farm, but I opposed her decision.

"Come on, Law, if she says she's fine, she's fine!" Wolf agreed with her, and she pounded both fists on the table, making the utensils jump.

I narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brows in anger at her stubbornness. "Can't you listen to a doctor?! You need to take it easy for a few more days!"

"I don't know, I've never been to a doctor!" She replied mockingly, sticking out her tongue.

When I started to explain why it was important for her to listen to me and how a doctor knew what was best for her, as doctors studied human nature to ensure everyone stayed healthy, she hit me with a pea on my brow using the spoon as a catapult.

"Human nature my ass", she grumbled. "I'm going back to the farm tomorrow, and you can shut up!" I looked at Wolf, and she had clearly learned to speak that way with him.

The old man just laughed at the half-squashed pea on my face, giving her a high-five as if he was proud of her accuracy. I looked to the side, seeing how Bepo observed the chaos in front of him with shining eyes while chewing his dinner, fascinated by how the two of them had simply decided to make fun of me.

Despite the anger, I felt welcomed in that mess. In addition to a safe place to sleep and hot food, it was a home where I could feel the warmth of interactions and feel welcome, even with a pea on my eyebrow. At the end of the day, things weren't so bad; I shared the same fascination as the little polar bear by my side, even if on different levels.

And I demonstrated that by hitting her back with another pea.

When the two of us started a small pea war, Wolf intervened, talking about the work it took to plant all those peas, until I hit him with one.

"You know what? Fuck it."

From there on, dinner turned into a small grain war, with teams divided by the side of the table where we were sitting. Poor Bepo, he could never hit anyone and always got hit because he couldn't dodge, ending up with peas stuck in his fur.

The war ended when we ran out of peas and the floor was dirty.

"All right", Wolf said, getting up and taking his plate to the kitchen. "You kids clean this up; you started it."

"But... What about me?" Bepo furrowed his brow, looking at Wolf with a cute expression.

"Argh, look at that..." Bepo's eyes practically shone, and I pursed my lips at the sight. "You're free too, go to your room."

"Hey, that's not fair!" The girl said, incredulous.

"Nobody told you to start this", Wolf replied. Bepo was already putting his plate in the kitchen.

"But you encouraged it", I retorted, reminding him of when he gave her a high-five. I felt confident with my argument, only for him to respond with: "Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my footsteps", and then he went up the stairs.

This old bastard, sometimes I wonder if this 'give and take' thing is just a fancy way of saying 'child labor.' But still, I collected the peas and put them in my palm, making a scoop.

"Hey... Don't you think it's strange that I don't have a name?" She asked me after a few minutes of silence. Wolf and Bepo must have been in their respective rooms.

I furrowed my brow, not understanding the reason for the question. I had never really thought about it after Wolf explained everything to me. At this point, I should be used to it. "Does it bother you?"

She shrugged. "A little, I guess", she continued collecting peas but throwing them back into the plate. "I mean, all of you have names, and I'm just... 'the girl'", she mumbled.

"Well, look on the bright side... If you don't remember your name, you can choose one", she pouted.

"Yeah, I've thought about picking a name for myself, since I don't think I'll ever get my memories back", she mumbled again, and I perked up, her words piquing my medical interest. "But it seems hard to choose a name for myself, you know, I want something cool."

"You said you went to the doctor when you arrived, right?" I asked, now curious about her memory loss.

"I can't remember, Wolf said when he found me, he took me to a doctor in Pleasure Town, but I don't remember that, I was probably asleep, I think", she paused, looking at me with curiosity. "Why?"

I smiled at her choice of words. Asleep. It had to have been something more than a simple nap to erase her memories. "Do you know what the doctor said?"

She raised an eyebrow, probably finding my sudden interest in this strange. "Oh... I don't know", she scratched her head. "He said that... Hah, He said that the doctor said my memories would come back eventually, but Wolf didn't tell me anything about dates or stuff like that", I sighed, watching her as she spoke. "I've been here for about three months, I think, and I still haven't remembered anything."

Unintentionally, I squeezed the peas in my hand, crushing them a little, and then returned them to the plate and wiped my hand, scraping off the remaining peas. It was a bit sad, actually. Waking up in a strange place without knowing who you were must have been quite distressing.

So far, all we knew was that she must be from another island. No one in Pleasure Town recognized her when Wolf took her there, and that was the only nearby town where he found her.

"But I don't want to be onnanoko either, you know... Even if I don't have memories, I'm still someone, right?" She asked me as if seeking some kind of validation.

My medical curiosity gave way to the same feeling I had when I heard her talking to Bepo. I nodded, and it seemed to be enough as she smiled.

"Would you choose a different name if you could?" The question sounded almost rhetorical, but I pondered for a while as I took the dishes to the kitchen, with the dinner table now pea-free.

My name was still a mystery to me. "D." This reminded me of Corazón and all his efforts to save me because I had that name, but apparently, it was a curse, as I was the "natural enemy of God." If I changed my name, would things be different?

If I changed my name, would Corazón have saved me?

"I don't know", I replied, stacking the dishes in the sink.

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #law one piece #one piece fanfic #law fanfic #law x reader #one piece fluff #fluff #trafalgar law fluff #Wolf brought another strange kid home #zombiedumbie writing

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

Text

Chapter Five (Part 2)

I talk with a group of people for a while as I sip from a mug with gin and tonic in it, and when I’ve had enough mug fulls of it I stop noticing the anxious way I feel when everybody turns to me as I speak, the silence that opens up for the words that leave my mouth, and eventually I start enjoying myself again. The people I’m talking to are nice, they listen to me with engaged expressions and laugh when it’s my turn to share a funny story, and soon I can relax, letting the warmth from the gin radiate out from my stomach and engulf my whole being, and I can laugh, and I can ask questions and I can be charming and funny and think of interesting things to say to people without the added agony I’ve become so used to in my sober life.

After a while one girl pours shots of something on the kitchen counter and we all drink them together and then cheer as though we’ve done something wonderful, and then we have another a few minutes later. And then another, and another. When they go outside to smoke a joint I go with them, and even though it’s December and my coat is in a pile on somebody’s bed, I don’t feel the cold so much anymore. When they pass the joint to me I refuse, because I fundamentally oppose drugs still, but as I watch it pass over me to the guy standing beside me I notice that my eyes won’t focus on anything. Everyone is still talking, but I slowly withdraw from the conversation, finding myself struggling to follow it now, only laughing along at the same time as everyone else without ever actually hearing the parts that are funny. I realise that I’m drunk. Very drunk.

I go back inside the house and weave through all the people, feeling like my head is tilting to the left even though it isn’t, but I have to keep righting myself like my balance is about to give out at any moment. I bump into somebody and have to apologise, and I try to think of the last time I’d had so much to drink, and I can’t. I can’t remember ever feeling this way in front of so many people, and I find myself wishing for the comfort of somebody familiar and comforting and safe. I want Claire, and at this point I’d even take Shane if he was going to take me away from this house and this dizzy feeling. Even if he scolded me for it, I’d take it.

I go upstairs to the bathroom to find Marnie, but as I open the door, Fiona stops me from coming in. “She’s being sick.” She tells me.

“Okay. Will you tell her I’m going to go home?” I say, and Marnie’s reply comes amplified by the toilet bowl. “You have to wait for me. You said I could stay with you.”

“How long will you be?”

“A minute.” Fiona says, and then closes the door on me.

I sigh and hold onto the bannister, fearing that my new left veering quirk will send me careening down the stairs and onto the tile floor beneath. I get an intrusive image of that actually happening to me, the way that my blood would look in a halo around me on against the monochrome tiles, red, black and white like something directed by David Lynch. The idea of that makes my stomach lurch, and I hold onto the wall next to me and begin an unsteady ascent to the second floor where there are two bedrooms. One, on the left with this heavy, bassy music is coming from, and the sound vibrates through the carpet and into my bones like it’s trying to invade my body. It’s Odd Future, I think, but I can’t think of why I know that. I go into the bedroom on the right where there’s an enormous mountain of coats heaped onto the bed, and I start digging through it until I find mine, and then as an afterthought grab Marnie’s too, which is easy to spot as it’s some kind of faux-fur electric blue shag that smells like cigarettes and Thierry Mugler’s Alien. I bundle both coats up in my arms and take them back out to the stairs, where I hunker down on the steps with my eyes on the bathroom, waiting for Marnie to finish vomiting so that we can go home.

I wonder absently what’s going on in the left bedroom as I wait. I hear voices through the walls over the sounds of the music but I don’t really care enough to get up and check as I know it’s probably a group of people having some cool, exclusive private session. It’s only another moment before the door swings open and the noise suddenly louder, more booming. I turn around to see Dean standing there behind me. I haven’t seen him for hours.

“I thought you were gone.” I say.

“No, I was here.”

I peer into the bedroom behind him and in the moments before he shuts the door I can see a group of people in there but can’t see what they’re doing. He sits next to me on the top of the stairs and when I look up at his face he looks strange, unfocused, his mouth hanging open a little bit like he’s in a daydream. His eyes are weird.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Yeah.”

I can’t think of anything to say. I’m tired, I’m drunk, and he doesn’t say anything to me either, so it feels alright to just sit without speaking, and time becomes kind of elastic and meaningless, and I lose grasp of how long we stay there.

Eventually, he moves his arm, takes the hand that I have resting on my lap and flips it over so that my palm is facing the ceiling. Then I watch with surprise as he traces the line on my palm that I read once was called my life line, and his touch is light and tickles a little, and even though it doesn’t feel bad, it strikes me as a very odd thing to do. I don’t move my hand right away, and I look over at him slowly, questioningly, and he’s wearing this concentrated expression on his face like he’s fascinated by the sensation.

I take my hand away from him when I remember that if anybody else knew that I let him touch me in this way they’d disapprove of it. “Sorry.” I say to him, “It tickles a bit.”

“That’s alright.”

I shift my body further away from him so that no part of me is touching any part of him anymore, and as my shoulder meets the wall, I rest my head there, the vibrations of the music stronger inside the plasterboard that separates the bedroom from the landing, and even though I don’t feel good and everything is strange and uncomfortable, I shut my eyes for a minute until I feel Dean get up and go away and then open them moments later to see him stumbling down the stairs, throwing his whole weight onto the bannisters as he spins around the landing, overshoots it and launches his body onto the wall. He swears under his breath and then completes his shaky descent to the hallway below just as the bathroom door opens and Fiona emerges.

She looks up at me from the middle landing. “She’s alright. She just needs to go home now.”

“I’ll take her.”

“Are you able to?”

“Why, can she not walk or something?”

“Can you?”

“Yes.” I stand up slowly and make my way down to her, being careful to watch every step as the positions of my feet shift around wildly in front of my eyes, my vision misaligned, unable to tell which of the stair steps are real and which I’ve made up.

“Come here.” Fiona says, taking me by the hands and helping me down the rest of the way. “The both of you are fucked. I’ll get you into a taxi.”

“We’re getting the bus.” I insist.

“You missed the last bus, darling, so either you get a taxi or walk.”

“What time is it?”

“Three.”

When Marnie emerges from the bathroom she looks bloodshot and miserable, her hair lank and her face covered in a sheen of sweat. It looks like she threw up a bit on her top, but I let Fiona dab it off with toilet paper, and then she brings us both outside and puts us into a taxi. As soon as we get in, Marnie rests her head on my shoulder and goes to sleep.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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electrasev5nwrites · 7 months

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Ninja Daily: AIC 39

It was very quiet inside the shrine. She sat down at a long table in a stiff silence. The younger priest left through a door to the left and came back with a bleak-smelling tea balanced on a humble tray. She took a cup and wondered if shrines were on the list of things she was meant to be funding.

"You seem to have a particular connection to death," the senior priest said. There were stress lines pressed into his forehead that didn't ease up when he looked at her. "Seeing and interacting with the dead… You can do this?"

Aiko took a sip of her bitter tea and nodded. "Yes," she said. "A while after I began summoning the god of death."

The old man flinched. "Pardon?"

She repeated herself.

The priest closed his eyes. He seemed to be chewing that concept over. "Why would you summon the God of Death?" His voice was faint.

Aiko thought about it. "It's cool," she said honestly. "And it was a very effective psychological tool against Orochimaru."

"It's ...cool," he repeated, lost.

"I also use it to revive people who I killed by accident," Aiko added guiltily. She squirmed on her cushion. "A lot of people in Kirigakure, actually."

He made a sound of comprehension, as if something he'd heard years ago was finally resolved. "You are the Mizukage," he said. He looked at her again, cataloguing her face and clothes. "I see." He said that, but his brow furrowed even further in confusion. "How do you summon a God?"

She grimaced. "I…" Aiko tilted her head to the side, trying to find a way to describe it that didn't sound insane. "I use my eyes. I have a set of eyes which let me do a lot of things, actually. I can use every chakra type that I know about and some really weird things that don't truly make sense, like summoning unaffiliated animals."

"And also a literal God?" His question came out bemused. "Why that God- as opposed to any other God, I mean. Did you worship the God of Death?"

She thought about it. "I kill a lot of people," Aiko said fairly. "Could that be connected?"

The elderly priest looked up through the open door to the garden behind her. "No," he said. "I do not think so." He tapped his fingers against his tea cup. "It seems that you have somehow affiliated yourself with a God."

"Like you?" Aiko asked. She gestured at the shrine around them. "You worship Izanami no Mikoto, right?"

He eyed her sideways. "This is a shrine to Amaterasu. There are no shrines for Izanami no Mikoto in operation these days."

Aiko felt herself frowning. "Isn't she the god who made everything?" she ventured. "My religious education was spotty, but I thought that was her."

"Izanami no Mikoto and Izanagi no Mikoto created the world and most of the beings in it," the junior priest agreed. "Izanagi no Mikoto sleeps, but he is worshipped. However, Izanami no Mikoto passed into the land of the dead in the early days of the world."

Aiko made a sound of polite comprehension.

'That seems like a raw deal. She's dead but not in the way we think of it, right? She's still a God.'

"I have to conduct diplomatic business inside of a shrine." Aiko laid her cards out on the table. "I am...concerned about complications stemming from my… association with the God of Death and my lack of general knowledge about religion."

"I don't think that you should have particular trouble." The younger priest was the one who answered yet again, while the old man looked out into the garden. "It is ..extremely unusual that you might have such a connection to a God. However, there are no wicked Gods. They are merely different."

"So no one has any kind of grudge against the God of Death?"

The priest opened his mouth and then closed it.

"We are not spokespeople for the Gods," the head priest said, dryly amused. "No one hears the voice of the Gods and transcribes their interpersonal grievances."

Aiko blinked. She eyed the two men uncertainly. "I hear his voice…" She trailed off.

They were looking at her incredulously.

"He doesn't like Orochimaru," she added helplessly. She shrugged and then frowned as she remembered. "He didn't like Orochimaru, rather," Aiko corrected herself. "He's dead now. Anyway, I think that Death doesn't like anyone who cheats Death… I wonder if he has feelings about Hidan," she mused.

"I think that we ought to start from the beginning," the priest said. He gestured to his subordinate. "While I take care of our duties, please speak with the Mizukage about the Gods and the earth."

…

Aiko left the shrine feeling unsettled. There wasn't any known precedent for what was going on with her. Chewing over the upcoming meeting had mostly led her to more questions.

Thankfully, however, some of the questions had been productive.

She breezed into her office and sent off an officer worker for information about their contacts in foreign countries. Kirigakure had nothing like Konoha's sophisticated spy network, but they were not totally hopeless. When she had the information in hand she chewed it over for a few hours and then wrote up 3 missions. She passed them off to the assignment desk, so that the next qualified personnel to show up for missions would get shuttled off to ask questions.

If Konoha wasn't talking out of their ass, they would have had to have already consulted with at least two other foreign nations. Otherwise, they would have no standing to threaten that there could be serious diplomatic repercussions for annexing Wave. Aiko put her feet up on her desk and stared at the ceiling, considering different angles. Who would the Sandaime go to? She didn't know him the way she knew Tsunade.

'He could even make it into an opportunity to improve his international standing,' Aiko realized. She twisted her lips into a scowl. 'I annex one little country and suddenly I am the villain.'

'I think that Kirigakure has long been considered the villain,' Sanbi pointed out. 'No one likes us.'

She paused for a moment, touched that Sanbi considered them in the same category.

'I misspoke,' he deadpanned. 'The important concept is that it is easy to dislike you.' He paused for a beat. 'Of course, I mean Kirigakure.'

She pouted, but accepted his point. They were an easy scapegoat.

'I am not a goat,' Sanbi snapped.

"It's just a saying." She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

Suna was the obvious answer. Konoha would turn to their longest ally for support in this. Kiri also had a decent hand in relations with Sunagakure for the time, given that she had custody of Gaara, but they would be wary about the possibility that she was a warmonger.

She considered it for a while. Would the Hokage have turned to the smaller villages for this?

She decided that yes, probably, he had. Konoha had solid relationships with a fair few of the less powerful countries, and it would have legitimized his claims of international consensus. She noted it and tabled it for later thought. Any one of the minor countries wasn't a huge issue. As a group it could become a problem, but some kind of holistic solution could address multiple problems in one stroke.

That left Iwa and Lightning. Would either of have possibly agreed to cooperate with Konoha to censure her?

She twisted her lips, not liking the conclusion she came to. She didn't have to worry about Iwa. Iwa hated Konoha far more than they cared about Kiri, and they were too far away to do more than laugh about chaos on the eastern side of the continent. Lightning, on the other hand, was fairly close.

Lightning wasn't as insular as Iwa. Lightning had always been involved in the affairs of other countries.

Aiko sighed and put her chin on her palm.

Lightning was probably willing to sign a notice advising Kiri to cease expansionist policies or face military consequences. They probably wouldn't initiate it on their own— sabotage would be much more their speed— but they would probably lend their weight to Konoha's protests.

The obvious solution, of course, was to get Lightning so pissed off at Konoha that any cooperation would go straight out the window. Aiko frowned at her window, turning over the possibilities. Konoha wouldn't do anything to endanger a deal they wanted to propose, so she'd have to frame them. Frame... impersonate?

She chewed it over along with a pastry and coffee. She knew Konoha and she knew their codes, she knew their paperwork specifications and communication habits. She could falsify incriminating documents. It would be convincing. It would require her to think up terrible things for Konoha to supposedly be doing, things that would leave a paper trail... and then she'd need a way for them to fall into Lightning's hands that wouldn't look obviously contrived.

It was a tall order.

And then she had an idea.

"Oh," Aiko marveled, "that would be bad."

Sanbi stirred, a silent question.

"I could just impersonate Konoha ninja," Aiko said. She leaned back in her chair. "I know a lot of them and their habits well, and I know distinctive Konoha techniques and jutsu. If I wander around where Konoha shouldn't be, start a distinctive fight, and escape, I can let Lightning come up with their own guesses as to what Konoha was doing."

Sanbi let out a laugh. "That is terrible," he said approvingly. "Who could you impersonate convincingly?"

She hummed, considering it. "It's only worth considering jounin, I think," she mused. "People who would be recognized. Kakashi for sure. Sen Tsurara is going to look exactly like his signature murder technique, as like as I siphon up the water afterward. Kurenai... I can do genjutsu on that level and I know her habits. Genma... he's a basic bitch and I'm mad at him, so I've gotta frame him for something... oh, Yamato." She giggled. "The world doesn't know about him, but if they see Mokuton, everyone will look at Konoha."

"That is a fairly conclusive list," Sanbi said. "However, it would constitute two teams at best. If you wish to spread havoc, perhaps more fake missions would be preferable. How about the turtle man?"

Aiko opened her mouth and then closed it. "No," she demurred. "I'm not going to mess with Gai. But.." she thought about her creepy, creepy eyes. "I have a perfectly good Sharingan. I could make it look like there's an extant Uchiha running around. And..." she trailed off and leaned back in her seat.

The Byakugan and Sharingan were supposedly related. Her Rinnegan allowed her to use any type of chakra, so they were clearly flexible... Given that her Rinnegan came with a Sharingan, was there a chance of using a Byakugan or something similar to imitate a genetic Hyuuga?

"Do I get a vote?" Sanbi asked, interested. "There's someone in Konoha that I hate."

She blinked, distracted. "You do?" She shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Who is it?"

"The frog man," Sanbi hissed.

"Frog... Toads?" Aiko checked. "Do you mean Jiraiya?"

The answer was a blank silence.

"The man with messy white hair who dances when he introduces himself?" She corrected.

"Yes, that's the one," Sanbi confirmed. "He has an extremely displeasing aura and crass mannerisms. We should punish him."

"You know what, that's fair," Aiko agreed. "He's my godfather."

"He is my enemy for life," Sanbi said. "And I will live forever, so good luck to the frog man."

"...did something specific prompt this?" Aiko asked.

"I find the way he giggles extremely distasteful," Sanbi said darkly. "He is a rude little man who puts his dirty feet on furniture. He must be made to face consequences."

...she had forgotten about that.

"Okay," Aiko hummed. She thought about how to do it. The toads were the most distinctive and damning identifier for Jiraiya. Sealing was fairly distinctive as well, but harder to have a reason to show off. "I don't have access to his summons contract, but I have his speeches and some of the dances memorized. I can just go be a loud idiot in front of a beautiful woman and it'll get back to Lightning somehow."

"He is a national disgrace," Sanbi murmured.

"No, he's an international disgrace," Aiko corrected. "He makes us all look bad, in one way or another."

...she had a sudden recollection. "I left him with Tsunade before I went off to fight Orochimaru last week," Aiko remembered. "They probably think I'm dead, huh?"

"All the more reason he will not understand it is you who has imitated his shameful mannerisms." Sanbi let out a pleased hiss, curling his tails in.

That wasn't what she meant, but it was probably true to some extent.

"I should go check on that." She made a mental note. Given that she had kind of exploded information all over Tsunade, she was pretty optimistic that there was a non-zero chance the princess was going to storm home and throw Danzo off a tower.

With that decided, she sent off a note requisitioning any authentic weaponry and armor confiscated from fire country in the last few years. When it was laid out on her desk, she picked through it for the bits that were authentic and fit at least one of her characters. There weren't any senbon in the pile, but Genma wasn't likely to let one of those drop for an enemy to find anyway. She could use any generic one, she decided.

Because she hated his stupid ass, Aiko decided to impersonate him first. She split off into a clone, which she disguised as Kurenai. She made her true body into an imitation of the assassin, and pushed past her cringe to hold a needle in her teeth.

"Interesting," said her secretary, who was still standing there. "Are you going out on errands?"

"Yes," Aiko agreed. "You can expect me back in a couple of hours. I'm going to go ruin someone's life."

Nishikawa grimaced just a bit. " Have a safe trip." He bowed.

"It will be safe for me," Aiko said absentmindedly, as she was immortal so far as she could tell. There was no response from Nishikawa because she was already on the outskirts of a border town in Frost Country. She shivered and threw up a genjutsu hood. It didn't help her with the cold, but it made it look like she was trying. The Kurenai clone to her left did the same, tucking pale hands inside a fluffy white coat.

'Can't stay here long, it's awful,' she thought. 'If I ever annex this country, I am going to light it on fire.' Aiko resisted the urge to let her shoulders hunch up, because it definitely didn't look like Genma's body language. She and her clone walked into town as if they belonged. They went to a hotel and got a room on a reasonable budget. They went to a ludicrously expensive bar where Aiko proceeded to rack up the kind of bill that would turn heads, paid, and then walked out leaving most of the food on the table.

That did the trick. She felt two notable chakra signatures approaching before a voice called out to her.

"Excuse me."

She turned to see not two but three people in the grey and purple of Shimogakure. When her eyebrows went up, it was a legitimate surprise at that show of competency. "Saa," she stalled, using her tongue to move the stupid senbon to the side of her mouth. She caught one of the shinobi follow the motion with his dark, suspicious eyes.

The one addressing her gave no reaction. "Sorry to trouble you," He said pleasantly. "Can I see your visa, please?" A passing civilian looked over with wide eyes and seemed to consider stopping to watch the interaction. A stern look from one of the Shimogakure patrol team had him moving on with the rest of the midday foot traffic.

She cocked her head to the side and deliberately did not make eye contact with her Kurenai clone. "Visa?" She repeated, as if she was unfamiliar with the concept.

"Yes, your papers and the designation given when you entered the border," he said.

She let her eyes slide shut in a smile. "Of course, of course." And then she flicked on the Rinnegan and thought about a flowering tree. In her mind's eye, she coaxed it gently out of the ground. Dark brown vines delicately wound up around three sets of legs and grew to the size of modest branches that hugged all the way up to her victims' chests. Someone gasped.

Aiko made a shhh sound, and had the branches blossom. The fragrance of ume blossoms spilled into the air with a soporific effect.

She opened her eyes just a little and stepped back, admiring her work.

Kurenai would have been proud of this illusion. Two of the three shinobi were limp, hanging up only because they believed that the trees were supporting them. The last was blinking furiously as he tried to stay awake. Aiko propped a hand up under her chin and waited a moment until the last chuunin was overwhelmed. His eyes slid shut and his head hung peacefully. It looked a bit like he had fallen asleep standing up.

They were in a little private oasis on the busy road. Pedestrians gave her a wide berth without knowing that they were doing it or that there was anything to avoid.

She lazily reached out to touch her Kurenai clone and brought them both to the opposite end of the country.

Frost Country was small enough that it was entirely plausible that jounin could cross it in a matter of hours. So she dismissed the clone, threw on a genuinely good henge, had dinner, and then put back on Genma's face to make an appearance in a bank teller line. She had picked the building at random, and it turned out to be far above the real Genma's budget. She took a deep breath of mercifully warm and fresh-tasting air while she waited in line. Her footsteps made a pleasing sound against the marble flooring by the door and then disappeared into luxurious, thick carpeting that she kind of wanted for her office. The counter was immaculate green marble. A black pen was attached to a white fitting on the counter via a silver chain. She pursed her lips. She wanted that too, just for the hell of it.

"You want to open an account?" The middle aged woman confirmed, checking a box. She had a black uniform and a green scarf neatly tied around her neck.

While the teller was looking down, Aiko took the chance to swiftly break the chain connecting the pen to the counter. "No, no," she demurred, "I want to ask about the process for opening an account."

The teller paused. "It is quite simple," she offered. "It usually takes about 15 minutes."

"What paperwork do I need?" She asked, not glancing up at the security camera. Casually, she put the bank pen into her back pocket, dangling chain and all.

"You're eligible if you have an address within the country. You'll need to show proof of residence. As for ID, either a copy of your family register or a government issued form will work." The teller recited it with a practiced cadence and a friendly smile.

Aiko smiled back, and then remembered that she was probably being a bit friendly for Genma. "Thank you for the information. I don't have my ID on me at the moment, so another time."

"Have a nice day, thank you for your patronage." The teller quietly scribbled something out on her notepad and gave a polite little bow goodbye. Aiko heard the sound of paper tearing as she turned and left the bank. She slipped into an alley as soon as she could leave the main road.

'I wonder if they'll bill Konoha for the pen. It looks expensive.' She rubbed her icy fingers at the back of her neck, frowning at the grey sky. 'Is this enough? An intrusion has definitely been reported by now. If they are competent, they'll have found me here. But if they're not, I'll have wasted my time. Should I put in another appearance? Stand on a tower and wave my arms a bit?'

It would be better to be thorough. But after a few hours in character, Aiko couldn't really ignore the fact that she was not doing a stellar impersonation of Genma. Her body language probably came off noticeably odd in a big man's body. The longer she imitated him, the more likely it was that discrepancies would pile up.

She shifted into Kurenai, opting for a red dress that looked more civilian 'date night' and less weird than the jounin's habitual bandage dress. She left the alley onto a street that was well-lit with very expensive-looking neon and ran a hand casually through her long, soft hair. This body was a lot more fun to wear.

For a moment, she thought that she had already been found. She caught people looking at her in her peripheral multiple times when she walked down the block.

'Oh, wait,' she realized. 'Kurenai is just really hot. This is so disappointing. Why don't they know that I'm a dangerous criminal interloper?' She glowered at the next person who looked at her too long. The middle aged man smiled back.

'Fuck, I don't have all night for this. What to do... Steal something? Break and enter? Get too close to somebody politically important?'

"Miss," a man's voice called out as she passed a bar. A few other men broke out in "ooohs". "Hey, miss, over here."

Aiko turned to face the speaker, lifting an eyebrow.

A group of young men were smoking against a wall. The one who had called out to her had a cocky expression and the optimistic start of what would hopefully become a beard one day.

She flattened her expression and tone to be utterly unfriendly. "What do you want?"

Mr. Whiskers showed he had very little sense of self preservation by kicking off the wall and taking a few steps toward her. "Come have a drink?" His peers made a truly obnoxious chorus of sound in either encouragement or mockery.

Aiko eyed the cigarette in his left hand and the beer can in his right hand. That was just sloppy behavior.

'Why get so close to a stranger when your hands are full?' she wondered. Instead of answering him, she reached out and took his wallet out of his pants pocket and immediately began walking away. Blithely, she flipped it open and removed all the cash. She heard a yelp behind her and a momentary scuffle as he probably tried to get someone to take his beer can. She shut the wallet and tucked the cash into her bra. "Hey, bitch! Hey!" He was closer now.

Aiko tossed the wallet to the side in a nice clean arc that even a drunk man couldn't miss. She heard him go after it.

"That'll get reported," she said to herself. She made a sharp turn into a side street and then scaled the wall. Someone caught the motion and looked up, but she was already halfway across the building by that point. She dropped down onto another street and walked into a building. It turned out to be a restaurant. No one was at the host stand to say anything when she walked directly into the restroom, shut the door, and used hiraishin to go back to her office.

After a few seconds, there was a knock on her door. Aiko looked up from where she was re-homing her new and expensive pen in a prideful place at the exact center of her desk. "Yes?" she called.

Nishikawa's voice answered. "Did you have a good trip, Mizukage-sama?"

"I robbed a teenager," she yelled back. She dug the money out of her bra and counted it for the first time. "He had… Wow, this is more than I expected. Come here, I've replenished the office coffee fund."

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity #AIC #Aiko in Canon

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zacharyleigh316 · 2 years

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the ghost of you is burned in every tape I mix

Suptober Prompt: Day 9 - Vintage | the ghost of you is burned in every tape I mix | Word Count: 2.3K | Teen and Up | Read here (or below cut)

Feelings were never Dean's strong suit-much to his brother's chagrin, he's sure. But some things are just too painful, too fresh. And some things...just don't stay dead.

Me, posting in the year of our lord and savior 2022? A true surprise, I know, I mean, seriously who would’ve thunk? But alas, the cryptid (or hermit, whichever suits your fancy) emerges at long last with a little treat for Suptober 2022. I can’t do every prompt, unfortunately, because y’know ‘life’ but, if all goes accordingly, I’ll have some more to post throughout the month, opposed to my first, and only, submission last year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy ‘the ghost of you’, which, technically, shouldn’t exist since I swore to myself I’d never write anything post the latter half of s15...so you’re welcome. And I’m sorry (lol)

“Jesus, Dean, it’s like a cassette graveyard in here.”

Sam fixed the box in his lap with a glare, the sound of plastic on plastic making Dean’s chest ache. He refused to even look over at Sam, didn’t dare turn his head in that direction, couldn’t bare to watch him sift through the collection of mix tapes, jaw clenched and knuckles white on Baby’s steering wheel.

“Do you even listen to these anymore?” Sam asked, pulling one from the box. “I mean, this one looks like it hasn’t seen the light of day in years.”

Dean said nothing, but swallowed harshly at the wave of emotion building up. Sam looked over, a series of emotions flickering across his face, too perceptive for his own good.

“Dean-“

“They’re vintage.” He managed, finally, cutting off whatever Sam was about to say.

He didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s part of my aesthetic. Can’t just ‘get rid of them’, Sammy. Who do you take me for?” He lied, chancing a look over at his brother.

Dean flashed Sam a grin; deflecting to humor was what he did best. He could tell Sam didn’t buy it, not for a second—they knew each other too well for that—but it didn’t stop Dean from putting on that thinly veiled mask anyway.

Fake it till you make it, right?

Sam huffed, and rolled his eyes, clearly tired of Dean’s bullshit, but too smart to dig any further. Dean reckoned Sam was right; knowing him, he was probably seconds away from clamming up at any mention of…feelings.

Sam shifted his attention back to the box of cassettes, the movement drawing Dean’s own eyes down to the tape still in Sam’s hand, which in turn made the older Winchester’s breath catch. Feeling the hot sting of unwanted tears well up, Dean quickly looked away, and glued his focus back onto the road, an endless inky black river of asphalt that stretched on for miles, absorbing Baby’s headlights as she urged forward. Much to Dean’s chagrin, it didn’t provide any of its usual comfort—quite the opposite, in fact.

“Anyway, vintage isn’t the word I’d use, Dean.” Sam added after a while, breaking the silence. “I’m just saying, you could stand to lose some of these.”

“And I’m just saying you could mind your own damn business.”

Sam sighed, “Dean,” and Dean rolled his eyes, hating how exasperated his name on his brother’s tongue sounded.

“Not in the mood, Sammy.” he warned, through gritted teeth. Too close.

“Do you even remember what’s on most of these?”

“I’m serious, Sam, drop it.” Dean snapped, body tensed and wired, looking for a fight.

“What happened to the you of a few minutes ago, the version of my annoying little brother who wasn’t this nosy? Who knew when to stop poking the bear? Can I get him back?”

“I wouldn’t have to poke the bear, Dean, if you just talked to me, and answered me-“ Dean opened his mouth, “-without being a smart ass.” Sam quickly added, effectively shutting whatever smart ass remark Dean was about to make, up.

“I haven’t even seen you listen to most of these.”

Because they’re too painful, he didn’t say.

“They’re basically clutter, at this point.”

But they’re not, they could never be, his mind screamed.

“I get it.”

No you don’t, you can’t, Sammy, and his heart broke all over again.

“Being sentimental over the past, or whatever, but this just makes you a hoarder Dean. Sometimes it’s better to just let things go.”

But can’t you see, that isn’t an option for me, because it’s the only thing I’ve got left of-

Dean made a sound that had Sam looking over from the passenger seat in concern, a sound neither of them knew Dean was capable of making, and Sam dropped the tape back into the box.

“Um, okay, alright, we’ll just…I mean, I’ll just…” Sam trailed off, and swallowed thickly, placing the lid back on the box, and the box back into the glove compartment.

“Right.” He muttered awkwardly, almost missing the broken, whispered ‘thanks’ that came from Dean.

That alone was surprising enough for Sam to shut up for the remainder of the trip back to the bunker.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the entrance and shifted her into park, but kept the engine running, making no move to get out. Sam furrowed his brows in worry, feeling that there was a lot unsaid between them, but undid his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car.

“Are you coming?” He asked, despite knowing fully well that Dean wasn’t.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Sammy. ‘S’all good. Just gonna go out for a drive.”

Sam hesitated, standing just outside the passenger side door, before nodding and heading off into the bunker without another word. Dean let out the breath he was holding, and put the Impala into drive, pulling her back out, and away from the bunker entrance just as quickly as they had previously arrived.

He didn’t drive for long, unable to stand the silence just as much as he hated the noise. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t who he really wanted beside him on the bench seat. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t the same.

Dean stopped the car upon a nondescript field, empty aside from acres of tall grass. He figured it was as good a place as any to have a moment to himself, where he intended to let out all the pent up emotion that had been steadily brewing since Sam brought out that box full of tapes.

Before he could stew any longer, or second guess himself, Dean leaned over and retrieved that very same box from the glove compartment. It didn’t take long for him to find the one he was looking for, the white plastic yellowed, and the sharpie faded, with age, but he knew what it said. How could he forget? He remembered the day he gave it to Castiel, after the many grueling hours he had spent painstakingly adding each song; all the things he could never find the words to say, so he put them into a mixtape instead, just as his dad had done for his mom all those years ago. How Cas tried to give it back, and how Dean had refused, picking it up off the edge of the table where the angel had placed it, oh so gently, as if giving it up was the last thing he wanted to do, and returned it with a gruff, “it’s a gift, you keep those”.

Dean’s hands shook as he put it in, and stopped, just short of pressing play. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering whatever little resolve he had left, and jabbed the button, the intro to Zepp’s Ramble On coming through Baby’s speakers.

The second he heard Plant’s voice, the air inside the Impala suddenly became stifling, thick enough to choke on your own breath. Dean stumbled out of the driver seat, knees and palms hitting the ground as he dry heaved into the grass. Bile burned the back of throat, and tears spilled steadily from his eyes, blurring his vision. A mangled gasp wrung itself up and out his mouth as he cried, his fingers digging into the soil for purchase, and the dampness soaking into his jeans went ignored.

No matter how hard Dean tamped down the hurt, the pain of watching the one person, your person, die in front of you, knowing this time was real, this time was it, it was always still there. It never left. Because Cas was gone, lost to the Empty, and Dean was left behind with only the ghost of a memory, and some ‘vintage’ cassette tapes.

Tapes that he hadn’t listened to, not since he made the damn things, not since it happened. Where Castiel confessed his love, something Dean didn’t even think was possible—not for them, certainly not for him—and then fucked off to wherever with Billie and the Empty because it was his true happiness or whatever.

Whose true happiness was making this big speech about how the (supposed) love of your life changed you so irrevocably, and being okay with dying without reciprocation?

“Stupid.” Dean croaked, body shaking. “You were so fucking stupid, Cas.”

He looked skyward, face streaked with tears, and screamed up at the heavens. “Fuck you, man. Seriously, Cas, fuck you!”

He didn’t know where Cas was, where the Empty was, or if he could even hear him.

“What about my happiness, huh? Did you really think I’d ever be happy if you-“ he swallowed, “-if you weren’t here? After everything? After…what I said in purgatory?

“C’mon, man, you know me better than that. Probably better than anyone. Even Sam. So why-“ his voice cracked.

Dean could feel the exact moment his heart split in two, opening like a fissure, a weeping wound reopened, just as fresh as it was the day it was created.

“Why’d you leave? Why’d you leave me, Cas I-“ he dropped his voice, and whispered the last part, like a secret spoken only to the wind. “-I need you.”

Dean closed his eyes at the new onslaught of tears, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shit he was feeling.

“Fuck man, I need you, so friggin much, it hurts.”

How years ago in days of old…

When magic filled the air…

“You gotta know that right? Even if I didn’t say it? If I couldn’t say it?” He pleaded, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

'Twas in the darkest depths of Mordor…

I met a girl so fair…

“Fuck, Cas, I don’t even know if you can hear this, wherever you are, but please…come back.” He pulled his hands away, and blinked his blurry eyes back up to the sky.

Come back home, to me, he didn’t say, but it was heavily implied.

But Gollum, and the evil one…

Crept up and slipped away with her…

“I was so angry, at first. You just fucked off, just like that, man, after telling me about the deal, and then saying you love me…who does that shit? I didn’t-I didn’t get to process shit, Cas, didn’t even get to tell you…and then I blink and you’re gone.”

*I guess I keep on rambling…*

“You know I sat on that floor for hours after it happened? Wouldn’t even answer my phone. Sam kept calling and I couldn’t even be bothered to care, because I just lost you. It hurts so freaking much, Cas, you gotta know. You gotta know how I feel.”

Doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo…

I gotta keep searching for my baby…

Dean looked around, the meadow still just as quiet and still as it had been when he first arrived. He was still just as alone as he was when he first arrived.

(Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby)…

I gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby…

“Yup. Figures.” He muttered, wiping the tears off his face. “Don’t even know why I thought that would work.”

(My, my, my, my, my, my, my baby)…

Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…

“Fuck,” he laughed, the sound both bitter and hysterical, “what am I even doing? This was stupid…I feel like crap.”

He got up, wincing at his popping knees, and turned back to the Impala, just as Plant’s vocals started to fade.

I can't find my bluebird…

Cas was gone, his brain supplied helpfully.

As if he didn’t already know.

I can't find my bluebird…

His bluebird was lost to the Empty forever, that much was clear.

Dean let the song finish, using the last few seconds to collect himself, fists clenched down at his sides. He couldn’t help but think how wrong Sam was; he didn’t feel any better after letting his emotions take over. Hell, he just had a chick flick moment with himself, and he still felt like ass.

He unfurled his hands when the next song on the tape rolled over, crescent shaped marks from his nails tattooed on the skin of his palms. He welcomed the pain, reminded him he wasn’t completely numb, yet, after everything.

A small breeze made its way through the meadow, faintly rustling the grass, and sending shivers down Dean’s spine. Thinking nothing of it, he sniffed, and reached out to pat Baby’s roof, deciding now was a good as time as any to start heading back to the bunker; it would just get colder as the night went on.

Just then the tape stopped abruptly, and Dean cursed, but just as he reached in to take it out, the radio popped and crackled to life, rapidly scanning through static. He furrowed his brows in confusion, only to stumble backwards in surprise when Baby’s lights started to flicker.

“What the-“

The flutter of wings behind him effectively cut him off, and Dean’s eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. He whipped himself around, and let out a sob of relief at the angel standing there, his angel standing there, trench coat and all.

“Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

He didn’t even care how it was possible, not yet, not when Castiel was right there. Dean ran toward him, and wrapped Cas in the biggest embrace, starting to sob proper when Dean felt Cas hug back. And, in a complete turn of events, Dean found he was done waiting.

He pulled away, just enough to see Cas’ face, before joining their lips together. Cas made a pleased sound, and pulled Dean closer, Dean letting himself melt into Castiel like it’s where he belonged.

”I know. I heard you, Dean, I heard you.” Cas whispered breathlessly against Dean’s lips.

“I’m home.”

#suptober22 #suptober day 9 #supernatural #supernatural fic #post 15x18 #canon divergent au #fix it fic #finale what finale #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #deancas #Destiel #destiel ficlet #my work #my writing

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st4vk1nmybra1n · 2 years

Text

Sweet¡

pairing: gojo x reader

established relationship, gn!reader.

tooth rotting fluff, lots of kissing!! light angst in between, and crack near the end!

wc: 1k

tw: strong language

waking up to the sight of a very pretty gojo was something that wasn't easy to get used to. you'd had a tough mission yesterday, so you were eager to settle into gojo's embrace until you both fell asleep peacefully. cuddling with him was heavenly, given his height and tall stature. he was almost always spooning you, occasionally moving to lay his head on your chest, sometimes pulling you over his own chest, sometimes throwing a leg over your figure. y'know, the romantic stuff. he was easily able to encase you within his long, yet firm arms everytime you both slept. you were never opposed to it. after all, who were you to complain?

right now, you were staring dreamily at gojo and his sleeping figure. something about his face as he slept was angelic. perhaps his white hair and lashes added to the look, too. his face was devoid of any expression, yet he looked so peaceful. his usual smug grin vanished, replaced with eased brows and lips closed in a gentle yet vague smile. oh but the longer you stared, the bigger it became. was that your imagination? perhaps he could sense it?--

"of course i catch you staring at me first thing in the morning", you hear gojo's gruff, deep voice mutter out as you flinch in surprise. no surprise, he was smug as ever, despite having just woken up. or had he been awake for a while now? who knows, you didn't really care.

"what can i say? you're pretty", you shrug.

he peels one eye open, grinning even brighter. "i know i am"

rolling your eyes, you lean into his body, laying your head on his shoulder. he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss at the crown of your head.

you both lay there in serene silence, enjoying each other's presence. the only times where you both were able to bask in each other's presence was during the night, and the early hours of the morning. being the strongest had it's cons, you supposed.

shaking out of your thoughts, you sit up, throwing your leg over gojo's body as you move to straddle him. he joins you in sitting up, easily pushing himself against the headboard.

"how much time do we have left?", gojo suddenly asks.

"only an hour", you sigh, suddenly crestfallen.

"an hour is more than enough for me to f--", you slam your hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up (yes, he keeps his infinity off around you).

"no horny thoughts right now, goddamn it", you angrily grit out, head against gojo's forehead.

gojo laughs loudly at your words, placing a kiss against your forehead before placing his forehead against yours again.

"no promises", he mumbles, grinning gently.

"expected", you sigh in faux disappointment, placing your hands against his cheeks.

he sighs in bliss, leaning into your hands. he slightly turns his head, placing a kiss right into your palm, making you smile.

you place a quick kiss against his nose, and he giggles girlishly before reciprocating. sure, you both barely got time together, but you made sure to cherish every moment you had together. after all, who's to say if you'd get to see each other by the end of the day. he was the strongest, and everyone hated it. there was no telling what lengths they'd take just to see him waver, to see him tremble with despair. to see the strongest jujutsu sorcerer's resolve to crumble, once and for all.

snapping out of your sudden intrusive thoughts, you lean closer to place a kiss on gojo's lips. immediately, he kisses back. you move your hands into his soft hair, running your hands through his silky tufts of hair. his hands move to your cheeks instinctively, gently rubbing under your eyes. you both lean into each other, practically melting together.

after a few more seconds, you pull away, completely breathless. kisses with gojo satoru were never taken for granted, almost always holding immense passion, love, and care. exchanging a few smaller kisses here and there, you both hold each other even tighter.

contrary to popular belief, gojo only had eyes for you. during your first ever encounters while he was still a first year, he could feel his six eyes sensing something from you, and he felt deep attraction to you. for the next few months, he never acted on this attraction seriously, almost always flirting with zero intentions of ever commiting. overtime, he grew fonder and fonder, only realizing his feelings after almost losing you. something in him had clicked, and he knew he loved you within those moments. he confessed his feelings right as he had realized, holding onto you with a tight hold, praying for ieri to show up quicker.

after a few months of recovery, you had ran to him as soon as you could, pulling him into a hug and finally kissing him. after that moment, gojo had only ever dedicated everything he did to you. finding solace within your being.

"i love you", gojo suddenly mumbles out, eyes closed as he sighed gently. you smile at his words, not hesitating to tell him you loved him even more.

you both sat there, holding each other with gentle care, sitting in complete silence. it was sweet. so, so, sweet. sweeter than anything gojo had ever tasted.

"ACHOO--", gojo abruptly decided to sneeze.

shrieking loudly, you flinch instantaneously, and hard. falling right off the bed as soon as it happens.

"OW WHAT THE FUCK GOJO?", you shout in disbelief, as gojo loses his absolute shit over your priceless reaction.

"I'm sorry, i couldn't help it", he cackles, leaning forward with the force of his laughter, eventually falling over you.

"shit--"

"fuck, gojo!"

you had yet to calm down from your freight, and gojo seemed to be having the time of his life, simply laying his head on your chest.

you both laid there on the floor, still recovering from your sweet, romantic, gentle moment being ruined by none other than gojo satoru himself. you weren't surprised, now were you?

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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melimatters · 8 months

Text

FF14 Write 2023: Off the Hook

(NOTE: For the full effect of what I have in mind for this piece I suggest listening to the following link while reading: Óró 'sé do bheatha 'bhaile - LYRICS + Translation - YouTube it’s a Irish folk song, but the tune is what I am stealing not the lyrics lol)

Altani breathed deeply and took in the warm air blowing across Broken Glass, it was summer in Garlemald, and while not precisely warm it was at least tolerable, especially with the wood fires burning at the center of the encampment where the evening meal was being served.

She was sitting on the ground next to Allie, taking in the soft sounds of chatter and what sounded like light drumming on some of the Ceruleum barrels. She nuzzled in on Allies shoulder smelling the gentle perfume in her lover’s hair, on the night wind it wafted adding just a touch of home in what was otherwise a blasted landscape.

“I’ll never get over how people were supposed to survive in this.” Altani said softly, her eyes wandering over the encampment “I can’t believe mom grew up in this nightmare.”

Allie nuzzled her hair closer to Altani “I can’t either being honest, father mentioned the condition of his homeland many times, but we never came back up here.”

The two women drifted back to their own thoughts, lazily watching the rest of the camp members. Altani noted her mother not a few yalms away sitting on the ground much like herself with Y’shtola in tow, the two of them chatting eagerly to one another.

“Have those two set a date yet?” Allie asked amusedly.

“Not yet, I don’t think Y’shtola is going to let mom get off the hook on this one though, she is determined to make it clear to mom and the universe that she considers them forever, no matter how long that is.”

Allie looked over at the two women and chuckled “I am not sure father is ready to consider me doing something like that, it might kill him.”

“I am pretty sure it would do the same to mom, having her former lover as official family would be something she might never recover from.” Altani giggled.

The women sat in silence again once more until they heard the soft sound of the strings of an instrument being tuned.

“I think your sister is about to go on.” Allie said with anticipation “I always love hearing her play and sing.”

Altani’s eyes filled with pride, she had always been the same, even from when they were young she remembered K’yla humming, she always had a tune going, even during the time she barely spoke a single word.

Suddenly the light drumming from earlier began to roll in earnest, it wasn’t loud or thunderous by any mean, but a steady beat that one could dance by. The two women swayed with the sound, feeling its primal thump, it was such a different sound than what K’yla usually played. They noticed that Melisande’s eyes went very wide and she whispered something to Y’shtola who simply grinned.

It was at that moment that the music began to rise, Altani had never heard this instrument, it reminded her of the harp in Fortemps manor but sounded like it was struck as opposed to plucked. K’yla began to sing, it was in a language that Altani didn’t recognize but had so much emotion behind it. She turned and saw her mother staring at her younger daughter and with what she thought were tears in her eyes.

“This..this is a song that mom used to hum to us a lullaby when we were younger!”

Allie turned her head towards to get a better listen to the music and lyrics as K’yla belted them out “It’s…Old Garlean…” she said finally.

“Old Garlean?”

“From before the freeze and migration, father once mentioned it still being used in the villages even up north.” Allie said quietly.

“Can you understand it?” Altani asked excitedly.

“No, I mean, not exactly?” Allie responded with clear frustration in her voice “It’s similar to what I learned from my father, but quite different at the same time.”

The two women’s thoughts were broken at the sight of Melisande standing up and gingerly moving towards the open ground around the fires and begin to dance. There was such a passion in her footwork and movement, like something freed from a long time of lost memory. Altani found tears in her eyes now, she could see them streaming down her mother’s face as she danced, others began to join in, mostly the non pureblood garleans, but some of the purebloods as well.

“I think…I think mom could remember the tune but not the words, that’s why she used to hum it to us, thinking back I think there were tears in her eyes then too.”

Allie wrapped arm around Altani’s slender waist “She is from the villages isn’t she? This was probably something she heard as a child and danced to back then as well.”

“Yeah, and fury bless, K’yla somehow found out what the song was and the lyrics as well.”

“She never ceases to amaze me.” Allie said, bursting into a broad smile.

“Me either, but she is a storyteller, she probably found someone here to teach it to her.”

“I just wish I could tell you what it says and means.” Allie said, her frustration growing.

“We shall return to our home, long lost behind the cold, one day to see sunlights warmth and rise again.” a voice said from behind the women.

They turned to see a tall pure blood garlean standing there, it was Maxima, one of the earliest members of the movement to end the tyranny of the empire. Altani also noticed what she thought was a tiny tear in his eye as well.

“It’s old, very old, I remember my mother teaching it to me when I was very small, a reminder of where we came from and where we wanted to go back to. I haven’t heard it in a very long time, and certainly not like this.”

Altani stared up at the garlean man and spoke softly “You never learned it in the original language I take it?”

“No, not at all, the old language was essentially eliminated in the earliest days of the empire, Solus had no need for it apparently, but it persisted in the villages, I think because they could speak about the rest of us without being understood.”

“Sounds about right for people that weren’t exactly considered equals.” Allie mused.

“I want to change that, we don’t need this hate, this fear anymore, I want a better Garlemald, a better future for all of us.” Maxima said wistfully.

Altani turned back towards the fire and laughed, she saw her mother draggin Y’shtola up to dance with her, the Mi’qote woman seemed to be quite determined not to move but it was clearly performative. She watched with tenderness as the two women swayed and laughed. It was at that moment she felt a gentle shove on her shoulder and saw Allie stand and reach a hand out.

“May I have this dance?”

Maxima watched as the two women headed out to the fire and began to move in time with the music just as Melisande and Y’shtola were doing. He smiled a broad smile.

“Perhaps, all it takes is one song to begin the healing.” he thought to himself.

NOTE: I have a VERY extensive background on what I have come up with for old Garlemald that I will get together and publish at some point, its probably way out there, but I based in on the limited info we have and many of the allusions to imperial Rome.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv oc #ff14 writing #ff14 #ffxiv #Altani Mol #k'yla mitran #allie baelsar #y'shtola rhul #y'shtola x wol #Melisande Atteron

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goldenmagnolias · 8 months

Text

lost in the labyrinth of my mind

pairing: OC High Lord of Dusk x Archeron!Sister

summary: Reverie Archeron has always been different. Different in a good or bad way depends on who you asked. Now a High Fae, and with another war approaching she tries to be as helpful as she can around Velaris and with her baby nephew, but at a High Lord meeting, the countless dreams she has as a child and the feelings that are not quite hers suddenly make sense and things become something that she never could have seen coming.

a/n: Chaotic High Lord meeting? Mentions of a coup? Unlikely people being civil towards one another? Ophiuchus catching on thing quicker than most and being obsessed with his mate? 👀👀👀 we’ll say hello to chapter 5

masterlist // ao3

CHAPTER V: WAYS, WAR, WRATH & PLANS

Ophiuchus Hesperus was not a patient person.

It was a nuisance most of the times. Sometimes even to himself. He could remember getting on his mother’s nerves as a child, until she would just laugh and cave in.

But now, he wasn’t only Ophiuchus. He was High Lord of Dusk. He was responsible for all the people in his court, old and young, friend or foes, and there was clearly a war approaching.

And yet… yet his mind kept returning to white locks and soft features.

She looked like an gift sent from The Mother, maybe even made at her very image. He barely was able to pull himself away from the room, yet at the same time couldn’t bring himself to be closer to her; not when she was in such state. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries or cause a bad impression on his mate, by acting like a crazy male.

He moved into the meeting room, half his mind present, half of it extremely attuned to the golden string alive and singing on his chest. Softly thrumming like piano keys in a soft lullaby.

‘Feyre tells me to relay to you that she’s awake and well.’ A voice says on his head, and Ophiuchus nods almost unnoticeably towards the mate of his mate’s sister and the Night’s High Lord before placing his mental shields in place.

“We still do not know what kept your court away.” The Lord of The Day Court, Helion, said looking towards him.

“We have been working on figuring that out,” Ophiuchus replies, “the barrier was clear, it felt like in consistency like water, and yet, completely unmovable but we were able to see the other side much like glass.”

After a beat of silence, he added with a slight wince, “One would grow weak in energy if pressing up against it for too long.”

“That sounds like it’s spoken experience.” Kallias comments.

“I was a nuisance as a child.” Ophiuchus hums, and he doesn’t miss the snort from Darius or Elia, making him roll his eyes, as some of the other high lords look amused.

“We are not here to hear tales,” The High Lord of Autumn spoke and his heir seemed to be counting in his head, seemingly trying to hold himself back if the way his hands clenched up were anything to go by.

Curious.

“You asked about the barrier, I’m stating the facts about it.” Ophiuchus says his tone bored. “The difference between tales and history is simply a matter of proof.”

“When the matter is actually important, we will resume this. I have no time to play house there’s a court I need to run.” Beron Vanserra says before leaving in a winnowing flash, meanwhile his oldest son stays behind.

“Remind me again why we put up with him.” Thesan says to no one in particular.

“Because he’s a bastard but still holds autumn power.” Tarquin says.

“Maybe this should be a reason to consider.” Tamlin, The High Lord of Spring speaks for the first time since he introduced himself.

“Consider?” The Autumn Heir repeats the men’s words.

“Say Eris, how many citizens in Autumn despise your father and wouldn’t bat eyes regarding a coup.” Tamlin begins, looking at no one in particular, “Lady Autumn included wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Ophiuchus catches how the High Lord of Day tenses at the mention of the Lady.

His eyes glance towards Elia and Silas both who seem to have catch such actions too.

“That’s treason.” Eris says.

“Treason per say it wouldn’t.” Tamlin says.

“Are you getting anywhere Tamlin?” Kallias says in a exasperated tone.

“You do remember Spring and Autumn share barriers,” Tamlin says, “I can count on one hand, those that have had a good word to say about Beron. Your Court alliance is too Autumn not to Beron.”

“If there’s no alliance to one’s government, there’s no treason committed.” Eris says.

“That’s actually a fair point,” Rhysand admits, and it looks like it pains him to do so.

There’s some deep rivalry there, Ophiuchus thinks as he looks between the HIgh Lords of Spring and Night.

Tamlin just dips his head, in a silent acknowledgment to the statement.

“You’re all saying we should stage a coup on my father.”

“Considering he seems to be trying to divert the attention from a very much know and powerful death god.” Helion says, “and that he did seem like he was skittish.”

“You think he’s aligned himself with-“ The Autumn heir exhales, “I wouldn’t put pass him.” He adds after a beat of silence.

“If I do it, with your backup. I want my mother out of Autumn first.”

“And your brother’s?”

“Lucien is at Night. Callahan, Azar and Conley will have my back.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Blood runs thicker than water and in our case. There’s also trauma bonding there and some vengeance wishes that have been long present.”

“We haven’t even began to see the real Beron Vanserra have we.” Rhysand asks breaking his quiet stance.

Eris just looks at Rhysand, and Ophiuchus is able to see the second the Heir allows the High Lord to see something on his mind.

The High Lord of Night eyes are lit in cold fury. “Seems like we now have a plan regarding that.”

“And Kochei?” Thesan asks, before turning to one of the few woman present at the room, “Queen Vassa, I understand is a sore topic but-“

“Ask what you have to ask High Lord, I’m human but not made of porcelain. Im a firebird. I can take a couple hard questions.”

“I have one then, Your Grace.” Ophiuchus speaks up once something clicks in his mind. Firebird. gaining the attention to him. “Did you see the box?”

Vassa turns to him so quickly that it’s a wonder how she didn’t break her neck, and Jurian frowns at the action.

“The dome around my court just started making more and more sense.” Ophiuchus says, with a tired exhale.

“Meaning?” Kallias asks.

“Meaning. This is something bigger that has been in motion for centuries, and for some reason has only started moving out of the dark now.”

….

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